What No One Tells You About Becoming a Scuba Diving Journalist

Last Updated on April 26, 2025 by Candice Landau

I entered the world of dive journalism starry-eyed and cloaked in full-fledged imposter syndrome. Despite maintaining an active scuba diving blog, holding a master’s degree in creative writing, and possessing over a decade of experience in content marketing, I still feared I wasn’t “journalist enough.” Surely, magazine-style feature stories had a certain je ne sais quoi elusive to bloggers and marketers?

At the time, I believed journalism resisted the trappings of modern content marketing — clickbait SEO titles, advertiser-driven narratives, and the avoidance of controversial topics. I thought newspapers and magazines still embraced deep research, obscure sources, and bold storytelling.

I was wrong.

I learned this freelancing. I learned this on the job. And I learned it from observing my favorite outlets shrink, struggle for revenue, and succumb to advertiser appeasement.

Today, magazines and newspapers increasingly trade editorial space for ad revenue and sponsored content. The result is an industry where the “truth” we write about is often shaped by advertisers, partners, and press releases. Real gear reviews? They’re carefully worded to avoid offending advertisers, with criticisms gently omitted.

Then there’s SEO — the other driver of repetitive, often shallow content. If you ever plug competing websites into SEO tools, you’ll find they’re chasing the same bizarre keywords — often terms their real audience rarely searches. Don’t get me started on the viral but vapid obsession with “sea bunnies.”

I won’t lie and pretend I haven’t participated — SEO was my job for many years — but when used without depth or authenticity, it’s deeply unfulfilling. Good SEO, in my opinion, should add genuine value, not just appease an algorithm. Conduct actual investigation, offer true utility to readers, then weave in your keywords later.

In Europe, the distinction between advertising and editorial is clearer. Advertorials must be disclosed prominently. In the U.S., the influence of advertisers on editorial is more insidious. Though disclosures happen, they’re subtle, allowing readers to unknowingly consume content that, behind the scenes, is carefully orchestrated by marketing partnerships.

Given enough time, even casual readers recognize the bias. For example, if a lifestyle magazine frequently spotlights luxury resorts, specific resorts inevitably become editorial regulars, blurring the lines between genuine recommendations and paid promotion.

Dive journalism, my niche, isn’t immune. Initially, I found comfort that dive journalism wasn’t drastically different from content marketing. But this familiarity also disappointed me. I’d hoped journalism would force me to stretch beyond expectations, crafting pieces with greater integrity and depth.

Instead, I had to find my own motivation for authenticity.

What helped was my creative writing background and preference for starting stories in media res — immersing the reader immediately in vivid, honest experiences. This approach grounded me in what truly matters: the reader’s experience.

I wasn’t alone in mourning classic journalism. Peter Symes, founder of X-Ray Mag, an international dive magazine, sums it up in his article “Treading a Fine Balance”:

“Fluff pieces, short stories without substance, and other empty mental calories are just not my thing…Integrity is everything. It is the foundation of the unwritten contract we have with our readership. Once we blow it, we have nothing.”

Symes’ warning resonated deeply with me.

The real challenge as a journalist today — especially in niche fields like diving — is navigating that fine line between honest storytelling and advertiser expectations. As dive journalists, our stays at resorts or on liveaboard boats are often compensated, implicitly pressuring us to tell the advertiser’s preferred story.

To combat this, transparency is crucial. Organizations inviting you should understand they’re engaging with a real journalist — not a marketer for hire. Your obligation remains steadfast: to honestly communicate what you saw, felt, and experienced. Readers, after all, quickly suss out inauthenticity.

Recently, I’ve seen fellow journalists turn to AI tools like ChatGPT to produce content faster (and sadly, less imaginatively). There’s a difference between using AI creatively — as I once did for a humorous April Fool’s article — and submitting an entire AI-generated story under your own name.

When journalists embellish experiences, fake tool reviews, or rely entirely on AI, they risk alienating readers and colleagues. I’ve experienced this firsthand — recognizing inaccuracies in stories about places or events I’ve shared. Trust, once lost, is incredibly hard to regain.

At its core, writing is communication across space and time — your words connecting you directly with readers. Today’s writer faces a balancing act: crafting compelling, honest narratives that satisfy the publication’s audience, appease SEO requirements, please advertisers, and offer engaging social media spin-offs.

I never knew journalism’s golden days firsthand, yet part of my mind remains nostalgic, craving that rigorous investigative spirit. Journalism changed fundamentally with the rise of the penny press in the 1800s. Before cheap printing became available, subscriber fees primarily funded news outlets. Lower printing costs opened journalism to broader audiences — but shifted reliance onto advertising revenue, changing the dynamic permanently.

The repercussions echo through journalism today, increasingly visible in niche industries like dive journalism. The ideal of unbiased reporting struggles to exist in an advertiser-driven landscape.

Yet, despite these constraints, there’s still hope. Journalism remains powerful when we choose integrity — telling true stories rather than convenient narratives. If we remain transparent and authentic, readers will reward us with trust and loyalty, the most valuable currency journalists have left.