I remember the day I knew I wanted to be a journalist, and the realization came much later for me than it seems to have come for so many others.
Last year, around this same time, I was finishing up final projects and preparing to close out my junior year. I was sitting in my dorm room alone in Arezzo, Italy. My study abroad experience as a whole was unforgettable, but I was lucky enough to be taking the course Innovators in Journalism. As an English major, I had decided to take the class as an elective — a fun project to dive into, interviewing business owners across the Tuscan countryside and learning about Italian culture.
It was a rainy day, and I had left the window open. Other than the sound of cathedral bells, ringing distantly from my favorite park and drifting in through the curtains, the only sounds were an audio recording from a recent interview and my fingers on a keyboard.
As I transcribed and pieced together the story, I was struck by a realization — all I’ve ever wanted to do is write. I felt like I was living exactly the life I wanted to live, and doing exactly what I wanted to do. Throughout my undergrad, I had been unable to clearly articulate my goals and purpose, but in that moment, everything felt clear. What have I been doing all this time? I knew it all along — I want to be a writer.
When I was much younger, I would spend summers at my Nana’s house. She has a huge garden, and each day was an outdoor adventure with my siblings and cousins, regardless of the Oklahoma heat. Some days, though, when it was just me, I would sit at the desk in the guest bedroom, quiet and cool, and I would fill my Nana’s chunky Microsoft computer with untitled Word documents full of ideas for short stories, unfinished chapters or plot synopses.
One day, I printed off a story and stored it in a hot pink binder, which I subsequently forgot at her house. Nana returned it to me a week later. I still remember feeling my face flush as she smiled at me and told me how good it was.
I took it home and reread it, dissected every word and wondered if it really was any good at all. I had never intended it to be seen, and writing was something deeply personal to me. I took the story and shoved it in the bottom drawer of my dresser, where it has stayed ever since. Something about sharing my words with others scared the living shit out of me.
Now, almost exactly a year since my time in Italy and almost a decade since that summer with my Nana, I’m sitting in the OU Daily newsroom as a senior news reporter, attempting to put my experience into words. It’s hard for me to do that, knowing that the nearly 10 months I spent at the Daily have transformed me as a writer and as a person.
Ashtynn Caldwell.
I returned home from Italy last summer knowing it was time to figure it all out. Who did I want to be? Where did I really want to end up? I felt like I was holding different fragments of experiences, bits of passion and ideas not fully formed, stuck together into a collage as I pictured my foggy, post-grad future.
I began looking for more opportunities to write. If not for work, then to build a portfolio, to build experience, to learn more about the world and what it looks like for journalists. I came across an application to be an intern news reporter at OU Daily, and I marked my calendar for the organization’s fall open house.
I didn’t know what to expect in the slightest. When I walked into the newsroom for the first time, I felt late to the game, but I can’t say that I felt any doubt about wanting to be a reporter.
Over the next two semesters, unfamiliar faces would become the faces of friends, and my perspective on what it means to be a journalist would be permanently altered. I certainly did not foresee filming stand-up videos for my stories, spending a Saturday as a brand ambassador for ESPN Radio or writing about how the university found itself at the center of a national controversy.
As an intern, I spent a lot of time covering SGA meetings and sitting far away from the other reporters in the newsroom, not quite feeling like I was a part of everything yet.
On one such day, tucked into a corner and writing with my headphones in, I talked to the Daily’s adviser, Seth Prince, one-on-one for the first time. He complimented my work and made me feel validated, and I told him how new I was to the world of journalism. He gave me advice for finding my footing, recommended a variety of news sources and told me that if I ever had questions, all I had to do was ask.
That conversation was so intimidating to me as an intern reporter. Since then, I have had the privilege to see firsthand how Seth advocates for every person in this organization. If it weren’t for him, I likely would not have become such a passionate advocate for myself.
I can’t count the number of mornings this semester where I’ve been studying in the newsroom before anyone arrived, and Seth would walk in and turn on the lights, and I would vehemently promise him that I hadn’t stayed there all night. Some of the most constructive conversations I’ve had and the best journalistic lessons I’ve learned have come from Seth — along with a handful of conversations about Jeff Buckley and grilled cheese.
At the end of the fall 2025 semester, I applied to and received the position of senior news reporter. I was excited and proud, feeling as though my hard work had paid off. However, the spring 2026 semester tested me in ways I wasn’t expecting.
