It is good to be (a little) poor

It is good for a man to not have everything his heart desires. It is good for a man to want. Because if a man is so wealthy that he can buy whatever he wants on a whim, and so wealthy that he never wants for anything, then he may not confront that “want.” By being limited in wealth, a man will experience wanting, and in that experience he can confront it and ask, “Why do I want this? Why do I need it? Why is what I have insufficient?”

2 Philippians 4:11b-13

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

What’s a Writer Worth?

Writers are getting paid less these days, and it has a lot of people very worked up. ((Check out the comments of this article to find a nest of angry writers.)) Just as I’m entering the writing scene and learning how to make money by wordsmithing, pay is plummeting in comparison with the time it takes to put together a well-researched article. Newspapers are folding, everything’s moving online, and writers are about a penny per dozen. The world is changing, and for many writers it may mean the end of their careers.

Whose fault is it?

I haven’t been following this debate because it all seems nonsensical to me. I admit that I’m a socialist when it comes to taking care of people — I think we have a moral imperative to help the helpless, so to speak, and that includes things like medical care and other benefits — but there are areas where I am 100% capitalist. As far as I’m concerned, a writer’s pay is set by the market.

There are a lot of writers who hate “content farms,” the name given to companies like Demand Studios, Suite101, and Emerging Cast. They feel that these companies devalue writing because they pay so little — articles for which magazines once would have paid five hundred dollars or more are being written for fifteen dollars.

Some writers blame young people, who they feel don’t understand or appreciate the true value of writing. These youngsters sign up for freelance sites and write some words for quick cash, thereby ruining Writing As We Know It.

Others blame pseudo-writers. They’d probably use something more insulting than the word “pseudo,” but their point is that these people aren’t writers. They’re just people doing writing, and that’s making it hard for the legitimate writers.

Still others blame the content farms, who clearly don’t value good work. While it’s true that content farms don’t care overly much about the quality of the work they accept, the adage “It takes two to tango” cannot be ignored.

How much do you value good writing?

In a purely financial sense, I’d say I value writing somewhere between zero and twenty-five dollars. After all, that’s about how much I’m wiling to pay for it.

On one end of the spectrum, I consume most of my written content online for free. There are fees for Internet access, my computer, and the cost of my time to read whatever is before me… but I’m not paying the writer anything for reading their work. I value it with my time, but not financially.

Opposite the Internet mentality of everything-should-be-free are the dead tree books I buy to line my shelves. Most of these are paperback, so about $8 each, but as soon as I see a Terry Pratchett novel, I’m happy to grab the hardback for about $25.

Writing on the Internet is generally funded by advertisements. To put it another way, a writer’s words help attract attention to someone else’s product, which the reader does value and is willing to put money towards, and the author gets a cut of that revenue. This is really no different from how newspapers have always done business (good content attracts a large readership, which means advertisements can be sold for more), but the ceiling has been eliminated. There is no longer a limit on distribution channels or the population interested in the content. This means more eyeballs.

The same medium that allows more people to read the same content also increases the amount of content. Many towns only have one newspaper, and while larger cities might have multiple in circulation, it is nothing compared to the hundreds of millions of web sites in existence. There’s a lot more supply of content now than there used to be, while the rise of streaming audio and video has reduced demand for the written word.

Is Writing a Worthy Skill?

Two extremist viewpoints come to mind when I think about the worth of writing.

First, writing is putting words on a page. Back before mandatory public schools and improved access to educational materials via libraries and the Internet, people who could read were scarce, and people who could write (and write well) were scarcer. The further back you go through the history books, the less readers and writers there were.

Being a scribe was a trade, a skill you could sell to merchants, nobles, and common folk who wanted something written down. You were part of a rare educated few, and capitalizing on that scarcity was easy. The market still set the wage you would be paid, but prices were higher because supply was lower.

Things are different now: sixty-five to eighty-five percent of the population of the United States is literate, so most people can read and write for themselves. We might go to a lawyer to have them create a contract, or to an architect to have them design a building, but for most purposes we can shift for ourselves. (To learn more about literacy, check out Literacy in the United States: Readers and Reading Since 1880.)

As literacy and the ability to write increased, newspapers still had value because they were able to send reporters to remote locations and gather the details, then provide the stories of remote locations to the neighborhood readers. This isn’t such a feat anymore because local bloggers will be happy to relate the goings-on. If writing is just putting words on a page, then there are hundreds of millions of people who can fill that role. Without scarcity, writing has less worth.

