There's nothing like getting a glimpse of your own epitaph to get one reflecting on the backstory behind the stone. Here's mine:

I started my Advertising career in retail, cutting my teeth writing copy for Wieboldt’s Department Store. (Back in the 70’s, State Street was teeming with department stores that housed their own Ad Departments. Excellent training grounds for fledgling copywriters.) After two years of meeting daily deadlines, I itched with greater aspirations. Bent on getting into a big, glamorous agency, I aimed straight for the world’s biggest: J. Walter Thompson (JWT), its Midwest headquarters located in the John Hancock Center. Could a girl opt for anything more glamorous?  

Hearing of an opening there, I put together a portfolio of samples that included a spec TV spot for 7-Up (“The Uncola,” one of JWT’s prized accounts). The Group Creative Director interviewing me was so taken with the spot, he wanted to literally take it. And produce it. So they hired me, if only because if they didn’t, they feared I would sue them. I was welcomed into a group of the funniest, most talented, creative (and good-looking  ;0) guys and girls you’d ever want to meet. (Sorry, but “men” and “women” sounds too mature. We weren’t.) I loved all my co-workers. One of them so much that I married him: Ken Marier (French for “to marry”!), the agency’s audio engineer and video producer, who was soon recruited into a competing agency.) 

This all occurred in the post “Mad Men” era. Women came flooding into the ad industry at all levels. Glass ceilings were shattered. FYI, contrary to many stereotypes about “ad men,” never once have I experienced sexism. We were all on equal footing with the guys. I know I was treated as such. I thrived, writing copy for TV, Radio and print on countless Fortune 500 accounts whose products ranged from Kibbles ‘n Bits to Boeing, to Hyatt Hotels. Garnering awards and instrumental in helping win new business, I rose through the ranks, reaching VP/Creative Director within 12 years. It was the gleaming, Golden Age of Advertising. Until…

Like an alien space ship, a new regime descended upon the agency, transforming it into a writhing, venomous snake pit. I was breaking out in hives, losing weight at an alarming rate. My only escape was to come home, jump in the tub, and immerse myself in fairy tales. (I didn't’ do drugs.) This went on until one point where a TV spot of mine that had just been produced was sabotaged by my “superiors.” Their handiwork caused the client to lose beaucoup bucks. They made me the fall girl. I was fired. 

I immediately called Ken to break the news. His instant response: “Good!” He lived through over a year of my suffering, constantly insisting that I quit. Now the decision was made for me. Plus, I got severance. (Good!)  “But,” I lamented, “what about our routines? I loved our routines!” To which Ken replied, “We’ll find new routines.” A cloud burst open. The sun broke through.

Shortly thereafter, I recalled what I once wrote on a yellow legal pad: That it was my dream to be a freelance writer. The whole 9 to 5 construct never did appeal to me. I always fantasized about having the freedom to work whatever hours I wished, picturing myself sitting mid-day at an outdoor café, reading novels while sipping a cappuccino. (Which, to this day, I’ve yet to do.) Ah, the good life!

I immediately launched into overdrive. Fishing for freelance work, I called 100 ad agencies. Only one bit: The Ad Agency. Clever name! We hit it off and my experience there mirrored the halcyon days of JWT, resuscitating my belief in the biz. I answered Want Ads in the Chicago Tribune and was hired for another long-term gig. Another fantastic experience. I was on a roll. But one thing I did miss: the camaraderie that comes with working day-to-day in an office, with people of kindred spirits. Those times were joyful. Freelance can be a lonely existence, especially between gigs.

My dad, Eric, a star copywriter at Leo Burnett, told me of an organization called Independent Writers of Chicago. Sounded perfect. In 1989, I joined. My profile and credentials were published in IWOC’s Member Directory, a hard copy booklet that was sent annually to hundreds of Chicagoland businesses.  (At the time, there was no “online.”) It didn’t take long before employers came a-calling. I’ve said it before and will repeat it once more: I owe my freelance career to IWOC. The jobs came marching in. Jobs from a wide variety of clients whose businesses ranged from large to start-ups, all requiring different types of ad- and marketing-related writing needs.

