This comes from the introduction to a collection of essays by Nora Ephron, entitled “Wallflower at the Orgy.” She does a nice job explaining why some people, myself included, feel drawn to journalism. While I haven’t been a practicing journalist in many years, I empathize quite well with what she’s describing here. With the exception of when I’m teaching, it takes real effort — effort directed specifically at overcoming my own personality and impulses — for me to become involved in things. So here you go. I love Nora Ephron.
But in the end, the reason I write became quite obvious to me — and it turned out to have much more to do with temperament than motivation. People who are drawn to journalism are usually people who, because of their cynicism or emotional detachment or reserve or whatever, are incapable of being anything but witnesses to events. Something prevents them from becoming involved, committed, and allows them to remain separate. What separates me from what I write about is, I suspect, a sense of the absurd that makes it difficult for me to take many things terribly seriously. I’m not talking about objectivity here (I don’t believe in it), nor am I saying that this separateness makes it impossible to write personal journalism. I always have an opinion about the orgy; I’m just not down on the floor with the rest of the bodies.