Me and my BFF, Amy.

Dear Writers,

The other day I am talking to my bff, Amy, about the new Phoebe Bridgers' album that just came out. This is the same pop-culture savvy friend who introduced me to Bridgers in the first place.

But instead of asking, "Have you heard Phoebe Bridgers' new album?" As every single one of you who has ever met me can anticipate, I can't think of her name, so I ask something like, "Have you heard the lady from Fleabag's sister's new album?"

"Who?" Amy asks.

"You know, the sister of that woman in the show Fleabag."

For those of you that don't remember, Fleabag is the tv show with the "hot priest".

"You mean, like the lady who plays her sister on the show? She's a singer?"

Amy's question is fair and reasonable but that is not who I mean.

"No, I mean the real life sister of the actor in the show!"

So now the phones are coming out because we both want to know who Fleabag's sister is, she because of curiosity, and me because I get to share something with my friend about pop culture that she doesn't already know.

"Phoebe Bridgers," I read from my phone.

Amy's head snaps up. "Phoebe Bridgers isn't the sister of the lady from Fleabag."

"Yes she is." I say this with such confidence, I'm pretty sure in that moment I would have sworn on the life of one of Amy's wonderful children or any wonderful child, really.

"Phoebe Bridgers is not the sister of Phoebe Waller-Bridge."

Right. The lady from Fleabag is a writer/actress named Phoebe Waller-Bridge. If they were sisters, their parents would have named them both Phoebe. Outside of George Forman, I don't think this is a thing.

"Also, Phoebe Bridgers is American and Phoebe Waller-Bridge is English." Now my friend is just being cruel.

But I swear, I had thought these women were sisters for so long, and with such conviction, it was hard for me in this moment to process the information I was taking in.

I know. The word "Bridge" appears in both of their names. We also discover in our google searching that Phoebe Waller-Bridge does have a sister who is a musician but she is a composer and decidedly not named Phoebe Bridgers.

Fleabag's Phoebe Waller-Bridge and her sister, Musician Phoebe Bridgers, and the hot priest just because.

This was not really an embarrassing moment. This was funny. This was paying minimal attention to the personal lives of people I don't know. This was good newsletter fodder.

Advice from a lot of writing coaches suggest we look to our embarrassing moments, to dig up stories. Sue Shapiro takes it one step further and suggest we look for our moments of shame.

These can be vulnerable places to be sure. I understand that they can yield some of our most human stories and provide connection between us and our readers.

So in that spirit, here is a list of my five most embarrassing moments that I haven't blacked out and sometimes consider writing about:

5. I fell off the balcony during my 7th grade summer camp production of West Side Story. I was playing Maria. I was one of two campers playing Maria. And my last scene before I handed it over to Maria #2, had me singing "Tonight" on a balcony which was a folding chair on a folding table behind a painted "balcony." Well, my friends, the whole thing toppled over and the camp director caught me, repositioned me on my chair, and left me to sing that song. I'm pretty sure I have gone down in summer camp lore as the girl who fell off the balcony.

4. Mammograms. This is not my embarrassing moment, but an embarrassing moment for all of humanity: Somehow all women and oncologists agree that this is the best we can do. I mean, we can echolocate the Titanic under two and a half miles of water, but this is what we've come up with for cancer screening for women? Can someone call NASA?

3. I walked into a glass door while meeting a crush. I almost blacked this one out, but Amy, the friend who called me out on the Phoebe Bridgers/Phoebe Waller-Bridge mix up of 2023-26, just reminded me of this whopper. I had an enormous crush on this guy named Josh from youth group. This was years later, when I was in my 20s. I saw him on the deck of a party I was going to where I was on a mission to prove to everyone from high school that I had finally become the swan I was destined to become. I saw Josh. Our eyes met. I waved and began walking toward him when -"THWACK!" and then I'm pretty sure I was dead. So it's weird that I'm writing this now.

2. The Pot Incident. I was going to visit a friend at his summer job. My friend had been talking about a wonderful evening hike to watch the sunset. But none of his friends wanted to go. The friend suggested that I bring everyone pot because they hadn't been able to get any all summer and that might convince them to go with us. So I promised everyone that I'd bring good pot to smoke at the top. Conveniently, at the time I was in college and pot was easy to come by. About ten of us drove to the mountain. We hiked. We talked about how fun it was going to be to watch the sunset at the top smoking our pot. I think I even told a tale about how great this particular pot was! California Humboldt, and everything! And just as we were settling in for our wonderful time, I realized I had left the pot in the glove compartment. I smoked my share of pot in my 20s. Which might also make this list of embarrassing moments a cautionary tale for anyone considering a marijuana habit.

1. München. I think a lot of you know this story because it's in my book, The Family Gene. It also once again features bff Amy. After college, we tried to move to Spain. But we couldn't find work. Someone suggested we try Prague, so we boarded a series of trains to the Czech Republic. At some point we were changing trains and we saw a big sign on the wall. München. We commented on how big the city was. Why had we never heard of München? But the embarrassing part came hours later, after dinner, when the server said to us, "What do you girls think of Munich?" and we said in unison, "Oh. We've never been."

To be fair, people in Hungary call their country Magyarország. So it could happen to anyone.

Every great wish,

Jos

--

Coming up at Prose Playground:

Live Pitch and Publish With Jane Pratt begins on September 9th. WRITE TO BE READ SIGN UP HERE at a discount. Everyone else SIGN UP HERE

Join the Hudson Valley writing retreat. It's coming up in October!

Sell Your Book program with Allison K Williams We haven't officially announced this one, but you might want to clock it on your calendar! It's going to be amazing.

And check HERE for more upcoming events, and HERE for all of our upcoming classes!

Questions? Reply to me here!

