This has been a year of unhinging. Read into that nuanced word whatever you will, but this word is the most accurate for me. My world is not upside down. I’m post hurricane, disordered days and doors blown off their hinges. All the doors I used to compartmentalize who I am and the value (financial and otherwise) of what I do gone. I’m re-evaluating how and where I spend my time, what my income sources might be, and the value of what I offer. In particular, I’m examining my word value.

I find putting a price on my words harder than crafting a mini-bio that captures all I am for a particular audience. Why are mini-bios and word value hard? 1) It feels cringy to talk about myself or to place a value on what I offer. 2) When I research the parameters, I find no consistent guidelines.

Some mini-bios list places the author is published. Others leave that out, and list their people, pets, and place of residence. According to one source, my words are worth about $0.10 each. Others advise my level of expertise puts me at $4.00 per word. My sliding scale for a 700-word article ranges between $70 and $2800. Maybe my mini-bio for the $70 will only list my name, but for $2800, you can find out where I live, the name of my partner, how many pets I feed, and where I’m published.

This is not only unhelpful, it’s unhealthy for a writer. I think Pat Schneider would agree that negotiation for word value is reminiscent of damaging school days when a teacher “bled” on a heartfelt essay about a grandmother. The red called out misplaced commas, narrow margins, and incorrect letter case. The perfect string of words about the grandmother’s sewing cabinet where she kept a basket full of colorful scraps for play and the exquisite imagery describing the collection of hat boxes and old shoes in the hall closet were crushed beneath the weight of grammar and spelling.

Word Value vs. Value of Words

Attempting to put value on the words I write reminds me that the value is in the writing. In the practices and exercises. In the showing up with butt in chair and pen in hand. Every writer on writing I’ve read mentions (and sometimes expounds on) the importance of practice over product. Assigning value per word draws us to product and is a hiccup in our practice.

Here’s an extra bit to 1) tie my photo in and 2) offer what can be a metaphor for so many writerly things. Every now and then, I don’t pay attention to the weather (which can be as flaky as Google on sorting out word value) and I leave my morning books and notebooks on the back porch. Drizzles aren’t a bother, but a deluge can literally wash my words away. Sometimes I lose stories, notes for novels, or letters. This week, it was mainly my dailies (a log of prayers, mantras, food intake, and so on). For me, the rain-washed pages are a good reminder not to become attached to words, to avoid leaning into the credulity of dollar value on words.

This week, working out the word value of what I write reminded me that, no matter what, fee or free, I’ll write. I can’t not write. For me, it’s not about the word value, but the value of words in my daily practice.

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2025.