My career in newspapers didn't begin with a degree or years of formal training. It started with a Craigslist ad, a bit of spontaneity and a lot of unexpected turns.
I didn't set out to become a …
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My career in newspapers didn't begin with a degree or years of formal training. It started with a Craigslist ad, a bit of spontaneity and a lot of unexpected turns.
I didn't set out to become a storyteller, but, looking back now, it feels like my path was always leading me here, even when I didn't realize it.
It all began with a favor to a friend. I sent her a listing for a receptionist position at Gulf Coast Media in Foley, and she got the job. Months later, she told me about an opening for a delivery driver. I had a clean driving record, so I applied, got the job, and my journey in newspapers began. My new role involved navigating neighborhoods in the back of a white van, swapping out stacks of newspapers and magazines, traveling to bases in Florida to deliver Stars and Stripes. Little did I know this humble start would evolve into a position where I would help shape the stories of my community.
My connection to newspapers began long before I ever joined the workforce. I was born and raised in Baldwin County, so I grew up with Gulf Coast Media's (or at the time, Gulf Coast Newspaper's) papers, especially The Independent as I lived in Central Baldwin growing up. As a teenager battling depression and thoughts of suicide, newspapers offered me something I didn't know I needed: validation. During those difficult years, I found solace in two things: writing poetry and singing in the school choir. When I felt nothing, poetry and music were lifelines, teaching me how to feel again, giving me a voice to speak when I couldn't find the words. As we prepared for competitions and performances. I'll never forget the joy I felt when people — family friends, church members — would bring me clippings form the local paper that featured my photo from choir events. I saved every single one in a scrapbook. In a world that often felt dark and lonely, those clippings reminded me that I mattered.
Now, as I write for some of the very same newspapers that once chronicled my choir performances, I can't help but reflect on how life has come full circle. Today, I'm the one telling stories that might offer someone else a glimmer of hope or comfort in their darkest times.
Over time, I moved from delivery driver to receptionist and classifieds representative and eventually to editorial assistant and promotions manager. I didn't have the traditional route into this industry, but each role taught me something valuable, whether it was sales tactics, the ins and outs of AP Style, community engagement through events like the Best of Baldwin contest long before it became the red-carpet event is today or how to craft a story that resonates with readers.
Writing for a newspaper offers a unique window into the heart of the community, allowing me to learn about the people, events and challenges that shape our shared experiences. Each story introduces new topics — from local history to environmental issues — broadening my understanding and deepening my connection to the place I call home. But the most important lesson I learned is that newspapers are about more than just reporting the facts. They are about telling the stories of the people who make up our community.
For me, writing became a way to connect. As an introvert, face-to-face interactions can be daunting, but through writing, I found my voice. I discovered I could still feel the pulse of my community — the way we come together during hurricanes, rally around a sick child, protect our Gulf waters and rivers or offer support in times of crisis — without being in the middle of it all. Writing gave me a way to contribute, even if it wasn't always on the front lines.
And on a personal level, my work at the newspaper has been healing. Living with bipolar disorder has brought its share of dark moments, and I've always turned to writing to process my emotions. But telling the stories of others — especially stories of resilience and community — helped me find a connection to the world I didn't expect. Through my writing, I could share my own struggles while also lifting up the voices of others. I may not always feel comfortable in social situations, especially after the isolation brought on by COVID-19, but writing allows me to connect in a way that feels true to who I am.
This connection to storytelling has grown into a passion for helping others, especially when it comes to mental health. I've been working on a poetry manuscript in the hope of one day publishing a book to raise awareness for suicide prevention. Writing has always been a tool for healing for me, and I hope it can help others who are struggling, too.
As we celebrate National Newspaper Week with its theme of "Telling Our Stories," I'm reminded that stories come in many forms. Some are loud, some are quiet, and some, like mine, take time to unfold. But every story matters. I'm grateful to have found a place in the newspaper industry where I can share not just my community's stories but my own. Through this work, I've grown — not just as a writer but as a person. And while I may still struggle with my mental health, I know that through my writing, I'm making a difference. I'm telling the stories that need to be told, and in doing so, I'm finding my voice.