Subscribe now

I had a really magical conversation last week with Jane Pratt. Yes. The Jane Pratt. Sassy, Jane, xoJane, AnotherJanePrattThing, bff’s with Michael Stipe, yes, the Michael Stipe of R.E.M. fame, Jane Pratt! And honestly, this intro could go on and on because I’m obsessed.

Anyhoo, the conversation was so good, instead of paraphrasing, or going on and on about it, I am going to just share it with you here:

Me: What’s one thing you find yourself always saying to writers?

Jane Says: Okay, one of the things that I’ve been telling writers for years and years and years is to write the way that you talk. And a lot of people think that they’re writing the way that they talk. But actually, if you read it, there are words that they would never say out loud. Like, you know, rather than using the word book twice, which might be the natural way they speak, they’ll switch over to tome or something like that. I think that creates a falseness between the reader and the writer, and for me, that’s something that I’m going to be less likely to publish. It doesn’t feel as genuine to me.

Jos: I think that’s great. And then in terms of pitching, do you have pitches that you remember that were great?

Jane: A pitch can gain a lot of ground in the subject line alone. I get hundreds and hundreds of pitches every single day. So often I’m scrolling through, and I probably shouldn’t say this, but all caps kind of gets my attention. I know, you would think that’s rude, but actually, it kind of stands out when you’re scrolling through. Just use it judiciously.

Tie the subject line to something that the person you’re pitching it to wants. I’ll give you an example. I have a recurring column called It Happened to Me. So, if someone wants to pitch to me, it’s very helpful if they put in the subject line, It Happened to Me Pitch. Then they give me one or two words that summarize what that pitch is about. It shows me they’ve done the research to know my publication. They know how this could fit into my publication.

What I find doesn’t work as well is when people do generic pitches, and they’ll send the same one to a lot of publications, because we feel that as editors and publishers, we want to feel like everything that we publish...we delude ourselves into thinking that everything we publish is so unique that no one else would ever publish it, and we would never publish anything they would publish. So it’s very important to us that you keep up that facade as writers, and that you pitch to us very specifically and uniquely, and show us that you know our publication.

Jos: I love that advice, because I sometimes leave it out when I’m talking about pitching. I’m like, why me, why now, why this? And I leave out the why you. But I think you’re 100% right. I think you are not alone, and what you just said is brilliant.

Jane: I’ll get turned off by a pitch that seems like, oh, this has probably gone out to 10 other people, I can tell. Yeah.

Jos: Amazing, okay love it, great advice. I feel like one of the things you do so well is, you just know what is going to make a great story. So this is sort of a broad question about finding stories. But how does it hit you, that you have to write about this, or you have to get someone to write about this?

Jane: Finding new angles on stories is critically important to me. So if someone comes to me with one, hallelujah, if they already have the new angle! If they don’t, I like to work with them and find it. And that’s something I would love to do with students [in her Live Pitch and Publish Class] is go through and help find it. You know, do some exercises where we look at some bigger stories and find the smaller angles within them that haven’t been written about yet.

There was more to our chat, but it might require a second newsletter!

I know you are all looking at the upcoming Prose Playground schedule, with the Hudson Valley writing retreat in October, and the Sell Your Book program with Allison K. Williams we are about to announce — or maybe I just announced it...

Then there is Jane Pratt. Her four-week Live Pitch and Publish class begins on September 9th and goes through September 30th.

WRITE TO BE READ — SIGN UP HERE at a discount.

Everyone else — SIGN UP HERE

There is a lot of programming coming up this fall, much of it free for Write to Be Read members around the idea of selling our projects and getting published.

I know you can’t do everything! If you need help deciding what is best for you, if you need to talk through what sounds good and what is reasonable in your life, I am always available. Just reply here! Or ask other members of the group.

But if it’s possible for you to join Jane for her class, I promise you will not be disappointed.

Every great wish,

Jos

Learn more about the writers on the playground here!

Prose Playground

I recently overheard my husband turn to someone and reflect, with a hint of bewilderment, “I’m really proud of Jos. She accomplishes more in a week from the couch than most actual adults accomplish out in the real world.”

This came after another friend had remarked, “It’s hard to find someone our age who hasn’t really held a corporate job.” She was talking about me. I haven’t really held a corporate job. I have had them. I have had several of them. But I did not hold them—at least not for very long.

I don’t think I’m an underachiever. I recall being in 6th grade and raising my hand a lot, even moaning a little while doing it. But I admit, I have grown into a huge fan of seeming like I’m getting it done.

For example, while explaining to my husband, a former culinary school student, what I wanted from the menu at our first annual Prose Playground writing retreat in 2023, I said, I mean I want everyone to remember that they ate, but I don’t really care if they remember what they ate.

It was delicious, in spite of me.

If you’re planning on hiking Everest, I say, aim for basecamp. It’s still a tough hike to get to basecamp. BUT when you get there they serve beer! (It’s true!)

Every year, at our retreat, everyone gets their own spot on a couch from which to accomplish so much! There is beer you don’t have to hike to—and wine. There is peak leaf-season. There are literary salons. There is morning yoga; afternoon meditation; some people do hike, but I am not one of them; there is writing all the time; and a table where food just keeps appearing—eggs, granola, fruit, grilled cheese, deli sandwiches on croissants, butternut squash soup, homemade hummus, greek salad, chicken kabobs, polenta, steak, salmon bites, moon pies, cookies. Carol brings pastries from Rockland Bakery (Carol is not a phone-it-in-er).

There is just something about this group of people coming together. Great things happen: Haunted love stories; stories of healing; stories about getting hit on by a younger man in front of your husband; stories about rebelling at K-Mart; stories about danger; stories about grief and loss; stories about sex and drugs and all the many ways we are human.

