Dear fellow college journalists, If you’re reading this, you know journalism is a dying industry. Newspapers are being killed off. They’re downsizing their staffs, firing their best investigative reporters, lessening their coverage, decreasing their newsrooms, selling their presses, not paying their interns, etc. You’re probably accustomed to the look.

You know the one. The look people give when you tell them you want to go into journalism. It’s the same one people give that naive kid who still believes in Santa Claus at age 14. The look says, “Awww. Did no one tell you?”

If you’re reading this, you — like me — know that this look is ridiculous. If you have a passion for journalism, a burning, spiritual passion for uncovering truth and exposing fiction, you know that now is actually the most exciting time to be a journalist.

You see, our generation, the technology natives, has been charged with the task of adapting to the challenge of the 2000s and the advent of the Internet, the biggest industry shock since television. People don’t need to wait for the newspaper to clunk onto their front porches anymore; the news is delivered every second of every day from every corner of the globe instantly and we’re the lucky few set to advance the journalism industry into just that: a journalism industry, streamlined and combined across platforms appealing specifically to our generation.

That’s why I want to be a reporter, because like you, journalism fell into my lap and in response, I fell in love with it.

My tango with journalism began when I showed up on the steps of my University newspaper, The Red & Black, one month into my freshman year. I was a history major at the time, not sure what I wanted to do with my life. I thought I’d give journalism a try. I eagerly wrote my first article for an editor that was anything but eager to welcome me into the club. Because I had recieved praise for my writing from English teachers throughout high school, I thought I was real tough shit and I expected to get a big gold star on my first assignment. After my article suffered death by red pen in the recruiting cubicle, I took my bleeding child and walked the two miles back to my apartment, wondering where I had gone wrong.

By the time I got home, I was Elle Woods. You know that scene in Legally Blonde where she shows up at the computer store in the bunny costume to buy the Mac? She’s wearing this badass determined look and you just know, things are about to get serious. That’s what I did: I got serious.

I went to the college bookstore and bought an AP Stylebook and read it from cover-to-cover. I bought copies of The New York Times, The Washington Post and my college paper and dissected each article one-by-one: first sentence, then explaining sentence, then attribution, then quote; summary, then attribution, then new point, then quote. That’s how I taught myself to write newspaper articles — line-by-line, sentence-by-sentence, article-by-article.

Two years later, many administrators at my school have adopted a habit of ignoring my calls and stalling my Freedom of Information Act requests. I’ve been yelled at, cussed out and threatened. People have begged me not to publish and begged me to publish. Sources have cried in front of me and with every article, my life philosophy gets retooled a little. I get tested. I compete with people. I stare at them until they say something. I stalk sources on the Internet and sometimes, I play the FOIA guess-where-the-document-is game for weeks at a time.

I have to admit, I have a sick fascination with it all.

Outsiders looking in at journalists sometimes think the profession is really noble, like being in the army or teaching middle school kids, but those who are truly driven to be journalists know this isn’t true. We’re all selfish as hell and I’ll be the first to admit it.

Real journalists can see the “human” in anyone. That’s part of the game — this ability to see through someone, look into their core and respect them, no matter what the article is about. It’s what makes readers change their points of view. For every article that makes a reader smile, cry, laugh, fall in love or feel anything, the journalist felt twice as much, and that is why journalists are selfish. We are constantly challenged. We are constantly retooling our perspectives and constantly learning. Also, we get to know lots of fun stuff before anyone else.

Surviving the journalism industry and keeping this human quality is tough. The profession hardens people and swallows them whole. It’s a windy road of unexpected turns where one’s life philosophy is challenged everyday.

I think I’m prepared for challenge. What about you? We should see our future stories as just another test, another chance to produce great content; another chance to be selfish, to have our perspectives changed. I look forward to the journey. So, my fellow journalists, I only have one thing left to say to you: bring it on.

With selfish journalism love, Lindsey Cook