Tag Archives: digital media

“Free,” as in Freelance

The Los Angeles Times recently published an article that might qualify as the most unscoop-worthy story so far of the barely birthed decade.  Its finding: Freelance writers are underpaid!

Actually, to be fair to the author, James Rainey, his point was a bit more nuanced.  The fees commonly paid to freelance writers working in both traditional and digital media have cratered dramatically over the past decade, he notes, as publishers have watched their own revenues plummet under the combined weight of the Great Recession and the secular shift from dead-trees to digital media, with its far-less rumunerative ad rates.

“What’s sailing away, a decade into the 21st Century, is the common conception that writing is a profession—or at least a skilled craft that should come not only with psychic rewards but with something resembling a living wage,” Rainey writes.

You can read the entire article here.

(And while you’re at it, can someone please explain to me—with a straight face—how Arianna Huffington can be acclaimed as a savior of Journalism based on The Huffington Post’s business model of not paying journalists?)

Of course, writers with marquee names will always be able to name their own price.  But for everyone else, it’s getting tougher to find honest work that will pay the bills. (Don’t ask me how I know.)

Rainey points to freelance writing jobs posted on Craigslist, offering Web-writing assignments paying $15 to $30.  That’s a pittance, surely, but hardly the most egregious examples I can find.  Indeed, an increasing number of Web publishers have embraced the attitude that writers’ work is to be compensated at rates less than the going price of a frappucino. (That’s a small frappuccino, by the way.)

On Freelancer.com, an online exchange where Web publishers place writing assignments up for bid, there’s no shortage of work—as long as you’re willing to churn out a four- or five-hundred words for no more than $1.50.  Per article.

Yes, per article.  Really.

To cite a few random examples of the writing jobs proffered on Freelancer.com:

“I need 20 original articles between 300 and 500 words about nail fungus (toenail fungus and fingernail fungus) which must be completed within 5 days. I will provide the titles for all the articles. My max budget for this project is $85.”

I will abstain from opining what a fair rate for writing 6,000 to 10,000 words about nail fungus, but I’m pretty sure that it’s more than $85. (In fact, I’m pretty sure that writing 20 original articles in five days about nail fungus is prohibited under the UN Convention Against Torture.)

Here’s another one:

“We have an online casino guide with over 200 listings. We need copywriters to visit specific casinos and

1. Write a 2-300 word unique description of the casino

2. Fill out a spreadsheet of fields with information available on each casino site (owner/contact email etc.)

We will pay $3 per completed casino according to our requirements.”

To recap, they want some poor hack to get in his car, drive to a specific casino, inspect it and take notes, and then write an enticing blurb about the joint—for a fee that barely covers the price of a gallon of non-leaded?  I do hope it’s close-by.

And lastly:

“My company is looking for 75 articles to be used for building links for article marketing. They will be used towards increasing the site’s search engine ranking.

Our client has a website based on “how to save money during a recession”, so any content that would be relevant is what we are looking for. It will be the writers [sic] responsibility to provide the following:

  • average article expected to be at least 300 words
  • SEO Friendly titles
  • of high quality

Our budget is not to exceed $300 for this project.

Paying $4 for each finished 300-word piece makes this one of the better paying jobs I turned up on Freelancer.com.

There are a couple of factors at work here, I believe:

1. Words, Schmerds. One of paradoxes of the Internet is that while we’re continually remind that Content is King (Gag!), nobody wants to pay for it online. That now includes publishers as well as Web users.  Sure, these stingy bastards putting assignments up for bid on Freelancer.com will probably receive drek for their few shekels invested, but my hunch is the quality of the work received is irrelevant.  Good, bad or mediocre, it’s all the same: the only thing these Web publishers care about is obtaining prose-by-the-pound that they can then sell oodles of Google ads around, as the reference to “SEO [Search-Engine Optimized] Friendly” titles in the third item makes clear.

2. Globalization Hits the Scribbling Class. Even if you write as fast as Stephen King and are as prolific as James Patterson, there’s no way anyone can financially support themselves working at such appalling, subterranean freelance rates. Not even if you live in the middle of Nebraska.  These payment rates are at Third-World piecework levels.

In fact, I’m willing to wager that many of the “writers” bidding on these assignments reside in places closer to Mumbai than Manhattan, Miami or Minneapolis.  A quick perusal of Freelancer.com reveals eager bids received from “Israr,” “Faruk Ahmed,” “Baijnath Kumar” (“Hello Sir I have 3 excellent article writter [sic] which can write high quality within minutes, so please consider me for this job,” he pleads), “Praveen,” and “Rama.”

I’ve personally espoused the benefits of free trade for years, but I get a lump in my throat now that my own livelihood is threatened as a result. Writers are now learning a bitter lesson that U.S. factory workers were forced to swallow a couple of decades ago: their jobs can be shipped overseas to a low-wage country and there’s not much they can do about it. Sure, the final product might not be much good, but it will be good enough to sell ads around.