I want to allow you all a moment to fantasize about joining me for a four day, three night writing retreat in the beautiful Hudson Valley.

Or you can join us! October 9-12th, in Ghent, NY - 2.5 hours from NYC and Boston, 45 minutes from Albany.

Sign up HERE

[Write to be Read Members get $100 off- Reply to this email for the coupon code!]

For a girl who loves to phone it in, going on a glorified vacation to write is right up my alley.

It’s probably not a coincidence that my father used to say, Do you know what they call the person who graduates last from medical school? A doctor. I learned from the best.

Every great wish,

Jos

Learn more about Prose Playground here!

Meet Us On The Playground!

Dear Writers,

There was a time when I loved The Odyssey.

Recently, I was trying to remember why I loved it so much. Odysseus, after all, is not a super relatable main character for me, as a soldier in ancient Greece, although we do share a remarkably bad sense of direction. Homer, too, was a strange observer of the world. He describes “green honey,” “violet sheep,” and “a wine-red sea.” In fact, one great Radiolab episode, Colors, brings up the theory that perhaps humanity didn’t develop the ability to see certain colors, like blue, until more recently. That the literal rods and cones necessary to interpret them, just didn’t exist.

So what was that thing that I loved so much about The Odyssey? I know, for example, that by reading it and others of the classics, we can interrogate our own humanity: what is the same, what has changed, what needs to change, and what we need to bring back — and yes, I’m looking at you, olive wreaths as hair decoration and also hair decoration generally.

I have read The Odyssey more than once. I also read The Iliad, both of which were source material for Christopher Nolan’s recent adaptation.

Yesterday, my husband and I packed snacks, a change of clothing, briefly discussed inserting a catheter but opted instead for no liquids, and ventured down to the middle of a very long row of an old theater in downtown Brooklyn, for three hours that definitely lasted closer to ten years. Hey, Odysseus. Us too.

It’s a long movie.

It’s also not the version of that story I would have told. I did like it. Like everyone is saying, it’s got some great performances and a Cyclops. If you like boats, you sometimes feel like you are on one. So that’s... fun.

But the palate was blue-grey. I like color. I have the evolved rods and cones to back me up. The energy of the film was masculine and ragey. I prefer the occasional let’s-not-take-ourselves-so-seriously as we battle Troy in Birkenstocks. The women were very much supporting characters, but to be honest so was almost everyone in the movie except for Odysseus.

As we left the theater after a long bathroom line, I remarked to my husband, “It’s a male fantasy. You go off to war, you get a hot girlfriend, then” — and to avoid a spoiler even though this thing is 2,000 years old and you’ve had enough time to know the basic plot line, I’ll just say — “you might come home to your still-pining, still-hot-with-all-her-white-teeth-after-20-years wife.”

I stand behind that assessment, it is a male fantasy, but over the last 24 hours, something else came back to me, something a teacher once said, the reason I really, really used to love the Odyssey...

The story of The Odyssey is the story of each of our own journeys through life toward meaning.

For Odysseus meaning might be represented by Ithaca and Penelope. But more broadly, we are each on our own odyssey — with Cyclops, Circe, Scylla and Charybdis representing the monsters that complicate that journey. And the Sirens and Calypso, with her excess of lotus flowers, are the temptations that threaten a full and meaningful life.

I really love that idea — that we are on a journey and that it is even more specifically an odyssey toward meaning.

In Homer’s time, there was mostly an unknowable world. And it was scary. And Homer was like, “Live. But don’t confuse meaning with the lotus flower. Don’t confuse meaning with destroying. Don’t confuse meaning with a rejection of love. Don’t confuse meaning with the paralysis of fear.”

Today, we live in a much more knowable world, perhaps too knowable. And we are just as scared, just as paralyzed. And, sidebar, we probably aren’t wearing enough chunky rings.

Perhaps our fear is inevitable, but the quest for meaning should remain ongoing in spite of it. That’s the journey. That’s the odyssey.

If you’ve met me, you know I’m going to awkwardly segue this newsletter toward writing. But in this case, I come by it honestly, because for me, so much of the meaning I find on my odyssey is through writing: My own, yours, the writing of writers I’ll never meet.

If you haven’t written much this summer, or haven’t shared your writing with readers, or haven’t published, or haven’t tried very hard to publish, I hope you will consider all the ways that writing and presenting your important voice to the world is a part of a journey toward meaning and fulfillment. It isn’t too late to get back on it.

Upcoming

This September, OG publisher Jane Pratt is teaching a four-week pitching roundtable where you will hone your pitches live with Jane, and then she will open up her rolodex to help you place them! Anyone can sign up HERE.

This is also your last chance to join the Prose Playground Fall Hudson Valley Writing Retreat at the early bird rate. This is one of the most special events we do each year with members of this community and it will fill up. I hope you will consider joining us. Learn more HERE

Last week Prose Playground became a community of 700 people!! On a parallel timeline to The Odyssey, I’d liken it to the moment in the movie when someone starts washing Matt Damon’s feet. I mean, they really seemed like they could use it.

Seriously, each of you has become such an important part of my own odyssey and I couldn’t be luckier.

I hope we can all continue to be that for each other — goal posts toward meaning. Not in a Cyclops-eating-people’s-heads way, but in a stable, direction-filled way.

And a little bit in a lotus flower way, but deliberate and in moderation.

Every great wish,

Jos

Still Checking Prose Playground Out? Learn more HERE.

Please enjoy these stories and stick around next month for our final readers from this amazing salon. AND beginning in September, we will drop episodes from our newly recorded summer salon that was held in June. Stay tuned!

Hello Writers!

When I first met Jill, I was a little starstruck.

