I've been thinking about the "mad lady" at the grocery store. I'm still surprised by her comments. I don't know why. We hear them all the time in the media.
"You don't like him because he's black," is the comment that bothers me the most.
Am I an automatic racist because I don't like socialism? Could I be a racist because I want to know how much something costs and how I am going to pay for it? Do I hate those who are different then I am because I want to know where my money is going?
According to the woman at the grocery store, the answers to those questions must be yes. Truth be told...
I don't care what color people are. As long as they don't run our country into the ground and spend my money in ways I don't want it spent, I will like them.
"My money." I've said that several times already. Yes, it is my money. I pay taxes and I should have a say in where my money goes - what programs it pays for. I don't like that it goes to pay for abortions, the president's nights out with his wife or around the world to lobby to get the Olympics in Chicago. I haven't even mentioned it has been spent to bail out huge corporations who made poor choices.
When was the last time the government gave you money because you made bad financial decisions? They've never given me money for being stupid with my money. Then again, I never went to the government asking for it. I have this thing called pride. Why would I want the world to know I was an idiot with my money? Why wouldn't I want to work for what I have?
Do any of my concerns have to do with skin color? I don't think so. Why would anyone assume that is why I don't like the current administration and their way of handling our country?
I'm a pro-people person. I want everyone to do their best and work hard for what they have. I don't think some are better than others simply based on their color skin. I see the color of their skin; I'm not blind. That doesn't mean it clouds my thoughts about them.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Content Mills: Making Money, Losing Faith
I recently read a rather interesting article about content mills - those sites on the internet that pay writers to crank out article after article. This particular article was about a content mill that I have been known to write for, Demand Studios. Without going into a lot of details about the article, I can say, without hesitation and from experience, it is all true.
I've been a writer ever since I could remember. I was first published as a child. I had written a short story that was published as a children's book. Due to my parents' inexperience, I lost all rights to my work. I did get a t-shirt and $50 from the publisher. The t-shirt was much too small and the $50 didn't cover the legal expenses paid to get my work back. Live and learn, I suppose. But, then again, not really.
I went off to college, earned two degrees and decided to make writing my career. My granddad told me to "find something I loved to do and someone smart enough to pay me to do it." Excellent advice for anyone that eagerly took to heart.
I started my own writing business. Don't tell anyone, but I was a freelancer. I set myself up as a company and the majority of my clients had no idea I was a one-woman show. I started writing anywhere and everywhere, taking any gig that offered me a paycheck and didn't compromise my beliefs. I did PR for companies, non-profit organizations and even individuals. I wrote employee training manuals, catalog entries, wedding vows, short stories and church bulletins. You name it, I wrote it. I averaged more than $100 an hour, sometimes well over $200 per hour - depending on the client and the specific assignment. I worked when I wanted to, setting my own hours and fees. That was perfect for this control freak.
Due to several "happy accidents," I fell into the careers of wedding planning, event organization and home staging. It is amazing how different clients could use me for several different purposes. I jumped on these opportunities and held on with both hands. I was still writing, but I was also doing other things I loved to do.
My health started to go down hill. I began working less and less; my body wouldn't let me write anymore. At least not the way I was use to writing. Between the constant pain and the medications I had to take to control the pain, I thought I would never work like I did before. Then a miracle came along...this thing called the internet...
I met a wonderful woman at a writing site I accidentally found. I had no idea what opportunities were available to me online. She and I became "email buddies" and then friends. She told me about this writing gig, Demand Studios, and I eagerly into it. I read the agreement and eagerly signed on as a contract writer. It only paid $15 per article, but I could write my own titles. I would lose all rights to my work, but the pay was steady. And, the work was easy.
The rules were simple. Follow their guidelines and get accepted. I was given one chance at a rewrite, without any opportunity to correspond with the editor. That wasn't a problem; my articles were accepted without many rewrites. Those requiring rewrites were well explained by the editor and easy to adjust.
I suggested titles that I knew about that were accepted. I wrote those articles and got paid. It seemed easy enough. I was writing four to six articles an hour - $60 to $90 per hour. Once again, I was writing, setting my own hours and writing about things I wanted to write about. The money was easy, almost too easy. My articles were accepted by the editors and published with my name in the byline. I was paid every Friday, just like clockwork. All was well with the world.
Then, the bottom fell out of it. The policy changed and I would now only be paid $5 for my suggested titles. I went from $90 an hour to $30 an hour. I frantically searched their list of titles, which was quite time consuming, and found many that I could write. I was back up to $90 an hour. Not as happy as I was before, but still making good money.
Bad to went worse. The guidelines changed once again. I now had to add resources and references to my work. Because of my varied experiences, I had been writing about things I had done in the past. I was my own resource and reference. After planning thousands of weddings and other parties and events, I had a clue as to what I was doing. That didn't matter. I had to follow their guidelines. My pay dropped once again. Finding internet sources and references took up my time and had to included in the time I spent to write and edit an article.
