I’m pretty good at working in loud environments. I’ll leave if someone drops in on my fishing spot, but when it comes to putting words to life, I’m fine with a crowd. It’s probably because my writing career started in the bowels in the University of Arizona student union where the Arizona Daily Wildcat was located.
My first assignment was to call a cross-country runner after we received a press release saying she had done well at an invitational.
I figured it would be easy. Things had happened. Call a human, ask her what. Simple. I dialed the number from one of the phones next to my computer. I was separated from the sports editor and assistant editor by a few feet. They weren’t looking at me, but I knew they were listening. I froze. I assumed that this athlete would want to talk like coaches and players do in press conferences. It was horrible. She didn’t mind talking, but my questions were terrible.
I hung up. I knew my editors didn’t think it was that big of a deal because that’s what happens, but it was mortifying. I got better that semester and was able to bang out lacrosse and rugby recaps with plenty going on around me. It helped me focus.
Now I prefer the coffee shop or café setting for writing, especially this time of year now that the seasonals are back in town. (I don’t mean that in a derogatory sense because I was one until about two years ago).
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