Many young journalists write to me with the same postgraduation conundrum: They know they need in-person connections and experience to jump-start their careers, but the entire media industry is located in a city that is prohibitively expensive and socially challenging, to put it mildly. I never know what to tell them. “Your early twenties are going to suck no matter what,” I usually say. “Sorry.
Part of that infatuation is a willingness to consider New York from a cinematic distance, overlooking the city’s many irritants except insofar as they add grit and drama to your story.
— “Why I’m Glad I Quit New York at 24”
guilty of this thought process
A new book called Goodbye to All That, out next month, chronicles 28 writers’ experiences with loving and, eventually, breaking up with the city. I spent the worst year of my life in New York. Right after college graduation, I moved from Missouri to join my college boyfriend, who had landed my dream job. I ended up here not because I had something to prove, but because I couldn’t think of where else to go. No job, dreamy or otherwise. No inclination toward any particular city other than “not my hometown.” When I decamped for the West Coast fifteen months later, I didn’t feel failure or regret but relief. For me, New York is that guy I went out with only briefly and then successfully transitioned into friendship. We were always meant to be platonic. But in the years since I’ve moved away, I’ve learned that “I’m kind of meh on New York” is not a generally accepted point of view. It rivals “I’ve never seen The Goonies” for most controversial fact about me.
I'm as calm as a fruit stand in New York, and maybe as strange.
RVA <-> BK.
Kat Goes to Brooklyn
Todo el granizo el rompecorazones.