PicoBlog

In this special report, you will find out how it feels to be published by The Guardian. Reading these words still gives me the jitters. In the best way.

In this deeply personal essay, I bare my soul to 88 million readers around the globe. It is a confession, a declaration and a hopeful look to the future, all in less than 900 words. Writing it was cathartic. Seeing it published means the world.

Many of you may have already read the story because I posted it on social media, it trended on the Guardian’s homepage (!) yesterday, and I sent it to my closest friends, family, and my two wonderful mentors: journalist Sam Becker & author Andrea Lehky.

You can read it again here: For years, I saw sex as a competitive sport. Then I realised how empty I felt

Image: Instagram Post, 3.4.2024; @cornelia_elise; Kevin Berlanga

It’s impossible to pretend this story is not a big deal. It is the biggest get in my 14-year journalism career so far. Yes, I've been working towards this for half my life. 

I worked in journalism for the first time at 14. My middle school teacher challenged us to get an internship in any field. Of course, I immediately sent a proactive application to my hometown's local newspaper, Donaukurier. I was shocked and delighted when they offered me a gig. 

Fourteen years later, I boast a portfolio in four countries — Germany, Austria, the U.K., and the U.S. — with a combined potential readership of 100 million people.

I got this Guardian story based on a pitch that took me five minutes to write. But it’s the result of 14 years of love.

I’ve been wanting to become a journalist since I was 12. As proof, here is an excerpt from the statement of purpose I wrote in 2020 as part of my 60-page NYU application:

In considering the experiences that inspired me to become a journalist, I recall situations in which I was drawn to the act of consuming information and reporting about it.

When I was 12 years old, my family went on a road trip from the East Coast of the US to the Midwest. While driving through the Smoky Mountains in the fall, I absorbed the intense, fresh scent of fallen leaves through the open window. I saw vibrant reds, yellows, browns, and greens form a stark contrast to the dim blues of the mountains. It was breathtaking and led me to spend hours writing down my observations in English. Back then, I had only learned English for two years.

The spark — the one who would lead me to where I am today, was ignited 16 years ago. In those 16 years, a lot happened.

But one thing never changed: I never wavered. I never gave up. 

Here are some of the biggest milestones of my career following Donaukurier:

The internet has been incredibly kind to me after the story came out yesterday. I received supportive and introspective messages from all over the world - Africa, Australia, the U.S., the U.K., my home countries Germany and Austria, and more. I am flattered, thrilled, and excited — people of all ages, genders, religious faiths, etc., reached out to compliment my courage to “wear my heart on my sleeve,” as my friend Kathleen put it.

And I love starting conversations.

But what the internet doesn't see is all the invisible work that went into it. The 10 months I spent pitching into what I'd call "black holes" (aka editors' email inboxes) between March 2023 and January 2024, until I got The Guardian. 

What the internet doesn't see is the years-long dedication, grit, anxiety, self-doubt, whining to anyone who would listen, the falling and getting back up, over and over and over again. 

And I wanted to give up. Many times. There were times when I would google flights to Europe every two weeks because I was so exhausted from trying to live in America — a country that makes immigration as-hard-as-can-be and also isn’t a stranger to daily mass shootings; misogyny; bills and laws against women and/or their bodies, LGBTQ+, and other groups; a government in peril, etc.

But giving up was never an option. It would have meant that I’d not only give up on myself — but also on my true love: journalism.

It won't get any easier from here. I am still pitching day and night, jotting down ideas while waiting for the subway or calling sources to pre-report for a pitch that will likely never land. I still attend events hoping that an editor will want my scene reporting, and I still get up every morning telling myself:

You're a journalist. You can do this. You will keep persevering. 

To the internet, this is one story. To me, this is the result of 14 years of love. And yes, I am crying. But this time, they're tears of joy. 

I am a health and wellness writer now, according to The Guardian. I’ve been one for seven years, but it’s nice to see it corroborated by an outlet I’ve dreamed of being featured in for as long as I can remember.

I quit sex. But I will never quit journalism.

I will keep swimming, as Andrea Lehky put it (quoting Dori from Finding Nemo lol).

I will soon tell you the aftermath of this single (pun intended) story which was bigger than I could have imagined. What makes me happiest is that it truly seems to have helped people. This is why I became a journalist.

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