Letter from the Voices Intern

Dear Reader,

To introduce myself through the lens of writing, it’s best I start from the beginning. Writing has been a complex beast for me from the moment I could choke words from a pencil. I remember being six years old, staring at a page, unsure of what to say. There were infinite possible answers, so how was I to know what the right one was? Even worse, anything I wrote was a choice I had made, a sequence of words unique to me. If whatever I put was “wrong” then, by translation, I was wrong as a person. Pile on the risk of spelling errors and I never stood a chance. This is to say that, until the age of 11, I was afraid of writing. Technically, this was a culmination of various fears—failure, judgment, vulnerability, etc.—but these factors ultimately created a 4th grader so full of shame and uncertainty she couldn’t write a book report.

What crucial event ended my fear? Well, it would be pretty sweet if I experienced something awesome that taught me the importance of using my voice, but no, it was therapy. Apparently we’re allowed to learn and grow from boring things! Accepting that life isn’t black and white and people aren’t watching my every move provided the necessary reassurance for me to put my pencil to paper and—more importantly—let others read my work. It’s impossible for me to over - state the importance of this growth, as it allowed me to not just function as a student, but also become as... “verbose” as I am today (I never shut up).

Since then it’s taken a lot of small steps for me to become who I am now, the type of person who can have their writing shared with strangers. Oddly enough, I wasn’t even a writer when I joined The Wake. I arrived with no prior experience, earning my spot as an intern through a string of persistent encounters and polite emails. I showed up hungry, prepared to glean everything I could from the opportunity, eager to scrape some metaphorical bones clean. But still, no amount of wholesome earnestness can designate someone as a writer.

What exactly I was six months ago, I’m not sure, and only time can tell what I’ll be when I leave. The one thing I know is that I won’t be the same, but consistency was never the goal. If I em - braced stagnation I would still be afraid and silent, unable to write. We have to welcome change because we CAN’T stay the same. Life will tear you to pieces and there is no way to put yourself back together in the order you were before. Time will make you different, but action can make you better. So go to therapy, switch majors, cry, call your mom, write a smattering of articles of varying quality, and then go to therapy again. Do whatever it is you’ve been wanting to do, just don’t end up where you were in the beginning.

All my love,

Ashley Sudeta

Voices Intern