What is the price you are willing to pay to ensure your writing is enjoyed by its audience?
- DestanyStevens

- 6 days ago
- 3 min read

I think about this every time I start a new project—and especially as I near the end of one. This time, it’s the latter. As I begin to wrap up my poetry manuscript, Perfect Reflection, I find myself stuck.
What is my budget? What is it worth?
The answer, honestly, depends on you and your project.
I’ll be completely transparent. As an author, I edit most of my own work. That’s just how it is. As a writer working within the writing and editing space, I don’t typically pay for services unless I have to—such as for a self-published project. Even then, it’s still out of pocket, so I try to choose options that give me the best return on my spending.
Why?
Simple. I’m not a bank. I don’t have the resources to pour into a project the way a traditionally published book might—with a built-in editor, marketing team, and distribution support. (And even that isn’t guaranteed for everyone.) But for this project, I am seriously considering self-publishing.
Ideally, the dream is traditional publishing. That’s what most writers aim for. But the reality is, the acceptance rate is incredibly low—often cited around 1–2%—and nothing is guaranteed. I’m still actively querying my children’s book, Burnt Toast, and holding onto that goal. If you happen to know someone looking, feel free to send them my way.
I saw a TikTok once where Reese Witherspoon said, “You don’t chase your dreams. You chase your talents.” It stuck with me.
It also gave me an idea.
Why not reach out on TikTok? Why not connect with newer beta readers and editors—people who are still building their portfolios—who might be willing to work at a lower cost while gaining experience and exposure?
Because here’s the thing: just because someone has years of experience doesn’t automatically make them the best fit. There’s value in fresh perspective, in effort, and in care. I approach these connections with kindness and the hope that they can be mutually beneficial.
So far, it’s been a mixed experience—but not without its wins.
I connected with one beta reader whose work I appreciated enough to pay full price through his freelance page. He followed my questionnaire guide, provided thoughtful, detailed responses, and—most importantly—I could tell he actually read the manuscript. He didn’t just run it through AI and send back a generic response.
And that matters.
Because finding professionals who genuinely care about their work—who take the time to provide meaningful editorial feedback—is harder than it should be.
Which brings me to the other side of this experience.
Not with him—but with a few others who found their way into my DMs.
I expected a few scammers. That’s part of putting yourself out there. But you never really know how many until you start receiving the messages.
The responses felt templated. Vague. Almost too polished, in a way that didn’t match the work I shared. When I ask for feedback on something as personal as a poetry collection, I’m not looking for perfection—I’m looking for presence.
Not just: “This was good.”
It’s the difference between filler and thoughtful editorial feedback. When you pay for a service—especially out of pocket—you start to notice that difference quickly.
This process forced me to ask myself harder questions.
Not just what is this worth financially?
But what is this work worth emotionally?
Because at the end of the day, this manuscript isn’t just a project. It’s a reflection of a version of myself I had to sit with, write through, and understand.
So maybe the real cost isn’t just money.
Maybe it’s time.
Discernment.
Trial and error.
Learning when to trust others—and when to trust yourself.
And maybe that’s part of the writing process, too.
If you’re working on something of your own and feeling stuck in the same way, you’re not alone.
I do offer beta reading and editing support—always with the goal of keeping your voice intact. If that’s something you need, my inbox is open.
—Destany


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