I had recently done a TEDx Talk about my own rare genetic disease (I know. Any excuse to toss in the link! You know me better than I know myself…) and I think half the people I knew in the world forwarded a fantastic This American Life episode [replaying this week!] featuring a story about a plucky DIY scientist. In this episode Jill sounds like a superhero. She solves her family's medical mystery. She saves the life of an Olympic athlete. She saves her father. She saves her brother. She saves herself.

This episode recounts Jill's story such that even Jill suggested she might have been wildly misrepresented. I mean, let's face it, Jill wasn't a superhero. She just saved lives. She just sized up monsters and beat them up…sometimes from a wheelchair. Wait…

I don't know what Jill was. But she was smart and pretty and kind and fearless.

I was already a fan when my agent reached out to me and asked me to speak to this potential new writer she wanted on her roster. I was already starstruck when Jill offered me one of the printed pamphlets she was sending around to actual reporters and scientists. I was already team-Jilly when she started taking my classes and acting like I had something to teach her.

I remember she had listened to my TedxTalk. She had researched me and knew my dad had gone to medical school in Des Moines. She laughed when she said, "I'm not a writer," and, "I'm not a scientist," and sent me her pamphlet filled with brilliant observations, scientific breakthroughs, and gorgeous prose.

I remember the first time someone called me a writer and I blushed furiously and deflected. Who me? Nah. And that's coming from the girl dropping links willy nilly.

If I played any role in helping Jill to get her book written — MANUFACTURING MY MIRACLE, OUT NOW! ORDER AND REVIEW ON AMAZON— it's impossible for me to acknowledge, because, talk about feeling like an imposter!

Jill's book has been coming out for a while. Jill and I had plans to talk about its launch. We'd had a few preliminary talks about doing an in-conversation on ProsePlayground.com.

Then, one month ago, Jill fought a harrowing battle with pneumonia and did not pull through. The superhero that was Jill Elizabeth Viles passed away on June 12th, 2025.

I hate that expression "passed away" and yet anytime I've tried to use any other synonym for "died" in this context, it feels wrong. Because it feels like this is what happened to Jill. It wasn't a death, but a passing. Like the weight of it has some kind of flow.

We are planning a reading of Manufacturing My Miracle by Jill's sister Janet with an in-conversation with friends and family on Wednesday, July 23rd at 7PM EST. Bring a short toast and story if you have one about Jill — or just come listen in!

LEARN ABOUT THE PLAYGROUND

Just a quick reminder that *THE WRITING GROUPS* are going strong this summer if you are interested in a safe, moderated, motivational space — even if you feel like an imposter when you call yourself a writer!

If money is an issue just reply to this message. We have scholarships available.

You have one more month to grab the *EARLY BIRD SPECIALS* for the Fall Hudson Valley Writing Retreat! We're getting close on the single rooms so consider reserving your space today.

I am a writer because I write. So was Jill. Jill was also a scientist. And a superhero.

I didn't write Jill's book, but I want to launch it. I didn't save a brother or an Olympian, but I want to connect myself to that kind of greatness.

Maybe if we all connect ourselves to this book, we can help it soar.

Every good wish,

Jos

A New Yorker cartoon to sum it up.

Dear Writers,

Lately I've been writing short stories.

I hadn't really thought about writing short stories since college, when short stories were pretty much the epicenter of creative writing life.

The last time I remember writing a short story was around my 30th birthday when I took a fiction writing class. It was a weird parable about augmented body parts — noses, breasts, and even bellies — beating each other up in the streets.

Short stories are among the least sellable forms of writing, especially parables about militant boobs. So once I began writing professionally, it just didn't cross my mind.

Nonfiction essays, journalism, and books were my focus.

About a year ago, however, I had finished another novel and was in the throes of trying to sell it, when I realized I didn't know what I wanted to write. But as a member of a writing group, I knew I had to write something if only so I'd have something to submit!

At the time, I was teaching a writing class to high schoolers and I was pulling out short stories to read and discuss.

Between the exciting writing of those teens and the writing of a few classics like Raymond Bradbury's *All Summer in a Day* and Sandra Cisneros's *The House on Mango Street*, I found myself inspired.

The first short story I wrote was a reflection on loneliness called *Gerry Lickhardt and the Devil's Accordion*, about a protagonist who becomes obsessed with a deeply flawed musician named Gerry Lickhardt.

The second, titled *The Art of Privacy*, was about a woman living in an apartment that allows everyone who has ever lived in it a key to drop by any time. It was inspired by an actual moment when I was walking by my old apartment. I really had to pee and decided it would be very smart if we could just keep a key to our old addresses so we could stop by and use the toilet.

My most recent short story is called *The Game of Life*, and it tells the story of a kid who gets to inhabit his 40-year-old body and try to fix the loser living in it.

I guess my short stories belie some complex pathology on my part, but they also remind me that I should patent my idea about getting to pee at our old addresses.

Anyhoo, all three stories reminded me about the usefulness of breaking narrative down into its smallest components.

My favorite challenge became the conveyance of as much information as possible within the action of a single scene.

The reason I returned to the short story

Short stories force us as writers to unpack the important narrative details efficiently.

A strong scene does three or four things simultaneously.

In my short story, *The Art of Privacy*, the story unfolds in a studio apartment. Clea is sitting beside a stranger with a freckle under his eye who has access to Clea's home because he used to live there. He is now playing a video game and refusing to leave.

The moment isn't just about two people sharing a space.

It is also about advancing the plot: Clea is waiting for the boy with the freckle to leave so she can finally be alone.

It also introduces character and builds the world: On the fourth day, Clea sat for four hours and twenty minutes staring at the video game, waiting for the boy to get up and use the bathroom, anything, so she could turn on something else.

Clea is either being polite by not asking the boy to watch something else while he's hanging out in her apartment (even though it used to be his), or there are some unexplained rules of the world that are preventing her from stopping him.

