The future was annoyingly bright for me as a young aspiring journalist. No need to be some schlub and go work for a traditional newspaper. Online startup publications were everywhere.

Call it a “dream,” a “passion,” an “ego trip”—journalism was the religion I bowed down to and, in the summer of 2007, now was the time to worship my savior through action. I was going to be noisy and persistent and irritating, a rash that worsens the more you scratch it . . .