There's a lot to be anxious about, so I understand if media is not your first concern. But if you're as saddened as I am about the folding of The Outline, or are confused about why media is fucked rn, thought I'd share some thoughts on both. If for no other reason than catharsis.

Back in February I decided to make the jump to freelance writing, quit my editing job with a generous six weeks notice, then had my last day as a salaried employee on March 11th, the day everything truly went to shit in New York.

I worried about trying to get a freelance writing career off the ground as the world descended into chaos, but people assured me writing would never not be important. That now it might be even more so, with everyone home, afraid, and looking for guidance. I had my doubts.

It quickly became clear that despite an uptick in consumer demand and consequent consumption, media budgets were being frozen or slashed, writers and editors were getting furloughed or laid off, with some sites shuttering for good.

Some non-media friends have asked me why this is happening when traffic is high, and it's made me realize how mentally divorced media and revenue have become in our minds since we now consume so much of it for free—and expect it to be free, too.

It's easy to forget that media sites are, in the simplest terms, advertising businesses, and that our attention—rather that the writing or journalism we go there to consume—is the product they're selling, and they're selling it to advertisers.

This is why consumer demand is not actually the driving force behind a lot of online media; why reader-beloved outlets like The Awl, Racked, and The Outline do not thrive in this industry; and why the giants that treat it like the advertising business that it is, do.

This makes writers and editors into marketers of sorts. It's why, as an editor, I had to think about a story not in terms of what made it good, but what made it clickable and inoffensive to the brands my employer was being paid to please.

As you can imagine, this compromises online media in a millions ways, transforming it from a democratic, public good into another extension of commerce and capital, serving corporate interests instead of the people it's purportedly for.

This is an important pillar of Noam Chomsky's "propaganda model," and it's been a growing problem since ads became the revenue model for journalism in the early 20th century, pushing more radical pubs (which might not serve corporate interests) out of the competitive field.

This is obviously the exact same issue happening in politics, and why so many people find Bernie's refusal to take money from corporations so important. When we have all public goods tied to corporate interests, the stock market becomes the best measure of our wellbeing.

And of course, the distribution of that "wellbeing" is uneven and unethical even in the best of times, because it's not a morally driven model. It's not for the people; it's for the wealthy. The same could be said for online media. At the end of the day, it's not *really* for us.

This is why brands suffering means writers will be out of the job, even as their work becomes increasingly vital. What I find so frustrating is that ads haven't been a reliable revenue source for online media in a while, but it's the only one we know now.

Publications have been consolidating like crazy these past few years to try to bolster their bottom lines (NYMag, Vox, Refinery, Vice, Mic, etc), but even then they still don't have enough to pay their editors and writers enough for them to live comfortably.

When I was preparing to quit, every freelance writer told me I wouldn't be able to make enough money from writing, even if I did it all day every day. They told me every writer they knew had some kind of side gig, and if they were a Bernie type, often a morally compromising one.

Writing ad copy for big corporations. Ghostwriting a newsletter for a brand they don't like. If they have a following, selling unnecessary shit to their followers via sponcon. This is how you make liveable money as a writer now.

I didn't get into writing for the money, so I'm not complaining that I don't live a cushy life because of it. It feels like an honor and privilege to even pursue this career, but it's disheartening to recognize just how compromised this whole industry is.

Consumers of online media have been so trained to get it for free, it's created a hostile environment for writers and editors: one where we can't make an honest living, one where we're morally compromised every day, and most importantly, one where we can't serve readers.

Of course, nearly every industry faces this moral ambiguity, some with far more dire or urgent consequences. This pandemic has revealed just how precarious and undemocratic our social services really are, which we've all been discussing ad nauseam.

Many of you probably already know this stuff (and I know a paid media model can create accessibility problems), and I'm not sure how to solve it short of doing everything we can do elect progressive figures into office who understand the ramifications of late capitalism.

But in the meantime, in addition to giving what we can to the people in most urgent need, I'd encourage all of us to do what we can to support creators we believe are doing important work. By donating, reading, or spreading their work.

We also have to remember that, when this is all over, ad-supported content and services will always mean we as consumers no longer represent the levers of demand—advertisers do—and therefore the supply will not ultimately serve us.

I hope this wasn't patronizing. I'm not an expert, just a writer who cares, so I welcome any and all clarifications. Thanks for reading this super long thread which, for 30 minutes, became a fairly effective coping mechanism. I hope all this signals a reckoning, not a free fall.