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Note: I am aware that this looks God awful in IE. Do yourself a favor and get you some Firefox before you get lost in the big scary world out there.
Tuesday, October 16th, 2007
There's no world for tomorrow if we wait for today
I've got four big midterms coming up, but sometimes I get in these research modes. Searches for apartments I don't need, design items for the house I don't own, jobs I won't have for two years, schools abroad I can't decide between and won't be able to decide between until I see an adviser but I don't have time to see an adviser so I just kind of keep going over the same information, make-up that's too expensive but I bookmark anyway. My roommate can attest to these things where I just sit down and put off all my more pressing work (three books by Friday! start reading please!) and devote all my attention to some aspect of my future. Today, and most often, it's the prospect of being poor.
As stupid as it sounds, I liked that Kathy Behan said today, "I have some bad news. You're all going to be poor." Because there, stop telling me otherwise, this is not an irrational fear, it happens to most people in the writerly world. She spoke to a small group of us at the Career Center about her experience as a copywriter, freelancer, and now editor. Right off the bat she informed us that the average salary of a freelance writer is $11,000. IIIIII think I make that in tips at my café. She also said that New York City is publishing mecca. IIIIII'm pretty sure I hate New York and will never ever live there. She said that you have got to get it out of your head that just because you graduated from a top school does not mean you will go to the top positions right away, that you have to be willing to be subservient and do really menial things, and the self-righteous part of me doesn't have time for that, but the other part that has seen me work my magic on countless adults figures that I might actually make my mark a little faster.
When we went around the table, I avoided the whole "I'm an English major and want to go into publishing" route, because everyone who said that got a nod. I said, "I'm also English, and I've always wanted to work at a publishing house, but more as an editor than a writer."
"Really? Why is that?"
"I just like grammar more. I worked for my school newspaper and I much preferred going over other people's work and polishing it than sitting down and plugging away at something."
"That's great. You will be invaluable. Writers are a dime a dozen, but it's astounding how few know where to put a comma. If you've got that skill, you're good."
"I also did an internship over the summer in marketing," I added. "And it got me looking more at the web design aspect of all of this, and I was wondering if that was--"
"Oh, absolutely. So many publications are moving onto the Internet for various reasons. You have two very good skills to work with. They are really needed."
I think I've always kind of known this. In my whole pursuit of web designing, I kind of knew (with the help and prodding of my boss Kim) that this would be a really good thing to have. "You think that this stuff you do for me is simple," she tells me every time, "and for you it is. But you have no idea what kind of market there is for people like you. You know how to communicate with people, Molly. You know how to explain to me what you're doing so I get it. And you make beautiful things. People like me really need you."
The desire to be needed is an entire other avenue that I should investigate one of these days, but for the time being, I'm too wrapped up in my future and the hope that I will be happy with my job and be able to live comfortably. Pat and I always talk about money, because it's a precarious issue to bring up in our house, and we've both decided that we will be okay when we don't have to worry about making extraneous purchases now and then. Fortunately for him, he's going to be a billionaire with his profession, where as I am possibly dooming myself to Starving Artist, the title I've always wanted to avoid. So I've come away from this talk a little less terrified of growing up than I thought I would be despite the salary figures and Devil Wears Prada horror stories ("That movie is 100% true") she threw out, because I learned that my inclinations have always been on the right track. The editing, the designing, they could get me somewhere.
The only issue I face now is that she recommended that everyone have a portfolio of published clippings. Aside from my enlightening article in tenth grade on a writing program at Emerson College (one that the stupid editors cut off with their stupid program and then Crosby blamed it on me and we got into a big fight for like a year!), I've got nothing. And now, clearly, something has to be done. I'm terrified of being published--I dish out criticism very well but Lord do I hate taking it. But what else am I going to do? Walk into offices and say, "I can write. Trust me"? (The same way I did when I tried out for a comedy troupe last year, couldn't think of a joke to tell, and said, "I don't understand, I thought I was already blowing you away with how funny I am?" which gained an appreciative chuckle at best and no callback?) I've had a very smooth year, and I'm afraid to disturb the waters, but I need to. I need to go to newspaper meetings, literary journal meetings, I need to DO something. I've been writing writing writing, and I've rewritten over one hundred pages for a novel I've worked on for years, but I can't just go into a place and say, "It exists, but you can't see it because I'm too shy to share." Things don't work that way, and I know that they don't work that way.
The best way to deal with my anxiety over this is to think whoa, there is so much cool stationary I could use for a really nice portfolio. Out with the bad.