A Year in Review 2024, Part I
Some reflections on jobs vs. opportunities
Those who know me well will know that I have insomnia at least three times a week. It’s such a common occurrence that I almost want to stay up in defiance, or at least until my eyes close and my body gives in to the tiredness. I even have a “Random Thoughts” journal, where I record all the random thoughts that flit through my mind at any given moment. I don’t really understand why my brain is so much more active at night than during the day; it just is.
Some nights, I’ll lay in bed thinking about the things on my to-do list; other nights, I think about the things I’d like to do that isn’t part of my to-do list…things that align more with long-term goals than the everyday tasks. My brain will buzz with delight as I ponder the possibilities, the audacity that I have, the courage to just…go for it. Then the next morning (and sometimes the following weeks) I’ll retreat back to my curtain of self-doubt, where I think, “Seems like a lot to do. How will I find the time, and most importantly, the energy to even do that?!?”
One such activity is writing this newsletter. Or writing in general. By comparison to previous years, this year has yielded far fewer pieces. I wish I could say that I’ve been secretly working on a big project that is now ready to be revealed, but that’s not exactly true. I have been working on a project—finishing up the first manuscript of my second book—but it’s nowhere near ready for an agent or publisher, although it is a goal of mine.
As the year draws to a close, I am both relieved and bothered by the fact that I haven’t been able to write appropriately engaging essays. Although I subscribe to the “something is better than nothing” boat, I’m also not silly enough to think that my words will get to the right people, or even get in front of their eyes at all. Everywhere I look (perhaps this is a byproduct of being in the literary/Substack universe) I see evidence of bigger, better writing than what I could do, so I think, “What’s the point??” Any words I publish will just add to the noise that already exists in this world. My version of noise won’t make hundreds or thousands of people turn their heads…because life in the 21st century is competitive, and we only have so many hours in a day to devote our attention to something.
You may be thinking, “You have stories to tell, Hoang. You can do it!” Of course I can. But I’m not one of those people who can write something, put it on the internet, and forget about it. I care too much about what people think. I tell myself that numbers mean little, that it’s the human engagement that matters, but stats are what I see whenever I open up anything…a dashboard, email, social media notifications, etc. As much as I wish we could go back to the days when we go on the internet to consume things but not actually pay attention to the minute details (such as how many views something gets), that is no longer the case. Even now, as I’m writing this, I’m checking the word counter to see how many words I’ve written so far…
How did we get here? That is a rhetorical (and somewhat philosophical) question, one that I don’t have a clear answer for. But I can tell you a story about how I got here.
In early April, I got not one but two new jobs. I couldn’t believe my luck. Now I know it wasn’t truly luck as one of the jobs were incredibly easy to get (just one phone interview and no background check) and the other one, an accounting job, had a caveat—it required me to live in a different state, something I had decided not to do.
The job that was easy to get was a Features Editor for a large, popular food site, and it seemed like a dream come true. It was flexible! I could pick my own hours! It was fully remote! Which meant I could stay in the comfort of my home and not have to invest time for travel and money for a new wardrobe. Lastly, it was working with food writers, something I was very interested in. Mind you, it didn’t pay very much but I needed (and wanted!) the experience, so I took it. But because I had gotten both jobs at the same time, I basically started both (remote) jobs the same week.
I chose to do full-time at the editing job, though I didn’t have to. I’m embarrassed to say that it was all for the money. We were planning on going to Vietnam for three weeks, and traveling internationally as a family of four was expensive. That, along with other goals/things we needed to do for our house, like feed and clothe our kids, never mind ourselves, also costs money. So I ignored the fact that working two full-time jobs wasn’t the best idea, that I would struggle to balance both while maintaining a home life.
Surprisingly, the accounting job wasn’t that stressful. I found the company to be pleasant and the work matched my skill level, but I knew it couldn’t last. This is because, as I’d mentioned above, the company’s requirement that all their employees be residents of a particular state. I was so sure that I’d be moving up there this year, but that’s a story for another day.
