The gossip item, in The Australian’s media section, detailed my decision to leave the paper’s tabloid sibling the Herald Sun, for a job as a media advisor in the Premier’s Media Unit.

The “rooster” reference was a nod to the fact that, a few days before my departure, I had been named the 2000 Young Journalist of the Year by the Melbourne Press Club. The award was unfortunate timing for me, given the decision to leave had been on the cards for some months.

The nastiness of the response still stings 17 years on. But even back then I knew the attempt at public shaming was a function of the deep animus between the worlds of journalism and PR/communications that existed long before I arrived in the Hun newsroom. Historically, any journalists going to the ‘dark side’ can expect to cop a barrage of judgement and scorn from colleagues who believe they have sold out.

I have often wondered if this is still the case now, given times have changed so radically in the past two decades, with thousands of journos forced out of their jobs and into comms and most journalism students now going directly to PR and other non-journalism jobs. Have hostilities eased?

Apparently not, according to ex-Mumbrella staffer Nic Christensen, who on leaving in 2016 for a job in corporate communications, got a brutal email from a journo friend that simply read “Et tu, Nic.” Ouch.

An anonymous columnist in the Guardian, one of those journalism students who went straight to a PR job, wrote a few years ago about former classmates who expressed “unconcealed pity and shock” when they heard about the decision.

“To most of us, PR represented a journalistic underworld; a place where ethics and the goodness of this world go to die,” the author wrote.

While these views still exist, the decision to move out of journalism and into PR will invariably be tinged with anguish, even if the person's hand has been forced via redundancy or worse. As someone who has crisscrossed PR and journalism over my career (recently working at the ABC as a radio producer before heading back into corporate communications and now running my own consultancy), I’m regularly asked by current and recently-departed journos about the merits of going into PR.

Because journalism is by its nature often highly tactical and about the here and now, there’s a perception among some hiring managers and recruiters in the industry that journalists can’t be strategic.

I always make it clear that any advice is given in the context of me looking back on my time as a journalist with great fondness (even possibly some undeserved nostalgia), and a belief that what the world needs now, among other things, is good journalists to stay exactly where they are.

Nevertheless, it is also the case that I have also had a fantastic career outside of journalism and many of the things I have done in communications roles have satisfied that part of me that loved being a reporter: namely being creative and deeply curious and telling stories that in some way make the world a better place.

So, if asked, here’s what I say:

You don’t have to be Kayleigh McEnany or spruik cigarettes (unless you really want to).

There’s a misconception that going into PR means you’re automatically a gun for hire, working for anyone who’ll pay you no matter how amoral or nefarious they are. The good news is that there are a host of comms and PR jobs where you are doing real good.

Sure, they’re probably not as well paid as working for AMP or Philip Morris, but using your skills to promote the work of a Not-For-Profit, or good policy reform of a government department or to translate scientific breakthroughs for the media and public can ensure you’re making a positive impact in your job.

I’m proud of the fact that during my career I have used my storytelling skills to do things like help protect a Federal agency promoting renewable energy technology from government attempts to abolish it, highlight the scourge of food waste and ensure more young people were getting help from publicly-accessible mental health services.

PR is becoming more journalistic.

It used to be that leaving journalism for a job in PR meant a life writing press releases and pumping out dry key message documents. Not any more. Now, with an almost infinite number of digital channels now available to any organisation, anyone can be a publisher. Consequently, PR is increasingly about storytelling and narrative-led persuasion; something journos are very good at.

Today, companies, public sector bodies and Not-For-Profits are hiring journalists not as traditional PR functionaries, but as journalists, to feed their freshly-minted news machines.

Many of the things I have done in PR have satisfied that part of me that loved being a reporter: namely being deeply curious and creative and telling stories that in some way makes the world a better place.

This trend is the key reason why I’ve just established Fireside, a content-led communications agency which helps people and organisations use these new tools to build their storytelling capabilities.

For journalists making the switch away from media organisations, this move to stories that engage (as opposed to messages that are pushed) means your skills are more immediately valued than they were in the past.

If you're used to being strategic, you’ll be unstoppable.

Because journalism is by its nature often highly tactical and about the here and now, there’s a perception among some hiring managers and recruiters in the industry that journalists can’t be strategic. This isn’t true (the best journos I know are those who take a highly strategic approach), but it still can be a challenge to move from the daily grind to the long arc of PR and broader communications.

Last year when I was running Strategic Communications at the Australian Renewable Energy Agency and was looking for someone to help set up and run a new renewable energy technology news site for the Agency, I had only one real requirement for the new hire: a senior journo who had written a strategic plan during their career. I wanted a person who could not just tell the story but also create and follow a plan to get us from A to B to C.

They were actually quite hard to find and, when I did track down the right person, I had to pay a premium because they were in high demand. The point is, if you’re a journalist who fits that description, chances are you’ll have more currency than you realise.

There’s nothing wrong with being fairly rewarded for your job or having good work/life balance.

Money wasn't the reason for my departure from the Herald Sun all those years ago. But it's still worth making the point that the supposed fall from award winning rooster to lowly feather duster involved a doubling of my salary.

For a journalist working in the Australian media today, the median pay is $53,000 a year with limited ability to grow that amount significantly over your career.

And it’s still generally the case that jobs in journalism have less scope for good work/life balance that jobs in PR.

It’s not unreasonable to want to live a balanced life and have financial security over your lifetime, including having some hope of buying a house and providing for a family. The harsh economics of the current media landscape make that difficult for many, especially if you’re early in your career.

Being on the inside can be exhilarating.

After leaving newspapers I spent almost 10 years in government, with a seat at the table as important policy changes were formulated and defended. It’s still one of the most exciting times of my career and a period I wouldn’t swap for anything.

While journalism is often about examining the aftermath of an event, or analysing it from an external position, communications staff are usually central figures in protecting and enhancing the public perception of an organisation, meaning they are right in the thick of the action.

Ultimately though, I don’t believe there’s a dark side and a light side. On either 'side' there are boring jobs and exciting jobs; jobs that make the world a better place and ones that make it worse.

And I can say from experience and with some certainty that neither side has a monopoly on roosters or feather dusters.

Read the original article here.