I met Timothy Egan, and he made me feel really, really good about my career choice.

Yesterday I met someone who is basically who I want to be in 30 years. 

Yesterday, award-winning author and New York Times columnist Timothy Egan was in town to give the annual Beall-Russell Lecture. A journalism major, I was part of a select group of students invited to attend a Master Class and a question-and-answer lunch with Mr. Egan prior to his big event. I had to skip my history to do it, and while I feel bad, this was the kind of opportunity I wouldn't miss. I can study ancient Chinese history on my own time, but how many opportunities will I have to grill a respected professional in my field? Sometimes you have to say no to the routine or expected when opportunity knocks. 

The other students included history majors and creative writing majors. We met in an elegantly furnished room in the Student Union Building, where Egan delivered a brief introduction and opened the floor to questions. He gave good advice: find your (literary) voice, write dynamically, be curious and read the good writing of others to get inspired. He also told us to do our own leg work. Aside: At first, this suggestion floored me. Legwork is the best part of the job. If you don't like it, do something else.

He was so excited about journalism, even after all this time. It was really refreshing to see. Most of the people I meet here are people who worked in the industry and left it — my professors are former professionals-turned-academics. And then there's Dad, who also left journalism to pursue a different career. I've only met one person during my time at Baylor who continues to work as a reporter. 

And he looks pretty stressed out most of the time. 

Common complaints include the frequent travel, unpredictable hours and constant deadline pressure, not to mention the emotional toll of tough stories. I've heard of wrecked marriages and even PTSD. And I remember my own childhood, where, okay, I got to do some really cool stuff because of Dad's job, but I also spent a lot of nights waiting up for him while he worked late. Sometimes I even worried he wouldn't come home. That's a story for another day. 

But Egan appeared happy, thriving, even. I asked him about something that's been weighing on me lately: is it possible to pursue life as a journalist and still have meaningful relationships? Yes, he told me, even though it might be difficult sometimes. Egan confessed to devising schemes to get home to his family. 

But it doesn't have to be easy — it just has to be possible. It was my one reservation about this career field. Would pursuing my passion — and trying to achieve success in my field — mean I didn't have room for anything else in my life? 

Apparently not, if Egan is a reliable yardstick. 

Mr. Egan, if you're reading this, thank you for graciously letting me bother you with a million questions and answering them honestly. (You know, except for that question about the worst book you've ever read. Don't think I didn't notice your strategically diplomatic answer.) You were both courteous and helpful. And inspiring. I left feeling uplifted and entirely satisfied with my career choice, and I really enjoyed your advice about writing. I'll be taking your suggestion about Wild.