About a zillion years ago—in the early 1990s, to be exact—I worked as a rookie newspaper reporter and devoted a lot of energy to keeping my mouth shut in public.
Sure, I had plenty of political views, and my opinions got fiercer as evangelical right-wingers took over the local school board I covered.
They tried to add creationism to the curriculum, opposed the teaching of birth control and supported a sex education program with mottos like “Pet Your Dog, Not Your Date” and “Don’t Be a Louse, Wait for Your Spouse.” As a journalist writing about all this, I struggled not only to be neutral and objective but appear that way in order immunize myself against accusations of bias.
I even thought about registering as an independent, like some journalists do, in case any partisans looked up my voting affiliation and used it against me.
Now, more than two decades later, I’m still a journalist, and I still write about politics and elected officials. But for better and for worse, I’ve freed myself from all that self-censorship.
OPENING UP AND REMOVING THE VEIL
Now, it’s almost too easy to become a pundit with a platform. Throw out a few zingers online and you may soon draw an audience full of fans and haters.
I entered this world of opinion-slinging while working on a freelance basis for an online San Diego news outlet that encourages its journalists to boldly call out BS in our region and be open about their perspectives. These young writers inspired me to shed the veil, and Twitter gave me an audience.
As a result, various local politicians and commentators have felt the sting of my snark, and I’ve gotten into more comment wars than I care to remember.
When our Democratic mayor was accused of humiliating and harassing women, I took a side—theirs—and aggravated the progressives who bizarrely believed he was the victim of a mass conspiracy. When I defended a journalist colleague’s coverage on a San Diego leftist news site, it banned me. And a “feminist” alt-weekly writer devoted an entire column to bashing me when I dared suggest that she’d insulted women by ripping on female TV weathercasters.
MEET THE ‘BLOVIATING NITWIT’
The columnist called me a “dough-faced dude, a “non-vagina-having, self-important troll” and a “bloviating nitwit… with the back-patting superiority of a third-grade know-it-all.”
Oh yeah? Well, um… OK, that’s about right. What’s your point?
The columnist’s words didn’t offend me. Much. But spouting off online can be costly in unexpected ways.
Remember how some local progressives were miffed at me? They seem to have spread the word to a band of local community historians that no one should cooperate with me on stories about San Diego’s past. There’s more where those bad feelings came from.
Now we’re talking about money. My online punditry is free—public service, everyone!—but potentially losing paid work hits me in the bank account.
EVEN WRITER ADVOCACY IS RISKY
Plenty of independent writers, maybe including you, keep their heads down and try to avoid aggravating anyone in public. They may never speak up or only in support of fellow freelancers and book authors. But even that can be risky.
Late last year, I wrote an ASJA/The Word commentary bashing a Nieman Reports column by a Fast Company editor titled “Freelancing Sucks.” For good measure, I made sure the editor knew about it via Twitter.
The commentary got lots of attention. The other day, I noticed that the editor has a new job: As editor-in-chief at Atlas Obscura, a site I’d love to write for.
Oops. And: Uh-oh. Will she remember me un-fondly? Will I dare to send her a pitch after calling her out? Stay tuned!
Meanwhile, earlier this year I expressed ASJA’s deep disappointment in the Poynter Institute (the journalism best-practices people) for adopting worst practices when it comes to contracts with freelancers. Then, a couple weeks ago, I found myself pursuing a discount on Poynter training sessions for ASJA members.
Oops. And: Uh-oh. Don’t worry. It turned out fine, and members now have a fantastic new benefit.
PAYING THE PRICE, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER
As independent writers, we have plenty to lose by exposing ourselves on the Internet. If we rant or joke or attack, we risk alienating friends, dismaying publishers and turning off big potential clients. Just think of the comedians who’ve been haunted by unwise and unfunny tweets from their pasts.
On the other hand, simply being polite, respectful and snark-free online has the potential to rob us of an audience and the elusive “platform” we’re all supposed to develop these days.
As for me, I’m trying to tinker with my online persona so it’s a bit more like the real persona I’d like to have: Fair, friendly and fierce. And oh yes, one more thing: Humble.
Back in the 1990s, those days of Seinfeld and Cosby sweaters, I told one of those right-wing school board members that both liberals and conservatives accused me of bias. As a journalist, I declared, that meant I was doing a good job.
She replied: “It could just mean you’re incompetent.”
It’s more than a snappy comeback. It’s a reminder to realize that you (and me) might be wrong about one thing, many things or most things.
If you can manage to show humility online while developing a strong and powerful voice, you will definitely stand out. Just make sure to tweet at me about how you did it.