Jessica Farthing, GA

Senior Writer

Jessica has always been a good listener, and interested in the stories around her that make up the framework of people’s lives. As a journalist, she’s found that her friendly and approachable nature keep people at ease, even during an interview. An accomplished magazine writer, Jessica has worked with Omni Escapes, Microsoft News, Eat This, Not That and New Mobility Magazine, among other brands. In the business world, she’s developed creative marketing concepts for healthcare, real estate and hospitality. Jessica is happy to use her skills and experience to bring your personal family history, business acumen or inspirational experience to life through the written word.

As a Story Terrace writer, Jessica interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know her better by reading her autobiographical anecdote below.

Everybody Sing

That evening, the entire camp assembled in the chapel. Christmas in July was a solemn ceremony signaling the end of our session. Each of the girls would travel the next day, resuming their everyday lives and rejoining their homes. The chapel was beautiful with what seemed like hundreds of white candles lit in rows, sparkling against the view of the lake. Melissa and I separated from the group, walking on the stage and dropping down into the shadows behind the piano. The head counselor spoke seriously about the real meaning of Christmas, of kindness and charity and religious values. It sounded to me much like the teacher does in a cartoon, an unintelligible, ‘wah wah, wah wah”. She launched into her closing comments, the signal for us to move to the microphone. The piano player gave us a thumbs us and I woodenly walked to my mark. Melissa smiled and tried to catch my eye, but I was clinching my hands to keep them from shaking. A stream of sweat was making its way down my back and I heard the words I had been dreading, “And now, Melissa and Jessica will share with us their rendition of ‘The First Noel’.”

The piano player began to play, fingers moving through the introduction way too quickly. I licked my lips, ready to sing, heart beating wildly. She came to the crashing chords that signaled the first verse and I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Gamely, she backed up and started the intro again, giving me a chance to regain my composure. This time was the same, even though I tried to force the words. I was breathing, maybe, but no sounds erupted. I looked out at the crowd first and then turned to Melissa. She looked shocked. I couldn’t abandon her to the mercy of the audience. The silence stretched out and I summoned all of my courage. Gazing to the upturned faces, I grasped the microphone between my sweaty palms and shouted, “EVERYBODY SING!” waving my hands as a conductor does at the symphony. The surprised piano player began in earnest, eager to grab a chance at salvaging the program. When I was decently sure that the audience followed my instruction, I jumped down the stage in the back and ran as fast as I could out the door.

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