Getting paid for technical writing: seven places to check

I’ve been writing tech articles since the pandemic. Mostly for fun, occasionally for money, always as a way to clarify my thinking on topics I was working through anyway.

What started as a lockdown distraction- me, a laptop, and far too much time to think- has quietly become one of the more valuable skills I’ve developed. Not because I’m a brilliant writer (I’m not), but because in a world drowning in AI-generated slop, someone who can actually write coherently about technical topics is suddenly worth paying for.

Funny how that works.

Until recently, I kept this side of things relatively quiet. Didn’t plaster it all over LinkedIn. Didn’t build a “personal brand” around being a “content creator” (God, I hate that phrase). Just wrote, got paid, moved on.

But after a Reddit post I shared a few days ago about freelance writing gigs absolutely blew up– students, early-career tech professionals, people looking for legitimate side income that doesn’t require full-time commitment or a polished portfolio all asking “how do I actually do this?”- I figured it was time to pull back the curtain a bit.

So here it is: a brutally honest breakdown of how technical writing actually works, where you can get paid to do it, and why this might be one of the few side hustles that doesn’t make you want to throw your laptop out a window.

The State of Technical Writing (Or: Why AI Made This Job More Valuable, Not Less)

Let’s address the elephant in the room: AI can write now. ChatGPT, Claude, and a dozen other tools can pump out technically accurate articles faster than any human.

So why would anyone pay you to write?

Because most AI-generated content is absolute garbage.

Not technically wrong, necessarily. Just soulless. Generic. The kind of writing that technically answers a question but somehow makes you feel less informed after reading it.

It’s the written equivalent of eating cardboard- technically food, but why would you?

Here’s what I’ve noticed over the past year of writing (and editing, and reading far too many submissions): the pieces that actually perform- the ones people share, bookmark, reference six months later- are the ones where you can feel a human wrote them.

Personal experience. Specific examples. Mistakes made and learned from. The bit where you admit “I tried this approach first and it was a disaster, here’s why.”

AI can’t do that. It can approximate it, sure. But approximation isn’t the same as authenticity.

And authenticity, it turns out, is worth money.

How I Actually Use AI (The Bit Everyone Pretends Not To)

Right, let’s be honest: I use AI. Of course I do. Anyone telling you they don’t is either lying or behind the curve.

But here’s the difference between writing with AI and letting AI write for you:

AI as editor: Brilliant. Catches unclear phrasing, spots logical gaps, suggests better structure. Makes my writing tighter and clearer. The pieces where I’ve used AI this way- light touch, editing only- are the ones that fly.

AI as writer: Terrible. Produces competent-but-generic content that sounds like it was written by a committee trying very hard not to offend anyone or say anything interesting. The pieces where I’ve let AI do the heavy lifting? Dead on arrival.

The sweet spot is using AI to augment your writing, not replace it. You write the first draft- with your voice, your examples, your perspective. Then you let AI help you polish it, tighten it, make it clearer.

That’s the model that works. Everything else is just producing more noise in an already noisy internet.

Seven technical-writing destinations, checked before you pitch

The original edition quoted payment bands and described all seven as actively recruiting. That was too definite. Programmes change, and an old announcement is not a commission.

Checked 18 October 2026: the table distinguishes what the official pages support from what still needs an editor's confirmation. No payment band survives here without current evidence. “Unconfirmed” does not mean closed.

Real Python's author page describes a paid pilot and an ongoing commitment. Akamai's guidance describes an agreed fee. Those are useful starting points. For the others, get an actual brief, rate, rights agreement and payment schedule before writing the article. A recognisable logo is not an invoice.

A pitch you can adapt

I can write a practical guide to [specific task] for [reader]. It will take them from [starting point] to [tested outcome], with a working example and the failure cases I encountered. Here are two relevant samples: [links]. Is this a topic you commission, and what are your current fee, rights and revision terms?

Replace every bracket. Include something you have actually built. Ask about commissioning before sending a completed tutorial, and disclose AI assistance in line with the publisher's current policy.

Download the pitch and commissioning checklist ↓

What I Learned the Hard Way (So You Don’t Have To)

Look, I’m not going to pretend I nailed this from the start. My first few attempts at technical writing were… not great.

I tried writing about AI and data science- two topics I barely understood at the time because they were buzzy and I thought that mattered. Spoiler: it didn’t.

A couple got published. Both performed terribly. Four got rejected outright for “lack of depth and original insight,” which is editor-speak for “this is generic rubbish and we can tell you don’t actually know what you’re talking about.”

Here’s what actually works:

1. Write what you know. Or be ready to research properly.

Don’t fake expertise. Readers can tell. Editors can definitely tell. If you haven’t actually worked with the technology you’re writing about, either learn it properly or pick a different topic.

