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A guest post from Robin Marantz Henig:
When I was in college, I did what every aspiring journalist did back
then, in the dark ages of the 1970s—I would research and write an
article, type it out on my portable electric typewriter, put it in an
envelope, lick a stamp, and mail it off to a glossy magazine in hopes
of getting it published. How quaint every step of that process seems
now, right down to the stamp. Writer’s Market was
my bible, a fat directory I’d leaf through to get editors’ names and
addresses for the magazines in which I longed to appear. Oh, to have my
words printed on the pages of Esquire, the Atlantic, Saturday Review, or that pinnacle of sophistication and beautiful prose, the sanctified New Yorker ... (Read more in DoubleX.)