Writing still has a ‘class ceiling’. The proof is everywhere: a 2023 diversity report from National Council for the Training of Journalists revealed that UK journalism is dominated by those from upper-class backgrounds, while in 2024, The Bee pointed out that working-class representation in publishing, while fluctuating year-on-year, has never been above 20 per cent.

In this admittedly bleak climate comes Bread Alone: What Happens When We Run Out of Working-Class Writers?, to show us exactly what the industry is missing out on. Bread Alone is an anthology of working-class writing edited by journalist and writer Kate Pasola, who channelled her frustrations and experiences as a working-class writer from a small town in the north-east into the project. It aims to elevate underrepresented voices and challenge problematic industry norms, with thought-provoking essays from 33 working-class writers.

To celebrate the release of Bread Alone, we spoke to Pasola about what inspired the collection, what is lacking in so much working-class representation, and why man cannot live on bread alone.

What made you want to create an anthology like this? What was the catalyst moment?

Kate Pasola: It came from a place of rage, mixed with loneliness and gratitude. I got to work for The Skinny after university, which was like a dream come true, and then I worked at Cosmopolitan. I feel so lucky that I got to be a journalist for several years. Then, when the cost-of-living crisis started to take hold, things started to feel very different. A contract I had at a magazine wasn’t renewed, and I ended up going into tech instead. Quite naively, along with other writers and creatives at the time, I thought the tech world would give us resources for our creative work. It didn’t really pan out that way. I felt like I traded in the one thing I cared about – writing – for stability, and I hadn’t even got that in the end.

I thought I’d forgotten how to write, and then the opportunity to do Bread Alone came along, and I feel like it rescued me a bit. It felt like the right time to write something about class, because you can easily start to internalise the idea that you don’t deserve to be in the industry. I wanted to have a home for this amazing writing from people who might feel this way, too. In my career, I’ve also benefited from people willing to put their neck on the line to bring me into the industry, so I wanted to do something that got other people’s work out there. 

I really liked the title of the book and found the subtitle ‘What happens when we run out of working-class writers?’ especially interesting. Did you see it as a manifesto examining the bad situation we might be heading into, or more like a rallying cry?

Kate Pasola: It’s like a cry to the industry that we will run out of this talent if circumstances don’t change. Working-class creatives aren’t a self-renewing resource; if we don’t put the energy into nurturing them, the arts and media are just going to become duller and duller. I hope the book also shows how the more intersections of oppression you find yourself at, the more difficult it can be to get into these spaces. 

Bread Alone is a bit more self-explanatory. It’s a quote from the Bible, but it encapsulates this idea that we need more than the bare necessities to live a rich life. My essay in the anthology, ‘Catholic Guilt’, looks at how the church often provides resources when the state won’t, particularly related to creativity. Growing up I was a choir girl, and I got to learn to sight-read and hear all this amazing music, but then when I came out as queer, I suddenly felt at odds with this thing that I’d grown up with and been so grateful for. The title is also nodding to the way we always talk about food when we talk about class struggles, like ‘Maggie Thatcher, milk snatcher’, or Marie Antoinette saying ‘let them eat cake’. We cling to these phrases.

We need to start feeling united rather than divided, and stop putting fucking England flags on roundabouts

What do you think is more important: creating new spaces for working-class artists and writers, or allowing working-class creatives to be represented in more traditional and established spaces?

Kate Pasola: I think we so often tend to focus on just one or the other and send ourselves in loops. We obviously need both. We need to question why working-class people aren’t represented, but also create these spaces where they can access the arts. We need the spaces where people can learn the craft, but we also need examples of what people can aspire to.

We are all talking about “Wuthering Heights” now, and focusing on Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie as the leads, but Owen Cooper, who starred in Adolescence, plays young Heathcliff, and he was only able to be cast in Adolescence because Stephen Graham went around drama schools in the north-west asking about up-and-coming talent. He didn’t have to do that; he could have prioritised ratings or profits with a known actor, but he chose to bring someone new in, and the results speak for themselves. So, we need the spaces where that talent grows, but also the example of what is possible. I wouldn’t have been able to have the career I have without indie magazines like The Skinny, and the likes of Bricks, Polyester and The Bee. 

What is some of the working-class writing or art that gets you most excited?

Kate Pasola: Stories about struggle and grit have been an important part of working-class storytelling and anything that comes afterwards stands on the shoulders of those types of stories. But we are ready to complexify that now, for sure. I like stuff that isn’t drenched in contempt for working-class people, which is rarer than you might think. So much art still caters to the elite, and there’s this feeling that it is riskier to try and aim stuff at different audiences, which is just not true. The stories of the grit or the working-class people transcending their class position is also just reiterating that success looks like assimilation and leaving behind your upbringing, which I think is something that really needs to be challenged. I loved Kit de Waal’s Common People anthology for this.

I love when class dynamics complicate other genres and stories, which is why I love Eliza Clark’s work. I was so excited when I realised Boy Parts was set in Newcastle – nothing is ever set there! It was such a thrill. I also got really excited because Paris Lees saw that Bread Alone exists. She wrote What It Feels Like For A Girl and is a working-class trans woman – that’s another fantastic example of writing stories where class intersects with other identities and experiences. I really wanted to mention Radge Mag as well, because I learned about it through your interview with the editor Megan!

I really get what you mean about contempt. So much working-class representation is contempt dressed up as pity, or has an undercurrent of strange fetishisation.

Kate Pasola: With the rise of Reform in the UK, you’ve got a lot of people who are benefitting from stoking class tensions and blaming each other rather than looking to the real culprit: greed and the quest for control. What I wanted to show in the book is that working-class people have more in common with each other than with the people who are trying to stoke these divides. It makes me furious that class and the cost-of-living crisis are weaponised. We need to start feeling united rather than divided, and stop putting fucking England flags on roundabouts. We have real glimpses of hope, and I think we need to cling to them with everything we can, things like the acquittal of the Filton 24.

Do you have any advice for working-class people who do want to start getting their writing published?

Kate Pasola: Find out what you are entitled to. It’s a step that many people, including myself, have previously missed. There is help out there, money you can get, and free or pay-what-you-can places on writing courses and retreats. Another thing I did was study the career trajectories of people I admire, read interviews with them, and see who they might have been commissioned by, because if you’re doing similar work, then that editor might like to hear from you too. I think in terms of getting published, I’d definitely try first to do stuff with small local indie places and cut your teeth a bit there, build your experience and confidence, and get a bit of a portfolio going. You could even do things on Substack too, to figure out what kind of writing you most enjoy, and to have some examples of work out there.

Also, hang out in creative spaces and talk to people. There are often a lot of events in libraries and places like that, which are free or quite low cost, or even online too. Talk to people there, be chatty in the Zoom chat, and email the organisers afterwards, because it’s surprising who you might meet (that’s where I met Damian, the founder of Indie Novella, who is publishing this book). 

You often have to be quite earnest, which can be a bit cringe. When you’re doing stuff like this, sometimes you just have to be the earnest, keen person, who is really trying. Don’t be afraid to look like you’re trying.

Also don’t be afraid to email somewhere you might think you have no business writing for yet! Email them a pitch because it might be just what they’re looking for at that moment. That classic north-east phrase ‘shy bairns get nowt’ is really helpful to tell yourself before sending off a pitch that might be a bit of a reach.

Kate Pasola: Yes, shy bairns get nowt! Use all the tools at your disposal. But also be mindful that there might be tools that you haven’t heard of, so talk to people.

Bread Alone is available now here