The spoken word is one that has never come the easiest to me. A well prepared and outlined speech I can deliver pretty well, but the unplanned stream of consciousness said in front of a group happens to be subpar for me. I can make my way through, but only with some stuttering and stumbling over my words, and I always walk out wondering if what I said even made any sense at all.
But, over the years, as it so happens, the written word is one that has come much easier to me.
For a long time, all of the writing I did was purely academic. From middle school to my sophomore year of college, that’s all I knew writing to be. Succinct, meticulously curated sentences and paragraphs, all striving to achieve whatever a prompt may have proposed to me. I enjoyed the written word in other capacities — I’ve always been a big reader — but my written word is one that I’ve never had much time to flesh out.
Perhaps my college admissions essay was the closest I’ve gotten, and that was harder to enjoy when the ultimate goal was to impress the person reading it to deem you worthy of admission. So, it was quite lucky when I just so happened to be in a journalism class with the then-president of Her Campus, Genna, my junior year.
She gave a lovely presentation in front of our class, urging us all to join. It was the creative freedom that came along with it that she made sure to emphasize that hooked me, but it was how she talked about their built community and third space that really sold me. I was emboldened to apply, though I did wonder if maybe it was too late for me — I was already a junior, halfway through my college career.
It took me some time to figure out what I really want to write about. It’s clear in my first published article that I was unsure of where to go —- it was, of course, more academic and frankly, not really something I would write for fun now (though I do still like the message). As the weeks went on, it was easier to know where I wanted to go.
I feel happy with what I’ve done and with what I’ve written. Even though I already look back at my past articles and wish I’d used a different word here or phrased this differently there, it’s nice to know something permanent out there exists that I wrote and I felt. I’ve felt lucky and nostalgic and grateful and free and hopeful. I don’t know that I’ll have another opportunity to build something like this again — it’s a time capsule I’m already able to look back on, knowing these things were real to me.
Somewhere else along the way, I went from a contributing writer to an editor on the executive team to Co-Editor-in-Chief. Sometimes I still don’t really know how this is where I ended up — I never could’ve guessed it would be here in that journalism class. I was urged by a friend to apply to be an editor, feeling both pleased by the compliment, but also unsure. I think I even said that, are you sure? I still get edits though.
Really, thinking about it now, I’ve are you sure’d every step of the way here. There was no time that I was fully certain that I was completely capable or ready or the right person to do what was being asked. And it still turned out like this, this good, something I’m not really ready to leave.
To Anna, Eera, Kate, and Kristee — getting to work closely with all four of you, for the sweetest and shortest semester, was, in every single way, a real gift. Over making bracelets and typing furiously on slack, I learned so much about leadership, kindness, and true collaboration. With you four on the senior executive team, I knew there was nowhere we could go wrong.
To Sidra, Phoebe, Liv, Hope, Brooke, Sydney, Chloe, and Gabby — working with you all on the editing team is quite possibly what I’ll miss most in the coming weeks and months. You all were not only talented writers, but bright, and capable editors, always acting as a guiding hand to help build the perfect piece. You’ve all given me such wonderful suggestions and differing perspectives, that I know this is an experience not shared by just me, but also all our fellow writers.
To Keeley and Lachlan — my favorite moments, the ones it actually hurts me to think I’ll miss out on, are all with you two. You owe me a picture every time. You’ll know when.
To all my fellow writers and contributors — keep writing about the things that matter to you. There’s a lot of lessons to be learned in a club like this, and luckily here, most of them are really good ones.
The written word is a gift, and here in Her Campus, I was able to find it all around me. At our last meeting I was able to give The Optimist Award to Frances. And in perhaps one of the few times my spoken word has come through for me, I said that our chapter of Her Campus was proof that good things still happen. I was right on the money there.