Worse went to the worst. Demand Studios hired a "batch" of editors that I can't even begin to describe. They were rude and abusive. What was expected of my changed from editor to editor. There was no set right or wrong way of writing the articles, as there had been before. I've written for major magazines and never dealt with editors lacking professional courtesy. They questioned my areas of expertise. They forced me into the craziest of rewrites, often putting the integrity of my article and myself into question. It seemed that two of every three of my articles were coming back for rewrites or being rejected.
Demand Studios ignored my emails. The lead editors turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to my situation. But, it wasn't just my situation. Other writers were facing the same predicament and they were also being ignored. I tried to continue writing for them, but couldn't.
I'm a professional and should be treated as one. The comments on my articles were personal and rude. No, not rude. They were abusive. One went as far as to tell me to "find another job" because me, my experience and my writing were "pitiful." Then the private messages and emails came from the editors. They were even worse than the comments on my articles. Once again, Demand Studios ignored my complaints. So...
I moved on. I started writing other places on the internet. Yes, they are also "content mills," but I am treated with respect. Management seems concerned with the issues I face writing for them and quickly clear up any problems I face. I am once again happily writing my life away.
I have received several emails from Demand Studios writers, quick to defend Demand Studios. They seem to think that all is well in the DS world. They don't mind writing for less than peanuts and losing all rights to their work. The abuse is "part of the job."
I so want to write back and ask, "What planet are you on?" Do they not realize that freelance writers make much more than what Demand Studios pay? Do they not know that they are professionals (should be professionals, at least) and deserve to be treated as such? Many are so thankful for the extra income in these hard times they are willing to write almost anything and put up with everything to get that weekly paycheck. They seem to think that $15 or $30 an article is a great amount of money to make as a writer. Well, it isn't. Freelancers should be making three times that amount and more.
One point they make I can't argue with. "If you don't like it, don't write for them." That is exactly what I did. I moved on.
What happened to me and other writers at Demand Studios is a shame. The company always took advantage of its writers by offering such low pay, but volume made up for it - I tried not to think of the per-word rate I was earning. Once the policies changed, it was unbearable. Back to the reason for writing this...
The article was dead on. It explained the situation quite well. There are pros and cons to writing for Demand Studios. Each writer must make up their own minds if the pros outweigh the cons and if it is worth their time, energy and, sometimes, self-respect to continue writing for them. I made my decisions and they are making theirs. I say more power to them, no matter what that decision may be. I don't live in their skin so I can't say if they are right or wrong.
For the record, I haven't closed the door completely to writing for Demand Studios. Ever the optimist, I am hoping that Demand Studios will see the situation and fix the problems. Once that is done, I will eagerly go back to writing for them. They were a good gig at one time and I hope they will be again. There is no reason why they can't make the necessary improvements. They had almost right at one point - nothing is perfect.
I've been a writer ever since I could remember. I was first published as a child. I had written a short story that was published as a children's book. Due to my parents' inexperience, I lost all rights to my work. I did get a t-shirt and $50 from the publisher. The t-shirt was much too small and the $50 didn't cover the legal expenses paid to get my work back. Live and learn, I suppose. But, then again, not really.
I went off to college, earned two degrees and decided to make writing my career. My granddad told me to "find something I loved to do and someone smart enough to pay me to do it." Excellent advice for anyone that eagerly took to heart.
I started my own writing business. Don't tell anyone, but I was a freelancer. I set myself up as a company and the majority of my clients had no idea I was a one-woman show. I started writing anywhere and everywhere, taking any gig that offered me a paycheck and didn't compromise my beliefs. I did PR for companies, non-profit organizations and even individuals. I wrote employee training manuals, catalog entries, wedding vows, short stories and church bulletins. You name it, I wrote it. I averaged more than $100 an hour, sometimes well over $200 per hour - depending on the client and the specific assignment. I worked when I wanted to, setting my own hours and fees. That was perfect for this control freak.
Due to several "happy accidents," I fell into the careers of wedding planning, event organization and home staging. It is amazing how different clients could use me for several different purposes. I jumped on these opportunities and held on with both hands. I was still writing, but I was also doing other things I loved to do.
My health started to go down hill. I began working less and less; my body wouldn't let me write anymore. At least not the way I was use to writing. Between the constant pain and the medications I had to take to control the pain, I thought I would never work like I did before. Then a miracle came along...this thing called the internet...
I met a wonderful woman at a writing site I accidentally found. I had no idea what opportunities were available to me online. She and I became "email buddies" and then friends. She told me about this writing gig, Demand Studios, and I eagerly into it. I read the agreement and eagerly signed on as a contract writer. It only paid $15 per article, but I could write my own titles. I would lose all rights to my work, but the pay was steady. And, the work was easy.
