Edit: It looks like, at least for the time being, Newsweek has taken down the article. I have zero insight as to why, but if I were to guess, perhaps they thought it may negatively affect the morale of current staff?
Mo Mozuch explains here why he's leaving his "dream job" as the senior editor of a gaming website, and his journey largely mirrored my own.
For about two years I freelanced and hustled for seven days a week, for multiple video game websites, until finally landing a staff writing gig at ComicBook.com's (then) new gaming vertical, which now operates under the same umbrella as GameSpot at CBS. Long story short, after proving I had a great eye for news, a good voice, and some talent for management, I ended up as the managing editor. I was there for two years... Until last October, when I quit. Here's Mo:
I think that, too often, people imagine video game editors and writers are sitting around in modern offices playing unreleased games, sharing memes, laughing it up, and preparing itineraries for the next big trip to E3, or Tokyo Game Show, or PAX. Sometimes work does look like that, but 99% of the time, work is staring at three different monitors gauging traffic on Google Analytics, refreshing eight different tabs looking for breaking news, editing and re-editing articles, and, of course, writing more articles. Lots of articles. SO MANY ARTICLES.
At CB, I expected my staff writers (and myself) to produce at least ten articles a day, and because of ad placements, they needed to be at least 400 words. If you think that writing about video games is easy, then you go ahead and try to knock out ten 400-word articles. Then do it again tomorrow. Then again. And again. For 40 hours a week. Every single week. Then throw in an interview that you need to transcribe, condense, and form a narrative around. Make sure the formatting and editing are just right. You might need to create a few images yourself from scratch. Triple-check those embargo notes. Don't forget you have that huge review coming up.
And so when do you actually get to play games? In your "spare time." You play games when you're at home, usually. And guess what: It doesn't take long at all for that to start feeling like work. Used to, I couldn't even crack open a beer and boot up Rocket League on a Friday night without being overcome with waves of guilt and anxiety, because I may have had one or two review games I should have been playing through instead. Even when I had the good fortune of reviewing games that I was really excited about, the excitement and anticipation were often overshadowed by my struggle to balance my normal, day-to-day workload and the time required to play a game through to completion before the review embargo lifts.
And that's the most frustrating part of it all: As a game journalist, time is never on your side. If revenue is based on serving ads and getting as many clicks as possible, then your reviews HAVE to go live the second embargo lifts, or you can kiss a huge percentage of search traffic goodbye. News articles have to be breaking, and you have to write them with SEO-informed headlines, ledes, and spacing that accommodates the current ads you're running. If you're not first to that juicy new headline, you're losing out on clicks. If you're not first to re-push those Fortnite patch notes, or generate some weekly challenge guides, you're leaving money on the table.
Now it should be said that not all websites run this way, and it's likely that not all writers and editors feel this way. As a managing editor I had unique pressure and anxiety weighing me down, but all of my writers worked incredibly hard, and ours was a work ethic that normal working human beings would never be able to sustain without a tremendous amount of passion and drive behind it all. We worked all day, and then went home and worked all night on reviews, video content, guides, or pet projects. People who came to work on my team just looking for a paycheck didn't last long at all, and ultimately, once my reserve of 'passion' dried up, I had to check out.
It was all too much. I couldn't enjoy games anymore. I couldn't look forward to hot new releases. I couldn't even look forward to my niche favorites because I knew playing through them would feel like work. Paid trips to exciting gaming events started to look like overwhelming itineraries and content plans. I started to dread major conferences and even Nintendo Directs, because I knew that the mad scramble to crank out coverage would begin just moments after the stream began.
Sorry, I know I'm rambling, but here's what I want you to take away from this:
While not every writer or editor in the industry experiences this, or feels this way, every writer and editor in this industry is working really, really fucking hard. They're taking huge risks by following their passions and their dreams, and the industry they're trying to thrive in is often cut-throat at the top, and on often toxic at the reader / consumer level. Execs demand more pageviews every quarter, and efforts to make that happen are very often misinterpreted, ridiculed, and despised by readers who, for some reason, seem to think that we're just a bunch of spoiled creatives who get free video games for life, lazily spinning clickbait and bullshit for kicks.
"Clickbait" and "saved you a click" culture is absolutely soul-crushing for these writers and editors who are just trying to live their dreams, create fantastic content, and appease their bosses. So please, Era, at least here, remember that these people are all human beings, and they're making daily sacrifices to try and create entertaining content and keep you informed. They are performing a service, and yes, forgive them, they're trying to have fun and enjoy themselves as well. God forbid, they may even express an opinion you disagree with from time to time.
We can do a lot here in our communities to alleviate their burnout by being supportive, and positive, and admiring their creativity and hard work. They're human, so they'll make mistakes, but let's try to lift them up whenever we can. It's hard work.
