Congratulate me

I find it very hard to believe that people will PAY me to write stuff.

“But, I WANT to write articles,” I think to myself. “So clearly, that’s not going to work out for me.”

I don’t claim to know a lot about logic. But I do know that to want something really, really badly is scary. Because rejection and failure hurts, and it hurts more when it’s something that you really, really want.

So I shield myself by imagining the failure in advance. I inoculate myself against the embarrassment by accepting its eventuality—and by broadcasting it to the world. I doubt myself first so I don’t have to feel anybody else’s doubts (forget the fact that other seem to have many fewer doubts about my chances for success. They don’t know how much I want this.)

And I use the world’s best defense against failure: I don’t try. So these past two years, I have avoided writing classes, stopped short of pitching freelance stories, and steeped myself in my boring, unchallenging job. I looked for challenges elsewhere. I made myself at home in this new city, and I traveled to distant ones. I ran a marathon. I applied to the Peace Corps.

But I couldn’t quite forget that what I wanted was journalism. Boring and unchallenging my job may be, but in this office I am surrounded by people living my dream. It is possible, because they do it. And so I decided to try.

That’s the story behind my trip to Senegal. You’ve seen pieces of it unfold in my blog. And today is a big day. Because today I sign the contract on my first writing assignment. It is a story that I thought of, that I researched, and that I pitched. The editor was skeptical when I called, but I persisted, and emailed him a detailed proposal. And, two weeks after I had given up, he emailed me today with an offer and a contract.

It’s just a little article for my alumni magazine. 2,000 words. But it’s a start. It’s a project, and it’s mine.

Y’all. I’m a freelance writer!