Thanks to those clients, I’ve expanded my repertoire from writing for TV, Radio and Print, to saying “Yes!” to writing Websites. Video scripts. Blogs. Direct Mail. Press Releases. Case studies. Brochures. Trade articles. Newsletters. Catalogues. PowerPoint presentations. Advertorials. Social Media. And more.

 A word about advice: As writers, we’re always advised to market ourselves as specialists. I admire those who are. But I prefer to be a generalist. It’s more attuned to my psyche. I enjoy learning about a panoply of products and services. There’s an intrinsic drama within them all. Thanks to the gigs obtained largely via IWOC, the products and services I wrote on included everything from Schneider National Trucking & Logistics to the Peninsula Hotel Fashion Show. From community-minded motorcycle clubs to Mercy Hospital’s Cardiac Clinic. From Catholic Charities Foster Care to a wildly irreverent recruitment campaign for Burger King – the last of which was given high praise by a New York Times advertising critic. And on and on.

The unfunny thing is, for 14 years I only sporadically attended IWOC’s monthly meetings. Afterwards, I’d run right home. Never did I attend a post-meeting dinner. Everyone else seemed so “professional.” Highly intelligent. They struck me as card-carrying members of the Algonquin Roundtable. Frankly, I was intimidated. While impressions by some may be to the contrary, I’m basically an introvert. It takes me a while to acclimate myself to any social situation. Only then could I let loose. Throw off my glasses and unpin my bun. 

But something nagged at me. With all the work I was getting through IWOC, I felt the need to give back. I volunteered to write IWOC’s press releases, using them as a creative outlet, writing them in my own style. I did this from 2004 to 2012. Apparently my releases caught the attention of the late, super great IWOC co-founder, Catherine Rategan. She insisted I run for the Board of Directors and refused to take “no” for an answer. I was dragged in kicking and screaming. Flashback to my first day of kindergarten. But as in kindergarten, once on board, I acclimated. Made friends. Became comfortable in this new role.

After serving on the Board for two years, participating in numerous fairs, fests, helping conduct workshops and writers’ boot camps, and contributing ideas (such as our TED-like talk, “Life in the Freelance Lane”), I was approached in 2016 by then President David Steinkrause and ever-lovin’ friend and IWOC-er Betsy Storm. They begged, pleaded and cajoled me into running for IWOC President. I said, “NO!” Didn’t matter. 

Once again, I was dragged in, kicking and screaming. This time, it was more like when I was a gangly 14-year-old taking swimming lessons. The instructor tried convincing me to jump in the deep end. I couldn’t. I’d run to the edge of the pool, teeter, then scurry back to safety. This went on for 45 minutes. Fed up, the instructor finally just pushed me in. Screaming, I sunk to the bottom, then swiftly bounded up to the surface. Treading water, I looked around…realized I was still alive…beamed up at my mom, and shouted, “Hey, this is nice!” Same with being President. Once in, it was nice. 

In this new role, things I learned about myself surprised me. I was able to revive dormant leadership skills (acquired at JWT) and develop new ones. Still drawing on my Advertising experience, I had a knack for seeing the big picture, zeroing in on the heart of problems and arriving at solutions. I even found it relatively easy to make decisions, since many options are often obviously unworkable, impractical, unproductive. Case in point: 

In 2016, IWOC was hemorrhaging funds. We had less than two years left to remain in business. Expenses had to be cut if we were to survive beyond that. The lion’s share of expenses was the monthly payments meted out to all the Committee heads. Paying people in a non-profit volunteer organization? Kind of nullifies the meaning of “volunteer,” does it not? I explained the situation to each of the heads. Fortunately, they willingly agreed to give up the payments. That alone helped extend the life of IWOC to where we are now.

