Why I'm No Longer Scared of Dying Alone: How I landed my first byline for The Washington Post
How I did it + the essay
Dying alone. I thought about it. I still think about it. I’m single — so it’s a real possibility that maybe I’ll die alone. Do I want to die alone? No. Do we all in essence die alone? Yes, but that’s not the same as dying alone as a single person. Especially as a single woman. There’s a different resonance to it. As I wrote in the essay that will be detailed below, “Being a single and independent living woman is one thing. It evokes a powerful, fist-pumping image worthy of a Beyoncé anthem. But a single woman, face down on a kitchen floor, evokes an image that is mostly sad, lonely and a little scary.”
So I wrote about dying alone. Because I like to write about the things that I’m grappling with, and I feel the more I write about these oh-so-close-to-my heart topics, not only am I processing and healing them within, I might have the opportunity to do the same for others.
Similar to my pitch and essay for Elle Canada about my mom, this pitch was my first one ever for the Washington Post and it was bought!
Another lesson in the “if you go deep and vulnerable, your story is more universal than you realize” department and therefore lucrative and saleable.
As I mentioned in the initial post for Pitching & Writing 101, this is a semi-regular series, which will offer a “behind the scenes” look at previous and current pitches of mine that I’ve sold whether through my contributing roles at various publication or a one-off publication. Each post will include a link to the story, the original pitch and subject line, my relationship with the editor, the rate, as well the process from start to finish and my takeaway from the experience, including the energetics behind it all.
My intention is to help demystify the process for fellow writers and editors and offer you a glimpse on how I did it. My process and career has definitely not been linear nor did I do things the “right” way but it worked out! Which goes to show…you can do it too. YOUR WAY.
The original pitch (January 28 2019)
Subject line: 'Perspective' Pitch: What Happens When a Single Person Dies?
The pitch: Hi [editor],
Brianne Hogan here. I'm a Canadian writer with bylines in Elle, HuffPo, Thrillist, etc., and I've been solo-ish for pretty much my entire adult life.
I have an essay pitch for Perspective: What Happens When a Single Person Dies?
While I certainly don't plan on being single forever, it's gotten me thinking: what if I do stay single forever and die? My friend and I discussed this as she told me about her partner's single co-worker who died. Found, alone, in his apartment, from a heart attack. His co-workers were the ones to find his body and realized he had been missing. I realized this could be me. My friend revealed to me that it was the idea of dying alone that propelled her to seek the partnership she has now.
It got me thinking the same, wondering if I keeled over tomorrow, who would find me? Who would care? Sure, I have close friends who would mourn me but it's not the same care or love that a partner would have. Marriage, or a Kurt/Goldie situation, doesn't give someone a purpose, but it does bestow a sense of meaning and responsibility. You meant at least something to someone to want to spend decades of your precious life together. I'd argue that even the most mediocre of marriages will evoke some sort of emotion when the other half croaks. I love that I'm self-sufficient but it's certainly nice to have someone who cares whether or not I land safely at the airport or die engulfed in flames. I recently asked my dad about his will, and he, in turn, asked me about MY will. "You're not as young as you used to be; who will get your stuff?"
Who WILL get my stuff?! Who will be burdened with my stuff that doesn't mean anything to anyone other than me? But might mean the world to a lover who won't care if he's stuck with boxes of useless Blu-rays, an uncomfortable couch, and a crotchety cat? These are things that I now think about, wondering: if I don't end up with a life partner, will my existence even truly matter? Yeah, like, cool, she was a writer but does that really stack up against someone who would be able to call 911 if you fell ill at your apartment? Or who would at least mourn you for a few years?
I know my circumstances are not unique. I have several close single friends in their mid-30s. We are all considering life in a new way as we move toward middle-age. What does it mean to be single/alone as an older person, and the risks/realities that go with it? Like, death.
Let me know if you have any questions or thoughts.
Thanks so much,
Brianne
The background
Well, I mean, I think I say it all in the pitch. “Perspective” was the name of the column I was pitching for, and as you can see I am pretty honest about my perspective on being a single woman and the prospect of dying alone. Everything I wrote in the email is true — from what my dad said about having a will to my useless box of Blu-rays and a cranky cat to the thoughts and struggles I was (still) having. Looking back, my email is raw and real — and funny. It’s written in my voice. So the editor definitely knows what she’s going to get from an essay of mine if she buys the pitch.
My relationship with the editor
I didn’t have one! I followed her on Twitter (RIP) and she was on my list of editors that I wanted to pitch when I thought I had something worthwhile to send her way. And by worthwhile, I mean a story that really spoke to me and one that I was interested and passionate about telling.
The process
The editor’s response: February 6, 2019
It’s so nice when the editor responds with a follow-up! Although either way is fine. But as a writer, the fast follow up eases the anxiety a bit.
