The W Word
It’s a funny time to be a writer. At times in my career, I have felt like that label was not reserved for people with jobs like mine, as though claiming it for myself would make me a fraud or, worse, pretentious. I’m sure many people in my industry who studied journalism at university and now write marketing content for brands for a living are able to relate to this weird strain of imposter syndrome. But if anything, the AI storm has served as a constant, sobering reminder of what it is to be a writer today.
The internet is swimming in polarising commentary, quips, and even poetic verses dissecting the subject. Some claim that the way to stand out in our industry is to show up in ways that appear uniquely human; some offer a comedic spin on how AI has effectively made them worse at their jobs by somehow raising and lowering the bar for what is now deemed good copy. Others straight-up tell content writers to get over themselves.
The hot takes are numbing and never-ending. Just as I am ushered into one camp, I stumble into another.
As a content marketer, I’ve personally been embracing AI as a sort of phantom colleague, one who I can incessantly bombard with questions about how to phrase my sentences differently (not always necessarily better), ask to reel off title ideas when my brain won’t start, and often ask questions I wouldn’t normally want to burden my coworkers with. I’m using it to workshop how to make whitepapers flow better and how to tweak sentences or headlines for different brands, objectives, and tones of voice. But ultimately, I’m the one shaping the message. It hasn’t robbed me of my agency, the act of thinking, the mess, the ritual of the creative process. It doesn’t call the shots.
The Swamp
AI discourse is as exhausting as it is enthralling. You’re either forward-thinking and destined to thrive, or you’re nostalgic, naive, and adverse to change. A sea of people in similar boats, all fighting the same eventuality and clamouring to have the last word. Everyone thinks they know what good or bad writing looks like. Also, personal brand has never been more important. Also, you’re probably doing it wrong.
Whatever your stance on AI, whether it makes you feel inspired or threatened, the reality all content marketers are facing is the same. These tools are pushing us to outgrow the processes we’ve known for so long—ones which we’ve honed, packaged, and sold as commodities—and reconsider what we bring to the table. It’s a potentially uncomfortable truth, albeit a necessary one.
Turning to things that make me feel energised, especially outside of my day job, is what has been keeping me sane at this batshit moment in our industry. These are three things that have been helping me to stave off AI fatigue.
1. Get good at something.
From a commercial point of view, it makes sense for us to become laser-focused on output and efficiency at a time when our livelihood is under threat. But we need to be doing more than that. When client work is up in the air while companies everywhere reshuffle to implement AI in their own ways, we must match their energy.
We have very little control over whether people buy our services. We might have the ideas, the go-getting mindset, the understanding. But we’re also up against team restructures and budget constraints. As for what we do have control over? How we keep moving forward, where we invest our time. Taking a course in something adjacent to my current role has become a small pocket of joy. A quiet act of resilience. It offers another path to purpose and a sense of comfort, knowing that while technology and its role in our work are evolving, I’m evolving, too.
2. Read. Escape. Write. Renew.
When logging onto LinkedIn on a random Tuesday is a recipe for existential dread, it’s vital to step outside of the echo chamber every so often. To reset. Engaging with content outside of my industry, particularly fiction (right now, it’s Kala by Colin Walsh), has been feeding the part of my brain that appreciates the romance of good writing. Words that aren’t trying to sell or convert or dressed in brand guidelines. Portals into cosy worlds for us to feel and hide inside. That kind of writing, which isn’t in any way influenced by KPIs, isn’t going anywhere. It has its place. Maybe just not at work (at least not most of the time).
When I read something good, it’s affirming. I remember why I write in the first place. Immerse yourself in what real, human-based creativity looks and feels like. Make time for things that make you feel awake.
3. Be curious, and be yourself—you might as well.
Honestly, it’s too early to know what AI strategies will work and what won’t. Everyone thinks they know everything and everything is up for grabs. Particularly in a world where there is an unspoken expectation to blend in and speak in the same corporate rhythms (I would rather die), now is the time to go rogue. Play around with different formats, take inspiration from outside sources, and revamp a product offering that’s been done to death. Yes, it’s a complicated time commercially. But what can you do to make it an expansive time, personally? If you can inject some originality into a project at work and grow your own edge in the process, do it. If there’s a passion project you’ve been putting off, now might be the time to make a start.
Things are shifting, and they will shift again
The written word has never been under more scrutiny, and I have never felt more enthusiastic about writing. While everyone is busy shouting at each other in a ditch, it’s the perfect time to absorb the words and works of real people, to allow them to swirl in our subconscious and infuse new ideas and opinions as people have done for centuries.
The outlook at times might be disheartening, stale, monotonous. But it’s also a ripe time to recalibrate, learn new things, and return to your roots. Move with intention; add to the avalanche of AI discourse if you must. Just do something.
Laura Blackwell is a senior content marketing consultant and writer for a London-based agency. She’s written for various clients and publications, spending most of her time turning insights into illuminating content and compelling narratives for leading global brands. She is also on LinkedIn.