Another thing I learned. Or at least was confirmed: writers are an eccentric bunch. (What, Moi? Guilty as charged!) But I enjoyed dealing with them all. Or most of them anyway. I was honored when they came to me to complain, or to seek advice, or just to gossip. I enjoyed playing mother hen, and especially, being considered a good friend – many of whom I cherish. 

Not going to lie. I know I’ve also ruffled feathers. I never felt good about that, and made amends when I felt I was wrong. But not when I knew I was right. Which leads to yet another thing I learned: No matter what you do, you can’t control how people interpret your actions. All you can do is do the best that you can.

One of the things I found particularly rewarding was when I was able to help give to others what IWOC gave to me: the opportunity to succeed. Being a mentor of sorts, I got a vicarious thrill in watching them discover their own strengths, muster the courage to take wing and soar. If having played some part in that was all I accomplished as IWOC President, that would have been enough.

But of course, that wasn’t all. When I assumed the President’s role, IWOC was a vibrant place. To ensure that zeitgeist continued, I, along with fellow Board and Committee members, kept the momentum going in full swing. Over the last 10 years… 

• We expanded our outreach to bring awareness of IWOC and recruit members by extending our “Life in the Freelance Lane” (LIFL) tour, pesenting it at the American Writers Museum, City Hall (Business Center), numerous Chicago and suburban libraries, the Next Door and Capital One Community Hubs, etc.
• In our ongoing effort to recruit Gen Z-ers, we reached out to 25 colleges and universities to propose our LIFL talk, and staked out a presence at Job Fairs. 
• Always wanting IWOC to remain relevant to current needs, we’ve been evolving with the times, presenting programs covering topics such as AI, Social Media and Self-Publishing. 
• In the interest of promoting IWOC members’ successes, we started sending “Member News” eblasts to over 1000 contacts
• In the interest of promoting IWOC and the books of members who are authors, we continued having a presence at the popular annual Printers Row Lit Fest. 
• Camaraderie is one of the top reasons writers join, so we encouraged even more of that by adding a Spring Supper Club to our annual list of par-tays.
• To non-members who attended a monthly meeting, a membership discount to first-time applicants was added as an incentive to join.
• We started offering Membership Gift Certificates to be given to the writers and writer wannabees in your life.
• We added a Mentorship Program for any member who desired writing or career guidance.

I could go on, but you get the idea. IWOC was buzzing. 

And then came COVID. 

No need to relive the angst of that era, but while the world and other organizations were screeching to a halt, IWOC kept going. In order to do so, I had to take a crash course in conducting meetings via Zoom. While meetings and networking in person have always been one of IWOC’s reasons for being, Zoom was the next best thing. At least we were able to still have programs and board meetings. At least we were able to survive. Other long-standing writers orgs did not.

Even so, something since then had changed. People started to retire. Switch vocations. Other factors started to grow and encroach on IWOC’s territory, such as online writers groups and the avalanche of online recruitment agencies. It all added up to a dwindling membership. And with that, dwindling funds. What to do? Was IWOC about to sing its swan song?

What’s more, I was beginning to grow weary. I was taking on more than a President ought, filling the gaps in every Committee, not to mention being responsible for the multitude of  detailed technical aspects that go into conducting Zoom meetings and programs. In my 7^th term (2023) I wanted to step down, when out of the blue, an opportunity to merge with the Writers & Publishers Network materialized. It ended up fizzling out. And then, three years later, something miraculous occurred. 

Recently, Board member Joseph Wycoff came to the rescue and volunteered to be President. HALLELUJAH! His passion for IWOC and fresh ideas for moving it forward has rekindled my excitement at the prospect of a bright future. On September 29, IWOC members elected a new Board of Directors determined to join Joe in building that future. I will be remaining as President Emeritus to advise, counsel and train in order to ensure a smooth transition. 