Meanwhile, the editing job proved to be less flexible than they’d advertised themselves to be. Soon, I discovered the company’s internal methods of tracking everyone, from editors to writers, on their performance, right down to the smallest of details, such as using an adjective versus not using one and how certain sentences could be perceived by its audience. I also discovered that this company was a monopoly in the media industry, owning more than a handful of food publications on the internet. (The one I worked at in particular was a resurrected food pub). They did not do original reporting; rather, the writers recycled or *ahem* “researched” information already published on the internet and rewrote it in their own words. Still, they expected utmost compliance when it comes to originality. Anything and everything could be audited by one of their senior editors, and anything and everything could be perceived as plagiarism or spinning. Do you see the irony here?
Anyways, I tried my best to follow their style guidelines. Three weeks in, I was told that my edits needed to perfect and flawless but to also “use my own judgment.” Now, I had been volunteering as a lead editor for three years, but I had never had this happen to me. To be told that you had to be perfect when you’ve only been doing the job for less than a month was…baffling, to say the least.
Friends, I tried to be “perfect.” I really did. But it wasn’t enough in their eyes.
I started the job at the end of April, was told to be perfect by mid-May, and by early July, an article I had edited was randomly audited without my knowledge. The lead editor I worked under pulled me aside for a Slack meeting and told me all the things they found “wrong” in my work, down to the tiniest details—as in, whether or not I added periods or commas in certain places, the number of words used in the alt text description of pictures and whether or not to capitalize other words. I Googled just to be sure, and realized that these little nuances were simply a matter of company preferences rather than industry-wide standards.
So you know what I did?
I told them off the next day. I even enlisted my husband’s help in composing an honest but still professional message to the lead editor. I told them that a randomized audit like that was not the best way to rate someone’s work, that I would keep trying my best but I wasn’t okay with being treated with such contempt.
And you know what they did?
They let me go, a few hours after I sent that message.
The media industry is rough. I should have known that coming in. But being an introvert with many thoughts and one who (sometimes) struggle to verbally express them, I was under the illusion that I could kill two birds with one stone—gain experience and help others with their writing.
You’d think by now I would know that if something sounds too good to be true, then it probably is. I did, but I forgot that sometimes what seems like a good opportunity is just wool being pulled over your eyes.
I struggled with self-doubt even more after that experience. I thought, “If I can’t help people write better articles or stories, then how can I even write my own?” I had all these ideas on things I wanted to write, and I even managed to get an editor at a food magazine (one that is not owned by the horrendous company above) to let me write about some of those ideas, but when it came time to actually do the writing/reporting, I couldn’t even do it.
For a while, I had two jobs. Then I had none.
Now, I have a job, albeit a part-time, seasonal one. It’s probably too early to tell, but a month in, I have not been told that I needed to be “perfect” or “flawless” in any way. Instead, I’ve been told that I could ask for help any time I needed it; that people even offer to help without me asking is absolute blasphemy to me. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t had the best experiences working for companies in the past that I’m floored when I see things working the way they’re supposed to. When employees are treated nicely and people are nice to one another, it feels…nice. Even if I don’t stay at this place long term, I will know that there is at least one company out there who cares enough about their employees to not treat them as only engines for profit.
Which is to say, I need to get back on the writing wagon. I simply cannot let a single company destroy my confidence like that. I can’t promise that I’ll write on a schedule, but I will be writing more often in the upcoming year.
xoxo,
Hoang
I think taking on two jobs was a valuable learning experience -- and a bold move. But the re-write, micro-management churn (disguised as a writing job) takes from the soul instead of feeding it.
I would advise not to put so much pressure on your nascent creative work to make a living for you. As a single-person operation you don't have access to the teams of people that full-time news desks/youtubers/content creators have in creating viral content.
Good writing is about life, and you will have more life experiences to write from when you are making a good living. So it's important to find your way to make a decent living for your family and then focus on the writing.
Your writing will always be there, and you will always return to it, because that's the stuff of feeding your soul. Your soul won't allow you to starve it. But it will understand making a living. There is room for both.
It's taken me a lifetime of writing to understand these lessons. I wish you all success in your work, whatever you choose to do.