Why so bitter?
When I started writing for newspapers and magazines in 2011, the per-word rate ran from .25–$1.00 a word. Publications that paid $1.00 were rare, but it wasn’t uncommon to get paid $750+ for a 1000-word piece. Magazines hadn’t fully delved into the online space beyond a company website where one could subscribe to the physical magazine and maybe read some back-issue stories or a blog written by the interns, which is where I started out: a 32-year-old intern at Portland Monthly, fresh out of grad school with a shiny Masters in Writing, embarking on the second career that would surely secure my future. Or so I thought.
We all heard that digital content was on the cusp of exploding, but despite the lectures on how to leverage articles for social media (“Instagram is just for pictures though, right?”) and the growing demand for snack-sized information (“What’s ‘TL:DR’ and why is it ‘trending’?”), we writers all thought our profession wouldn’t lose value. I don’t think any of us foresaw the coming influencer tsunami or the rise of AI, TikTok, Fiverr, and ChatGPT.
Today, per-word rates have plummeted. The time and energy it takes to write 500 words, especially if there’s research and an interview involved, is not worth the $100 (before taxes) being offered as the standard rate. In my opinion, that’s why a lot of content is repetitive and reads a bit slap-dash—because it is. A lot of writers I know—even non-freelancers—have abandoned the world of creative editorial for marketing gigs where they write copy for large corporations in exchange for a slightly more livable wage and meager heath insurance. I did it too.
It’s been two years since I moved from Portland to San Diego. The last solid job I had was killed by the pandemic when I was quietly fired as a contract content marketing writer at prominent health care company where I wrote human and medical interest stories for their website and social. Rent kept rising despite the city’s ongoing decline, so I moved home to live with my mom. I’m writing this from my new office (aka: my childhood bedroom), and I’m bitter about it.
Job postings for “writer” infuriate me now: all of them require digital skills that have little to do with writing. For example, I was recently a final candidate for a position I really wanted, but wasn’t hired because the other final candidate knew video editing, which wasn’t even listed in the job description.
Nowadays you have to have to be a good writer and have the following: a fluent understanding of ever-changing SEO “best practices;” the ability to maximize content performance and deliver analytics reports for all social media platforms while never falling behind on trending topics; expert video, image, and copy–editing skills, proficient knowledge of a dozen workflow apps you’ve never heard of and also Adobe Creative Suite in its entirety (I see this one a lot); script writing for social media videos and YouTube; a thorough knowledge of popular AI tools (to make your job easier! <insert eye-roll>); and a well-rounded background in your niche with over five years professional experience in all these things, even though some of them haven’t been around for five years yet. All for $65K…in San Diego.
It’s easy to get discouraged. I used to love writing. I used to get excited about interviewing people, discovering their passions, their professions, their experiences and getting to craft a story around it. But lately I’ve spent so much time trying to learn all the new marketing tools and trends to stay relevant in the job pool that I’ve forgotten how to write well. And I’m bitter about that too.
Maya Seaman Creative is my way of starting over on my own terms. This business is a culmination of all the things I’m good at, want to be good at, and already love to do: storytelling, photography, and tasty cocktails. I chose to focus on the food and beverage industry because regardless of how much the world changes, humans will always connect at the dinner table or gather to shoot the shit over a pint. We will always have stories to tell and we will always want to be heard. My hope is that I can help people, businesses, and brands tell theirs in an authentic way that builds trust and inspires creative curiosity.
Cheers y’all!
~Maya