In closing, I have to say, passing the presidential scepter along to Joe is leaving me a bit melancholy. In the past 10 years, I’ve grown in ways I never expected. Made friends that I hope to be lifelong and that go beyond IWOC. I’ve even come to love attending the after-meeting dinners at the Tempo Café with my fellow IWOC-ers. The conversations. The laughs. Our own Algonquin Roundtable! But between you and me, honestly, relinquishing power isn’t easy. Ask any nonagenarian in Congress. Still all in all, I’ve a sense of great relief, knowing the scepter is being passed to capable, trustworthy hands. 

Alas! I can finally rest in peace. 

-- Laura Stigler

I joined IWOC in the early 1990s, thinking it’d be wise to network with other freelance writers in the unlikely event my regular Chicago Tribune gigs ever dried up. I couldn’t have predicted at that time the Internet would decimate newspapers, and the unlikely would become not likely but a fait accompli.

Fortunately, before all that Tribune work went away, my credentials were promoted in IWOC’s print writer directory that at that time was mailed to prospective clients. In 1995, I received a call from a man running a PR and ad agency in Chicago’s western suburbs. He’d spotted my listing in the IWOC directory and was seeking a writer. Would I sit for an interview? I did and subsequently landed a series of regular assignments. Incredibly, 31 years later, I continue to retain the company the client headed. He’s retired, but I work for the woman who took over the agency after he stepped away. 

I pull in about $6,000 a year from the client. Many years I made more from that company, but if you conservatively take $6,000 a year and multiply by 31, you’re approaching $200,000 resulting solely from IWOC membership. That sum would pay for a couple millennia of IWOC yearly dues.

While this client was the regular customer I retained the longest, it isn’t the best client I gained from IWOC. The best was a Chicago-area association management firm that was not just the best IWOC-supplied client, but best client period. That firm hired me for years to write for associations that routinely paid four figures each for trade magazine articles.

Add up all revenue I earned from IWOC-furnished clients, and it’s hard to imagine I would have lasted 37 years as a freelancer had it not been for Independent Writers of Chicago. But that’s just what I’ve done.

-- Jeff Steele

The results are in: In response to my last President’s Post and concurrent email in which I attempted to recruit members to assume volunteer positions in order to keep IWOC alive, the grand total of those who volunteered to volunteer is (drum roll please)…none! That’s right. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Not for any committee, any board, any office. Anything.

I joined IWOC more than 40 years ago at its third meeting and was a member until about five or six years ago. I’m now 90, and the last thing I want or need is another writing assignment. But – and it’s a big but – IWOC was my professional home for many years and a seemingly endless source of helpful, smart people who helped me figure out how to find gigs and then how to actually do them once I’d landed them – also how to move from typewriter to computer. Some assignments that I can trace directly to my IWOC membership and colleagues’ suggestions/recommendations:

Ghostwrote a huge, full-color, prize-winning, coffee-table, centennial history of the Union Leage Club (found at my third IWOC meeting)

Ghostwrote a prize-winning fire prevention and survival book for the Chicago fire commissioner that was published by Barnes & Noble back when B&N still published books (second IWOC meeting)

Wrote all customer-consumer contact communications (letter and online) for VISA-First National Bank of Chicago, an assignment that lasted three+ years – from that came similar assignments with Colgate, Hills Foods, Quaker, McCormick Spices, Dole, Coca-Cola, and a half dozen more.

