Every fall reminds me of fall 1989.
I was about to turn 21. The ’80s were about to become the ’90s. And I was beginning my senior year at Furman, which meant that, with no plans for grad school, I was gazing straight into the abyss of the Real World. I was terrified.
I had vague notions of wanting to write – I knew I was pretty good at it – but no firm ideas of how to actually convince somebody to pay me for it. I ended up doing what many recent college graduates, before and since, have done: work any job available until something better comes along. My friend Josephine got me a job at the Open Book at McAlister Square (back when it was a shopping mall).
From there, I bounced around a while, getting jobs with increasing responsibility and outlets for creativity. It wasn’t a straight path to where I am today, but all the while I was building up my resume and my portfolio, honing my skills as a writer and editor. I was getting better at what I enjoyed doing.
As the managing editor of the Upstate’s only weekly business publication, I feel like I should have a better story to tell of my own career development. It should be a tale of laser focus, ruthless ambition, brilliant networking and entrepreneurial pluck. Instead, it’s more a story of a sometimes-bewildered traveler in the wilderness, stumbling down paths that took surprising twists. I suspect many of your stories are similar.
I thought about this as I was reading Shandi Stevenson’s article this week about The Space, Wofford College’s innovative program to help students with their career development. The Space, which grew out of Wofford’s career services department, “gives Wofford students the chance to combine their liberal arts education with hands-on preparation for the business world,” Shandi writes.
It made me wonder: If such a thing had existed in 1989, would I have taken advantage of it? I hardly ever darkened the door of Furman’s career services office back in the day. If I had, who knows what my path might have been? Who knows where I’d be today?
Anyway, for me, it all ended up OK. I’ve been extraordinarily lucky. I kept finding jobs where I could mess around with words, focusing on improving my own – and other people’s – writing. (I don’t think I’ve quite met the “10,000-hour rule” threshold that Malcolm Gladwell discusses in his book “Outliers,” which dictates that you must spend 10,000 hours doing something before you get really good at it. But I’m working on it.) After 20-odd years in the wilderness, I moved back to find the Upstate in the midst of an economic and cultural renaissance. My friend Josephine, the one who got me the bookselling job, married me about a year ago.
In many ways, the fall of 2013 is different from the fall of 1989 was, but it’s the same in many ways, too. It’s my favorite time of any year, and I’m happy to be here for it. How about you?