After all, it’s just words.

Update 2/1/2010: Here’s an allied take on the issue from  Alan Mutter, who writes the always interesting “Reflections of a Newsosaur.”

Update 2/8/2010: The New York Times’ David Carr examines the cheap-and-ubiquitous-content business model exemplified by Demand Media.

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Opening the Midden Box

I spent many hours this past weekend delving, with the help of my Spousal Unit (SU), into a couple of big cardboard cartons filled with old family photos and documents that I inherited some years ago from my mother.

 When I say “old,” I mean “about a decade-older-than-ancient,” at least by contemporary standards.  On my mother’s-mother’s-mother’s side of my family (got that?) I am descended from German/Alsatian Jews who arrived in America a few decades before the Civil War and settled in Louisville, Kentucky, and later Nashville, Tennessee.  Thanks to a family tree compiled years ago by my first cousin, Anne Goldgar, (now a professor of history at the King’s College, London), I can trace part of my mother’s family back to my great-great-great-great-great grandfather, Abraham Lieberman, born in 1774 in Brishberg, Bavaria; died in Louisville in 1885.

And I can tell you with some confidence that, since well before that time, nobody on that side of  my family has ever thrown anything remotely significant away.  (Admittedly, this now seems like a good thing.)  Here are a few of the things we discovered in the midden boxes:

  • Many newspaper clippings, some dating back to 1930, reporting various family engagements, weddings, births, and deaths
  • A large photographic portrait of my grandmother (born 1896) as an infant
  • A photograph of my grandfather with his high school class, about 1910
  • Various formal portraits of my great-grandmother Corrinne (born 1866) and great-grandfather Charles (ditto)
  • Copy of a formal proclamation praising of the contribution to the local school board of my great-grandmother, who was a mover in Nashville civic circles until her death in 1928 (there was a high school there named after her)
  • Photographs of my great-great grandmother (born 1844)-and-father (born 1842), dating from shortly after the Civil War.
  • The ketuba or wedding contract from their wedding, dated October 14, 1863

Truthfully, reviewing this stuff, handling a 145-year old piece of paper covered with neat Hebrew printing, looking at faded but still-legible photographs labeled on the back in my grandmother’s wriggly handwriting, I felt an overwhelming sense of connection to my family.  I was very aware that all these things had been literally passed from hand-to-hand-to-hand-to-hand for generations, until they came into my own.

These irreplaceable artifacts are all printed on that most archaic and retrograde of media, paper.  And while many of the newspaper clippings are yellowed and a little flakey, most of the material is in surprisingly good condition.  The ketuba, despite being lettered by hand, was perfectly legible (good penmanship was something to be proud of in those days); it looked closer to 15 years old than 150.

I wonder if any of the digital record that we produce in the course of our daily lives today will be as legible and readily accessible to our descendants, say, 150 years hence?  Unlikely, me thinks.

In fact, my house is filled now with all sorts of electronic media and devices that I can’t even access anymore.  I have boxes of VHS tapes that I suppose we could still watch—if I still had the VCR hooked up.  The visual record of our trip to China to adopt our daughter back in 1996 resides on a proprietary Sanyo Camcorder cartridge that we have no way of watching since the camcorder itself kicked the bucket (shortly after its warranty expired, natch).

While CDs and DVDs were both claimed to be archival when they were first rolled out to consumers, anyone with a small child in the house knows that all it really takes to render them incomprehensible and useless is one good scratch.  (Another good reason to hang on to my vinyl copy of Saxophone Colossus.) The information stored on USB-flash drives is said to be good for years; we’ll see.

I can no longer even read the original digital versions of many things I produced myself.  For years I kept the floppy disks containing the manuscripts and notes for all of the magazine articles I wrote when I was just starting out, back in the early 80s.  I had boxes of old 5.25-inch and 3.5-inch floppies, filled with files written with WordStar (an early word-processing program that someone once aptly described as so user-unfriendly, “it was like waltzing with a refrigerator”.)

But every time I traded up my computer system—from CP/M to DOS to Windows 3.0 to Windows 95, etc., to the present Apple OS X 10.5—my technical capability to read the information on those disks receded further, just beyond my reach,  into the ungraspable past.  New hardware and software may be labelled “backwards compatible” for a few years, but inevitably the window is closed shut, and older formats and systems are eventually orphaned and abandoned—rendering their information all but irretrievable.  When was the last time you saw a computer with a built-in 5.25-inch floppy-disk drive? Probably while George H. W. Bush was still in the White House. 

Finally, I realized that with no computer that could read my old floppies, they were about as decipherable as Linear B and I tossed them all out.

Sic transit C:\>. Chalk up one advantage for dead trees.

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