In short, the more heavy lifting you can get a single scene to do, the more valuable it is:

Create conflict: The boy with the freckle complicating Clea's life.

Develop themes: The value of privacy.

Establish setting and mood: "Home, as a construct, could not be locked away from anyone with a heart link to a space. That was the tagline. Heartlink™, Where Home Is Never Locked Away. Or they sometimes used, Once home, always home."

The best scenes are ones where nothing in the scene exists for just one purpose.

I am now a loud defender of the short story as a great way for writers to slow down and consider narrative, whether or not we sell it.

And, from what I understand, short stories can also be developed into more sellable writing like novels and screenplays.

Speaking of screenplays, join Prose Playground on *Thursday, July 16th* for a seminar called…

Think Like a Screenwriter: Why Some Stories Get Put on the Screen with Hollywood showrunner Greg Spottiswood.

Anyone can sign up HERE. Write to Be Read members sign up at a discount HERE.

I love the idea of writing short stories when you are in-between projects. Maybe you will realize you want to spend more time in one than you expected.

Maybe eventually you will discover you have something more sellable than a piece of short fiction.

Every great wish,

Jos!

Learn More About The Playground

Here is one iteration of my writing group — Mary Adkins (back left in hat) has 3 published novels, a memoir, and is the founder of The Book Incubator; to her left is Kate Tellers, an exec at The Moth with two published books; Jessica Mannion has been published in Medium, The Rumpus, The Write Launch, etc; Nicole Witte Solomon is a working filmmaker; Joanne Solomon is a Moth storyteller, playwright, and a published essayist in Longreads, Kveller, and Narratively; Me; Jorge Novoa has work in Narratively; and Gabra Zackman is a published author, award-winning audiobook narrator, and publisher.

Hello Writer,

20+ years ago, I met a group of people who shared similar writing goals to me. We began meeting in the West Village every Tuesday night. Over time that group of writers became close allies, each of us invested in the success of the others.

Over the years, that group of people has changed, but Tuesday nights have remained my writing group night. And my “acknowledgments” and “thank you” sections in my own books have just gotten longer.

Our lives changed. Our personal connection to our own writing deepened.

Our lonely pursuit ultimately launched a community.

Prior to my Tuesday night writing group, I had made my way through several careers including babysitter, barista, and production assistant. I had produced theater and assistant-produced a film. For reasons I can no longer explain, I smelled like gasoline most of the time.

But that writing group changed everything.

We met every Tuesday.

In the beginning, we were just people who wanted to write.

Over time, one by one, I watched us all become professional writers.

Several members sold articles. Another became the head writer of their company’s social media. One became a tech writer, and one person got his MFA and began teaching writing. Someone built a career in publishing. There was also a Vogue editor, as well as several published authors.

I also started selling books. In fact, I sold my first book because that group made me feel confident enough in my writing that when I met an agent in the wild who asked if I thought I could write a book proposal, I said, “Of course!” Two weeks later, I sent her a book proposal and she sold it. Twenty years later, I have written a lot of books.

I am not a genius. Seriously. I’m literally talking to someone on the phone I’ve been searching for the last 45 minutes. Same goes for the missing sunglasses on my head.

I had no secret connections.

I do not believe any of us was predestined for literary greatness.

We just kept showing up and writing words and sharing them.

Today, if I think about the number and prestige of the by-lines by everyone from my writing group over the years, I get goose bumps.

Writing groups place possibility in your path. When you’re surrounded by people who are writing, submitting, publishing, querying, revising, and persevering, those things start to feel normal and achievable.

It didn’t happen overnight, but it happened.

You borrow courage from one another. You learn from one another. You hold one another accountable. You become the kind of person who finishes things.

That’s why writing groups are at the heart of Prose Playground’s Write to Be Read path.

And this is your last weekend to join before the writing groups start up again for the summer. Our deadline is this Monday, June 29th.

WTBR HERE

Now you can join Write to Be Read and the Prose Playground Writing Groups either quarterly, or for a full year.

By joining, you get a dedicated, curated group of peer writers to read and discuss your work. The groups are moderated and designed to keep you motivated and accountable.

Each group meets weekly for one to two hours - with specifics of the framework discussed and agreed upon within each group.

Writers submit work one to three times per month. Everyone reads and offers feedback. Then, feedback is organized in special, private Prose Playground cohort spaces.

It’s accountability, motivation, feedback, support, guidance, and audience, all wrapped up into one amazing experience.

Whether you want motivation or eyes on your work, I believe you will find the experience of a writing group transformative in a great way!

Join now! The deadline to join the summer writing groups is only a few days away.

JOIN US!

I know that writing groups don’t magically make people successful writers. But I’ve watched them change the trajectory of writers’ lives.

Including mine.

Every great wish,

Jos

_{Two people I am going to kidnap and force to be a part of my literary community. And also a lesson in why we don’t announce our illegal plans in a newsletter...}

Welp! They met every expectation. You guys, they were incredible. At one point, author Jen Deaderick asked Anne about what she still hasn’t written. As she was meandering through her reply, Anne mentioned parenting. Then, in passing, she commented on how children can “sleaze their way out from under your hot breath.”

I think we all laughed but also froze. C.C. quoted it in the chat.

And that’s when I realized that this was a person whose offhand comments were solid friggen gold.

They gave so much brilliant advice to writers but some of my favorite was their cheerleading for literary communities (shocker) and how they could encourage and motivate.

But the one thing I want to talk about right now is how clear they were about those literary communities really showing up when it was time to promote work.

All along, that has been why I wanted to start a program like Launch Your Book with Prose Playground. It started with a New York Times article I read about a woman whose writing community single handedly kept her on the romance best seller list for 42 weeks.

