Seeing as I joined the Horrific Miscue gang after migrating to Seattle from a genuine small Iowa town, I feel a little compelled to provide some down-home Midwestern sensibility for the group.
This doesn’t really work, for a couple of reasons. I didn’t grow up in a small Iowa town, just rolled in to work for the newspaper, like a less exciting version of The Last Juror. And it didn’t take me long to decide that my future probably didn’t lie in a town that, while perfectly nice, didn’t even have a bookstore.
So I stayed for another two and a half years, then applied to Clarion West.
Incidentally, I’m a writer. Apart from a single-scene play I got produced for a theater festival in college, my accomplishments have mainly been commentary, some of which can sometimes be found on my personal blog. But it was kind of perfect that attending Clarion West also meant moving to Seattle; I’d grown up thinking of cities as the places where adventures happen, where life moves fast and takes unexpected turns. Those same things are what drew me to storytelling.
The cool thing I’ve learned about Seattle is that nobody seems to be from here. I’ve met maybe six people in my not quite two years who didn’t move here from someplace else. What’s more, the city grown so quickly and changed so radically over the last twenty, thirty, fifty years that even the people who are from around here don’t really own the place, not like a farming community that’s had the same population and most of the same families since about 1910. I may still get nostalgic for water towers and open skies, but if I ever go back, I expect it’ll be to visit.