Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Is this what it looked like in the beginning?

Today I got the honor of changing desks. A co-worker left, so I got the prime real estate so to speak. A window (sort of), a better computer and more space. While cleaning off my desk, I was struck with the memory of something. My first day. I was a scared little writer afraid to even pick up the phone to interview someone with my editor in the office (something I still hate doing). But I was scared. Terrified of making a mistake. Know what? I got over it. Not only was my desk full of dust-bunnied paperwork, hundreds of city council packets and a multitude of Post-it notes but it was also filled to the brink with notes. Notes of stories. Momentus occasions that have impacted peoples lives in the last four years. Tragedies filled with heart-break. Great honors, like a tree that is world famous or the building of a new highway that will impact people's lives for the next 100 years. It was also filled with thank you notes, of stories bygone, but not forgotten by the people who I represented. The people whose stories I was able to put into words. The people, that without me, would have remained silenced.

Being a writer, on a good day, is a difficult task. It's alot of pressure trying to capture a scene in words. Not misleading the public with a simple missed noun/subject/verb agreement. Ticking people off with a cleverly written (at least we think so) headline. But when I get down, when I mess something up, when I'm overwhelmed with taking yet another Santa photo that clearly doesn't mean anything to me, I pull out the thank you notes. They cheer me up. They remind me of the importance of being a writer, a journalist, of capturing the stories for future generations.

Today if I had to write a thank you note it would go a little like this. Thank you God for letting me be a writer.