I have a confession: I haven’t had a meaningful work experience in the last five years. I’ve achieved personal milestones, did some stuff that didn’t completely suck, and have participated in large-scale projects, but I haven’t been part of anything that I’d tell my mom about or that has been a runaway success for years — maybe ever.

First and foremost, utmost respect to anyone who’s ever given me an opportunity throughout my career. I’m not trying to call anyone out.

The truth is, I’ve been a content manager the last five years, and I haven’t produced shit. Nothing I’m particularly fond of at least. Every place I go, I end up transcribing other people’s thoughts for them, maybe adding a comma here or there. I haven’t launched a content plan. I haven’t led any teams. My actions have led to nothing remarkable. I’ve worked on several projects that were the focus of an entire marketing department, thought to be the pinnacle of great future success. Most efforts have floundered and long since been forgotten. 

Is this the nature of marketing? Do we push our chips to the center of the table hoping to hit a good hand, but more often than not, we bust?

Would things be different if I had more creative control? I don’t know because I’ve never had the chance to fail. I always feel like I’m just along for the ride.

Should I even be in content marketing? I’ve had people root me on, but most of the time I’m relegated to being the team “wordsmith.” I hate that moniker. It’s code for, “Make someone else’s thoughts sound better.” It’s also code for, “I come up with the ideas, you shut your mouth and write them down for me wordsmith.”

When I talk to friends and old colleagues, and we discuss the dread of applying for new jobs, we feel pressure to tell the decision-makers about triumphant moments of prior success — how every place we worked was a resounding success, and when things didn’t go perfect, we slapped the boss in the face, set him straight, and put the business back on hockey-stick success. Look … I wouldn’t be begging for a new job if things had gone well before.

Put another way, the story of how you broke your arm is rarely one you brag about.

I’ve never worked on a writing team before. I’ve only ever been the lone writer on staff. I bounce most of my ideas off graphic designers, product marketing managers, and demand generation people. The least creative people I’ve known have set creative agendas and lorded over final approval. Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be?

It hardly feels fun.

I’ve heard that I might be more at home at a creative agency. I don’t not apply to them. But I don’t usually get to pick where I work. I apply everywhere and jump on the first offer I get before several more fruitless months pass.

It’s difficult for me to admit all this.

It sounds like I’m blaming others for my failures. Maybe I am. I’m the common denominator after all.

I’ve also learned my words resonate most when I speak from the heart. When I do, people relate because maybe they’ve felt the same feelings. And finding someone else who’s willing to admit his or her darkest fears — the same fears that keep you up at night too — can be a powerful thing.

So here’s my ugly truth for today. It’s been a rough go lately, the last 12 months in particular. Am I doing this career thing right? I don’t know.

Oh by the way

I got laid off again today. Second time in seven months. I wrote everything above last night. Funny how things work out.

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