"Waiting for le mot juste is silly," the piece read. "Journalists aren't Flaubert. He wrote for the ages. Journalists write for today, this week, or this month. The stuff is perishable."
This might be silly, but that paragraph, in a small way, broke my heart. I know I'm not the next Flaubert, or even the next Nicholas Sparks (God forbid). But somewhere deep down in my literary heart, I like the idea that people will read what I've written long after I wrote it. I can't help thinking that what I write will last. If it won't, then excuse me for asking, but why bother writing it? And in a small way, that paragraph even made me wonder, am I really meant to be a journalist? Writing for the moment seems pointless, while laboring over the Great American Novel strikes me as a fine use of my time. I guess what I'm really asking is, can you be a journalist and still wait for le mot juste? Still write for the ages? Still, in even the smallest of ways, write things that will last?
- Tess