I am a student of literature, the art of writing, geology, anthropology, and most recently, journalism. My true passion is writing. In my current pursuit of a career path – a.k.a searching for a job as a recent graduate in our recession – I’ve had multiple discussions with other writers – folks in the magazine industry, freelancers, retired-newspersons – and they all wholeheartedly encouraged me to blog. “Write about something you love,” one said. “Write even if no one will read it,” another interjected. They could sense I was not into blogging, something that always makes older generations scratch their heads. “A 20-something not into blogging?” they ask with their mouths in round Os and their eyebrows stretched high. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll blog,” I promised this past weekend while grabbing a quick chat with a fellow Bucknell University alumn who freelances about marketing and has past experience in publishing and magazines. He was the umpteenth well-meaning and highly-experienced person to push the blogosphere on me (I am, right now, a bit upset that the word ‘blogosphere’ brought up no red editing line… yet ‘newspersons’ above did). I immediately regretted the promise.
I’ve held out on blogging because I want to write books, novels, short stories, pieces of literature you can feel between your fingers. Pages whose corners you can turn down. Bindings you can brush dust off of – not flashy websites that have multiple designs and ads on them. I have an old soul that rebels against the Internet on a daily basis.
But here I am, because I realized that there was something I could blog about that may actually help others. I can write about adoption. I can write about being adopted, and not only about that, but about being in an ethnically diverse family. A multiracial family, in fact. I can write about making the decision to search for my birth mother. Finding my birthmother. And all that came after. Most importantly, I feel that I can help. I became a journalist to help people, disseminate invaluable information to the masses. The writing was poignant and important, but I felt no attachment to the audience. After all the voices pushing me to blog settled down in my head, one voice, my own, said, “write about your family – the faces you know, the people you love.” So even if no one reads this, even if no one is helped, I will still have immortalized the loving people who are my home. My heart.
I hope this will help, though. Perhaps bring peace to another. Or just connect more people together who were previously strangers with nothing in common. Adoption has a beautiful way of doing just that. And with that second introduction… I will move on to what I’ve learned in my research today.