I wrote on events, legislation and issues that received national media attention. I was approached in public and at meetings and told what I should and shouldn’t write. Worst of all, people I have known for years have spoken to me like I’m a stranger. One morning at brunch, one of my closest friends stopped themselves from saying something to me mid-sentence — “Wait, you’re a journalist.”
The truth of the matter is that journalism has never been and will never be an easy job to do. There is immense pressure to meet tight deadlines on high-stakes stories, and to do it not only quickly, but accurately. On top of that, journalists face public backlash and mistrust from every side.
This semester showed me that the work I love, the work I have become so passionate about, can be painful. I remember venting to a family member one night at dinner, and she told me, “Maybe this job isn’t for you.” Her words shocked me. I responded, “Just because the work can be hard doesn’t mean it isn’t important.”
By some stroke of luck, just as my personal experiences were broadening and I was starting to understand what it really means to be a journalist, the Daily hired a new innovator-in-residence for the semester.
Will Pry is a mentor for whom I am permanently grateful. Each week, he drives up from Denton, Texas, to host workshops at the Daily. If you ask him, he might tell you that we show up every Friday to see which snacks he brought us from Buc-ee’s. Though the chocolate-covered espresso beans are fantastic, it’s his dedication, his genuineness and the way he pushes us to grow that keeps me coming back.
It was uncanny how well those lessons paralleled the challenges I faced in becoming the writer I am now. His workshop on ethics followed one of the more emotionally taxing stories I wrote. His workshop on interviews better prepared me to conduct an interview on a dense topic I knew little about. Throughout late February I was facing burnout, but his lessons on communication styles and understanding reminded me of the purpose and intention I could bring into my work. More than that, I respect how he makes every person he speaks to feel like a priority. I will always value the insight he imparted to us.
When I started working at the Daily I was given the heads-up: People are going to read your work. This sounds like common sense, and maybe the general sentiment is, but beneath that sentiment, there was a deeper message. People are going to read your work, and when that happens, you will be representing a 110-year-old, nationally awarded independent news organization. As a writer, you have a voice. As a journalist, you have to understand how to use that voice for your audience, for your community and within the organization.
Thankfully, I have spent my time in this newsroom surrounded by the most thoughtful and gifted people I know. It is because of guidance from people like Seth and Will, from our editor-in-chief Anusha Fathepure and from my editors, Macey Thaxton and Audrey McClour, that I have felt comfortable and confident as I throw everything I have into a profession that still feels new to me.
A few weeks ago, I was cleaning out my closet, and I found a hot pink binder in the bottom drawer. I knew what it was right away, even years later. I curled into a ball on my bed and went to read. It made me laugh as I did. How silly was I to feel afraid of being seen, especially by someone as close to me as my own grandmother? The truth is, even for a 13-year-old girl, the writing was good. It always had been.
While I have slowly learned to stop fearing the vulnerability of writing over the years, the Daily challenged me in an entirely new way. Creative writing is vastly different from the work I do as a reporter, but many of the principles are the same. The work reporters do requires vulnerability. The work requires honesty and accuracy. If it does not require fearlessness, then it certainly requires setting fear aside for the sake of doing what is right — of saying what needs to be said.
I will never forget that day in Arezzo, when I understood that I wanted nothing more than to write. The feeling of being in exactly the right place. But I will also never forget how that feeling has followed me through the newsroom every day this year.
I felt it as I left one of the most complicated meetings I’d ever attended and walked directly to the Daily, where I locked myself in the conference room and wrote until midnight. Writing alone in coffee shops. Writing at the news desk, surrounded by laughter and friends. Listening to Will’s workshops and passing around the weekly snacks he brings. Receiving emails thanking me for reporting diligently — people I don’t know telling me how much the work this organization does matters to them. Interviewing strangers and remembering every single day why I do what I do. I know the work I’m doing matters, and I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to do.
The four years I have spent at OU have challenged me in ways I never imagined, taken me places I never thought possible, and in the end, I’m much closer to having it all figured out. During my senior year, I have been able to experience the passion and love of the OU Daily, and every day, I am overwhelmed by my luck.
Ashtynn Caldwell is an OU English literature graduate. At OU Daily, she served as a news intern and senior news reporter. After graduation, she is interning at NonDoc Media for the summer before applying to law school.
Read some of Ashtynn’s work:
