They’re telling me I have to write a column. It has to be over four hundred words long they say. How could this be? I’m just a young intern barely hanging on in a fast-paced industry that I’ve only just begun to dip my toes into. What am I going to do?
“Write what you know,” was one suggestion from the Lord Almighty Google.
Thanks Google. You saved me once again.
So as the pressure builds and the nervous excitement seems to be tying my long intestine in knots, I’ve begun my first column. And that’s first ever, not just the first in this newspaper.
Despite the anxiety and the sleepless nights, in reality this is all I’ve ever wanted – a chance to tell the world I exist. This is what made me want to be a journalist and suffer the agonizing years of an over-priced education. This is what’s pushed me for the last three years to hole up in sweaty libraries, half-heartedly pouring through textbooks on the sociological imagination and political ideologies, the smell of feet and old books lingering in the air as I tell myself it all applies.
Yes, this is my dream, and I could not be more grateful for the chance.
Yet, the page does not fill itself and somehow I am at a loss for what it is I want the world to know about me.
So, in keeping with the wishes of the Lord Almighty Google, I shall write what I know.
They tell me I will be covering the arts “beat,” which I still find weird to say. This seems fitting, actually, because I could probably tell you more about the Beatles than I could ever explain about the sociological imagination or how Communism somehow morphed into Stalinism. Yes, the arts seem to be my bread and butter and what better to talk about once a week than something that everyone experiences on a regular basis.
So I’ve decided in the course of writing these last 300 words that art it shall be. Not only does it evoke emotion, but it also brings people together. As the old adage goes “art reflects life,” which is what I believe a column should do as well.
Halleluiah. I’ve figured it all out.
Suddenly the world doesn’t seem to be caving in on me. The bright white light of the computer screen is not in fact the pearly gate of heaven, but a ray of hope that this column, this internship, and this career are something I can actually do. And lo and behold, I’ve passed the required wordage. Four hundred words out of my own brain that even seem to make some type of sense.
Oh thank Google, I’ve done it.