Wrote policy/procedures and crisis management manuals for several large, national corporations

Wrote the undergraduate and graduate course catalogs for Roosevelt University

Wrote the campus life and course catalog for Harrington School of Design

Taught “Writing for Managers” at Columbia College and “Editing for Writers” at Roosevelt University

Bought Adams Press, a production company for small presses, and ran it as a family business with my wife and son until their deaths

Produced a process-engineering book (including a year-and-a-half-long Skype working relationship) with and for an author in Belgium, who provided my wife and me a trip to his home

Became close, lifelong friends with many, many writers, including IWOC’s first president, as well as writers all across the country

Learned, as three-time IWOC president, how to build a leadership team and run effective meetings, which is invaluable for client meetings

Led IWOC to join with other creative organizations in opposition to censorship of Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses by WaldenBooks

Represented IWOC at meetings of the National Writers Organization in NYC and DC

Staffed the IWOC booth and showed my work at Printers Row Lit Fest and at American Booksellers Association convention in DC

Learned how to walk away from assignments for which I was not suited or that promised a lot of headaches for little return.

Was it all worth the price of membership? Absolutely! I eventually joined other local and national writers organizations, but IWOC was by far the most helpful to me and my career.

I’ve said it before in past President’s Posts. I’ll say it again, but this time it’s for the sake of IWOC’s survival:  IWOC does not run on auto pilot. It takes volunteers to keep the organization going. And therein lies the problem. Each year, the pool of volunteers gets ever more shallow, to the point where it’s now down to only a dedicated few. These few have been the usual suspects who, in total years, have been serving for over a century. 

Enough already. 

Personally, after a record-breaking 10 years of serving as president, I’ve finally decided that to continue my “reign” was no longer fair to IWOC nor to me. Problem is, there has been no one on the horizon who expressed interest in assuming the mantle. The president, as a role, happens to be the hub of the wheel. Without it, the spokes go flying. Other long-standing, venerable Chicago writers groups have folded as a result.

I tell you this because it was the very reason why we thought one way to keep IWOC afloat was to merge with another writers group. Three years ago, an opportunity presented itself with the Writers & Publishers Network. Hopes were high. But after several rather unsatisfying negotiations, IWOC’s Board of Directors determined the merger would not have served the best interests of IWOC members and so, voted to cut bait.  It was the right decision. But it does beg the question, “What’s next?”

Plan A: Let’s keep IWOC going as we know it.

To do that, I’m going to show you how the sausage is made by listing all the Board positions and committees that keep IWOC running. I will end by asking you to please step up and serve in any capacity you feel matches your interests, abilities, experience or simply your desire to “give back” to an organization that holds a special place in your heart. Consider taking a role in any of the following:

• Board of Directors: President, Vice President, Treasurer, Secretary, Parliamentarian 
• Program Committee
• Membership Committee
• Public Relations Committee
• Social Media Committee
• Jobs Administrator
• Stet Newsletter editor

If you’ve any questions about any of the above, feel free to contact me atpresident@iwoc.org and we can set up a time to talk. 

One final note.

The times, they’ve been a-changing. Organizations like ours or tangentially related are struggling. The causes range from “the youth” not having an interest in joining groups; competition from online social platforms (LinkedIn, etc.); COVID has changed how we meet – for better or worse. The list goes on. But one thing I do know: for 45 years, IWOC has filled a unique niche, devoted to helping freelancers find work, and forming a community of camaraderie where writers can connect and even make lifelong friends. Even though we’re now smaller, those traditions carry on. It would be a shame to see all that disappear. New faces and fresh ideas are needed to launch IWOC into the future. 

I look forward to hearing from you. Either that, or it’s on to Plan B.

  -- Laura Stigler

My first concert was Chicago and the Beach Boys. We bought real concert tickets at the Ticketron counter at Sears. Hard tickets. They cost $8.50. 

Later, I photographed shows and wrote concert reviews for my college paper. Over the years, I saw big name artists live: Fleetwood Mac, David Bowie, U2, Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen. 

But now, concerts are becoming a luxury item.

A concert ticket cost $25 on average in 1994, which is $56 in 2025 with inflation. Yet Pollstar says the average concert ticket price was $134 in 2025.

Below are Ticketmaster Standard Ticket (face value) prices as of late May, for Seats to Chicago concerts this summer. 

