Why I Write

reflections on screaming into the void

Every so often I have to talk myself off the ledge—that is, convince myself not to disappear from the internet, get an MBA, and succumb to the siren song of becoming a finance bro. I have a head for numbers and I’m sure I can figure out a good way to style a fleece vest, so I like to imagine the transition wouldn’t be terribly difficult, and there are other motivations that make this fantasy one of my favorite$ to return to. But this a delusion, obviously, and not even a very comforting one. I’ve worked in male-dominated dull corporate environments in the past, and I’m a lot less willing to let a job drain my life force than I was back then (I’m now acutely aware of how much work it takes to get it back.) Yet even this knowledge was not enough to keep me out of a recent foul mood that almost drove me into the waiting arms of the GMAT. 

I’m saving all my stories about the disrespect I’ve experienced in pursuit of doing work I enjoy for my eventual memoir, and the challenges of “making it” in a creative field are well-known, so I won’t belabor them here. Still, I never truly entertain any of the escape hatches my brain conjures up, the “easier” paths that will allegedly soothe my ego’s longing for prestige/accolades/the funds to realize my extensive Pinterest boards. Though people ask me all the time why I write, I’ve never had a good answer until recently, when I finally got tired of explaining the question away with little jokes and decided to think on it seriously. Why am I so deeply committed to screaming into the void that I have chosen to make it into my profession, joining the chorus of millions of other voices searching for recognition on the internet, when frankly, I can do whatever I want and excel at it? It took me a while, but I realized that was my answer: I can do whatever the fuck I want—but for many years felt otherwise, allowing the truly noxious cocktail of others’ projected limitations, outmoded societal expectations, and irrelevant insecurities to hold me back.