Two months in with Niamh, still thinking and embracing the craft

July 2025: The PR industry isn’t dead. I can promise you at least that much. But it’s not immune either. If you spend even ten minutes online, you’ll find yourself deep in doomsday commentary: longform pieces on the slow death of journalism, snappy takes on how AI will replace media relations, or subtle declarations that human creativity is now subservient to efficiency. It’s easy to dismiss these narratives until you realise how quietly they’re influencing the way we work.

Since joining 393 nearly two months ago, I’ve had the rare luxury of a fresh start. Time and space to think properly about what good PR looks like, and what it takes to build it. Not just the outputs, but the process behind them: the editorial discipline, the curiosity, the invisible lines between good enough and actually good. What’s special about 393 is that it’s a place where thinking still matters. Not in an abstract, agency-manifesto sort of way, but in the day-to-day details.

So much of the narrative around PR today is reactive. To AI, to shrinking newsrooms, and to clients under pressure. But my first few months at 393 have been a reminder that amid all the noise, there are still places where the work is being done properly, and thoughtfully. Where the people around you are still paying attention, still asking sharp questions, still valuing substance over convenience. And that environment has already taught me a lot.

Lesson one: the brain is a tool, not an accessory

We are in a convenience epidemic. The default setting is to get something out quickly, then move on. AI has only supercharged that instinct. Why think when you can prompt? Why draft when you can generate? Why wrestle with the shape of an idea when you can recycle the format of something that’s worked before?

But thinking is the job, especially in PR. We’re paid to shape, to interrogate, to finesse. And that takes time, concentration, and above all, effort. I’ve found that 393 encourages that kind of thinking. There’s no race to the fastest draft or the first take. People here care about the craft, and they protect the time and space it takes to do it properly. That mindset is rare, and quietly radical.

There’s also something deeper here: a belief that using your brain is not just good for the work, but good for you. I’m an endless believer that one of the best things about life is you never run out of new material to learn and absorb. No matter where you are in your career, you’ll always feel young in the face of new information.

Lesson two: you can’t write well if you don’t read well

I’ve always believed that good craft doesn’t happen in a vacuum. You need reference points, context, and a healthy dose of humility. At 393, there’s a shared respect for the editorial process – not just in writing, but in consuming media, understanding tone, and treating words like they matter.

I’ve seen this in how the team reviews work, how they talk about journalists, how they quote good lines from well-written articles without irony. It’s not performative. It’s muscle memory. That awareness sharpens your instincts over time. You start noticing more. Editing more carefully. Asking whether something deserves to exist before hitting send.

In a world that rewards speed and volume, 393 quietly rewards depth. You won’t always be the loudest person in the room, but you will be expected to care about what you’re making. And that’s the kind of pressure I welcome.

Lesson three: context is everything, and it takes time

There’s a subtle but important difference between being proactive and being useful. You can’t contribute well if you don’t understand the layers: the client nuance, the media landscape, the quiet politics that shape how decisions are made. 393 doesn’t expect you to know it all immediately, but it does expect you to learn, to listen, and to build context with care.

What I’ve appreciated is how much context lives in the details here. A throwaway comment in a WIP. A Teams message that recognises an external issue for a client before it occurs. A pitch that lands because someone remembered what a journalist actually covers, rather than what their job title suggests.

These things aren’t necessarily documented in onboarding documents. You learn them by observing the people around you – people who treat context not as a blocker, but as the reason the work works.

Lesson four: consistency builds trust more than moments of brilliance

Everyone wants to add value quickly. But at 393, it’s clear that trust is earned in the small, consistent actions, not grand gestures. Sending the follow-up. Flagging a potential issue before it becomes one. Showing up prepared. Remembering what matters to the client, even when it wasn’t written down.

None of these things are headline-worthy. But they’re the things that build credibility. And being surrounded by people who do them as second nature – not to be noticed, but because they care – makes you want to meet that standard too.

What I’m taking forward

393 has already taught me a lot, not just about how to do the work, but how to think about it. The team here is curious, intentional, and generous with their time. They take the work seriously, without taking themselves too seriously.

There’s still so much I don’t know, and that’s a good thing. One of the best parts of this job is you never run out of new material. And in this young agency, we’ve created a space where asking questions, learning quietly, and thinking deeply are seen not as luxuries, but as requirements. I plan to keep learning from it, one well-considered step at a time.

By Niamh Meyer, Senior Account Manager