In A Way, Their Experiences Are My Experiences,

How I as a college student relate to The Journalism Salute interviewees

Mark Simon here. I’ve turned this edition of the newsletter over to my editorial assistant, Asaka Park, with the sugestion to write something personal about the episodes she’s listened to, rather than summarize them. What she wishes to share about her journalistic experiences is below.

I’ve never shared too much of my personal life here, but make no mistake: I’ve been cataloguing a list of relatable moments from different episodes of The Journalism Salute. In the most recent episode I listened to Mark interviewed Mary Rasura, a student journalist from Florida Atlantic University (FAU). She writes for Out South Florida, Florida Atlantic University Press and other hyper-local outlets, and is the executive editor of OutFAU. Since she is talking about the experience of being a journalism student, I also want to share mine.

“I would turn in like twice or three times as much as like we had to turn in because I would just keep writing and I always followed the news too. And then I just realized oh, there's this career where you can write. And inform people and I kind of think do a good service to the world.”

- Mary Rasura, executive editor, Out FAU

When I was in third grade, my teacher, Ms. Nally, looked at me and said “Asaka, you’re going to be a writer.” At first I didn’t believe her (I was going through a dog phase) but look at where I am!

I was never the cookie-cutter, A+ student. I wasn’t particularly studious (I would get in a screaming match with my mom over homework) nor was I some silver-tongued wordsmith (they literally put me in special education for “vague and disorganized writing”) but I always had something to say. When push came to shove, I didn’t just go through the motions; I put my whole weight behind it because I actually gave a damn. If I had to make a point, I was committing to it.

The surplus of words served as a testament of my sheer determination to communicate. In middle school, a girl called me “fake”, because I wrote paragraphs-long captions on Instagram captions but was quiet IRL. In high school, my teacher declared that my perfectionism was the reason I couldn’t focus, because I turned in 12-page assignments late while my classmates turned in 4 page essays on time.

But the reality was that I had severe, untreated ADHD. I felt really really really really disorganized when I wasn’t writing, and only really disorganized when I was writing. All the thoughts that tossed and turned in my head throughout the day poured out when my finger was on the keyboard.

I currently consider myself to be a “slightly above-average” writer compared to others in the same industry, but in high school, I felt disadvantaged. My process was far from efficient: I spent hours and hours hopping from one sentence to another. And when I saw the finished product, it felt like something was missing. I spent all my time daydreaming, not really noticing what was around me. Plus, I hadn’t read a single book front to back since freshman year. So I didn’t have a repertoire of metaphors and sensory experiences to draw from.

People would read my work and say that I was on par with my major, but they didn’t realize it took me ten times longer than others to complete it. I wondered if people only wanted me for diversity points (I wrote about disability), than the quality of my work. Anyone can write if they spent hours and hours. What makes me special?

Maybe they can. But will they?

Itto Outini, a blind journalist from Morocco and another guest on The Journalism Salute, told Mark that her articles go through anywhere from three to nine drafts before reaching completion. Her profile of Osama Shamallakh, a Palestinian disability advocate, which required meticulous translation and fact-checking, took her “a whole year.” She straight-up said that the hardest part of her job is that “there's not enough time to write all the stories.” Whether it’s language barriers or disability, good writing transcends what many may see as limits, and it takes someone who is incredibly dedicated to do that day-in, day-out.

Now that I’m writing more professionally, I find myself asking: do I keep it real, or keep it short and sweet? To me, this dilemma boils down to whether I’d rather risk losing against others or lose against myself. Let me explain:

I don’t mind summarizing or curating what’s already out there. I know the drill, I know the formula, and most importantly, I know that with every word I type, I’m moving closer — not further — to the finish line. The process of deciding what information goes where also helps me understand my values and priorities better, and I always learn something new that I can contribute to the dinner party. But the industry doesn’t care. Sometimes I feel like a scrambling sycophant, replaceable at a snap of a finger: Oh, you’re copywriting? Well, so is everyone and their chatbots.

When I write things that are personal, I’m not competing with anyone. After all, nobody has the same exact thoughts, feelings, and experiences as I do (It’s true: I’m a special snowflake, you’re a special snowflake, we’re all special snowflakes!). But opening up to offer my unique perspective also means opening circles of the gates of hell: my inhibition is gone, and there’s a real risk I could go on ten different tangents, lose focus, and before I know it, fall behind by weeks (plural). The call is coming from inside the house. It sucks when someone breaks a story before you do, but there’s a special kind of powerlessness that comes with missing your own deadlines for a story only you can tell, especially if publishing is your way of finding closure.

People have said that being in your 20s is all about finding balance and I agree.

“I talked to [my therapist] about things that are going on in my personal life, but I also talk a lot about like work and my journalism and ways that I can optimize and become a better reporter and person. So that's been really helpful. I also see a psychiatrist, so I also take care of that, and I get a lot of exercise.”

- Mary Rasura

I’ve been making an effort to make sure I have enough outlets for self-expression — whether it’s spending time with people who see me as I am, or something as small as dressing up or posting on Instagram — on my daily schedule, so that I don’t feel like one assignment is my only chance to be seen and heard.

I’m grateful for Mark for giving me the freedom to explore and giving me a behind-the-scenes view into how successful people in the industry have overcame challenges. I look forward to what is in store for The Journalism Salute and my role.

Mark here, again. Hope you appreciate Asaka’s perspective and her courage in sharing it with a group of strangers. I’m grateful for her help. The interviews with Mary Rasura and Itto Outini are two of more than 170 available online.

Hope you’ll give them and other episodes a listen and share them with aspiring journalists.