The Truth About Writing for Hire

I spent a few years working in the oil and gas business, and when people asked me what I did for a living, and I told them I was a landman, the reactions ranged from confusion to boredom. Or the always fun joke, “You mean, land-WOMAN?”

Now, when I tell people that I am a writer, inevitably the reaction is very positive. People get excited, ask questions, and tell me how lucky I am to be able to work from home. (And oh, they have a book they are going to write, and could I look at it?)

But the reality of the writer’s life, which first prompted me to change professions a few years ago, is that very rarely can the full-time writer support themselves writing just what they want to write. Friends are shocked when I tell them that article I wrote in blah magazine was not something I chose to write about. It was assigned to me, with a word count and often, specific editorial direction. And more often than not, isn’t what I would write if I had any say about it.

A few months ago I was assigned an article on getting back in shape after having a baby. I don’t have any children, so I decided to ask mothers who were friends of mine on social media to write about their experiences with post-baby fitness. The response was overwhelming, and I was struck by the unrealistic pressures many new mothers experience right after having a baby.

I then interviewed the owners of yoga studios and gyms around town and got some wonderful stories from them about their own struggles and realizations about post-partum fitness. Most of the stories focused on the mother’s need for emotional wholeness more than fitting back into their pre-pregnancy jeans in six weeks. And if anything, these women often resented the media pressure to “bounce back” like so many magazine celebrities immediately after giving birth.

I tell you all that to say this: I didn’t get to write about any of that. My editor wanted a 300-word article listing fitness centers around town that offered post-baby fitness classes. And that is what I gave her. And this story is the same story as so many other article assignments I’ve had over the years.

That is what writing for hire is like. All the stories I want to write remain mostly untold.

Years ago, when I got my first full-time job as a magazine editor, one of my jobs was to interview emerging artists for a short column. For most of the artists I interviewed, I had just 250 words to write about their art and career. I was still a newbie, so I would spend 30 minutes to an hour on the phone with every one of them collecting fascinating stories about why they became artists, what they love about their craft, career setbacks and often, many stories that were personal and that I knew were not meant for sharing.

I didn’t realize at the time how little of those interviews would actually make it into the final piece. Each month as I struggled to cut 750 words down to 250, I learned how to find the essential truth and wonder about every person’s story. It was a great but hard lesson. And I don’t think anyone I have ever interviewed will ever understand how painful it is for me, as the writer tasked with telling their story, to keep editing and cutting down the story far past what I wish I could share. Or worse, I don’t even get to share the story I want to tell at all.

This is the writer’s life. I spend most of day writing about things I don’t care about, or if I do care about them, I can’t write about them in the way I would like. And for this privilege, I am asked to charge less than what I am worth, wait months to be paid and sometimes not even get paid at all. Many times I don’t get any feedback: “Great piece.” “Nice work.” or even “That sucks, please try again.” And some days, like today, I find out something I wrote and am very proud of isn’t going to run at all because of an editorial goof.

So why do I write? Some days I don’t know. Maybe it is the naïve hope that one day, I will actually be able to support myself while writing what matter most to me. (And some days I wonder what it is that even matters most to me. What would I write about if I could write about anything?) For now, I take comfort in the little victories—the interview where I really connected with my subject, the chance to tell someone’s story that needs to be told, or the opportunity to eat good food and get paid to write about it.

Why do I write? I ask myself this question every morning.

I write to connect with people, to understand them, and have the privilege of sharing their stories. I write to connect with you, to understand you and to hopefully have the privilege of writing something meaningful that touches you.

You Won’t Believe What This Blogger Did Next

It was then I realized I finally had hit rock bottom.

After years of ________________________ (favorite vice), I felt _________________________ (depressing adjective). I didn’t know what to do or where to go from here. I had lost _________________ (noun, person), my job as a _____________________ (noun, vocation) and even _______________ (noun, something else heartbreaking). I was overwhelmed with guilt over my ____________________ (noun, transgression) and what I had done to ________________ (noun, person). I knew something had to change.

Every morning I see multiple confessionals in my email and newsfeed—well-meaning blogs meant to inspire me, I suppose, by showing how other people have overcome their demons.

Initially, I found these posts interesting, though I’m not exactly sure why. Was it the shock value? Or the sad way we are drawn to the gory details of other people’s tragedies? Was it so I wouldn’t feel quite so bad about my own messes? Or was it simply an excuse to avoid my work for a few minutes?

But after I while, I became bored with reading about everyone’s drug habit/binge drinking/eating disorder/career crisis. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be gaining by reading these stories, but it was clear it wasn’t empathy anymore…it was impatience.

They all started sounding like the same self-indulgent story.

Maybe they are all the same story, if you just swap out a couple of details: an abusive father switches to an abusive boyfriend, a drug habit becomes a porn addiction. But my irritation over these stories piqued my curiosity. Why exactly do they bother me?

After all, I am a fan of confessional memoirs like Chelsea Handler’s Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea or even darker reads, such as Augusten Burroughs’ Running with Scissors. Maybe humor is part of it. But I also enjoy more serious memoirs like The Diving Bell and the Butterfly or my new personal favorite, Three Little Words by Ashley Rhodes-Courter.

What makes these books better than the average blogosphere offering? Is it the author’s time commitment, the careful crafting and editing, or just plain talent?

I think it is something far simpler. Audience.

Is the writer writing for only themselves or are they writing to communicate with others? Is the writer even aware of their audience at all? When a blogger treats their posts as a personal journal entry, they tend to be far more egocentric. There is little or no awareness of an audience, and what might be of interest to them. It is just another generic self-involved entry in an already overfilled anthology of narcissism and egomania.

I don’t think it’s the confessional nature of the subject matter in and of itself that’s the problem. It’s the intention. As a reader, what am I supposed to do with it? Why should I care? Are you even aware I’m here?

Your story is yours alone, but it isn’t that unique. As the Ani Difranco lyric says, “Like the rest of the human race, you are one of a kind.”

We all have these stories. I won’t read your story just because it happened. Too much of our social media life is just about shouting our own story and trying to be heard rather than actually having a conversation. We aren’t sharing our lives in order to honestly connect.

Telling my story for me is easy. Telling my story in a way that makes you see your own story differently is a completely different matter. That’s where the magic is.

“Writing is an extreme privilege, but it’s also a gift. It’s a gift to yourself and it’s a gift of giving a story to someone.” – Amy Tan