By Darius
If someone went back ten years and asked me whether I would become a journalist, I probably would have said no. It wasn't because I disliked the profession, but rather because I couldn't imagine myself adopting that kind of "extremely proactive" communication style.
Since childhood, I've always been the type to assess the situation before speaking. Though I have a natural talent for conversation, whenever someone more talkative was present, I would often hold back and become silent. And when starting a conversation with a stranger, my fear of the unknown would, to some extent, make me hesitate—I'd take a moment to envision how the dialogue might unfold before deciding to speak.
If I were working in a field that required secrecy, this might have been an advantage. But for a journalist, whose job demands seizing every opportunity to initiate conversations and uncover information, it sometimes limits me. Chances of interview are fleeting, gone in the span of a breath—just a moment's hesitation could mean missing them entirely. Because of this, I once doubted whether I was truly suited for this role, wondering if I might be better off staying in the office, analyzing events from afar rather than going out to conduct interviews.
What truly changed me was covering the Two Sessions (China's annual political meetings) last year. While reporting on-site in Beijing, I witnessed firsthand how veteran journalists managed to "snatch" their desired interviewees from the crowd, how they steered conversations toward the right topics, and even how they persistently pursued those reluctant to speak. Gradually, I realized that talking to them wasn't as difficult as I had imagined.
This time, I traveled to the Greater Bay Area (GBA) to interview foreign consuls and chamber of commerce leaders alongside my mainland colleagues. Now, I was the one who could swiftly identify opportunities and engage with different people. A year had been enough to break free from my old constraints, and I came to understand that sometimes, we shouldn't set limits for ourselves.
In the early morning light at the Shenzhen Bay Port, watching the flow of people, it suddenly struck me that the essence of communication was never about a contest of skills, but about creating resonance.
Now, when facing interviewees, I no longer feel as anxious as before. Perhaps I should thank my former hesitant self—it was that very nature that taught me when to speak and when to listen. I no longer fear others' gazes; I've learned to meet my interviewees' eyes, offer a smile, and let them speak their minds.
If I could meet my ten-year-younger self again, I'd tell that nervous child: What you thought was a weakness is actually your most precious quality as a journalist. True communication begins with restraint and thrives on empathy; true insight begins with hesitation and flourishes through relentless pursuit.
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