The rules were simple. Follow their guidelines and get accepted. I was given one chance at a rewrite, without any opportunity to correspond with the editor. That wasn't a problem; my articles were accepted without many rewrites. Those requiring rewrites were well explained by the editor and easy to adjust.
I suggested titles that I knew about that were accepted. I wrote those articles and got paid. It seemed easy enough. I was writing four to six articles an hour - $60 to $90 per hour. Once again, I was writing, setting my own hours and writing about things I wanted to write about. The money was easy, almost too easy. My articles were accepted by the editors and published with my name in the byline. I was paid every Friday, just like clockwork. All was well with the world.
Then, the bottom fell out of it. The policy changed and I would now only be paid $5 for my suggested titles. I went from $90 an hour to $30 an hour. I frantically searched their list of titles, which was quite time consuming, and found many that I could write. I was back up to $90 an hour. Not as happy as I was before, but still making good money.
Bad to went worse. The guidelines changed once again. I now had to add resources and references to my work. Because of my varied experiences, I had been writing about things I had done in the past. I was my own resource and reference. After planning thousands of weddings and other parties and events, I had a clue as to what I was doing. That didn't matter. I had to follow their guidelines. My pay dropped once again. Finding internet sources and references took up my time and had to included in the time I spent to write and edit an article.
Worse went to the worst. Demand Studios hired a "batch" of editors that I can't even begin to describe. They were rude and abusive. What was expected of my changed from editor to editor. There was no set right or wrong way of writing the articles, as there had been before. I've written for major magazines and never dealt with editors lacking professional courtesy. They questioned my areas of expertise. They forced me into the craziest of rewrites, often putting the integrity of my article and myself into question. It seemed that two of every three of my articles were coming back for rewrites or being rejected.
Demand Studios ignored my emails. The lead editors turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to my situation. But, it wasn't just my situation. Other writers were facing the same predicament and they were also being ignored. I tried to continue writing for them, but couldn't.
I'm a professional and should be treated as one. The comments on my articles were personal and rude. No, not rude. They were abusive. One went as far as to tell me to "find another job" because me, my experience and my writing were "pitiful." Then the private messages and emails came from the editors. They were even worse than the comments on my articles. Once again, Demand Studios ignored my complaints. So...
I moved on. I started writing other places on the internet. Yes, they are also "content mills," but I am treated with respect. Management seems concerned with the issues I face writing for them and quickly clear up any problems I face. I am once again happily writing my life away.
I have received several emails from Demand Studios writers, quick to defend Demand Studios. They seem to think that all is well in the DS world. They don't mind writing for less than peanuts and losing all rights to their work. The abuse is "part of the job."
I so want to write back and ask, "What planet are you on?" Do they not realize that freelance writers make much more than what Demand Studios pay? Do they not know that they are professionals (should be professionals, at least) and deserve to be treated as such? Many are so thankful for the extra income in these hard times they are willing to write almost anything and put up with everything to get that weekly paycheck. They seem to think that $15 or $30 an article is a great amount of money to make as a writer. Well, it isn't. Freelancers should be making three times that amount and more.
One point they make I can't argue with. "If you don't like it, don't write for them." That is exactly what I did. I moved on.
What happened to me and other writers at Demand Studios is a shame. The company always took advantage of its writers by offering such low pay, but volume made up for it - I tried not to think of the per-word rate I was earning. Once the policies changed, it was unbearable. Back to the reason for writing this...
The article was dead on. It explained the situation quite well. There are pros and cons to writing for Demand Studios. Each writer must make up their own minds if the pros outweigh the cons and if it is worth their time, energy and, sometimes, self-respect to continue writing for them. I made my decisions and they are making theirs. I say more power to them, no matter what that decision may be. I don't live in their skin so I can't say if they are right or wrong.
For the record, I haven't closed the door completely to writing for Demand Studios. Ever the optimist, I am hoping that Demand Studios will see the situation and fix the problems. Once that is done, I will eagerly go back to writing for them. They were a good gig at one time and I hope they will be again. There is no reason why they can't make the necessary improvements. They had almost right at one point - nothing is perfect.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Conservatives and Liberals in the Grocery Store
I'm not sure if it is such a good thing that folks are starting to recognize me. At first, it was rather flattering and now...Well, now it is a bit uncomfortable. Just like earlier today...
We were at out local grocery store. A woman came up to me and ask if I was Emma. I nodded and continued shopping. She followed me.
"You're the one who wrote that article about the Nobel Peace Prize," she said angrily.
"I actually wrote two of them." I examined some apples, hoping she would walk away.
My daughter, who is four, was fascinated. "Momma writes all sorts of things," she explained from her seat in the shopping cart.