Mo Mozuch explains here why he's leaving his "dream job" as the senior editor of a gaming website, and his journey largely mirrored my own.
For about two years I freelanced and hustled for seven days a week, for multiple video game websites, until finally landing a staff writing gig at ComicBook.com's (then) new gaming vertical, which now operates under the same umbrella as GameSpot at CBS. Long story short, after proving I had a great eye for news, a good voice, and some talent for management, I ended up as the managing editor. I was there for two years... Until last October, when I quit. Here's Mo:
I think that, too often, people imagine video game editors and writers are sitting around in modern offices playing unreleased games, sharing memes, laughing it up, and preparing itineraries for the next big trip to E3, or Tokyo Game Show, or PAX. Sometimes work does look like that, but 99% of the time, work is staring at three different monitors gauging traffic on Google Analytics, refreshing eight different tabs looking for breaking news, editing and re-editing articles, and, of course, writing more articles. Lots of articles. SO MANY ARTICLES.
At CB, I expected my staff writers (and myself) to produce at least ten articles a day, and because of ad placements, they needed to be at least 400 words. If you think that writing about video games is easy, then you go ahead and try to knock out ten 400-word articles. Then do it again tomorrow. Then again. And again. For 40 hours a week. Every single week. Then throw in an interview that you need to transcribe, condense, and form a narrative around. Make sure the formatting and editing are just right. You might need to create a few images yourself from scratch. Triple-check those embargo notes. Don't forget you have that huge review coming up.
And so when do you actually get to play games? In your "spare time." You play games when you're at home, usually. And guess what: It doesn't take long at all for that to start feeling like work. Used to, I couldn't even crack open a beer and boot up Rocket League on a Friday night without being overcome with waves of guilt and anxiety, because I may have had one or two review games I should have been playing through instead. Even when I had the good fortune of reviewing games that I was really excited about, the excitement and anticipation were often overshadowed by my struggle to balance my normal, day-to-day workload and the time required to play a game through to completion before the review embargo lifts.
And that's the most frustrating part of it all: As a game journalist, time is never on your side. If revenue is based on serving ads and getting as many clicks as possible, then your reviews HAVE to go live the second embargo lifts, or you can kiss a huge percentage of search traffic goodbye. News articles have to be breaking, and you have to write them with SEO-informed headlines, ledes, and spacing that accommodates the current ads you're running. If you're not first to that juicy new headline, you're losing out on clicks. If you're not first to re-push those Fortnite patch notes, or generate some weekly challenge guides, you're leaving money on the table.
Now it should be said that not all websites run this way, and it's likely that not all writers and editors feel this way. As a managing editor I had unique pressure and anxiety weighing me down, but all of my writers worked incredibly hard, and ours was a work ethic that normal working human beings would never be able to sustain without a tremendous amount of passion and drive behind it all. We worked all day, and then went home and worked all night on reviews, video content, guides, or pet projects. People who came to work on my team just looking for a paycheck didn't last long at all, and ultimately, once my reserve of 'passion' dried up, I had to check out.
It was all too much. I couldn't enjoy games anymore. I couldn't look forward to hot new releases. I couldn't even look forward to my niche favorites because I knew playing through them would feel like work. Paid trips to exciting gaming events started to look like overwhelming itineraries and content plans. I started to dread major conferences and even Nintendo Directs, because I knew that the mad scramble to crank out coverage would begin just moments after the stream began.
Sorry, I know I'm rambling, but here's what I want you to take away from this:
While not every writer or editor in the industry experiences this, or feels this way, every writer and editor in this industry is working really, really fucking hard. They're taking huge risks by following their passions and their dreams, and the industry they're trying to thrive in is often cut-throat at the top, and on often toxic at the reader / consumer level. Execs demand more pageviews every quarter, and efforts to make that happen are very often misinterpreted, ridiculed, and despised by readers who, for some reason, seem to think that we're just a bunch of spoiled creatives who get free video games for life, lazily spinning clickbait and bullshit for kicks.
"Clickbait" and "saved you a click" culture is absolutely soul-crushing for these writers and editors who are just trying to live their dreams, create fantastic content, and appease their bosses. So please, Era, at least here, remember that these people are all human beings, and they're making daily sacrifices to try and create entertaining content and keep you informed. They are performing a service, and yes, forgive them, they're trying to have fun and enjoy themselves as well. God forbid, they may even express an opinion you disagree with from time to time.
We can do a lot here in our communities to alleviate their burnout by being supportive, and positive, and admiring their creativity and hard work. They're human, so they'll make mistakes, but let's try to lift them up whenever we can. It's hard work.
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