Content for Content’s Sake
On the Discouraging State of Words on the Web
Back when I was hungry to just get my writing exposed to people, I made the mistake of answering a call for content through HARO (Help a Reporter Out). The call was something like “what are the simple keys to success?” — so I shot off a quickly-conceived piece. I never heard back. I’m kind of glad I didn’t.
Though my story never got published on the site, I am now on their mailing list. So about weekly, I get an email blast from the site’s founder asking for very specific articles in a very short amount of time. This week’s call was particularly weird:
“50 Powerful Quotes from MLK that Will Motivate You”
“15 Motivational Lessons from MLK”
“Do These 5 Things to Have the Charisma of MLK”
There were about 5 or more of the same format — a number, a noun, and Martin Luther King’s name attached. It gave me an odd yucky feeling.
The man was an human-rights activist who helped millions of oppressed people gain a foothold on basic rights in a country where they were viewed as second-class citizens. But here we are asking for redundant click-bait about him to peddle to businesspeople. It’s a bit perplexing. It makes me feel uncomfortable — like when someone touches all of the sandwiches at a work lunch, in order to find the one they want.
In general, I find myself uncomfortable by a lot of these types of prompts and titles for content. It seems clear by their calls for content and the writing itself that there is little concern for originality or poignancy. It seems to be entirely about quantity and timeliness, rather than quality and timelessness.
I have begun to wonder about the motivation for content. What is the underlying reason for its production. Is it writing for the sake of discovering, communicating, and teaching? Or is it writing for the sake of producing content? Is it just content, for content’s sake?
I am all for writing — writing a lot and writing often. Writing helps you think, improves your ability to express yourself, and inspires confidence. But this commissioned “content” — produced relentlessly, and with redundant prompts — I’m not sure it does any of that stuff. And because it doesn’t do that for the writers, I don’t think it does for the readers.
I guess the real question is this: how much content on the same topic, in the same style, do we need? By now, content is surely a commodity — available from many sources, and sounding, looking, and feeling much the same. How comfortable are we — as writers and readers — with that? I’m not very comfortable. But maybe that’s just me.
I’ll continue to write for the purpose of discovery, expression, communication, and poignancy. I’ll continue to read for the same reasons. My simple hope is that we all do our best to do that, as well.
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