Choosing a major isn’t the easiest feat. Actually, it’s one of the hardest decisions we face as young adults. In a matter of a few years, we are expected to decide what we want to do until our hair is completely grayed and our retirement funds are full. For me, it’s hard enough to decide what to eat in the dining hall, let alone how I want to make my next 40 years of income.
As many indecisive high school seniors do, I accepted that I had no clue what major interested me and I took a risk: journalism and mass communication. At the time, it sounded better than “undecided,” and I thought the Channel 5 newscasters seemed cool, so I ran with it.
Enrolling in the Jandoli School of Journalism and Mass Communication at St. Bonaventure University, there was so much I didn’t know and inevitably came to understand through my unfortunate failures and unexpected triumphs.
When I first embarked on this deadline-making, paper-crunching journey, I had no clue how much caffeine this major required. Journalism is a high-intensity major, despite the popular belief that journalism majors only spend their time writing Buzzfeed articles and drinking coffee at the local hipster hangout.
The reality is that I have accepted a lifestyle where I am constantly held to a deadline no matter how sleep deprived and stressed I might be. All my journalism courses require me to internalize an assignment, find an angle, and essentially crank out a piece of writing that can talk about anything from a local murder case to my favorite brand of lotion. In other words, I’m expected to find interest in any assignment I’m given, no matter how abstract the topic.
Outside of my strict deadlines for classes, my major requires me to practice a skill that only gets better with practice—cliché, I know, but it’s the truth. I dread school breaks and long weekends, because a few days away from the newsroom makes writing a lede that much harder.
To ensure that I’m not plagued with writer's block, I’m forced into writing for just about every on-campus publication—because my classroom assignments just aren’t enough practice to keep the creativity flowing and my fingers typing.
Since most news stories require interviews, my free time is dedicated to meeting with some of the most prominent and obscure people on campus. From a dean to a dishwasher, a trustee to a student, I never know who I’ll be tracking down for my next ever-so-awkward interview. I have to ask the hard questions to get a factually accurate story and, sometimes, it’s a game of cat and mouse trying to track uninterested people down and convince them to chat.
With the responsibility of making the deadlines for my classes and extracurricular activities, I find myself with hands full of tension and a brain full of ideas waiting to be sorted. It’s a constant battle to get my ideas down on paper, and I pray that people relate to my writing.
A lot of times, I have to break down my walls of comfort in the name of impacting readers—and sometimes it’s a risk I’m not all that willing to take. Publishing a story often means getting flack from critics, and if you are an introvert like me, that’s a frightening thought.
It might sound like I’m complaining, but don’t be deceived—I have loved every moment of this sleep-depriving experience so far. I have a lot to learn and thousands of stories to write still, but the biggest thing life as a journalist has taught me is that everyone has a story to tell and a way to tell it.
Every storybook we read as children began as a writer’s lesson learned, just as every news anchor chooses an angle because they hope to tell a story with complete ethicality.
I’m proud to say I’m part of a network of people who are passionate about educating others. I’ve come to realize that, for me, the ability to strip away all boundaries in the name of my “craft,” is a beautiful things.
Writing gives me the ability to share the darkest, most regretful moments life serves and turn it into something beneficial. It’s nice knowing that, although I might not win any awards or praise, one published piece is likely to touch at least one person—helping them get through their most dreaded days.
Whether in print or online, there are few feelings better than seeing see the hours looming over a laptop pay off.
