"Literature cannot be the business of a woman's life, and it ought not to be."

This devastating response came from Poet Laureate Robert Southey in 1837 when a twenty-year-old Charlotte Brontë sent him a collection of her poetry, seeking guidance and encouragement.

Southey's dismissal wasn't just personal cruelty—it was the official position of the literary establishment.

But Charlotte Brontë didn't disappear. Instead, she did something revolutionary: she became Currer Bell.

When Lauren Roberts built her massive social media following before landing her traditional publishing deal with Simon & Schuster, she wasn't just marketing—she was surviving.

Roberts understood something that many authors miss: in an era where voices are systematically silenced and stories are under attack, professional author branding isn't about vanity or ego.

It's about ensuring your voice can't be erased.

Want to see how the historical erasure that Jason Stanley writes about in “Erasing History” actually works? Meet Alice Guy-Blaché, the woman who invented narrative cinema and then was systematically written out of film history.

The words we use to describe policies, people, and practices shape how we think about them—and ultimately, how we act. No one should understand this fact more than authors.

While history tends to focus on the perpetrators of Nazi medical crimes, the stories of those who demonstrated moral courage deserve equal attention—not just because they maintained their professional integrity in impossible circumstances, but because their workplace resistance actually worked. Just as authors today must decide whether to bow to censorship or defend creative freedom, these medical heroes faced a choice between career safety and professional ethics.

"The goal of the fascist assault on education is to produce individuals who cannot think for themselves, who cannot question, who cannot challenge authority." - Jason Stanley, Erasing History

I've sat across from dozens of authors during strategy calls, and I've heard the same hesitant tone of voice more times than I can count.

The hesitation to take up space, to be loud, to tell their story.