Fans.

Just normal fans with blades. Not even the kind that mists you as they blow.

Regular fans are what drew me to journalism.

As a summer intern after my freshman year of college at the last newspaper with which my name was affiliated, I was writing and had not yet taken one single journalism writing class.

I called the paper’s publisher and said I would work for free if I could gain some type of experience.

Offering my inept services worked. I’m sure not having to pay me had something to do with it, but I cannot stress how little schooling and even less experience I had at that point.

I’m still not sure why they agreed to take me on as a project. But they did. And I learned more that summer than I possibly did in any single journalism class I took in college.

People aren’t lying when they stress the importance of internships, recent high school graduates.

One of my first writing assignments for the paper was a simple 250-word piece on a local councilwoman who was collecting fans for the elderly in the community who did not have air conditioning and therefore had no respite from the summer heat.

It was a 15-minute interview tops.

It took me an unnecessarily long amount of time to write because I had no idea what I was doing, but still did not take that much time.

Every time I submitted an article to the editor to review, I was terrified.

I was terrified of making some grievous error, which is still true today though I’ve gotten better at accepting there are only so many hours in the day and I’m going to make mistakes along the way.

So when I was told that someone was on the phone for me the day after my fan article ran, I automatically assumed I had made a mistake and was prepared to apologize profusely to whomever was on the line.

I answered the phone, and it was the councilwoman.

“Well this is it,” I thought. “Here’s the mistake I’ve been dreading.”

Instead, she thanked me, saying they had received a record number of fans because of the article, which I took credit for even though the idea for the piece was not mine.

After I breathed a sigh of relief, I realized it was the first time that through writing, I had made a difference in locals’ lives.

It was a simple thing. One story. 15 minutes.

But I had made a difference. And I was hooked.

Of course not every story makes that much of an impact.

Some may not have any measurable impact.

But every month or so there’s what I call “a fan story.” And those are my favorite articles to write.

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Sarah Mahan is a staff writer at The Vicksburg Post.