Anyway!
Here’s what she said:
“Hi, Brianne.
This is potentially interesting. I assigned this idea to someone else years ago and she didn’t do a good job, so I had to kill it. That’s all to say, it’s a HUGE piece / idea and I want you to think about whether you’re really up for the challenge. A really good: How to prepare to die alone could be useful but could also be totally mocked on the Internet. So I guess I’m saying: Are you up to do some preliminary reporting with experts (tax, legal, health, etc) and then want to report back on what you find? Let’s set up a call for the last week in Feb. When might be good for you? What time zone are you in?”
My response:
“Sure, let's do it. I have a great aunt, at 90, who is in the same boat. Never married, no children, no mate. This is someone's reality. I'm in AST (1 hour ahead of EST). What would you like from me and when?”
Was I daunted by what she told me? Yes, a little. I mean, the Washington Post is a major publication. It’s serious journalism. “All the President’s Men” anyone? And I don’t have a journalistic background. Everything I’ve done in freelancing I’ve learned on my own, on the job. I knew it was going to ask a lot from me but isn’t that the thrill of doing something for the first time? I love a good challenge, and I knew it would be worth it.
We ended up connecting later that month on February 25 and she didn’t give me a deadline! Which I don’t love….which is why….
First draft submitted: May 28, 2019
Truth be told, it took longer than expected to round up the appropriate sources and vet them accordingly. I also took a vacation in the middle of it (Eek! and met up with The Ex) but she was cool with it and I was happy with the draft.
The response: May 29, 2019
She said she might take a while to get to it but the draft was “looking good.”
The follow up: June 24, 2019
I gently nudged the editor for a follow up.
The response: July 3, 2019
She said she hadn’t forgotten about me but was juggling some assignments, and might be a few more weeks until she got to mine.
The follow up: August 2, 2019
I nudged again.
The response: August 2, 2019
She said it would be a little longer until she got to my piece.
The response: August 21, 2019
She got back to me with her edits. There weren’t a ton. Phew!
2nd draft submitted: August 21, 2019.
The response: August 22, 2019
A second editor made some changes and minor tweaks. He asked if I was happy with the draft. I was!
The rate
$400 USD for 1500 words. Not the best rate in town but the byline holds weight. So it was worth it to me.
Invoicing
Relatively smooth all things considered. I was paid within two months.
The publication
Publishing date: August 27, 2019
I still get emails about the essay. I think it resonates with a lot of people across the board no matter their age and status in life. I’m proud of the essay — the work and research I did, taking the time to connect with people who could speak on the topic, and, of course, sharing my own perspective.
You can read it below.
Why I’m no longer scared of dying alone
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” read the text from a friend. The “he” in question was my friend’s partner’s co-worker, who was in his early 40s and single. He hadn’t shown up to work one morning, my friend said. After not picking up calls or texts, a couple of his co-workers ventured to his apartment. No answer. Later, after contacting the superintendent and authorities to access the premises, they found him on the kitchen floor. He had died of cardiac arrest. Alone.
“Can you imagine dying that way?” my friend asked. Dying alone, as a single person, with days passing before anyone noticed? For the first time in my life, yes, I could imagine that. And it terrified me.
I have been thinking a lot about death lately. Specifically, mine. Now that I am closer to 40 than 20, life has become less precarious and more precious. My recent Google searches — “retirement investment savings,” “warm places to settle down,” “how old is Clint Eastwood?” — reflect my current state. This probably explains why my perpetually single friends are suddenly getting married and having children. I, however, am not. I am 36, single and have been for most of my adult life.
Being a single and independent living woman is one thing. It evokes a powerful, fist-pumping image worthy of a Beyoncé anthem. But a single woman, face down on a kitchen floor, evokes an image that is mostly sad, lonely and a little scary. Who will really remember me? Who will get my stuff?
“Where’s your will?” I asked my parents a few months ago. I had finally come to terms with my parents’ mortality. Not so much in an emotional or spiritual “aha” sense, but more in a matter-of-fact one. Helping them move and settle into their retirement life over the past year had caused me to take a sharper notice of their assets, as well as their increasing gray hairs and wrinkles.
“Here,” my dad said, finally setting it down on the kitchen table, before asking: “So, where’s your will?”
I do not have one. Truthfully, I have never considered getting a will drawn up. Without a mate, children or property (I’ve lived in rentals for most of my life) I did not think I needed one.
Most young single people do not have wills, said Robert Steele, an attorney and partner at New York-based law firm Schwartz Sladkus Reich Greenberg Atlas. “I suppose younger people think nothing will happen to them, and even if it did, they have no concerns. Bottom line is that single people without a significant other and no children will not have a will if they have no dependents or loved ones.”
