On Writing Out Loud

On Writing Out Loud

March, 2023

I’ve started this website during a difficult time. After years of learning, arguing, and wrestling, I decided to quit my career and went to get my MBA, filled with dreams of a radically new career and an associated new life. I graduated 6 months ago, moved home, and have been unemployed for 6 months. At the time of this post, I’ve interviewed with 17 companies, averaging 4 interviews each. At this stage, I’ve accepted what essentially equates to a report card of B+’s in the business world; “Wow Melissa, you’re so great, we’re so sad it’s just not going to work out this time.” Even in this moment, I’m on the train to New York City for my fifth interview with a firm.

When you’re on the interview path, you paint yourself with a shiny exterior of self-assuredness, confidence, and slight-arrogance. Oh, six months of constant interviewing? Definitely in my 35-year life plan. My greatest weakness? Probably how likeable and charming I am. Why yes, I do have my entire life mapped out and I know exactly what I’m doing and my express purpose in life. That purpose? Working for your company. Since I was a little girl, I dreamed of being in sales. I mean managing projects. I mean creating operational trackers. Sorry, which position is this for again? Oh yeah, I’m a team player but I’m also an independent rock star who accomplished multi-million-dollar projects all by herself. Any sense of humility, modesty, of acknowledging the accomplishment of peers has essentially no place.

Recently someone recommended I read Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, and it’s been an absolute breath of fresh air. While I hesitate to call myself a creative person, imagining the greats who have pursued the creative arts professionally, I realize that comparing myself to those people doesn’t matter. Maybe no one will read this, maybe it will just be my parents, or my brothers. Maybe it will just be me, or someone will accidently stumble upon this page and find it interesting. Or incredibly boring. Or incredibly self-serving. Or reductive.

But it doesn’t matter.

Simply put, I like to write. It helps me think, process my own experiences, and push boundaries. Sometimes in the middle of a conversation I’ll flail for a pen or open up the Notes app on my phone to jot something quickly down. This leads me with dozens of bullet points squirreled away in an admittedly disorganized manner. Some notes are useful, such as “The Air Company – vodka” or “the goal isn’t to eliminate all economic inequality, that’s impossible. It’s what level of economic immobility we are ok with”. Some a bit less useful, like “wet shoes Malawi waterfall”. Still haven’t figured out that nugget.

I’ve enjoyed writing for years. From college courses, to a small COVID writing club, to my own stream of consciousness journal, and for work. For years the only writing I’ve shared has been polished for exterior publication, to hit a specific audience or to hit a specific goal. Which is fair.

This space is for me to express my opinions unvarnished and likely under-edited, write out what’s bothering me, and to create my own manifestos. I hope a set practice of writing and publishing will help my writing improve and that I will reread this post in a year, cringe, and rewrite it to make it better. Or maybe it will turn into a repository for my short stories or book reviews. Or a bit of everything. Or maybe nothing.

I can’t promise what this site will hold in 6 months or 5 years, or if it will become barren. But for today, I commit to attempting to write and think out loud.

Here goes nothing.