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I am not particularly nostalgic. However, the recent news that
The Village Voice would cease print publication, and the
Voice reunion that coincidentally came on the heels of that announcement, have me musing about the path my career has taken. In the mid-90s, I pestered my way into an internship at the
Voice. While there, I saw the paper’s trim size shrink and its cover price evaporate. The reasons for the shift to an all-digital format may not be surprising, but watching the 62-year-old
Voice lose yet another part of its journalistic self feels permanent and unsettling.
To say that my time interning at — and eventually freelancing for — the paper was formative for me as a writer falls flat. To say it made me who I am today “for better or worse” is a Velveeta-laden overstatement...