On my second day at the office, I decided to tidy up my cubicle.

Into the trash went the half-used Chapsticks; into the recycling went the cryptic scrap paper scrawls. I found a full crate of beer under the desk and gifted it to a coworker. Into the newly cleared space I put my Kuroneko and Elsie nendoroids and my pink office stationery. A small, bright oasis in the monitor-lit cave we call the Web Tech Team.

For the first time in five years, I am working at an office. I got a part time job as a Web developer for a local think tank. I couldn’t tell you in depth about the think tank’s political views, but just get me started on their cutting-edge development environment. This is a team of WordPress devotees who’ve mastered many open-source softwares I used to cover as a technology reporter, but have always wanted to learn more about.

All week, as I made my short commute to work for four and five-hour snippets, I wondered how I was going to tell Otaku Journalist readers about this. In many subtle ways, I’ve considered cubicle work as the antithesis to my career plan, and now here I am again. I thought it was office life that I despised at 24; maybe it was just the work I was doing that I didn’t enjoy. I’ve made some hard realizations, like maybe I gave up too easily before. Like maybe there are a lot of different ways to be fulfilled in your career, and not all of them are sitting at home in pajamas.

Because actually, I am really enjoying this job. I found out about it offhand from a friend I met on the anime convention circuit, and submitted my application because I love to interview for jobs. (Who doesn’t love to sit and talk about how great they are?) I’ve done this several times, where I go to an interview just to try on a new life, only to decide my freelance life is better. But this one, I couldn’t turn down because it didn’t make me give anything up. I’ve been a little low on work, so a new part time gig will let me continue to work with my existing journalism clients while honing my existing developer skills and picking up some totally new ones, too.

In my first week, I documented detailed walk-throughs of every software I installed and used in the Web Tech Wiki; ravenous for more. My development process is blunted by years of working alone, and even as a journalist whose job it was to discover and report on new technologies, I’ve become set in my own processes. Performing familiar tasks in an unfamiliar way feels a little like going back to college. Everything is a learning experience. The first thing I noticed when I came on board is that there wasn’t really a protocol for how to install software and adapt it to the company’s unique legacy development environment. I couldn’t exactly Google it. So I ask and I try and fail and try and succeed, and I write down absolutely everything.

At first, coworkers asked me why a journalist like me wanted this job. But to me, it’s easy to see the parallel between this type of work and niche reporting. I assess my audience—this company. I write my documentation with their needs and skill levels in mind. I write basic explanations like “Why do we use this software?” for people higher up who may re-evaluate our development process. I write brisk troubleshooting workflows for colleagues. Even when I’m writing a computer program, it’s all about the audience. The function has to solve the exact problem the client has, in a way I can explain to him without bogging him down with complexities. The syntax has to match the programming style guide so other developers can instantly grasp what it’s about, and add their own additions for years to come. Web development, like journalism, is about the people it serves.

Throughout the six years I have blogged at Otaku Journalist, I have had a lot of different roles aside from journalist. Student, intern, college professor, traditional author, self-published author, Web designer, graphic designer, anime con volunteer. It’s odd that this is the first role to really make me question my identity. I’ve always instructed readers to create a career niche for themselves that they won’t grow out of—so what do I do now that I have?

When I was 11, I wrote in my diary that, when I grew up, I wanted to be either a writer or a computer programmer. “Why not both?” my adult self replies. While this is an expansion of the specific niche I’ve previously shared with the world on this blog, my old diary reminds me that it’s who I’ve been all along. Only my narrative has changed.

Photo via Unsplash

Last week, geek hero Wil Wheaton made a wonderful point about payment vs. exposure. The Huffington Post contacted Wheaton in order to re-publish one of his posts for free. Instead, the site offered “exposure,” like a famous actor would need something like that.

I’m glad that Wheaton’s experience has brought this important reminder to creatives everywhere—you are never, ever obligated to give away your work for free.

That said, Wheaton’s post also acknowledged that unpaid exposure can be valuable to some writers: “If I’d offered this to Huffington Post for nothing, because I hoped they’d publish it, that would be an entirely different thing, because it was my choice,” he added.

I want to tell you about the times I have chosen to work for free.