The W Word
It’s a funny time to be a writer. At times in my career, I have felt like that label was not reserved for people with jobs like mine, as though claiming it for myself would make me a fraud or, worse, pretentious. I’m sure many people in my industry who studied journalism at university and now write marketing content for brands for a living are able to relate to this weird strain of imposter syndrome. But if anything, the AI storm has served as a constant, sobering reminder of what it is to be a writer today.
The internet is swimming in polarising commentary, quips, and even poetic verses dissecting the subject. Some claim that the way to stand out in our industry is to show up in ways that appear uniquely human; some offer a comedic spin on how AI has effectively made them worse at their jobs by somehow raising and lowering the bar for what is now deemed good copy. Others straight-up tell content writers to get over themselves.
The hot takes are numbing and never-ending. Just as I am ushered into one camp, I stumble into another.
As a content marketer, I’ve personally been embracing AI as a sort of phantom colleague, one who I can incessantly bombard with questions about how to phrase my sentences differently (not always necessarily better), ask to reel off title ideas when my brain won’t start, and often ask questions I wouldn’t normally want to burden my coworkers with. I’m using it to workshop how to make whitepapers flow better and how to tweak sentences or headlines for different brands, objectives, and tones of voice. But ultimately, I’m the one shaping the message. It hasn’t robbed me of my agency, the act of thinking, the mess, the ritual of the creative process. It doesn’t call the shots.
The Swamp
AI discourse is as exhausting as it is enthralling. You’re either forward-thinking and destined to thrive, or you’re nostalgic, naive, and adverse to change. A sea of people in similar boats, all fighting the same eventuality and clamouring to have the last word. Everyone thinks they know what good or bad writing looks like. Also, personal brand has never been more important. Also, you’re probably doing it wrong.
Whatever your stance on AI, whether it makes you feel inspired or threatened, the reality all content marketers are facing is the same. These tools are pushing us to outgrow the processes we’ve known for so long—ones which we’ve honed, packaged, and sold as commodities—and reconsider what we bring to the table. It’s a potentially uncomfortable truth, albeit a necessary one.
Turning to things that make me feel energised, especially outside of my day job, is what has been keeping me sane at this batshit moment in our industry. These are three things that have been helping me to stave off AI fatigue.
1. Get good at something.
From a commercial point of view, it makes sense for us to become laser-focused on output and efficiency at a time when our livelihood is under threat. But we need to be doing more than that. When client work is up in the air while companies everywhere reshuffle to implement AI in their own ways, we must match their energy.
We have very little control over whether people buy our services. We might have the ideas, the go-getting mindset, the understanding. But we’re also up against team restructures and budget constraints. As for what we do have control over? How we keep moving forward, where we invest our time. Taking a course in something adjacent to my current role has become a small pocket of joy. A quiet act of resilience. It offers another path to purpose and a sense of comfort, knowing that while technology and its role in our work are evolving, I’m evolving, too.
2. Read. Escape. Write. Renew.
When logging onto LinkedIn on a random Tuesday is a recipe for existential dread, it’s vital to step outside of the echo chamber every so often. To reset. Engaging with content outside of my industry, particularly fiction (right now, it’s Kala by Colin Walsh), has been feeding the part of my brain that appreciates the romance of good writing. Words that aren’t trying to sell or convert or dressed in brand guidelines. Portals into cosy worlds for us to feel and hide inside. That kind of writing, which isn’t in any way influenced by KPIs, isn’t going anywhere. It has its place. Maybe just not at work (at least not most of the time).
When I read something good, it’s affirming. I remember why I write in the first place. Immerse yourself in what real, human-based creativity looks and feels like. Make time for things that make you feel awake.
3. Be curious, and be yourself—you might as well.
Honestly, it’s too early to know what AI strategies will work and what won’t. Everyone thinks they know everything and everything is up for grabs. Particularly in a world where there is an unspoken expectation to blend in and speak in the same corporate rhythms (I would rather die), now is the time to go rogue. Play around with different formats, take inspiration from outside sources, and revamp a product offering that’s been done to death. Yes, it’s a complicated time commercially. But what can you do to make it an expansive time, personally? If you can inject some originality into a project at work and grow your own edge in the process, do it. If there’s a passion project you’ve been putting off, now might be the time to make a start.
Things are shifting, and they will shift again
The written word has never been under more scrutiny, and I have never felt more enthusiastic about writing. While everyone is busy shouting at each other in a ditch, it’s the perfect time to absorb the words and works of real people, to allow them to swirl in our subconscious and infuse new ideas and opinions as people have done for centuries.
The outlook at times might be disheartening, stale, monotonous. But it’s also a ripe time to recalibrate, learn new things, and return to your roots. Move with intention; add to the avalanche of AI discourse if you must. Just do something.
Laura Blackwell is a senior content marketing consultant and writer for a London-based agency. She’s written for various clients and publications, spending most of her time turning insights into illuminating content and compelling narratives for leading global brands. She is also on LinkedIn.
