Why I Hate Fast Food Journalism.

And why I'm worried about Medium.

“Writing is an act of ego, and you might as well admit it.” William Zinsser

Someone was saying the other day that Medium is doomed. In some respects, it was always doomed. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the original concept. It gave writers like me a forum.

We provided content, Medium built a subscriber base.

I was one of Medium’s earliest fans. Except I was never really a fan. I was promoting a book. I suspected other writers were doing the same.

When Medium asked if I wanted a membership, I didn’t see why. I was doing my part, bringing in readers. Who needed a membership for that?

Just keep pumping out those articles about love, and vaginas, and who’s staring at you through the camera on your computer.

So I declined. I stayed independent, publishing my articles and stories.

Nobody brought up the membership again, until the Medium Partner Program started being promoted in earnest.

Everyone was talking about earning big bucks. All you had to do was write every day. You didn’t need polish. Just keep pumping out those articles about love, and vaginas, and who’s staring at you through the camera on your computer. I thought those articles were funny as hell.

I thought characters like Tim Denning were funny as hell, too.

But then those characters started talking about how much money they were making.

Frankly, it had us all licking our literary chops (especially as our royalties dried up and our books went in the remainder bin). So we joined the program.

Many were simply taking time-worn advice and working in their own personal narratives.

Except the money seemed to be going to people who didn’t necessarily write the best pieces, or the most accurate. Many were simply taking time-worn advice and working it in their own personal narratives.

I say “time-worn” because much of what I’ve read on Medium, especially life skills, can be found in two books, both of which were published back in the seventies.

One is “How to Be Your Own Best Friend” by Mildred Newman and Bernard Berkowitz.

The other is Dale Carnegie’s “How to Stop Worrying and Start Living.”

Read either of these, and you’ve essentially covered a good percentage of what people write about on Medium. Except for one difference. Both of these books are extremely well-written.

So whether it was Carnegie or Bock or Dr. Seuss, it’s travelled down through generations, remaining just as quotable and wise years later.

They also came from “the field” as we used to call it, meaning they had extensive experience, or the people they interviewed had extensive experience.

In other words, they knew their shit.

So whether it was Carnegie or Peck or Dr. Seuss, it’s travelled down through generations, remaining just as quotable many years later.

Fast forward to today, where a freakish number of would-be writers send out daily missives, often without any great knowledge or interest.

Some of these writers even talk about how proud they are, banging out one or two articles a day, earning heaps of cash.

And nobody encourages them more than Medium.

In a sense, this is where “fast food journalism” grew. I don’t mean Medium alone. Social media is just as guilty. They represent the modern age where everything is made quickly and just as quickly consumed.

Except it doesn’t stay with you for long.

It’s fluff and eventually we realize it’s fluff.

Fast food journalism turns otherwise sane individuals into churners with no conscience.

As Hunter S. Thompson once said, “As far as I’m concerned, it’s a damned shame that a field as potentially dynamic and vital as journalism should be overrun with dullards, bums and hacks.”

I know that sounds harsh, but it’s true. Fast food journalism turns otherwise sane individuals into churners with no conscience.

They race for the dollar and sell themselves short at every turn.

As much as Medium supports quantity over quality, and obviously the algorithms support it, we’re kidding ourselves.

When Norman Mailer called Jack Kerouac’s books “just typing,” he was right to some extent. Not that Kerouac wasn’t a good writer. But he didn’t get better writing on rolls of paper stuck in his typewriter.

He got better by understanding why a relatively short book “On The Road” made him famous while his other books failed. It’s simple when you think about it. “On the Road” was real and people knew it was real.

Didn’t H.L. Mencken once say, “Only a fool writes for any other reason than money?”

So why am I talking “real” when all you want to do is make money?

Didn’t H.L. Mencken once say, “Only a fool writes for any other reason than money?”

First of all, I’m not against making money from writing. At one time, I earned $10,000 a month as an advertising copywriter.

But that’s not what made me a better writer.

What did was a book called “On Writing Well” by William Zinsser. Next to Strunk and White’s “Elements of Style,” it should be every writer’s bible.

I’ve had both books on my desk for forty years.

As Zinsser explains, “If you find that writing is hard, it’s because it is hard. It’s one of the hardest things people do.”

That’s if you believe it’s hard. If you don’t, if you think your thousands of words, dashed off, are making you a better writer, think again.

Zinsser explains this in one of his chapters. He once sat on a panel with a psychologist turned children’s author who told the audience he loved sitting down and “letting it all hang out.” As he described it, “Writing is fun.”

Zinsser disagreed.

Could that be why “Charlotte’s Web” is still enjoyed by millions while that “Let it all hang out,” author is all but forgotten now?

“Unfortunately, it’s damn hard and frustrating,” he said, recounting how E.B. White, while at the New Yorker, could spend a week on one paragraph. Could that be why “Charlotte’s Web” is still enjoyed by millions while that “Let it all hang out,” author is all but forgotten now?

My point is, if you don’t respect the craft, you aren’t writing, you’re typing.

Do it long enough and eventually the money will disappear.

Even Ev Williams is seeing the money disappear.

According to one article, he’s paying all of us out of his own pocket.

I’m not sure that’s true, but I do wonder.

How does a social media platform — with no advertising — pay for itself with only a subscriber base? And how can Medium sustain itself promoting quantity over quality?

Every day I see a decline in the writing itself. Even the Tim Dennings of the world are getting tired of the pace. You can feel him slackening.

Don’t get me wrong. Kudos for doing as well as he has, but you can’t sustain any kind of quality with dashed off articles. You’re too busy making money to realize you’re losing depth. Then the day comes when your audience trails off. You’ve given them all you could. They sense it.

What we don’t realize is it can also kill our writing. We can fall into repeated platitudes. We can skate.

We all know writing is an act of ego. What we don’t realize is it can also kill our writing. We can fall into repeated platitudes. We can skate.

Maybe that’s the doom people are talking about.

Maybe we’ve all become a bunch of egoists, more worried about opinion than factual content. It’s like hearing a bunch of voices all talking at once, nobody caring whether it’s true or not.

In a sense, we’re more like Jerry Springer than Dale Carnegie.

Then again, Springer’s done okay for himself.

I don’t know where they are now. Maybe they were trampled in the rush.

I truly hope Medium does okay. Some writers have passed through here with great voices, and possibly great hearts. I don’t know where they are now. Maybe they were trampled in the rush.

I’ve always believed God protects drunks and fools. He could protect egoists, too. Hopefully that’s the case.

We’re doomed if it isn’t.

Hell, maybe we are already.

Robert Cormack is a satirist, novelist, and former advertising copywriter. His first novel “You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive)” is available online and at most major bookstores. Check out Robert’s other articles and stories (absolutely free) at robertcormack.net