Getting Into Modern Love

And what it was like to share our story with the world

Hey Honey,

Many people have asked me how I got my essay published in Modern Love, and what that experience was like for both of us. I’m always happy to talk about it because it was, by far, the most wild and exciting experience I've had so far as a writer. 

But it was much more than that. It was also a chance for us to share the story of how you became diagnosed with OCD. Sometimes, as a writer, I can get very focused on the craft of writing and measurable goals (getting into Modern Love, finding an agent, publishing a novel) and forget that the whole point at the end is to connect with readers, and make them feel or learn something. So when we heard from hundreds of readers about how our story affected them, it came as a bit of a shock. A few people even told us our story helped them realize they, too, had OCD. That was the most powerful part of the whole experience.

So how did I get our story in Modern Love?

I've been a fan of The New York Times' Modern Love column for a long time, and it was a dream of mine for many years to publish an essay in it. I knew it was a long shot, as they accept around 1% or fewer of the essays submitted. I figured I'd have to try many times before I got in, if I ever managed at all.

I didn't feel that I was a natural essay writer (though I have written articles and plenty of fiction), so I took a class offered at my local writing center, Hugo House, on writing personal essays. The essay I wrote for that class was a bit of a dud; as my instructor explained, my essay had no stakes, no learning. It was just a sweet anecdote about learning to smoke pot with my grandma.

So I never submitted that essay to Modern Love. Instead, I waited years to come up with the right story. I was still in my early thirties, and I figured more story-worthy life experiences were still to come.

And boy, was I right. Though I didn't recognize, at first, that your OCD was a story worth writing about. We dealt with the most extreme period of your anxiety, diagnosis and treatment all in a relatively short period of about 8 months, while I was pregnant for the second time. Then we had a baby, and then fifteen months later the pandemic hit. It was only a few years later, when I had time to look back on our experience, that I realized that when you had freaked out over a tiny spot on our first baby's lip, thinking it was the first sign of a terrible illness, it actually was the first sign of a terrible illness — just not his. That realization became the opening of my essay.

From there, my first draft was easy to write. I didn't plan at first to structure my essay around what I learned at each stage of our relationship (my essay includes short lists of things I learned: first about trivial facts, then about poisonous substances, then about OCD, and finally, about life.) But as I tried to follow the advice from my essay class about a) including high stakes (will they work through this or break up?) and b) showing growth and learning, those lists emerged as my favorite, most powerful part of the essay. 

And then, of course, I did some serious editing. I am lucky to have a fantastically talented writing group, plus a few other trusted critique partners, and they each contributed small but impactful choices about word choice and structure. Of course, I also shared the essay at every stage with you, checking in to make sure you were comfortable with me sharing such a personal story. You were always supportive, but of course we still thought getting into Modern Love was a long shot.

And then, after reading every piece of advice I could find online about getting into Modern Love (this compilation of tips was extremely helpful) and editing my essay as much as I could over the course of about six weeks, I finally submitted it.

And then I waited. I knew it would take months, but I still checked my phone constantly, hoping for a response. The Modern Love team responds to every submission, which I appreciate, so I knew mine hadn't been rejected yet until I heard from them.

Finally, one Friday morning, I was in the backyard watching the kids when the name Dan Jones (the editor of Modern Love) popped up in my inbox.

Interesting story. I'd like to talk to you about it. Are you around next week for a call?

Those three short sentences changed everything. I ran into the house, screaming so excitedly that my dad spilled his coffee all over himself. 

I knew from scouring the internet that Dan's email meant my essay was likely going to get published. He doesn't call people to reject them, but the Modern Love team does a lot of prep work with writers to edit essays and check facts. On the phone a few days later, I answered Dan's questions. He was so calm and thoughtful, while I was doing my best not to squeal and jump with excitement. Finally, he explained that they were running behind schedule and wanted to publish it very soon. My article was posted online less than two weeks later.

During those two weeks, I scrambled to build an author website, create a new author email account, and respond to edits and questions from the Modern Love team. It was thrilling and also a bit terrifying. I kept thinking I’d dreamt it all. 

And then the article came out, at midnight eastern time on a Thursday evening. Within a few hours, we started hearing from friends, family, acquaintances, people we hadn't spoken to in years, members of our parenting community. Some friends sent me thoughtful messages that made me cry. It was an incredibly raw, powerful time, to receive so much love and support from our community.

Many friends, and even some of our closest family members, told us they hadn't realized how bad things had gotten. We never tried to hide your anxiety, but it was a hard thing to discuss, especially before your diagnosis, when we didn't know what to call it. Our family had supported us a great deal through the hardest times, but they got in-the-moment glimpses of what we were dealing with, not the whole picture. I don't think even you and I really saw the whole story until I wrote that essay.

By the time the essay came out, we were querying a novel we'd written together. We hoped agents might read our essay and be excited to represent us (this isn't a crazy notion — some writers have experienced this after publishing in Modern Love). But that didn't happen; our novel was a different genre, so the agents reading Modern Love weren't necessarily looking to represent comedic novels about kidnapped reality TV bachelors. (We did eventually find our wonderful agent a few months later.)

So while publishing in Modern Love didn't change our writing career overnight, it did immediately reach what some estimate to be around a million readers, and hearing from some of those readers was one of the wildest experiences of my life. I still occasionally hear from readers, two years later. We also got to be guests on several podcasts, which was another wonderful chance to share our story — especially since you speak so eloquently about your experience, and that was the one piece I felt was missing from my essay.

We also have been considered for the Modern Love podcast, something we would love to do. But so far, we haven't gotten on their schedule. Things can take time, and if I've learned anything as a writer, it's patience.

I hope our story is helpful to others out there who dream of getting into Modern Love. Thank you, again, for letting me share our story. I think sharing your experience is such an important contribution to combatting stereotypes. And I loved your last post, hearing your reactions to how artists for Modern Love and the Embodied podcast depicted your OCD. If I had to depict your OCD, it would be a fun, messy, brilliant, handsome guy with a tiny demon on his shoulder who occasional shouts in his ear. That’s how I see you.

 Love,

Nicole