2. Add value or don’t bother.

The question isn’t “can I explain this topic?” It’s “why would someone read my explanation instead of the dozen others already on the internet?”

If your answer is “because it’s clearer” or “because I include real examples from projects I’ve built” or “because I explain the mistakes I made”- brilliant, write that.

If your answer is “because I need the money”- pick a different topic.

3. Polish your drafts. Multiple times.

Your first draft is rubbish. Mine always are. Everyone’s are. That’s fine. That’s what second drafts are for.

Read it out loud. Does it sound like a human wrote it, or like ChatGPT trying to sound professional? If it’s the latter, rewrite it.

4. Get feedback before submitting.

Join writing communities, technical forums, subreddits where people will actually tell you if your piece is unclear or boring. Reddit’s r/technicalwriting is surprisingly helpful. So is showing drafts to colleagues who’ll be honest with you.

5. Start small and specific.

Don’t try to write “The Complete Guide to React” as your first piece. Write “How I Fixed Authentication Bugs in My React App” instead. Narrow scope, real experience, actually useful.

Why This Actually Matters (Beyond the Money)

Right, the money is nice. $300–$600 per article adds up quickly, especially if you’re a student or early in your career.

But here’s what nobody tells you about technical writing: it’s one of the best professional development tools available.

Writing forces you to clarify your thinking. You can’t explain something clearly if you don’t understand it properly. So the act of writing about a technology forces you to understand it at a deeper level than just using it.

It builds your professional brand. When you apply for jobs, having a portfolio of published technical articles demonstrates expertise in a way that just listing skills on a CV never will.

It improves your communication skills. Being able to explain complex technical concepts clearly is one of the most valuable skills in tech- and one of the rarest.

And yes, it generates side income without requiring you to commit to a second full-time job.

The Uncomfortable Truth About “Content Creation”

I’ve avoided calling myself a “content creator” this entire piece, and that’s deliberate.

Because “content creation” has become shorthand for churning out generic garbage at scale, optimizing for SEO and engagement metrics rather than actually helping people understand things.

That’s not what technical writing should be.

Technical writing- good technical writing- is teaching. It’s taking something you learned the hard way and making it easier for the next person. It’s documenting the mistakes so others don’t make them. It’s being honest about what worked and what didn’t.

In a world where AI can generate 50 technically accurate but soulless articles in an hour, being someone who writes one genuinely useful article in a week is suddenly valuable again.

Funny how that works.

Where to Start (The Actual Action Plan)

Right, if you’ve read this far and you’re thinking “okay, I’ll give it a go,” here’s what to actually do:

1. Pick one platform from the list above. Don’t try to pitch all seven at once. Pick the one that matches what you already know.
2. Read their contributor guidelines. Every single one of these platforms publishes guidelines explaining exactly what they’re looking for. Read them. Follow them. It’s shocking how many people don’t.
3. Write a practice article first. Don’t pitch an idea you haven’t written yet. Write the full piece, polish it, get feedback, then pitch it with the draft attached. Editors are far more likely to say yes when they can see you can actually write.
4. Keep your first piece narrow and practical. “How I Solved [Specific Problem] in [Specific Technology]” beats “Everything You Need to Know About [Broad Topic]” every single time.
5. Use AI to edit, not to write. Let AI help you polish the draft, catch unclear sections, suggest better structure. But the core- the ideas, examples, voice- that needs to be you.
6. Be patient. Your first submission might get rejected. That’s fine. Every writer I know has a folder of rejected pitches. The difference between people who succeed and people who don’t is that the successful ones kept submitting.

The Real Opportunity (That Most People Miss)

Here’s what I’ve realized over the past few years of writing: technical writing isn’t about being the best writer or the most knowledgeable expert.

It’s about being the person willing to document what you’ve learned and share it clearly.

That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

In a world where everyone’s hoarding knowledge to maintain their competitive advantage, being the person who shares it- clearly, honestly, usefully- is surprisingly rare.

And rare things tend to be valuable.

So if you’ve got technical knowledge and you can write coherently, you’ve already got everything you need. The rest is just doing the work.

And if you’re wondering whether it’s worth it- whether spending a weekend writing an article for $400 is a good use of your time- let me put it this way:

I started writing for fun during a pandemic because I was bored and needed an outlet.

Three years later, it’s opened doors I didn’t even know existed, built skills I use every day, and generated more side income than I expected.

Not bad for something that started as “I’m bored, might as well write something.”

Your move.

Want more insights on building side income, navigating tech careers, and spotting opportunities before they become obvious? I write about this stuff (and AI, emerging markets, and the future of work) every week in my Sunday Blueprint newsletter. Real insights, zero hype, none of that “10X your income” nonsense. Subscribe here and actually learn something useful.