- Tom Jones (Ravinia):  $124-$169      - Rod Stewart (Ravinia):  $297; $594 front

 - John Mellencamp (Credit Union 1 amp.):  $68-$305;  $345-$516 rows 1-10 center

- Lil Wayne (Huntington Bank Pav.):  $68-$248;  $309-$416 rows 1-12 center

- Morgan Wallen (Soldier Field): Sold out-upper; $297-$329 middle;  $329-$902 lower/floor

Surely for $300+, you can hit the soundcheck, meet the artist, take photos together, have a once in a lifetime experience? Nope. In general, you get seats closer to the stage. Sometimes you get a special lanyard, VIP area, early access to buy merchandise.

Why are concerts so expensive? The artists set ticket prices: are they being greedy?  Is it higher touring/production costs? More streaming and less album-buying? 

Well, Live Nation/Ticketmaster dominate venue management, concert promotion, primary ticketing and resale. The FTC estimates they control 80% of ticketing for major concerts.  

Ticketmaster uses Dynamic Pricing on Standard Tickets to change prices based on (supposed) demand. They also sell Verified Resale tickets. 

Bots grab tickets before fans get a chance. Secondary markets (StubHub, SeatGeek, VividSeats) resell them, at higher prices with big fees. 

Luckily, there is some good news. 

Two years ago, the DOJ aimed to break up the Live Nation/Ticketmaster monopoly. They abruptly reached a settlement in March 2026. It’s considered a slap on the wrist, so more than 30 states (including Illinois) opted not to join the settlement. These state attorney generals are going to court to keep pushing for the monopoly to be broken up.

The FTC filed a class action lawsuit against Live Nation/Ticketmaster for illegally letting brokers harvest tickets and resell them at substantial markups.

Singers like Olivia Dean are insisting Ticketmaster only resell their tickets at face value. (Patti Smith did this when I saw her last year). States like New York and California are working to pass laws that cap resale concert ticket prices.

As a concert fan, what can you do?

If you can get in on a presale (and get through the queue), you can buy tickets at face value (assuming the Standard Ticket price is reasonable). 

If you can watch and wait, you may see Standard or secondary market ticket prices drop to a level you can afford (and are willing to pay). Even on the day of the concert. (I’ve bought seats this way).

You can speak up. Will it matter? I emailed a venue to complain. An AI reply arrived two minutes later. It said it understood live music can be “meaningful” (no one says that), and that it heard my point about “accessibility” (but I mentioned ticket prices).

Of course, you can always refuse to pay the ridiculous prices! As the Beach Boys sang, just say, "Caroline, No."

--- Sarah Klose

It is said there are two sides to every story. Same goes for AI. There’s the mind-blowing side, where you can use it as a tool to accomplish things you never thought possible. And then there’s the side that blows your mind, leaving you in utter embarrassment that you could be so easily duped. I’ve experienced both sides and will relate them here for two reasons: To encourage you that AI could be a good – make that fantastic – thing that can help you in so many positive ways. But also to serve as a gentle warning.

What kind of fool am I? 

Well later on, going through reels,  another reel comes up. Same guy but with a different outfit. It cuts to the same audience and panel of judges going wild. And then another one  comes up: same guy, same wild audience, same performance -- but with a horse behind him!!!!! Well that much of a fool I’m not. Finally, FINALLY I had the sudden realization this was AI. Not only was the voice dubbed in, but NOTHING about it was real. And THEN I had the kind of sickening feeling that that “gorgeous guy” wasn’t even real! I bet he doesn’t even exist! Totally made up!  I started to feel like some lonely guy who falls in love with a blow-up doll! Hopefully I’m wiser now. More discerning. But this is scary. 

I love AI. I think.

Not for writing, but for illustrating. For the longest time (years) I’ve had in mind a single visual that I wanted to accompany a project I’ve been working on. Did I want to hire an illustrator? I suppose I could have, but I didn’t know who, and didn’t want to have to correct them and get into fights, the dollar signs for revisions going up up up, etc. So just the other day I thought, “I know! I’m going to try ChatGPT!”  