It was Jill Viles, a friend, author, and mentor, who passed away weeks after Prose Playground launched and one month before her book, Manufacturing my Miracle came out. I watched our community pull together, meeting weekly with Jilly’s husband, mother, and sister. I saw her book inch higher and higher up the Amazon charts in medical mysteries and other related genres. We nudged Ira Glass to record a new intro to Jill’s This America Life episode.

And I knew I wanted us to keep doing that for each other. Demystifying the book launch. Making it manageable, successful, and even fun.

TODAY is the deadline to sign up for LYB, a three month book launch program that has been designed by authors who desperately wished they had had something like this when they were launching books.

The program includes access to leading publicists, experts, and insiders! It is a deep dive into what is expected and how to hack systems that have been lumbering along since a time when books were humanity’s main form of entertainment alongside jacks and hopscotch.

SIGN UP HERE FOR LYB

Here is what you can expect if you join LYB:

1. A program that runs between June 15, 2026 and August 31st, with ongoing access to the full library of resources for 30 days after the program ends

2. Live classes, seminars, and actionable prompts

3. An insider’s view of marketing and publicity; reviews; and social media strategy

4. A built-in community, with hands-on support all in one place

This program will work for anyone who wants a head start in terms of building a platform for a book they have sold or plan to sell. However, writers who are launching a book within the next 12 months are in the sweet spot. If your manuscript is finished and you’re ready to take it to readers, this program was built for you.

Can’t make it to everything? It’s okay! Think of this as a “buffet” of events. Watch later, what you can’t watch live, with ongoing access to many of our brilliant instructors/industry insiders.

Bonuses:

-A year of Write to be Read. WTBR is a writing path that offers free seminars; the Writing Sprint; deep discounts on classes; dedicated writing groups and everything else you need to keep writing a focal point of your year.

-The Four Week, YOU WILL PUBLISH AN ESSAY class for companion pieces on Wednesdays in July from 2-4PM, plus a professional edit of one piece

-Unlimited access to Prose Playground seminars, live and recorded, all summer long.

I am excited about all of your books, even if some of those books are essays, poems, or short stories. Seriously. All of them!

But if you are facing a book launch, please know you don’t have to do it alone. Do it with us!

Every great wish,

Jos

Dear Writers,

I’ve been sending out a monthly roundup of upcoming events for a few months now, and I can honestly say — no month has filled me with as much joy, excitement, and dread as June 2026.

First, if you haven’t signed up yet for Anne Lamott and Neal Allen on June 10th, 8–9PM ET — why haven’t you? It’s free, and even if you can’t make the event itself, signing up means you’ll get the recording in your inbox the next day.

For those of you with impending book launches — or anyone wanting to start building a platform toward one — please consider coming to one of two Q&As about Launch Your Book with Prose Playground, a program that I promise is going to transform book launches. Hence the dread.

But those of you who know me, know I deliver on my promises. Dread be damned.

Ever since I started Prose Playground, I have thought about how our vibrant, supportive community of writers could serve each other to expand the reach of the authors among us. This summer, we plan to turn this vision into action.

For you, or anyone you know preparing for a book launch, consider putting some of your launch budget toward the LYB program. Nothing like it yet exists — and to be honest, I have no idea why it doesn’t.

If you are even remotely interested, sign up here for a 1:1 with me and I’ll answer all your questions.

What’s Coming in June

All events live-virtual

1. Writing Narrative Nonfiction that Sells with “The Aviator and the Showman” Best Book Author Laurie Gwen Shapiro4 Weeks — Mondays, 7–9PM ET, June 1–22 Where else can you take a class with someone like Laurie? She is one of the most talented writer-researchers around. This class is almost full.

WTBR Sign Up — Discounted |

Extended Community Sign Up

2. Q&A: Launch Your Book with Prose Playground Even if you’re just a tiny bit curious, why not come find out more?

• June 3rd, 7PM ET — Sign Up

• June 10th, 7PM ET — Sign Up

3. On Writing for Children and Young Readers with Caron Levis, author of Ida Always June 9th, 2–4PM ET Free for Write to Be Read members. Caron is an award-winning children’s book author and one of my favorites.

WTBR Sign Up

Extended Community Sign Up

4. Anne Lamott and Neal Allen — A Conversation Just for Us June 10th, 8–9PM ET Bring a friend. Bird by Bird, people. What are you waiting for? Sign Up — It’s Free

5. Launch Your Book with Prose Playground Program begins June 15th, 7–8:30PM ET This three-month program runs all summer, primarily Mondays 7–8:30PM ET, with additional seminars at various time slots. Can’t attend live? You’ll still have access to all the relevant materials. More Info

6. June Book Club: Asylum by Judy Bolton-Fasman In conversation led by Jen Gilman Porat, with the authorThursday, June 18th, 8–9PM ET Sign Up

7. Think Like a Screenwriter: Why Some Stories Get Put on the Screen with showrunner/screenwriter Greg Spottiswood [Remedy; All Rise; Frontier] June 24th, 7–8PM ET Free with Launch Your Book

WTBR Sign Up — Discounted

Extended Community Sign Up

8. Are Audiobooks the Future of Publishing? with Kevin Stillwell, Lantern Audio — five-time AudioFile Magazine Earphones Award winner June 30th, 2–3PM ET Free with Launch Your Book

WTBR Sign Up — Free

Extended Community Sign Up

June events are interspersed with actual book launch celebrations, including Caroline Palmer’s Workhorse, Mary Adkins’s When You Read This, and Dee Dee the dog reading The Gamification Revolution hot off the presses.

June events interspersed with actual book launch events, including Caroline Palmer's Workhorse; Mary Adkins's When You Read This; and Dee Dee the dog reading The Gamification Revolution hot off the presses.

