About a year ago I found the perfect new market. I loved
reading them. It was a new publication so I was getting in on the ground floor
as a writer in a subject I’d written about for years. The editors were
supportive. And the pay was excellent. What’s not to love?
One assignment led to another and soon not only was I
sending them article ideas but they were coming to me with article ideas they
thought were a good match for me. Normally, I dive into a new assignment when I
receive it, eager to explore the topic and craft the piece. But research and
interviews for assignments from this market languished on my computer to-do
list until I absolutely had to start writing. I was still delivering features
they loved (often after a lengthy re-write) but I was struggling.
Over the years I have written a wide variety of things that
weren’t exactly my first choice but provided a steady paycheck. Brochures for
businesses. Trivia questions for a video game. Reviews of power tools
(really!). Articles for a golfing magazine – a sport I don’t play. I liked to
think of them as stretching my writing muscles. Building blocks in my writing career.
But this was something different. I was unhappy from the moment I took and
assignment until its completion.
Finally, I took a moment to examine my pairing with this new
market. On paper we seemed like a perfect pairing but, after pouring over the
editor’s notes to me and remembering my writing experience, I realized what the
problem was – voice. This market wanted an edgy, take-on-the-world voice. It
was a reasonable requirement from the editors. After all, that voice set them
apart from other similar publications on the market. But this was not my voice.
In order to create pieces to match this market’s vision I was constantly
rethinking how I would approach the subject and adopting an attitude that wasn’t
mine. It was exhausting.
Reluctantly (what freelancer turns away a perfectly good
market?) I decided to stop writing for them. I could have continued to adjust
my writing to fit into their market but life isn’t eternal. We only have so
many days of living and we will only write so many words. I decided I didn’t
want to write words that didn’t reflect who I was.
Have you ever had to stop writing for a market? Why?
Jodi M. Webb writes from her home in the Pennsylvania mountains. She's also a blog tour manager for WOW-Women on Writing. Follow her writing and reading life at Words by Webb.
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