The value of being worthless

 

Once upon a time I was a very busy journalist.  I wrote for leading business and legal publications, travel magazines and network TV.  I covered a variety of topics ranging from business and health to travel and parenting.

 

There was a time when I could pitch a story to two or three editors and at least one would bite.  None of my story ideas are generating interest these days.  I feel worthless.  

 

Good-bye to prime time

 

I always imagined that this would be the peak of my career.  I have years of experience, contacts around the world and I developed my voice years ago.  I’m still young enough, with energy and motivation to chase a story.  Writers and journalists still do well at my age.  

 

For years I dreamed of moving to Paris to write a book.  I wanted to spend my days having motorcycle and scooter exhaust blown in my face as I sat writing at sidewalk cafes while eating bread and butter.  Some people sketch in the Louvre. I wanted to write at cafes while enjoying baguettes.

 

I had no idea what my book would be about but knew I wanted to be like Truman Capote who wrote In Cold Blood in Paris.  I wanted to move to France to experience another culture, specifically one that appreciates art.

 

There were two things that went wrong with my plan.  First, I never found my version of Harper Lee.  Harper was Truman’s BFF and the author of To Kill A Mockingbird.  Harper helped Truman with the research for In Cold Blood.  As my career evolved I realized that I needed a wingman but finding another Harper proved to be impossible.

 

The second major setback came in 2016 when I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.  After years of debate I decided that moving abroad wasn’t a good idea because my doctors are in the US.  I’ve since learned they have neurologists in France.  I made a bad decision not to move.

 

Wine country

 

A few months ago I applied to a magazine to write feature articles about the Napa Valley.  I told the editor that I was perfect for the job because even though I’m a Bay Area resident I’ve never been to Napa and I’d see wine country with a fresh set of eyes.

 

Telling the editor I’d never been to Napa even though I live seventy miles away was a mistake.  She made it clear she wanted someone who had familiarity with the region.  How stories can be fresh, with a new perspective and written by someone who has already covered the area is beyond me.

 

Has AI derailed my career?

 

I could have chosen to write my stories using ChatGPT, an AI application that allows you to type in questions or a general outline of what you want and it will spit out copy for you.  To test its capabilities I asked ChatGPT about various type of wine barrels and told it to write me an article.

 

I’ve been replaced by ChatGPT

 

The result was remarkably good.  It would have taken me a few days and multiple interviews to dig up all the tid bits that ChatGPT identified.  Although the ChatGPT story probably wouldn’t have passed an AI or plagiarism test it was a good first draft.  

 

I resent people who use ChatGPT to write stories.  They change some words around and add in some of their pet phrases claim the story is original.  That’s cheating and it certainly isn’t journalism.  But it’s how people can accept low paying assignments and still make money.

 

My writing process is old school.  It involves research, reading, interviews, writing, rewriting and fact checking.  A five-page story about a complex topic can take me a couple of weeks to finish.  ChatGPT takes less than a minute.

 

Editors also want stories written in SEO, also known as search engine optimization.  This is technical speak for incorporating important words and phrases in a story numerous times and doing some coding so the story will show up high in Google searches.  

 

I understand why SEO is important but I’m not a big fan of force feeding key phrases over and over again just to rank high in Google searches.  Style matters.

 

My unwillingness to rely on ChatGPT and write in an SEO friendly format has made me a unicorn.  I keep thinking that neither the New York Times nor Vanity Fair would accept an automated story so there still must be a market for what I have to offer.

 

But in the last few years, I’ve had crickets.  My confidence no longer exists.

 

I used to define myself by my ability to string words together and tell a story.  These days I spend a lot of time walking my dogs and wonder what the hell happened to my career.  I spent decades honing my skills, learning how to report and write well.  Now it no longer has value.

 

Welcome to the state of worthlessness.