I’ll miss writing poetry in the delightfully mismatched furniture of the Efroymson Creative Writing Center. Photo by Elizabeth Stevenson.

JACK WILLIAMS | CULTURE CO-EDITOR | jrwilliams@butler.edu

The first poem I ever wrote was scribbled on a scrap of notebook paper at a family friend’s lakeside cabin, cross-legged and surrounded by Lincoln logs. I felt like I had discovered a new and vital organ within myself, and soon filled a journal. 

I formed my career ambitions around my core identity as a writer. Despite my notoriously terrible handwriting — as anyone I’ve shared notes with can attest — putting pen to paper allowed me to be an idealized version of myself. I could take as many weeks as I wanted to find the wittiest one-liner; if a metaphor didn’t click, I could spend a few days reading my favorite authors and return to the page knowing why. 

I entered my first year at Butler, resolved to carry my confidence from the page into the real world. I attended the callout meeting of nearly a dozen clubs and shouted ‘Hello’ to my newfound Resco friends whenever I saw them, whether that was in the middle of Atherton or on the other side of the mall. The excitement of taking creative writing classes filled my days with workshops and a community of fellow writers.

As freshman year turned into sophomore year, though, a nagging voice started to grow in my head. Here were all these wonderful, interesting people, and I sat around every day writing about myself. That’s when I started to seriously consider what Aidan Gregg had been suggesting that I do for months: join the Collegian. As usual, he was right.

I stepped into the Culture section high on hopes and light on experience. Those first few weeks of opening my Google doc to see a hundred comments shook me, but it was all worth it each time I conducted an interview. For that half hour, I could participate in their passion for the topic at hand, whether that was 19th-century Spanish literature or personal style. Once again, I couldn’t believe that I had lived without this part of my life. 

At its core, my job was to find Butler students who wanted to share their passion and then give them my undivided attention. My editors at the time, Owen Madrigal and future editor-in-chief Leah Ollie, taught me how to do that with a clear, unbiased voice — in AP style, of course. The unwavering support of Megan Fuller, Abigail Oakley and former editor-in-chief Alison Miccolis gave me the courage to tackle new styles of writing. 

The power of editing is knowing that someone cared enough about your story to read it a dozen times, just to make it a little better. They combed over it line-by-line because they thought that every word I wrote mattered. I’m now lucky enough to be on the other side of that equation as a Culture co-editor.

I started writing for the Collegian out of a desire to push myself to grow as a writer, and found that the greatest encouragement came from the people around me. 

Maddy Broderick and Emma McLean: You make every article you touch better. Thank you for laughing at just the right amount of my puns each Tuesday night.

Tori Satchwell: I’m glad I could review the masterpiece of a movie that was “Red One” with you, and rest easy knowing that your social-media magic will make sure it reaches the Collegian’s audience.

Mae-Mae Han: You taught me to be a better writer at the Collegian and a better teacher in improv. I’m still working on my sense of humor, though — that might take a few more years.

Gabi Mathus: Thank you for the countless mornings spent swapping thoughts over coffee and exploring Indy with me. You inspire me to keep learning and stay open to new ideas.

Miranda Emerick: One of the coolest parts of being a Butler English major has been reading your stories. You’ve shown me how to be a better writer, baker and friend since freshman year.

My senior house roommates, Seamus Quinn, Ty Vander Eide and Aidan Gregg: Hinesley House may be old and drafty, but with every Safeway run and Sunday brunch, you guys have given me a home in Indy. 

Finally, to everyone I’ve interviewed: I appreciate every second of your time, and I hope that I’ve done your stories justice. 

I came here with aspirations to be an author, capital “A”, the kind of writer who frowns on their cover jacket photo and makes big, serious pronouncements to legacy newspapers. It was scary, and still is, to know that’s not quite who I want to be anymore. The Collegian has given me the toolkit to be okay with that uncertainty, though. I feel at home asking questions about lives I’ve never lived and places I’ve never been. As I leave Butler, that means I feel at home in my own future, too.