Doom

Friday January 24, 2025

Jan 24, 2025

MF Doom was such a layup for the song I couldn’t not make some atonement for the turn things took.

No, we’re not going to talk about that. There is much I want to say about that, but I’ve learned talking about that has real-life consequences, even if I’m pretty sure nobody who might be offended actually reads this thing.

No, we will talk about the state of my LinkedIn timeline because it is DOOMY right now. I won’t do the engagement farmers decrying the death of human-produced content any favors by sharing their posts, but holy moly, there are a lot of writers, editors, and content marketers eulogizing the freelance writing career. Suffice it to say I disagree with that premise.

January to March is the only time of year I spend a considerable amount of time on LinkedIn. I’ve been doing my own thing for about six years, and in that time, I’ve accumulated some great relationships, bylines, and bullets on my resume. I very rarely have to cold call or farm for leads, but when annual marketing budgets are renewed, it’s just foolish not to get in on the feeding frenzy.

This year, the tenor is different. It might be my algorithm responding to liking so many posts from fellow writers and editors who suddenly find themselves out of work, but I see a lot of posts about how AI is taking jobs, ruining authentic content creation, and taking the thoughtfulness out of brand storytelling. (I mean, come on, it’s brand storytelling; let’s all take a deep breath.)

On the one hand, I empathize. I personally experienced a rash of lost contracts due to editors getting laid off. It’s also true that there are real SEO and algorithmic changes targeting freelance content creators, and AI is, at the very least, making some decision-makers rethink content models.

But on the other hand, this is the cycle: Creatives do great work, their positions are eliminated, then new ones arise — often at the same companies in slightly different capacities. It’s nasty work to corporate creatives, but it’s just how it works until you get to the executive level. Hell, I’ve been laid off more times than I can count, so even 2024’s particularly gratuitous reaping hasn’t killed my faith in content.

There’s also a real silver lining. The common denominator for many of these doomers is that they’re engagement farming narcissists who, in reality, are just upset that the first-person industrial complex was a bubble. No, you probably are not going to write a viral essay about having sex in a New York City nightclub, sell it to a movie studio, close a book deal, and bank five years’ worth of income from three months of speaking engagements. You’re not going to get rich from writing a show about being the messy voice of your generation. Frankly, the literary dreamers and content creators are not playing the same game.

But for the love of god, content — professional, pay-you-a-living-wage content — is not dead. You can make a great living as a freelance writer. It’s not selling out to get paid to write. In fact, I might say the opposite: Business writing has given me more freedom than I ever could have hoped for from a typical 9-5.

It’s just crowded, and, like any field, you have to build relationships and make yourself vulnerable. If you want a job, get personal. Reach out to who you think is making the hiring decisions. Hit up old colleagues for references or referrals. Send stupid, self-deprecating cold messages. Don’t write cover letters — fuck cover letters. Write thoughtful, 5-sentence messages to humans with your credentials and an achievement. Just do something to cut through the noise.

Humans still make all the decisions. There’s enough doom about. Let’s keep this brief because you’ve suffered enough.

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