The name is Kyle. The age is 25. The occupation is print and online journalist. That doesn’t tell anybody anything.
For me, moving to New York accomplishes two very distinct goals. The first is that I’ve always wanted to live there. I barely remember my childhood at all – I can’t even name more than 10 people I went to high school with – but being 6 years old and staring up at a massive array of columned buildings lit up brighter than the stars I recall perfectly. Yeah, I’m exceedingly happy just to be getting out of Florida, but nowhere else would be like this. A city that doesn’t sleep for a guy who never wants to go to bed, yet never wants to wake up. My mother and her family lived there. The third generation is on its way.
The other is of the professional nature. I can be classified as more of a writer than a journalist because I adamantly promote putting myself in the middle of my own stories. Same general rules apply, but I believe the only way to shatter the impossibly widespread barrier of perceived bias is to fully expose the person behind the pen. If you come right out and tell everyone who you are, the appearance of an underhanded leaning ceases to exist.
To be honest, my writing is like that of the mythical teenage girls’ diaries that they put in books and movies. The ones where every entry is descriptive, self-revealing and meticulously penned. Difference is, mine is real (an actual teenage girl’s journal has the readability of an essay on drywall) and is based on music and film. The greatest concentration of work and opportunity for a field I wasn’t even studying in college when I started doing it 5 years ago just so happens to be in my dream city.
Is any of this going to work? First we show up, then we see what happens.
(With thanks to Napoleon and Casey McCall for that line I stole)