Visiting the other extreme for my second point, there is value in the ability to pull that information together. We would rather read something that is well-written than something that is not; we can all think of one or two poorly written blogs that we scanned once and left because it wasn’t worth bookmarking. In addition, we’d rather someone do the work of researching for us and present us the distilled facts. This saves us time and effort, and it is a valuable service.

Good writers, and in particular good journalists, serve this purpose. Their worth is derived not just by writing, but by bringing together the relevant data and creating a single excellent resource. By presenting all of the data without bias, they contribute to a more informed and balanced society. Excellent journalism should be valued by both the citizenry and the government because it strengthens both.

Everyone’s a Writer

When we combine increased literacy with the Internet, we reach a point where anyone and everyone can be a writer. If everyone was competing for the same jobs, it would mean that the better writers would continue to get paid well and the majority would languish in obscurity. Unfortunately for traditional writers, this has not been the case.

The death of traditional writing and publishing hasn’t been the content farms, which are a relatively recent invention. The death of expensive writing has been ensured since the Internet was born, and its murderer is passion.

For the writers angrily commenting on and taking part in this debate about content farms and the value of writing, this may be a difficult concept, but the truth is that there are people willing to do the work they are doing but for free. Fifteen dollars from Demand Studio is just icing on the cake. Certainly, there are people churning out these articles for their full-time job, and there are people doing it for some nice money on the side, but there are also people who just like to write about different topics.

I wonder if some of these angry people pointing fingers at the youngsters or at the content farms have never browsed a blog ring. People write stuff for free because they’re interested in it, or love the subject, and want to share their knowledge with others. Wikipedia falls under the same category, where thousands of contributors build a knowledge base for no financial advantage. Local citizens attend city hall meetings and report on the votes, or ask questions of politicians to update their blog, or write Wikipedia entries to record their hours of research.

It’s the Internet–the great leveler. Shakespeare’s line has finally become reality, and when all the world is a stage, that means every person is an actor. You can’t expect actors to make hundreds or thousands of dollars for a few hours work under those conditions.

So how can writers make money?

It will certainly be more difficult, but I think it is still possible. In the end, they will just have to be excellent, a little lucky, and completely passionate. If a writer writes to make money, the market will set their value. Right now it looks like that’s around $0.03 a word for most content, and even at the higher end the most I’m seeing a lot of the time is $0.10 a word.

Of course, there are people making a lot more than that with blogging, both through affiliate linking and advertising. (Check out Affiliate Marketing on the Web to learn more about this.) It raises the question for me of whether or not it’s worthwhile to pursue writing for other publications — why bother writing for a content farm or a magazine when I can write for myself, market my site to generate traffic, and make money that way?

Consumers will give money to work they value. This is how webcomic artists (at least some) make a living–they create art and writing that people enjoy, so those fans buy merchandise, books, and prints. (An excellent resource about how to accomplish this is How To Make Webcomics by Scott Kurtz and Kristopher Straub.) If you create good work, people will support it.

For many nouveau-writers, though, writing isn’t about making money. It’s not even about seeing their name on the front cover or in the newspapers, otherwise Wikipedia would have bylines. People write because they enjoy it and find worth in the writing. Someday, that may be all the worth that is left in writing. For me, it will be enough.

It’s The Thought That Counts

This post is part of an ongoing series of collaborative conversations. See that initial post for a table of contents of all articles in the series.

I was recently having a conversation with a young photographer I know about his aspirations for having a fancy new website designed. He was looking at spending a decent amount of cash to have something really slick put together for his photo gallery, and though the company was going to charge him a reasonable rate for that level of design work and manageability (meaning that it would be easily updated by the photographer himself), I wasn’t sure spending that much money on a website was a good idea at this point in his career. Though a fancy website is nice and will help accent, present, and convey your material, it is secondary to the material itself.

This might seem a bit contradictory to my earlier post which detailed how a poor design will stymie communication, so allow me to elaborate.

I read an article several years ago that looked with great curiousity at a number of online businesses that seemed to be succeeding despite their best efforts. These businesses had ugly, poorly formatted websites with outdated modes of communication and little information about their business or product. Designed in a style I usually refer to as “Angelfire-esque” or “Geocities ghetto,” the independent owners had put together something on the web that looked similar to what a cat might produce after eating too fast. They had a product, but they had no idea how to market it on the web.

