Ever since I left journalism to defect to PR, I have felt the occasional pang of regret. Now, I am not a regretful person, generally speaking. But those first months after I left the newspaper, I would sit at my desk on the 23rd floor of Grey Advertising's headquarters in Manhattan and shed a tear at 1 p.m., the deadline for the Daily Jefferson County Union in little Ft. Atkinson, Wisconsin. Because I missed it so much. That's how pathetic I was ... am.
At the time, I was a newly minted college grad, stuck in a small town in Wisconsin, working for $11,000 a year (with city council and school board meetings at night, I managed to earn $3,000 in overtime to bring my total to $14,000! $14,000!), and I wanted to see the world. Or at least Manhattan. So I ditched journalism and grabbed the miraculous PR internship that was on offer.
Honestly, though, I think journalism and I were the best career match. Journalism is instinctual to me; PR was learned. Have you ever felt that way about a job?
So I find it heartening that many years later -- 22 to be exact -- there is a potential journalism job in the offing. I can't jinx myself by writing more. Suffice it to say that if it happens, it would be hugely satisfying and the fulfillment of a long-time dream.