"You just came from church, didn't you?" The woman practically snarled.
"We learned about Jesus at church like we do at home." My daughter was eager to talk.
"Where do you go to school?"
"We home school," my daughter told her.
The apples were forgotten. I could tell by the woman's tone she was not pleased with our family's decisions. I began to push the cart to the check out.
"You are one of those Conservatives, those Republicans. Now you are trying to brainwash your daughter by not letting her get a proper education."
I so wanted to tell her there was not enough soap on the planet to wash my daughter's brain. Like me, she is a free thinker that makes her own decisions. We do a little guiding here and there. We do control some of her actions, but her thinking processes are all her own.
"You don't like the president because he's black," she shouted at me.
"We don't like him because he says it's okay to kill babies," my daughter announced over my shoulder to the woman behind us.
"You are brainwashing her," she shouted.
I had been nice so far, but shouting in a public place is taking it too far. I turned to face her, after instructing my friendly daughter to be quiet.
"You are indoctrinating her and spewing that Conservative junk." Junk is my word. You see, I have a relatively nice vocabulary and do not have to use the words she does. "Do you think anyone listens to you and your garbage?"
"According to the last election, not as many that listens to the liberal garbage," I answered her. "You read my article so I guess I do have an audience."
I left the shopping cart and all the items in it at the check out, apologizing to the check out lady as we left. Thankfully, she didn't follow us out to our car.
"Momma, why was that lady so mad?" My daughter asked as I quickly buckled her up in her car seat.
"She didn't like what I wrote," I answered, fumbling with a strap and looking out the car window for the "mad lady."
"Do you spell words wrong?"
"I don't think so." I smiled. That was my daughter concern.
"Do you tell a lie?"
"No, I just wrote about what I thought."
"Then it is okay. You can do that." My daughter was explaining freedom of the press to me. "She doesn't have to like it. She doesn't even have to read it. She should write her own thoughts."
Bingo! She should write her thoughts! Why doesn't she do that? Yelling at me in the grocery store isn't going to change anything. She should express herself in a more polite and thoughtful manner.
That is what I am going to do. I have enough thoughts on this one encounter to write for quite a while. All I have to do is figure out where to start. Oh, the possibilities...
We were at out local grocery store. A woman came up to me and ask if I was Emma. I nodded and continued shopping. She followed me.
"You're the one who wrote that article about the Nobel Peace Prize," she said angrily.
"I actually wrote two of them." I examined some apples, hoping she would walk away.
My daughter, who is four, was fascinated. "Momma writes all sorts of things," she explained from her seat in the shopping cart.
"You just came from church, didn't you?" The woman practically snarled.
"We learned about Jesus at church like we do at home." My daughter was eager to talk.
"Where do you go to school?"
"We home school," my daughter told her.
The apples were forgotten. I could tell by the woman's tone she was not pleased with our family's decisions. I began to push the cart to the check out.
"You are one of those Conservatives, those Republicans. Now you are trying to brainwash your daughter by not letting her get a proper education."
I so wanted to tell her there was not enough soap on the planet to wash my daughter's brain. Like me, she is a free thinker that makes her own decisions. We do a little guiding here and there. We do control some of her actions, but her thinking processes are all her own.
"You don't like the president because he's black," she shouted at me.
"We don't like him because he says it's okay to kill babies," my daughter announced over my shoulder to the woman behind us.
"You are brainwashing her," she shouted.
I had been nice so far, but shouting in a public place is taking it too far. I turned to face her, after instructing my friendly daughter to be quiet.
"You are indoctrinating her and spewing that Conservative junk." Junk is my word. You see, I have a relatively nice vocabulary and do not have to use the words she does. "Do you think anyone listens to you and your garbage?"
"According to the last election, not as many that listens to the liberal garbage," I answered her. "You read my article so I guess I do have an audience."
I left the shopping cart and all the items in it at the check out, apologizing to the check out lady as we left. Thankfully, she didn't follow us out to our car.
"Momma, why was that lady so mad?" My daughter asked as I quickly buckled her up in her car seat.
"She didn't like what I wrote," I answered, fumbling with a strap and looking out the car window for the "mad lady."
"Do you spell words wrong?"
"I don't think so." I smiled. That was my daughter concern.
"Do you tell a lie?"
"No, I just wrote about what I thought."
"Then it is okay. You can do that." My daughter was explaining freedom of the press to me. "She doesn't have to like it. She doesn't even have to read it. She should write her own thoughts."
Bingo! She should write her thoughts! Why doesn't she do that? Yelling at me in the grocery store isn't going to change anything. She should express herself in a more polite and thoughtful manner.
That is what I am going to do. I have enough thoughts on this one encounter to write for quite a while. All I have to do is figure out where to start. Oh, the possibilities...
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