My Fledgling Career in Journalism


I’m in an odd spot in my life and career. As my internship at the Daily Camera comes to a close, I am in the strange, if not daunting, position of having no job in front of me and no idea which direction to go.

I feel like bona fide badass on days like today, when my localized feature on the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington makes the front page. Not only that, but I loved the process of reporting and writing it. I truly believe this is my calling.

My story on the proposed monorail between Boulder and Longmont made a pretty big splash, to the extent that the Denver Post mentioned me by name in an editorial elaborating on the exciting possibility that the project actually materializes.

The Post also ran my story on the Lafayette Peach Festival. The grandparents were proud of that one.

I don’t know how much these recent clips have to do with my own development as a reporter, or whether it is merely content of the stories I have covered. If it weren’t me, some other monkey with a laptop and journalism degree would probably report the same story.

More often than not — today included — I am optimistic. But my patience is wearing thin. 

I feel that I have really developed as a journalist, and I have a lot of work to be proud of after three very different internships in the last year and a half.

At the same time, I have yet to ever be paid for any of my work. I am the artist who has yet to sell a painting, and god knows I don’t want to end up like Van Gogh.

I knew what I was getting into when I decided to get into this dying business. I’m never going to be a millionaire and I am not so stubborn or stupid enough to believe my ultimate career has to be that of a traditional journalist.

Just once I would relish some measurable reward for my worth in a noble craft I have poured my heart and soul into.

Hopefully soon.

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