It is not that I have a lot of stuff to dole out to people once I am gone — a Volkswagen Beetle, a jumpy black cat, a box full of People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” editions. However, the fact that I didn’t have a will made me realize that, while I have been able to take care of myself as a single, living person — eating well, exercising, paying my taxes — when it came to the prospect of death, I was a hot mess.
If I were to die tomorrow, sans will, Steele said my nearest relatives, such as my parents, would typically be appointed to administer my estate. However, if someone has no close relatives, a public official called the public administrator would be appointed to manage these assets and to perform an “heir search” to locate any other relatives. Dawn R. Levine, a Georgia-based estate planning and probate attorney, said these heirs are often called “laughing heirs” because “they never met you, so they have no reason to cry.”
Ouch.
Levine said while the process without a will is more expensive, it is often the disagreement over who should be in charge of the estate that is the biggest problem. “We have often seen courtroom brawls over which sibling should be in charge. We have also seen parents of the deceased get into fights,” she said. “I often tell my single clients that planning is even more important for them since they don’t have an obvious go-to person like a spouse.”
Great. So if I were partnered up, I would probably have my affairs in order. If I had a will, then I would most likely have life insurance and provisions for my funeral, which I do not. The man who died alone — my friend’s partner’s co-worker — did not have a funeral planned. With sick elderly parents who lived out of state, his co-workers and friends took it upon themselves to plan his memorial. However, it took months for it to come together. “I can’t help but think if he had a partner, that it would’ve been done by now,” my friend remarked to me.
According to Levine, when a person dies alone and that person’s body is not claimed, there is usually still a burial, which is comforting to know. “If there are assets, the funeral home will work through the probate court to get paid and work with an appointed public administrator.” If the person does not have any assets, some states might be able to assist with a burial. This can get tricky, as each state’s laws are different.
That is all we really are when we die: a body. It is not the body our loved ones remember, but the soul within. Death is finite, but love is forever. I am scared of dying alone not because I am scared I have not lived enough, but because I am scared that maybe I did not love enough. Maybe that is why I am usually the last person on a phone call to hang up. I text back instantly; I forgive and forget easily.
Over the years, I find myself asking these two questions a lot: “Will I regret this if I die and don’t say it?” and “Will I die if I do say it?” The answer is always, respectively, yes and no.
Joel Karlin, a hospice social worker at Visiting Nurse Service of New York, has worked multiple cases of single people dying alone. He said while people have regrets at the end of life, they tend to make peace with their regrets “to let go.”
“There is grief at not having a primary caregiver, but often people are single because of an independent streak, and that seems to serve the dying well — to a point. Loss of function at the very end is usually that point,” Karlin said. He added that while, financially, being single near the end of one’s life can be a bit of a struggle, he finds that, for his single patients, being single “does not mean that life was not complete.”
Hannah Schwartz, a Visiting Nurse Service of New York care coordinator, said she has learned that “when someone single and alone reaches the end of life, the family becomes those who are around you.”
Love, like death, is one of life’s biggest games of chance, and death has a way of putting things in perspective. We cannot go around thinking this might be the last time we will watch a mesmerizing sunset or see our loved ones again, because fixating on those prospects robs us from experiencing the present. It is who or what we have right now that matters most.
Maybe that is why Bailey Matheson’s self-written obituary went viral in April after she died at the age of 35. Urging people to “live a little,” she made the most out of her life after she was diagnosed with cancer, including traveling to 13 countries over two years with her loved ones, including her new boyfriend.
Her friend Julie Carrigan told me Matheson always prioritized making sure her loved ones would be okay after her passing, which included implementing a will and setting aside money for her funeral. “She said, ‘The worst part isn’t the fact that I’m dying, I’ve always tried to live my life to the fullest every day so I feel fulfilled and happy . . . the worst part is seeing your family and friends hurt, and there’s nothing you can do it about it.' ”
I know my parents will miss me if I die. I know my friends will miss me, too. But the truth is: We all die alone. Like our birth, our death is a solo journey. As a single person for nearly four decades, I know I can meet my own needs. This means I can implement systems to protect my assets and continue to extend love to myself and others.
That is why I made an appointment to get a will done. Steele told me, in most states, a will must be in writing, signed, declared to be a will and witnessed, and while it is recommended to see a lawyer, it is not legally required. (However, do not even think of doing it online, a method he compares to “self-dentistry.”)
So, please, do yourself a favor, my fellow single people: Go get yourself a will.
The original essay was published here.
I really appreciate your window into the process of getting this piece published. As for the piece itself, I thought it was great. It certainly gave me a lot to think about. Definitely need to get my will done. I’ll also try to remember and employ in my own life “Will I regret this if I die and don’t say it?” and “Will I die if I do say it?” And finally, “laughing heir”…WTF?