And yet, they were succeeding. They were doing business online and turning a decent profit, to the confusion of everyone else who felt that a great design was needed to make your voice heard.

When surveying their customers, the journalist discovered that the people ordering goods from these sites actually preferred the poor design. It communicated to the customer that the owner cared less about a fancy website and more about them, the customers; that they spent more time on their product than on marketing; and that the end-result was higher quality service and goods.

I would never go so far as to say that this is always the case. Rather, I tend to think that if you are a seller of repute and quality, all aspects of your business should be of similar quality, and that extends to your website. But I do think the story highlights something that a lot of people are beginning to forget: the Content is More Important than the Wrapper.

Yes, a good design will help sell your product better, and once you’ve got a good product, your next step should be a good marketing approach and/or website design.  If your product is no good, though, the fanciness of your website becomes irrelevant.

I have known numerous photographers, webcomic artists, and authors whose websites were little more than a page with a single picture and the most rudimentary of navigation, or maybe they just threw their work onto a Blogger account (note: I personally detest Blogger and highly recommend WordPress as an alternative), and yet they were remarkable successes. This is because their work was of high quality and appealed to people. The content was good, so the wrapper or site design didn’t matter as much.

And generally speaking, once you’ve got the audience and fans, things move of their own accord and you eventually get a nicer website. But no one starts at the top, and likewise it probably isn’t wise to invest like you’re already there when you’re not.

A beginning musician doesn’t buy a five-million dollar Stradivarius violin, just like a beginning photographer doesn’t learn how to shoot photos on a ten-thousand dollar camera and a beginning author usually has nothing but a pen and paper. We all have to start somewhere and learn what we’re doing. We move up to the higher quality tools as we learn how to use them most effectively. Eventually, we reach a point where our work demands a better toolset, and we adjust accordingly.

But just because you have a Stradivarius doesn’t mean you can play like a master, and just because you have spent a few thousand dollars on a site doesn’t mean you’ll instantly have a booming business. So start small and focus on the quality of your product. Your customers will be attracted by your work, and they’ll be more attracted if they know that your focus is on them, not on yourself or your site. Put your work and your fans first and the rest will fall into place.

Why I Should Stop Doing Web Development

MAMP does make my failure come faster, at least.
MAMP does make my failure come faster, at least.

A few weeks ago, I got home one evening all jazzed up to hack the Carrington Theme on a local web server I set up on my Macbook. I had some definite ideas for how I wanted the front page to look, so I wanted to edit the theme and achieve my vision.

Three hours later, all I had to show for the effort was having cut it down to a single sidebar and moved that sidebar over a bit.

It all makes me feel pretty stupid, because I work with computers for a living and feel like I should be able to “just get” this.  After all, I’ve built numerous web servers, personal computers, and am experienced with a variety of different operating systems, programs, and web platforms. But when it comes to coding a page, once we get beyond HTML, I’m practically a goner.

That’s the main reason I began using Content Management Systems (CMS) after all. Beyond a simple, relatively ugly page, I can’t create that good a website.  I should just stick to creating the content that the management system manages.

One of my resolutions this year is to write and publish a book, and I’ve got a few other projects that will hopefully come to fruition that I’m not ready to reveal yet. I’m not going to get all this work done if I keep screwing around with stuff I’m not good at, though. If I invest all of my time and energy into something I’m not good at, like web development/design, then there’s no time/energy left for the things I can do well, IE writing what I want to write.

It has become a guiding philosophy for me in the last couple of years that one should gauge and recognize their own strengths and weaknesses, learning to get the most out of what they can do, rather than trying to exceed their limits or waste time doing things poorly. The only metaphor I have for this is in regards to fantasy fiction and wizards: a low-level wizard who knows how to use their power well will be able to apply it creatively and to great effect. In so doing, they may outperform a significantly more powerful wizard who is not creative and doesn’t use their power wisely; instead, the more powerful individual wastes their power because they don’t know how to use it, and the comparatively weaker of the two outshines them.

I can accept not being that great at something, but it means that I need to stop focusing on those projects that I just can’t do well. I’ll produce content, and if I have to someday, I’ll hire someone else to do my web development. For now, WordPress and Alex King’s contribution is good enough for me, and with the few minor tweaks I’ve made to it, it’ll manage my content just fine.