I don't know where I'm going ...
... but I know I need to start. When writing longhand in a journal is no longer enough, we need to get back onto a platform – any old platform. Maybe this one.
This is the umpteenth attempt …
… at a novel, a blog, a collection of poetry, SOMETHING tangible. You see, like many others, I’m a journalist/editor who now finds myself in UX. Along the way, I still yearn to write … something.
The 2010s were good years. The indie music you listened to was as stringy as your skinny jeans clad legs. You most likely graduated with a degree in Literature or Journalism and you’re starting an internship at the largest magazine publishing house in South Africa. Glass doors (and ceilings) and lobbies with white orchids and white pleather couches are now part of your reality.
Instead of writing essays, you’re steaming garments and driving to photo shoots and press events that got pawned off to you (hey-ho, vaginal hygiene products!) You were also given the mammoth responsibility of setting up the publication’s first Twitter account. You’re killing it!
No one told you that Twitter would change to X, there would be a life-changing pandemic and that you would move from Cape Town to London with a man you’d marry. MARRY.
No one told you how you’d transition out of journalism, how you’d lose your obsession with Vogue and how you’d now call yourself a Content Designer.
Surely you can’t be the only one grappling with these changes. And if you are, stick around. Let’s unpack them together. Let’s at least make the pact to put some writing out into the universe, just for the sake of it.