I got my start as a professional anime blogger by writing for free. I staffed at Japanator in 2010 where I wrote anime reviews and Japanese pop culture stories in exchange for exposure. That same year, I interned at Kotaku and wrote about video games. I got some school credit for my trouble, but the most important part, honestly, was the exposure. The last time I wrote for free was In 2012, when I pitched a story about Homestuck to CNN. Even though I worked at the Daily Dot and regularly got paid for my writing, it wasn’t worth it to CNN—too many people wanted their name associated with a big site like that. Judge me if you like, but I accepted anyway, and wrote what is perhaps the most widely-read article I’ve ever written.

Today I wouldn’t dream of writing “for exposure.” Now that there are places willing to pay me for my anime stories, like Anime News Network and Forbes, I don’t value it anymore. Even Otaku Journalist gets 30,000 unique visitors a month—more reach than some places I once wrote for to get my name out there. But five years ago, when the only commenter on Otaku Journalist was John, and nobody in the anime blogging world had heard of Lauren Orsini, exposure was something that motivated me as much as monetary compensation motivates me today.

As your writing career grows, you will need to constantly be weighing your values the way Wil did. In the beginning, as it was for me, exposure was worth it. It was worth so much to me that I treated my chance to attract a larger audience as seriously as if it were my job. It’s this, not talent or anything like that, that made it possible for me to work as a professional today. Nobody would hire me with zero experience. My unpaid clips led to paying work.

It’s easy to feel resentful about working for exposure. But nobody is making you do it—it’s simply what worked for me. I wholeheartedly agree that if you’re a talented writer who puts a lot of effort into improving your skills, writing for exposure IS beneath you, but that’s the indignity of starting a niche writing career, especially in a niche like anime where there are very few ways to get noticed other than writing for free.

You should never think of unpaid writing as the end goal, but as a stepping stone toward better opportunities. Treat it like a job as long as the job benefits you. As long as exposure is valuable to you, stay. I recommend staying for up to six months to build up clips and learn the ropes of working with an editor, but no longer than that, and one-time essays are even better. Furthermore, be sure you really are gaining exposure! If you’re putting your posts up on some no-name blog and nobody reads them, it’s time to try a larger site. I recommend Anime Talk Amongst Yourselves, The Artifice, Yattatachi, and of course, Japanator. That said, always go by your own terms. If it leaves a bad taste in your mouth to write for free for somebody else, start your own blog and promote the hell out of it on social media.

When it’s time to go, ask for a recommendation from your editor (which they should be thrilled to provide in return for your professionalism), and add your clips to your portfolio. Don’t ever feel guilty about leaving—editorial blogs that aren’t paying contributors were lucky to have you providing any content at all, and they know it.

While Wil Wheaton certainly doesn’t need to get his name out there, beginning bloggers do. There will be a time when exposure doesn’t matter to you. But as long as you’re getting something you value in return, even if that’s not money, treat it like a job.

P.S. Building up a writing portfolio takes time. Want some advice on how to build a geek career that earns money now? Attend my webinar with Steven Savage this Sunday.

Photo by Pete O’Shea

A few weeks ago, I did 10 one-on-one consultations with newsletter subscribers. It showed me that there’s only so much you can convey with a blog post. Sometimes the best way to share advice and ideas is actually speaking about them.

But since I’d wear myself out doing endless individual chats, I got together with my geek mentor, Steven Savage, to devise a happy medium. What if we joined forces to share our geek knowledge with a group? During our live webinar, visitors will be able to instant-message us questions in real time.

At 7 Ways To Build Your Geek Dream Job, Steven and I will discuss our seven-module blueprint for turning your hobby into your career—something both of us have done successfully. We come from different generations of geeks, so we’re hoping this webinar proves this is a process that works for all ages.

The webinar is free, but we’re having people sign up for it since the chat function does have a limit. Reserve your space as soon as you can! When you submit your email, you will also be signed up to hear about a special offering for viewers from Steven and I. Also, that course I’ve been hinting at? Show up to find out more about it.

I decided to follow my otaku journalist dreams while reading Steven’s book, Fan to Pro, during my hour-and-a-half commute to a job I wasn’t that interested in. Just a few years later, Steven wrote the introduction to my first book, Otaku Journalism. There’s nobody out there who has had a bigger effect on my decision to pursue a geeky career than him, and nobody else I’d rather give this webinar with.

Our webinar will be on Sunday, November 8th at 9am Pacific, 12pm Eastern. Hope to see you there!