You have an idea! That’s great. It’s the start of a beautiful journey where you research and write your way to an expert level of awesomeness.
You jot down some notes, think about people you want to interview, and maybe even make an outline.
And then you open up your favorite newspaper, blog, or magazine: Right there, in shining block letters, is your awesome idea in print.
We’ve all experienced this feeling of despair, seeing someone else write about our idea. Especially if you were so sure that your idea was original. You might feel like you can’t ever write about that idea because someone else got to it first.
Every year, meteorologists have the unenviable—but necessary—job of communicating information to viewers and readers about major weather events like hurricanes and snowstorms. They walk a fine line between taking technical information and putting it in a form people can understand, and doing so in a way that gets people to act in a particular fashion (e.g. evacuating coastal areas).
And they constantly run the risk of “getting it wrong,” even when they have all the correct information and communicate it over and over again.
We see the same thing when talking about whether different types of food are good for you or not. A few years ago, eggs were pretty much a forbidden food; now they’re not only okay to eat, but a critical part of a good diet.
Coffee. Butter. Meat. All these food items have been on the merry-go-round of scientific okayness.
And then there are the controversial subjects: climate change, fossil fuels, pharmaceuticals, medical procedures. Do you really understand everything your doctor tells you? Or what the difference is between climate change and global warming?
But it’s not just the hot-button topics. If you’re writing about anything with a specific lexicon or specialized knowledge—software development, car repair, taxes, being a digital nomad, rocket science—you have to be able to communicate information to an audience that may not be familiar with the language you use.
It’s hard to believe that people still handwrite at all these days; we tend to rely on computers to do everything because they make it so easy.
I write articles on my laptop, though I do take a few notes here and there on paper.
And yet, I am a big fan of handwriting. I could be one of its groupies or the president of its fan club.
I remember learning how to write in cursive in elementary school, but I’ve often wondered if “kids these days” still learn that. (Wow, I sound like an old, evil villain from “Scooby-Doo.”)
In fact, the Common Core Curriculum Standards no longer require that students learn cursive handwriting in school, although some states have chosen to continue teaching it.
If typing is so ingrained in our lives, why should we even consider handwriting our content anymore?
I think every writer goes through an existential crisis (or 50) in their lifetime, and at least one of those crises is brought on by another article with the title, “Publishing is Dead.”
All through high school and college, I was inundated with advice to choose a career in a science, technology, engineering, or math (STEM)-related field. And though my passion for writing was evident, the attitudes of my teachers suggested my passion would soon enough turn into failure.
But, because I’m a stubborn and spiteful person, I pursued writing anyway.
That’s not to say that my confidence didn’t falter in college. When I would hear someone call publishing “a dying industry,” I’d panic and think, “Oh my god, what am I going to do with my life.” So of course, within my first year, I sat down with an advisor to talk about pursuing a double major. One in english, like I wanted, and one that was more career-viable.
I settled on a minor in marketing and felt safe in my future as a young professional.
I’ve since figured out that my minor in marketing isn’t worth as much as I thought on paper. However, the knowledge and experience it provided did help me get most of the jobs I’ve had since graduating.
It’s also given me a profound sense of confidence in my career choice as a writer.
Because everything I did (and still do) involved writing.