The copy machine groaned and sputtered, its ancient mechanical joints barely holding up under the weight of yet another print run. I stood there in the newsroom of Santiago’s smallest but liveliest local paper, clutching an insipid Styrofoam cup of lukewarm coffee, forcing myself not to hum with nervous energy. The editor-in-chief barked orders from the far side of the room like a sea captain steering a storm-tossed ship, while a reporter hurried to chase down quotes from a source who, apparently, had already fled to Viña del Mar. I did not belong there—or at least that’s how I felt at the time. But within that chaos, something magical happened: my very first byline went to print.
The Rollercoaster of a First Pitch
To give you some context, the article I submitted that day wasn’t the Arturo Pérez-Reverte-level masterpiece that young Carmen envisioned it to be. Oh, no. It was a charmingly mediocre piece on an upcoming empanada festival happening in a small plaza downtown—a topic handed to me after I had begged the editor (quite shamelessly, but with flair) for a chance to prove myself.
“Write about something everyone cares about,” he grunted, gesturing at the calendar of events. “We eat, we laugh, you write. ¿Entendido?”
Now, I’m no stranger to the passionate art of food, especially in Chile, where we take empanadas as seriously as we take fútbol (which is to say: very seriously). But writing about one in earnest and finding that elusive “hook” that makes readers care? That was trickier. My first mistake? Overcomplicating everything. I absolutely buried myself in interviews with empanada vendors and discussions about regional variations of the filling.
By the end, I had roughly five thousand words debating whether raisins in empanadas were worthy of culinary betrayal. (For the record: they are. Fight me on this.) What eventually went to print? A snappy 500-word piece, reined in by the same editor who wasn’t shy about crossing out entire paragraphs with one merciless stroke of his red pen.
Holding My Breath (and My Coffee)
At dawn, still bleary-eyed, I grabbed a copy of the paper from the local kiosk. And there it was—my name, right under the headline. Seeing it felt like a bolt of electricity, something that might play in a rom-com montage. But then it hit me: What if nobody cared? Worse, what if everyone cared—and then hated it? I braced myself for the comments of neighbors, friends, and the strangers on the bus.
But Santiago works in mysterious and humbling ways.
That same afternoon, as I was picking up more paper for the newsroom, I overheard an elderly man reading aloud the first line of my piece to his friend outside the kiosk. He chuckled about my joke comparing empanadas to finding the love of your life—simple ingredients, a little patience, and just enough heat to make magic happen. It wasn’t Pulitzer material, but in that moment, it felt bigger than that. A silly little quip I’d nervously tapped out at midnight made someone smile. How’s that for connection?
Lessons From My Byline Debut
Looking back, I learned a lot from that first brush with ink and ego. There’s something undeniably intimate about putting your words out for others to digest. Sometimes they’ll cheer you on, and sometimes—as I later discovered in less glowing reviews—they’ll nitpick every comma. But either way, it’s a relationship. A give and take.
Here’s what that experience taught me about starting something new, whether it’s writing your first article or jumping into an intimidating first date:
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Start Small but Start True
Just like my humble empanada festival: it’s not about dazzling anyone with grandiosity; it’s about authenticity. Share something close to you, something you care about, even if it feels simple at first. Readers (and dates!) can smell a fake a mile away. -
Let Go of Perfection
I wasted hours agonizing over getting every word exactly right, worrying that the empanada vendors would tear me apart if I said something wrong about cheese-to-dough ratios. Guess what? Stories resonate because they’re relatable, not flawless. Those tiny imperfections make them human—just like you. -
Find Joy in the Ordinary
The article wasn’t about empanadas, not really. It was about nostalgia, community, and that universal longing to find connection—even if it’s over flaky pastries. In relationships too, it’s rarely the grand gestures that make a difference; it’s the little things, like singing off-key in the car or sharing leftover fries. -
Trust Yourself (Despite the Red Pen)
When that editor slashed my paragraphs, I thought my words had no value. But he also made me realize the heart of the story was still intact. Criticism, whether from an editor or a partner, can be scary—but take the lesson, not the bruises, and keep going.
From Empanadas to Memory-Making
Every writer remembers their first byline like a warm first kiss—exciting, nerve-wracking, and burned into your memory forever. You’ll never have another quite like it. And though my literary beginnings were modest (and stuffed with caramelized onions), they taught me that every great connection starts the same way: with a leap of faith.
So, whether you’re learning to string words together or just starting to string together conversations with someone new, my advice is this: go for it. Laugh when you stumble, and celebrate your wins, be they big or small. Because really, life—and love—is just a series of empanadas waiting to surprise you.
