Shouting (Writing) into the Void

Some weeks, writing this column feels a little like shouting into the void. Like, "Hello? Is this thing on?"

 

I don’t have a newsroom full of writers and creative brains helping me brainstorm weekly content for The Monitor. I don’t even have an office (unless you count the corner of the library I guard with my laptop). There's no creative meeting, no whiteboard filled with weekly vision.

 

There’s just me, trying to tap something meaningful, informative, or funny, maybe even heartwarming, onto a Google document which falls into your hands sometime during the week.

 

And while I know the newspaper shows up in your mailbox and various other areas in Clarion, sometimes I really don’t know who is reading this. Are you out there? Do you like this stuff?

 

Sometimes I feel like I could throw the secret burger sauce, you know the one that I can’t name without getting my publisher sued or something, into the middle of my columns or news articles, and no one would really notice.

 

But this is the vulnerable side of small-town storytelling; it’s mostly personal, mostly solo, and never comes with instant feedback. No applause. No angry mob, except for that one time. Just silence.

 

(It is basically equal parts mayo, Thousand Island dressing, with a splash of dill pickle juice, and salt and pepper.)

 

And yet... I keep on writing. Why? It isn’t because I can’t afford a journal.

 

It is mostly because I believe in this little space, and I believe in the stories that live here, in our streets, our schools, our backyards. Lately, I have been using this space in the newspaper to just write things as I see them. Real life filtered through the lens of Amanda.

 

But all of that brings me to this... I want to tell more of your stories. With your voice. Know someone celebrating a 50th anniversary and still holding hands at the diner? I’m begging you, call me. That is adorable, and I promise you, people want to read about that.

 

Did your kid make $47.32 in one day selling lemonade in the 190-degree heat? Email me! Does your neighbor bake cakes so good that you consider lying about your birthday to get them to bake you one? No judgement. I just need their name, their number, and a fork.

 

Because those stories matter. They’re the center of who we are as small-town Iowans.

 

So, if this column finds you on your porch swing, at the ballfield, the gas station, or in your favorite chair, or even in the town over... know that I’m here, typing this from wherever I’m trying to finish my thought. The thought which I hope will find you and make you smile, shed a tear, or consider things from a different viewpoint.

 

And if you’ve got feedback, story ideas, questions, or that cake recipe? Send it to: news@wrightcountymonitor.com.

 

Amanda Rink is the Editor of The Wright County Monitor and a children’s book author. When she isn’t caring for her family, writing for the newspaper, or avoiding laundry, she can be found hiding in the woods with a cup of coffee and a romance novel.