Learning to Trust Again...
I need to learn to trust myself more. I spend far too much of my time doubting my abilities - as a writer, a friend, a person...the list goes on and on. I suppose it's good to have a touch of self-doubt - it keeps you honest, keeps you from getting too big a head - but equally important is the ability to stay out of your own way - to allow yourself to move forward, to learn and grow.
My job so far at the Wall Street Journal has been a big learning experience for me in a number of ways. My first few days there, I felt totally in over my head. Everyone seemed so much smarter, more capable, and experienced than I. I guess I felt a touch of an inferiority complex - my coworker, Leslie (who I think I've mentioned) is a Princeton graduate, younger than me, and fluent in half a dozen languages - and has a background in East Asian Studies. Mary went to Harvard - also knows a great deal about east Asian studies and economics, and Joe has knows more about economics than anyone else I've ever known.
"Why did they pick me for this?" was a common refrain in my head. I doubted my credentials, my ability to write, and honestly began to think they might have chosen me as a Bartley Fellow by mistake - to the point of which, my anxiety got in the way of my ability to write.
I forgot why I write - how I enjoy it, how deeply I care about communicating issues in clear, accessible way. I forgot how good it feels to learn, to dig deeply into a subject, to write an opinion about it, and get feedback. I forgot why I care about journalism - because it truly is a public service, because it gives people the information they need in order to make intelligent decisions about how they interact with their government, and with the world.
I became so concerned with saying the "right" thing, that, for a time, I forgot my own voice.
But it's impossible to write in another person's voice.
Yesterday, I agonized over an article to the point of absurdity, until finally something snapped. I realized I was trying to write what I thought my boss wanted me to - but I had no idea what that was. So something in me said "fuck it," and I wrote what I thought I should.
And you know what? She liked it. A lot.
So I guess I should stop wondering why they picked me, and just do my best. Who cares if it was a mistake on their part? The best I can do is give it my all - the rest is out of my hands.
Easier said than done, but I'll give it a shot.
Having said that, Mary, my boss, has been amazing. I was under the impression that I'd be given research and editing task for the first few weeks, but she's really had me hit the ground running. She's assigning me articles left and right, and has even given me a beat - Macao, the Vegas of Southeast Asia.
Next week she wants me to write the Journal's editorial on the Department of State's human trafficking report, which will be released this Friday. Intimidating, but at least it's something I know a little about - and it's quite a vote of confidence that she believes in me enough to give me the task.
So I'm giving it a go. This week I'm spending a lot of time reading up on Macao, and this coming weekend I think I'll make a trip to the region - see what I can see, talk to some people. Immigration is a pretty interesting issue there, as are the triads (the gangs that built the Casinos). In addition to Cantonese, many people speak Portuguese, which means I'll have an easier time communicating with people.
It's intimidating, but I have to try. I'm scared - but, in retrospect, the only worthwhile things I've ever done have scared me.
Should be an interesting week.
My job so far at the Wall Street Journal has been a big learning experience for me in a number of ways. My first few days there, I felt totally in over my head. Everyone seemed so much smarter, more capable, and experienced than I. I guess I felt a touch of an inferiority complex - my coworker, Leslie (who I think I've mentioned) is a Princeton graduate, younger than me, and fluent in half a dozen languages - and has a background in East Asian Studies. Mary went to Harvard - also knows a great deal about east Asian studies and economics, and Joe has knows more about economics than anyone else I've ever known.
"Why did they pick me for this?" was a common refrain in my head. I doubted my credentials, my ability to write, and honestly began to think they might have chosen me as a Bartley Fellow by mistake - to the point of which, my anxiety got in the way of my ability to write.
I forgot why I write - how I enjoy it, how deeply I care about communicating issues in clear, accessible way. I forgot how good it feels to learn, to dig deeply into a subject, to write an opinion about it, and get feedback. I forgot why I care about journalism - because it truly is a public service, because it gives people the information they need in order to make intelligent decisions about how they interact with their government, and with the world.
I became so concerned with saying the "right" thing, that, for a time, I forgot my own voice.
But it's impossible to write in another person's voice.
Yesterday, I agonized over an article to the point of absurdity, until finally something snapped. I realized I was trying to write what I thought my boss wanted me to - but I had no idea what that was. So something in me said "fuck it," and I wrote what I thought I should.
And you know what? She liked it. A lot.
So I guess I should stop wondering why they picked me, and just do my best. Who cares if it was a mistake on their part? The best I can do is give it my all - the rest is out of my hands.
Easier said than done, but I'll give it a shot.
Having said that, Mary, my boss, has been amazing. I was under the impression that I'd be given research and editing task for the first few weeks, but she's really had me hit the ground running. She's assigning me articles left and right, and has even given me a beat - Macao, the Vegas of Southeast Asia.
Next week she wants me to write the Journal's editorial on the Department of State's human trafficking report, which will be released this Friday. Intimidating, but at least it's something I know a little about - and it's quite a vote of confidence that she believes in me enough to give me the task.
So I'm giving it a go. This week I'm spending a lot of time reading up on Macao, and this coming weekend I think I'll make a trip to the region - see what I can see, talk to some people. Immigration is a pretty interesting issue there, as are the triads (the gangs that built the Casinos). In addition to Cantonese, many people speak Portuguese, which means I'll have an easier time communicating with people.
It's intimidating, but I have to try. I'm scared - but, in retrospect, the only worthwhile things I've ever done have scared me.
Should be an interesting week.