Who Editsay is for

You've spent years building a byline that readers follow, inside an outlet that owns the audience you built. Leaving means starting from zero with no desk behind you. No sub, no video, no social team, no site.

The byline. The readers who search for your name. The sources who call you, not the outlet. And a beat you know better than anyone who'd replace you.

Desk, one seat, your name on the masthead. Your language, your sections, and the social accounts your readers already follow. A site built and hosted by Editsay, because a journalist needs a permanent address. Week one: your first ten pieces, filed the way you always have.

You report. You file. It drafts in the voice you set at onboarding, and you approve. A reel from every story worth one, narrated in your language. Every platform the hour you say so. The strategy: keep the beat, the sources and the standards, and take the outlet out from between you and the reader.

Everything a desk did for you, done for one person: video, translation, social, SEO, a site that ranks. And drafts that read like your byline. The proof is Dumtika: one editor, 557 stories a month, daily video, four channels, two languages.

You already know the routes. Now they pay you.

Video, social and translation from one person give you the reach to keep an audience, and every route above depends on that audience.

Desk, ₹24,000 per month. Less than the outlet spent supporting you.

Four or five of you, in your twenties, who follow a film industry, a league, a market or a state's politics closely enough to argue about it daily. You've thought about starting something. A business needs money and people, and you have neither.

You read everything. You watch everything. You know which outlets are slow, which are wrong, and what nobody's covering. That is the raw material of a publication, and most outlets in your field cover it from outside the fandom you're inside.

Desk, split five ways. One login. Pick one of you as the editor, the person who decides what goes out. A second language, chosen when we set you up, if your readers read one. Instagram, Facebook and X connected to accounts you build from zero. No website yet. Editsay can feed one whenever you have the readers to justify it. Week one: ten stories to find the voice.

Each of you takes charge of one part of the subject. You send the editor what you know, like a rumour you can back up, a match you watched or a document you read, and Editsay drafts it in the publication's voice. The editor approves and it goes to every channel at once. A story a day per person is a real publication. The strategy: be first on what the big outlets are slow to, and have an opinion, because they can't.

One seat runs the whole thing. Five people's stories are drafted, filmed and posted from one login. Reels from your stories without a video editor. Captions for each platform without a social media manager. And it writes in your voice, so the fifth story sounds like the first.

Nothing in the first months. You're building an audience, and everything else waits on it. Then, roughly in the order they arrive:

The numbers depend on you. But every one of those routes exists today for people doing this by hand, and you'll be doing it with five times the output.

Desk, ₹24,000 per month, which is ₹4,800 each. One junior writer costs more and does less.

A party with 100-plus constituencies, each with a local unit and a local story but no local voice. What reaches the state office is whatever the district head remembers to send. What reaches voters is whatever the local paper prints. In opposition, that's often nothing.

Constituency units that know their ground better than any outlet. In government: which scheme reached which village, which road got built, which promise was kept. In opposition: which scheme didn't reach, which road wasn't built, which promise was broken. Either way, that knowledge dies in messaging groups. Nobody publishes it.

A tenant per constituency, each its own publication with its own name, sections and social accounts, run by the local unit's own person. The local language first. Each constituency gets its own Facebook page, Instagram, X and YouTube, connected once and filled every day without anyone touching them. A hundred constituencies is four hundred accounts, and the local unit runs all four from the same screen they write on. One Network plan covers them as a group. The state office holds the operator view: every constituency's output, side by side, from one screen. That view across your own constituencies is not built yet; today each publication is set up and reviewed one at a time. Week one: ten constituencies live, each publishing what happened there yesterday.

Each unit files daily. In government, that's the record of delivery, such as a scheme that arrived, a project that opened or a claim answered with the fact. In opposition, it's the record of what's missing, such as the road still unbuilt, the hospital still unstaffed or the question the minister didn't answer. People believe it because it's local and specific. A reel a day per constituency, narrated in the local language, from that constituency's own footage. The state office reads all of it and sees the state as it is: which constituencies are active, which are quiet, which issues are rising where, before a survey tells them.

Every story reaches every platform the hour it's approved. The article goes to the site, a card to Facebook and X, and a narrated reel in the local language to Instagram and YouTube. No video editor, no social media team per constituency, no agency, no delay between the state office deciding and the constituency posting. A hundred local publications that sound like one party and read like their own town. People who aren't writers can run them, because it drafts in the party's voice from what the local unit knows. And every constituency's coverage, its reactions and its readership, visible in one place. That's a ground report that updates itself, and it works the same whether you're defending a record or building a case.

