In my not-so-distant past, I read an article by a writer, who posts things in a forum which I respect, pleading that we no longer call our writing Content. She ruminated deeply on this topic, outlining reason after reason why we should respect writing enough to ditch this term, (she called it a “catchall”) and give ourselves the respect that we deserve. She argued that there was, in fact, no way that a writer came up with the term “content” to describe what we put into phrases and paragraphs every day for a living.

I felt maligned. Insulted, even. My feelings were hurt partly because I am currently pursuing a certification in Content Strategy. Yes, content. I rather enjoy thinking of my writing as “content.” While I agree that there may be more nuanced terms for some forms of writing – and we may be more specific: poetry, haiku, essay, short story, etc., in the world of technical communication, marketing and corporate communications, what we create is…wait for it…content. But I was more bent out of shape because when asked, I introduce myself as a writer. I rarely qualify this term unless I need to.

I am a writer.

The words, phrases, and paragraphs that I construct are inextricably linked to a perception of the company for which I work, its products and its mindset. What I write for them is not the great American novel, nor do I wish it to be. This writer argued that “to write is to find out what you think.” How very noble. I wish that I was finding out what I am thinking while I am creating dozens of web pages that instruct software users in the intricacies of an installation process that is many steps long and requires detailed diagrams to accompany my flowery prose. Alas, I am not. What I am doing is creating useful, tangible prose that goes out into the world and does real good. My writing takes root, grows, and from it blooms a garden of procedures. Those procedures help make sure that your debit card works every Monday morning. It’s a beautiful thing, but I won’t be nominated for a Pen Faulkner any time soon.

Because I create content.

She even maligns content as a marketing strategy, which I found specious. I generate literally dozens of tweets per month in order to forward the ideas and goals of my company. That is writing – and it’s hard writing. I have to be creative, pithy, sometimes funny, sometimes I do a lot of research – and all in a very tight space. It’s called brevity, and Mark Twain said that was the soul of wit. I’m with him. And it’s writing. It’s writing content. That content helps users get to my products and helps people understand my work. Plus it’s darn good writing. So there.

People consume my content, not the way they consume a classic novel or even a beach read. They do not recommend my work to their friends as the next great thing to read, and they do not say, “Hey, did you see that great process that Susan just created? Wow! Talk about incredibly lean doc!” That, my friends, is the dream of any software documentation writer, I assure you. But maybe, just maybe, what some of my friends say is, “Susan wrote an insightful blog about the value of Content Writing and how it is important, just like writing your memoir. After all, that technical document will show you how to set up your new laptop so that you can write your memoir. And then you can stick your nose in the air and claim that is real writing, not merely content.”