Here’s My (Very Cliché) Introduction Blog Post

I distinctly remember the very first time I had an article published on the internet. Actually, scratch that. I distinctly remember the very first time I had an IMPORTANT article published on the internet. As a communications major who was involved in the school’s e-news outlets, writing pieces about campus events and trends were a way of life. 

What can I say? I wasn’t a stranger to a byline. While other students were learning the laws of sales and how to balance chemicals (obviously something I know nothing about), I was learning how to sign off of a live broadcast and what to do if you wind up with a stalker. Important life skills, you know? 

The first time a piece I wrote, a piece I created purely in my head while hunched over my slow PC in the gross off-campus apartment I shared with 3 random roommates whose names I don’t think I ever actually learned was published, something inside of me broke. Or maybe it became whole? It’s weird that those are so different yet feel pretty similar. The point is, that day, that first piece, that alert that I was worthy of publication was one of the most pivotal points in my life. 

Having my first article published started something inside of me I had never experienced. I started learning who I was and what, exactly, I wanted to do.

I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have a job. Hell, I didn’t even have a great grasp on grammar rules (my 8th grade English teacher is rolling over in his metaphorical grave), but as soon as the words flowed from my fingertips, I knew: I was going to be a writer.

My journey has seemed endlessly long so far, and I know it’s only just begun. From becoming a staff writer post-grad to experiencing my first (of what I’m sure will be many) creative layoffs to scrambling as a freelancer for over 4 years, hunching over my computer, pouring over my tattered copy of Stephen King’s On Writing, and cheating on my passion with writer’s block, I’ve been in the trenches for a long time and yet, I’m not ready to give up. I think I’m finally ready to really try.

I’ve let opportunities pass me by due to fear and depression and that voice in my head that says I’m not good enough. My words aren’t effortless enough. My prose isn’t perfect enough. 

But I’m tired of the uncertainty, the self-doubt, and the self-sabotage.

I still don’t have a plan. I don’t have a normal, 9-5 job. Hell, I still don’t even have a flawless grasp on every grammar rule (all of the editors I’ve worked with are groaning in agreement), but you know what? I’m going to be a writer.

And I invite you to come along for the ride. The sleepless nights, the character building. The doubts and the triumphs and the feeling of typing those final pages. I’m welcoming you into my world of writing. No, I don’t know what I’m doing, but maybe with enough faith (and a few stiff drinks), we can figure it out together.

Worse case? I guarantee it’ll be the story of a lifetime.