The party sees its own state in real time. The voter sees their constituency covered daily by someone who lives there. A claim gets answered where it was made, not three days later from the capital. At election time, a hundred publications with a year of local credibility are worth more than any campaign spend. That holds for the side that has to show what it did and for the side that has to show what wasn't done.

Network for the group. Against a hundred district correspondents, a video editor per district, and a social media team for each, or a media agency that covers ten districts badly.

An actor, a founder, a company. Things happen to you and around you, and what reaches people is filtered through outlets that frame it, cut it, or skip it. When it's wrong, the correction never travels as far as the story.

The news itself, meaning releases, launches, appearances, statements and replies. A team that already writes it. And an audience that would rather hear it from you.

Newsroom, with a seat for each person on your team who writes. Your language. Your channels connected. A site with your name on it, built and hosted, so there's one address for what you said. Week one: what your team would have sent to outlets goes out under your name instead.

Every announcement is a story the day it's made. You cover every appearance yourself, with your own footage. Your reply to anything said about you is published openly, from your side. A reel from what mattered, in the language your audience reads. The strategy: be the first source, clearly labelled as yours, so the record starts with your version.

Every piece reaches every platform the hour you approve it, with no video editor, social team or agency between you and your audience. And a person on your team approves everything, so nothing goes out you didn't see.

Your audience hears it from you first. Corrections travel as far as the story. A record that's yours, dated, in your words. And reach that doesn't depend on being covered.

Newsroom, ₹59,999 a month. A fraction of a PR retainer, and it runs every day.

You write press releases. They go to a wire and a list, and nothing comes back. The product launch got two lines. The hiring news got none. Your leadership pieces exist in a PDF.

A pipeline of news about products, people, milestones and opinions, and a team already writing it. It has nowhere to live that people find.

Newsroom, with the API for your developers to put stories on your own domain. Your channels connected. Sections that match how your company talks about itself. Week one: the last three releases republished as pages.

Every release becomes a page, drafted in the company's voice, with the SEO metadata written for it. Every launch gets a reel. Leadership writes, Editsay drafts, and comms approves. The strategy: stop pitching outlets and become one. Be the place search engines and AI answer engines find your news.

Pages with the structured data search engines read, and the plain, sourced writing answer engines quote. Video from a launch announcement without a production team. And a second language for markets you sell into, article and voiceover both.

Announcements people find. A domain that ranks for your own name and your own products. Reach without depending on coverage. And a comms team that publishes instead of pitches.

Newsroom, ₹59,999 a month. Against a wire service and an agency.

You have reporters, a masthead and readers, and no digital desk. Younger outlets took the reach you should have, with teams you can't afford to hire.

Reporters who file every day. A brand people trust. An archive. Everything except the machinery that turns a filed story into video, social and search.

Newsroom or Network, a seat per reporter. Your existing site connected through the API, or a new one if yours can't be. Your language. Your channels. Week one: reporters file exactly as they do, and the rest happens.

Nothing changes for the reporter. They file; it drafts, translates, cuts a reel, writes the captions, and posts once an editor approves. The strategy: the newsroom you have, reaching the platforms you don't.

Your reporters change nothing. Video, translation and social happen to what they already file. And it writes in your masthead's voice, so the digital output reads like your paper.

The reach younger outlets took, without the team they needed. Video and social from a newsroom that never had either. And a digital audience built on a brand people already trust.

Newsroom or Network. Against a digital team you'd otherwise hire.

You have followers on a platform that rents them to you. The algorithm changed once and your reach halved. It'll change again.

An audience. A voice they know. A habit of posting every day. And nowhere that's yours.

Desk, connected to the accounts you already have. A site with your name on it, built and hosted, so your audience has somewhere to go that isn't on loan. In the first week, your last month's posts go up again on your own site.

You keep doing what you do. It turns each piece into an article, a reel and captions, and posts to the accounts you have. Meanwhile your site builds an audience that no algorithm controls. The idea is to keep the reach you have on the platforms and own the place your audience comes back to.

Reels keep flowing to your existing accounts while the site grows. It writes in your voice. And a second language, if your audience reads one, for the article and the voiceover both.

The same ways you earn now, on a site you own. Collaborations and brand deals, negotiated as a publication instead of a social media account. Website ads once the site has traffic. Sponsorships from brands that want to reach your audience regularly. And, if your audience will pay for more of you, subscriptions that no platform takes a cut of.

Desk, ₹24,000 per month.