Wednesday, October 26, 2005

making the news

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one of these was mine


By sheer coincidence (and the death of a friend), my father has recently put me back in touch with someone I used to work with -- in my very first job as a college graduate. It was her job that I took, as a matter of fact (she got a promotion but kept the same desk, right next to mine), so it fell to her to show me the ropes, introduce me around, and buy me a little of the credibility that I would need with key sources. I could never have filled her shoes, and after the first week or so on the beat, I didn’t even want to. I thought I could be a writer, but I realized quickly that I wasn’t cut out for being a reporter.

And yet I was one; I was a photographer, too. I wrote some stories I am still proud of -- and did a lot of things in my youth and arrogance of which I am not. Many things changed for me in that year.

And many more have changed since. It would be so easy to sum it all up in a neat, coherent paragraph, to write a life for myself of drama and adventure in a foreign country. I’ve done it before, so many times. It’s a story that never gets stale. So why is it easier for me at this moment to write this post to total strangers than it is to write that email to her? I was a consummate actress in those days. I worked what I had. Maybe I should try it again.

7 Comments:

Blogger Emmanuel.K.Bensah II said...

Maybe it's because the so-called total strangers are not so total, and not so strange as you think:-)

Besides, you know that we bloggers are this side of "solidaritous" (I know that word doesn't exist, but hey sue me!--update, apparently, it does!!)

CUtting everything short, maybe it'smore cathartic for you to write here.. But it certainly is a start.

8:33 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

They are strange...

9:05 PM  
Blogger soap said...

I had actually reconsidered that phrase on my own last night; I wanted to edit, but it was after-hours for the net cafe (dammit). "Partial strangers" is what I had in mind, but the truth is I don't like the word strange(r) at all... and in any case, that woman who knew me years ago is more a stranger to me now than anyone who reads this blog (or the other one).

I don't know if there's any catharsis in the end (that's for the reader to decide) but in what I write, there's plenty of pity and fear to effect it.

(I'm not doing a "poor sissy," Steph; I'm doing Aristotle. Mr. Bensah started it!)

10:43 AM  
Blogger Emmanuel.K.Bensah II said...

there's plenty of fear and pity? care to elaborate, please?

7:41 PM  
Blogger Sarah Elaine said...

Your blog is your space. There is no expectation, no pressure, no... judgement. If people don't like what they read, too bad. I suspect that is not the case with being a journalist. :-)

Keep writing.

10:24 PM  
Blogger soap said...

I was referring to the love stuff, mostly (self-explanatory if you know where to look). But there is always an element of "audience" whenever (and wherever) you write. There's always an element of artifice.

I didn't really get this back then.

9:55 AM  
Blogger soap said...

I was not disappointed. I wrote that email as I said I would, and I got the response I expected (which I post here for posterity's sake):

It is so good to hear from you! I was floored when your dad told me you lived in Greece. It was good to see him too but sad under the
circumstances. I'm very happy for you.

(The rest was all about her -- and her heartbreakingly cute kids. I guess the romantic sum-up I was afraid of was inevitable on both sides.)

10:01 AM  

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