Solace in a byline
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Writers block had me thinking existentially. Dangerous waters for a late night.
At first I questioned why I couldn’t think of anything to write. This led me to ask why I didn’t have a story to tell, which led me to the biggest question:
Do I even have a story worth telling?
The sad, but true answer: I don’t.
At least, I don’t feel like I do.
Almost every single word I’ve ever scribbled down or typed out has been about someone else. The papers for English class have been on someone else’s views or writing. My summer job as a reporter was about explaining a lifetime’s worth of work in 700-word, feature articles.
Those writing assignments were easy. The words flowed effortlessly onto the page. The narrative arcs or attention-grabbing introductions came without thinking.
Yet when I tried to write on behalf of my own voice, it squeaked as if going through puberty, then fell silent.
What was it about telling my own story that left me so knotted up inside?
Looking back on the writing I’ve done, my story isn’t completely hidden. You can find hints of it embedded in the style or the word choice. However, it appears most explicitly at the end. There, tucked in the article’s conclusion, are 50-or-so words about the writer. It’s a teaser of my story — my name, my occupation and perhaps a witty line encouraging readers to follow me on Twitter (see what I did there?).
My byline was my story. But is that enough to exist?
We live in an attention-seeking culture. If you’re not the next big thing, you should be. The premise of most advertisements is if you buy this product, you’ll get noticed. Social media is designed for us to share our most attractive selves.
But when everyone is vying for position at the front of the stage, who’s going to point out the people who really should be seen?
Enter stage left: Me. The guy without a story.
I find the greatest fulfillment in being a vehicle for stories, being a connection between the voiceless and the world’s ear. Everywhere around us, the world is pulsing with the news, tales and opinions that can change our lives.
Somebody has to tell them. Somebody has to be there to press “record” when the voices start. Somebody has to be willing to listen.
Perhaps that somebody is me.
Maybe the fact that my story doesn’t evoke a strong desire to be written down isn’t a bad thing. Having these thoughts this evening weren’t in vain, instead they led me to realize the importance of the messenger.
So my story isn’t worth telling, at least not yet. In the meantime, there’s a lot that needs to be written about the amazing residents of planet earth.
Wyatt Massey is a student at Marquette University, studying Writing-Intensive English and Advertising. Connect with him on Twitter or LinkedIn.