I enter very specific details about what I wanted, right down to the type of font. In less than a minute the visual appeared. I was incredulous. Stunned, actually. It captured everything I wanted and more. Plus, it had humor. It was funny! BUT…I did have a few changes I requested. AI made the first change. It was good! I needed another change. It came back perfect. I needed a third change – to make the title just a bit bigger. Bravo! Done! Oh, but wait: they misspelled a word. At first I thought I might have misspelled it in my directions, but no, this was on AI. They made the typo. So I asked Mr.Chat GPT to please (I’m always polite) correct the error. What was his answer? That I used up my 4 free tries. I’d have to wait 24 hours to reset, and then, says Mr. Chat GPT, “I’ll get right to it!” Ok, fine. At this time, I don’t want to upgrade since I currently don’t know how often I’ll be using it. 

 I wait the 24 hours. I ask for the word to be corrected. Mr. Chat comes back with, “Gotta wait another 24 hours” followed by some friendly emojis. Grrrr. So here I am, waiting for the 24 hours (actually 48 hours) to be up. But I got to thinking, I wonder if Mr. Chat made that typo on purpose, knowing I would need to go beyond the 4 free tries to have it corrected. And that would make me want to upgrade. Well little does he know how cheap I am! But I will tell you this: If, after 48 hours he tells me to wait another 24, I’m thinking of letting him have it. “Oh, come on! I gave you a full two days to correct this damn thing, what’s the problem? You’re supposed to be so advanced? Can’t you just correct it and make me happy? Ya know, I was thinking of upgrading, but if this is the kind of treatment I’m going to get, forget it! No sale, dude!” I might even put it all in CAPS. 

Then again I’m thinking what if I offend him? Will I be blocked? Will he sabotage my image? Screw up anything I may ask for in the future? I mean, all this time I used “please” and “thank you” and “Love it!” Won’t that matter?  Will Chat GPT go all Zombie Apocalypse on me? Like I said, this is scary. 

As it turned out, on the 49^th hour, Mr. Chat came back with everything perfect. And beautiful beyond my imagination. 

So there you have it. Two tales of AI. One pretty glorious. One not so much. But it’s there for the taking. Use it to your best advantage. But be wary. Fool me once…

  -- Laura Stigler

A few weeks ago, I emailed members (and those who were thinking of joining) regarding big changes in IWOC’s membership fees and levels. In case you missed it, following is a reprint.

In the interest of streamlining, making it a better value, and just plain common sense, joining and renewing your IWOC membership will now be simpler and more advantageous to you than ever. 

The changes:

1. There will be only two membership levels: Professional and Student.

2. Everyone who will be joining or renewing their membership will be doing so as a Professional Member. The annual Professional Member fee will now be lowered to $85, with no limit as to the number of Specialty and Expertise listings you choose -- at no extra cost. For current Professional Members, even before your time to renew, you can now log into your profile, click "edit" and make any changes (add listings, etc.) as you see fit.

3. If you're currently an Associate Member, when you renew you'll be automatically re-upped to Professional, enabling you to not only list any area(s) of expertise and specialties, but you can tell the world about yourself, what sort of writing you do, etc. in the "Summary" and "Details" sections that have always been provided in the Professional Member category. If you're, say, a book author and not interested in freelance work, you can also use the "Details" space to say you're looking for a collaborator, an editor -- whatever! Plus, you'll be able to post writing samples -- all features that have been available to Professional Members, of which you will be a part. 

4. Student Level will remain $40/yr. No online listings, but our meetings and resources, mentoring and more will be accessible for free.

The changes are now activated. We hope you are as enthusiastic about them as we are. We believe they will help you create a fuller, more colorful picture of who you are and all you have to offer. 

Not a member? Read the benefits and click here to join. Any questions? Feel free to contact me at president@iwoc.org.

  -- Laura Stigler