Additional Events

Coffee with Jos — Community-wide Thursday, June 11th, 5–6PM ET | Sign Up

Monthly Pitch Event — WTBR Member Exclusive Wednesday, June 17th, 10–10:30AM ET | Sign Up

Discussion and Lesson: On Writing Child’s Voice — WTBR Member Exclusive Tuesday, June 23rd, 2–3PM ET | Sign Up

Member Exclusive Coffee with Jos Thursday, June 25th, 5–6PM ET | Sign Up

Weekly Write-Ins — Community-wide Fridays, 11AM–12PM ET | Posted weekly in Announcements. Just show up.

I truly hope to see you at any of these. And as always, reach out with questions or thoughts.

Every great wish, Jos

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Watch Here

Twelve years ago, I was preparing to do a Ted Talk. I had one very clear thought as I forced the latest unsuspecting acquaintance to sit through another practice run: Nothing will happen if this turns out badly, but it could change my life if it turns out well.

I knew it was true. A bad Ted Talk doesn’t usually make the website. Therefore beyond the shared humiliating memory among strangers, there isn’t much meaningful historical real estate at stake.

With book launches the stakes aren’t as simple — although one thing is true: A great book launch can be life changing.

But a bad book launch isn’t even easily defined. Is it bad if the book does great but you did arguably little? Like, what if it leaves you with the horrible aftertaste of WHAT IF?

Is it bad if your book is universally panned? Or what if it’s loved, but no one buys it? In other words, after we decide if a bad book launch means terrible reviews, or not at all reviewed, or maybe you should have called it Meaningful Historical Real Estate instead of Insert Profound Title Worthy of a Beatnik — there are still a host of questions to be answered.

If a bad Ted Talk is like tripping up stairs in front of the cute kid in middle school, a bad book launch is more like a “situationship” with metrics. It’s like being ghosted by a lot of potential suitors while simultaneously wondering if you could have done more. What if I had 100,000 followers instead of 22? What if I had moved my hands less when I talked? What if I made mac and cheese like his mother instead of out of the box?

When my husband doesn’t feel well he likes to complain. He also doesn’t like to take any pills or generally try anything that might help him feel better. While he’s complaining, I usually interrupt by saying, “Oh, you poor baby! You’ve tried nothing and nothing works!” I mean, what could be more helpful than that? Sorry, Honey.

I feel like quite often with book launches, both things happen:

1. There is always more you SHOULD HAVE DONE

2. YOU’VE TRIED NOTHING AND NOTHING WORKS

But tried what? And organized how? There are so many things to potentially do, so many things to sift through doing, so much money to be spent sifting through all these things.

Hiring a book publicist will cost anywhere between $7,000–$25,000 — and even then, they decide if they will even rep your book. Honestly, if all new authors are not somewhere in proximity to fetal position at all times, they are not paying attention.

Dee Dee looking suspicious at the unboxing of The Gamification Revolution. This is what we're up against, people.

After nine book launches of my own, and witnessing many many more, it has started to make a lot of sense to me why it costs $7,000 to hire a low-end book publicist. Sometimes we just want somebody — anybody — to hold our hand.

That is why today I am announcing a three-month program unlike anything before.

Join us for LAUNCH YOUR BOOK with PROSE PLAYGROUND.

During this three-month program you will get every tool you need to do everything right as you launch your book. We are bringing in two book publicists that are nearly impossible to get unless you are a celebrity: Beth Parker and Cassie Mannes Murray. They will share all the secrets to getting your book into the right hands.

You will also get:

• Hands-on media training

• A meeting with a Substack specialist

• Access to Hollywood agents who handle book options

• A deep dive into audiobook production

• And so much more

This program is one of the least expensive you can find for the quality of what you will get — and more importantly, it can help you prepare for a book launch that could be life changing.

Over the next few weeks I’ll be sharing more details about Launch Your Book, including the results you can expect if you decide to join.

If any of this sounds like you, I want to hear from you:

• You’re building a platform for when you’re ready to launch

• You have a book coming out this year

• You’re already in the throes of a flailing book launch

• You just think you could be doing more

Click here and I’ll send you more details — dates, bonuses, special guests.

Please feel free to forward this to anyone you know who could use a hand to hold.

I am deeply grateful to every acquaintance who sat through my practice Ted Talks — because thanks to it, I got a book deal, and then later, I got a cure for my genetic illness. Talk about meaningful historical real estate.

It was life changing.

Every great wish, Jos

Learn More!

Valerie Perrine and Dustin Hoffman in the movie “Lenny”

Dear Writers,

I remember watching the movie Lenny about the comedian Lenny Bruce, played by Dustin Hoffman. The movie was filmed documentary style, where characters reflect on their time with Lenny, including Valerie Perrine, who plays Bruce's wife, Honey. Both Honey and Lenny struggled with addiction and their marriage was fraught. At one point Perrine, as Honey, says to the camera, "Addicts always quit tomorrow." [Incidentally, when I googled the film just now, I saw that Perrine, who also famously played Lex Lurthor's girlfriend, Miss Teschmacher in Superman, written by Leslie Newman and David Newman, and others, passed away this week.]

But that quote has stuck with me. I thought about it in terms of all kind of intentions. How many of us always plan to clean the bathroom tomorrow? How many of us are always not going to eat the pint of ice cream tomorrow? For me, as a writer, I am always going to write tomorrow. Always going to pitch and query.

Tomorrow is a beast. Tomorrow is ripped, organized, and creatively fulfilled. Tomorrow is also wildly overbooked.

I thought of that quote again when I saw that in my calendar I had set a reminder that said, Query Mollie in March. Mollie is my agent. About an hour later I got another reminder to Go back to Mollie with Book. I also had a third reminder, Send Mollie book by April.

