Stationary Desk, Modular Life
An exploration of career memories held via your work desk.
Erin Brady
I was 18 when I realized I wanted to be a writer. I have always had an interest in popular culture but loved the allure of being able to write whatever I wanted, which was enticing to me, freeing even.
At the start, I had an old desk, definitely not suitable to work at, but it made do until I caved years (and tons of commissions) later, getting myself a new one. It’s my first real, grown-up desk setup.
It’s the perfect mesh of all the places I’ve been and the things that I love.
The desk was from the Office Depot down the street from my childhood home. The monitor stands were from Amazon via some company I can’t recall. And the various notebooks and knick-knacks were things I collected from my time as an entertainment journalist. They’re reminders of when I could talk about film and TV and make a living off my work.
Perhaps my favorite thing to do was go to film festivals. I attended major ones virtually, such as Sundance, but I also got the chance to attend TIFF and SXSW in person. To my right, I have my lanyards and press passes hung up for display as a keepsake. A reminder that I did it once, and I can do it again.
The same goes for a couple of festival seat tags that I managed to snag. Nobody specified that I couldn’t, right?
In my defense, the tags and the rest of the things I’ve hung on my wall over the years make me think about the friends and colleagues I’ve been able to connect with over the years. Finding fellow film lovers to talk to helped me realize what a community can be. It helped me realize that I can actually be the critic I have always wanted to become, and I would find support for those dreams. These little mementos serve as both reminders and affirmations to me—
“You have been able to achieve your dreams, and here is the proof.”
But then, things changed.
The industry shifted, and I found myself writing for other industries. Fewer people seemingly wanted to read thoughtful entertainment criticism, but there was a far larger audience for basic SEO how-to guides. Unfortunately, it wasn't just on one website. Several other outlets either didn't have the budget they used to have or were dealing with constant management changes.
Every pitch I sent came with another rejection and excuse, almost all of them saying they thought I had great ideas but that they couldn't host them. I began to realize a horrible truth — rejections sent due to unforeseen circumstances are far more debilitating than those sent because of bad ideas. The failure was not because of myself or lack of skill but because of the industry— maybe that's even harder to accept.
Around this time, the candle I usually lit on my desk accidentally got tipped over. I was able to pick it back up before too much wax spilled onto the monitor stands, but there was still a little bit stuck. I can’t wipe it off.
There are a few reasons why I haven't given up on my criticism career, despite the volatile industry and lack of prospects. I love doing it, and I have proven myself in the field. I believe in a better future where we talk about great pieces of art without the interference of AI.
Another reason why I can't give up is because I want to keep making my desk my safe space, adding to it. So many people associate their desks with the boring, dull, and exploitative 9-to-5s they must endure, but I associate mine with creative freedom and passion. It's clear with every single element of my desk, from the slightly pixelated posters to the random postcards and stickers sent to me in packages. My desk is a part of me that I cannot give up on, even if we're both stationary in a way I'm currently unfamiliar with.
Erin M. Brady is a cultural and entertainment critic reluctantly based in Florida. Her work has been published in Vulture, Little White Lies, Blood Knife, and other online publications. She also serves as the assistant editor of Disappointment Media and can often be found with her dog Wes. You can reach her on website, Twitter and Instagram.
