By Mia Brounstein
Editor-in-Chief
Sometimes I wonder why writing never seems to get easier.
Every time I sit down to draft a letter from the editor, I find myself agonizing over what I can possibly say, what will resonate with readers and express something authentic and important. I undoubtedly fail in one or more of these areas nearly every time my words are put to print, but I must press on.
As a journalism major, having an obsession with words is almost obligatory for me. I enjoy finding the right ones, feeling a barely-perceptible click when the words of a sentence fit together in the way I hoped they would.
Like a poetic old sailor who has a semi-romantic relationship to the sea, I’ve learned that I must respect and appreciate words on their own before I can expect them to cooperate with firing of my neurons.
Every now and then, I am struck by just how miraculous words are. That tiny, arbitrary symbols invented thousands of years ago can cause us to laugh and cry and see in our minds’ eye the thoughts of another unique and unrepeatable human being is nothing short of unbelievable.
Of course, I didn’t always think of words and stories in this way. I think the original seed of my fascination was my love for reading, which I’ve had since a very young age.
I’ve been trying my hand at different kinds of writing since 7th grade, which was around the same time that I read for the first time what is now one of my favorite books: “The Book Thief,” by Markus Zusak. Not only does this novel tell a compelling story and contain beautiful writing, it also expressed my relationship with books and words in a way that no other creative piece has.
My favorite line from the book is, “I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.”
I feel like this line perfectly expresses the way words and stories have the power to both captivate me and fill me with frustration and anxiety, particularly when they are my own.
Nothing gives me greater joy than to call myself a writer, but I wonder time and again whether I have deserved the title. The fact of the matter is, in just a few short months, I will be launching into the grown-up world with that exact label attached to me.
I think I must resign myself to the fact that no matter what I do, I will not be able to separate myself from words. I feel that writing is one of the things I was made to do, and though that is a great gift, it also means that I will never get away from the frustration and effort that writing costs me.
Even now, my jobs here at Franciscan keep me tied to stories and words: I am a writer and editor for The Troubadour, and I work at the library, where I am surrounded by thousands of books and billions of words.
More often than not, I tune words out, just like everyone else does, and just take in their meanings. But every now and then, I’m hit again with awe at the power of language.
Even in this article, using only 26 letters, I’ve created a collection of ideas that have never been expressed this way in all of human history and never will be again.
I find that pretty cool, and I think it makes the agony of a writer (me) worth it in the end.