These three reminders originated as three separate and distinct reminders that I kept pushing later and later into my calendar until a confluence happened. The space/time continuum is thankfully holding. But I had to pause: If I had been planning for weeks to query Mollie, why wasn't I querying Mollie?

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Some people call it “the planning fallacy” or the “false progress trap”. Dopamine is released when we plan. We imagine a “future self” as someone less overwhelmed and more capable. Tomorrow me is focused, hydrated, and armed with a book that is destined for genius on a level unmatched since Lenny Bruce said, “Life is a four-letter word.”

And that never stops being true, no matter how many tomorrows go by.

When I watch the 463 members of Prose Playground working together to get ahead of the trap of the “tomorrow me”, I am always blown away.

This month we have been doing a first ever Prose Playground “Writing Sprint”. Using daily prompts, games, and accountability partners, I am hearing weekly about all the writing you guys are completing. Hundreds, sometimes thousands of words a day. Mini sprint winners include Frances Scott, Gioia De Cari, and Rebekah Dawn.

The other day Abby Sher was interviewed by Jen Cox about her YA novel, Miss You, Love You, Hate You, Bye for our monthly book club. Jamie Kennard sold his memoir, THE EXQUISITE WEIGHT OF THE MOUNTAINS to Simon and Schuster imprint, Avid Reader Press. Kirsten Love published an important piece in Another Jane Pratt Thing. And yesterday, James Dale published in Time Magazine.

They remind us that community can help keep us accountable. It makes the impossible seem possible. By showing up for each other, we are showing up for ourselves. Prose Playground is how we commit to ourselves as writers, today.

Back in January we held our first community-wide inspirational meet up. This Tuesday we are doing it again.

We are calling it THE WRITING RESET and it is designed to really focus all of us on the writing tasks that mean the most to us this year. If we aren’t sure what they are yet, it’s an opportunity to clarify them for ourselves and each other.

Come to one or both of the scheduled WRITING RESETS - 2PM ET or 8PM ET!

· WTBR Members SIGN UP HERE For the 2PM ET
· Everyone else SIGN UP HERE for the 2PM ET

· WTBR Members SIGN UP HERE For the 8PM ET
· Everyone else SIGN UP HERE for the 8PM ET

After receiving not one but three reminders to query Mollie yesterday, you must be dying to hear about whether or not I came through for yesterday me.

The answer is no. I did not. But I swear, 100%, I’m going to do it tomorrow! Tomorrow me is going to kill it.

Every great wish,

Jos

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The dog who slept touching my leg, sleeping touching my leg.

We hosted a Substack seminar last week at Prose Playground, a writing community of nearly 500 brilliant writers [proseplayground.com]. The prompt was to write about cooking a chicken while weaving that idea into the theme of the Substack-style newsletter you want to write. I want to write about writing and explore writing. So I used the prompt to show you what a HERMIT CRAB ESSAY is - and how to write one.

-Jos

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Dear Writers,

I use a lot of citrus in my chicken. I cut up pieces of lemon and put it under the skin. I mix lemon zest into butter and make a compound butter to spread over everything. And then I put half an orange up its keister for good measure.

A hermit crab essay is an essay that can take many forms but its primary function is to hold the trauma the same way a shell protects a hermit crab. Couch the language in something other in order to add depth to a story, hold it together, sometimes cradle it gently, sometimes raucously, hilariously because life has a way of being hilarious at the most inconvenient times.

Like the time I was with my boyfriend making chicken for dinner and he told me, casually, in passing, how his mother swore the next time she attempted suicide, she’d do it two ways to make sure she got it right. And I said, “Hopefully one of them isn’t eating our chicken,” and we laughed.

In a similar way that one is just flavoring the chicken with that citrus, giving the chicken every opportunity to be the best chicken it can possibly be. As an Ashkanazi Jewish woman, I have chicken-making in my blood. Like the Shtetl rabbi who oversaw the emptying of the blood of a chicken, humanely cut at its jugular to render it Kosher, so too would my chicken-making blood run with just a hint of lemon and fresh herbs up the keister. The same way the women in my family passed their chicken making recipes down through the generations, definitely without butter, compound or otherwise.

Yet still, a hermit crab essay means there’s a hermit crab in here somewhere. It is soft and exposed when outside its shell, such a tiny mollusk of a thing. Like the long slow deaths of my parents; The loss of the dog who slept touching me every night for fifteen years, the loss of that comforting, nightly touch; The love that stood on a chair in a hotel bathroom and shot up enough heroin to overdose with a noose around his neck the day after I got serious about telling him it was over. He did it two ways, to be sure.

If one dries roast the chicken directly on their oven grate over top a tray of fennel, shallots, and garlic, they will find that the gravy, made from the clear juices running down from the bird, has a certain depth of flavor that will make everyone believe they are the kind of home cook who should try out for TV shows about home cooks.

Similarly, a hermit crab essay reminds us that in the greatness of the human condition, in loss and pain, there is a second truth: Those of us in the throes of dynamic grief are also lucky to have loved enough to grieve and alive enough to understand that wisdom is the gift for having lost. That a life lived is the reward for having been brave in our choice to love when the threat of loss looms over us all.

And sometimes there is also art in the form of a hermit crab essay. And sometimes there is a fully cooked, citrus chicken.

When you eat that chicken, even one that is full of dynamic grief, I hope you discover something else: Hope. There is hope mixed into that flavor, it’s a tangy-sweetness that leans into the savory meat.

But first, roast at 420 for an hour.

Every good wish,

Jos

A picture that could seriously be a hermit crab essay by itself about a girl looking at her newly published book about grief and love and through the window of Greenlight Bookstore in Brooklyn. THE FAMILY GENE

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