We all know that the publishing industry is an incredibly difficult industry to get into. There is a sense of desperation in the competition to "win" jobs that I think it's too easy for writers to eagerly jump at any opportunity presented to them without thinking it through clearly and accurately judging whether or not it's best for them. We hear so many "no"s in this business that once we finally hear a "yes," nothing else matters. And then, once we realize our mistake too late, being the one to say "no" is even more difficult. Why, in this industry, in this economy, would someone ever quit?
Well, today, I decided to quit my internship. I've been deeply cynical about internships for the past year now, and I swore I'd never intern again - especially post-graduation, but a little over a month ago, I started another one. I'm a little ashamed to say that I fell for the trap. I really hate how entering the magazine industry has become based on the question "Well, how much are you willing to sacrifice to get in?" Having one internship as an unsaid prerequisite is perfectly understandable, but the expectations have risen drastically in the past few years. Now, if you haven't been willing to work for free for years, then clearly you aren't dedicated enough to get a job. But even though you've been working for free all these years, you still don't have enough experience to deserve to be paid. The system is (and excuse my language) royally fucked up.
I had the standard internship during the summer before my senior year of college. It was at one of my favorite magazines, and I was very excited. But that internship made me completely miserable. Even though they were a small-staffed, extremely busy magazine, they didn't trust interns with anything. I spent most of the summer sitting at a table surfing the internet, bored out of mind and completely wasting my time. I can honestly say that I didn't learn a single thing there that I hadn't already in class. I left with three clips, but the experience led to nothing else. The couple of interviews I've had didn't even notice it on my resume, and had called me in based on my other experience, and all of my attempts at communication with them after the fact went completely ignored.
The experience left me cold, but after I graduated and started to meet more and more people my age in my same situation, the situation looked grim. These kids would have two, three, four, five internships on their resumes with big name magazines, or would have graduated two or three years ago and were still interning, or both. Yet they weren't getting hired, or even interviewed. If they weren't getting jobs, then what could I possibly expect with my one measly internship at an indie mag?
Reluctantly, I started considering internships again. I wasn't going to jump at any ol' internship listed on Craigslist, but a lot of them require college credit (including all of Conde Nast), so my options were limited. I only applied for one, and I ended up getting it. It was for a magazine that was well-known enough to be impressive on my resume, but accessible enough to have far more potential of being hired afterwards than fancier titles. It sounded like I'd be getting to do a lot more interesting stuff and be gaining skills I could actually use that I couldn't just as easily learn as a receptionist. I managed to sell the idea to myself pretty easily. Again, how could I say no?
By the end of the first day, I was calling my dad and best friend in tears saying I wanted to quit. It was horrible. The work was tedious, but the stress level was alarmingly high. We all tried calming myself down, chalking it up to first-day blues. It didn't get better. The more I said aloud about what the internship was actually like, the more I realized that it was straight up abusive. We worked 9-10 hour days without a break. We couldn't even have a lunch break, we had to eat at our desks as we worked. We couldn't leave the office, even to pick up lunch (it had to be delivered) or to do extra work for them that we had been assigned (because that was "a privilege and should be done on our own time"). We would get scolded for daring to try and leave when the normal 8 hour mark hit, even if we needed to go to do work we would actually be paid for. We were completely unappreciated in a different way than at my first internship. Whereas they thought we were incompetent and unfit to do anything except monkey work, this time they didn't seem to realize how much we truly held up the department. Even their attempt at a "thank you" for helping them get through the department's biggest issue of the year was tied in with asking us to get our friends to click through the website so that they would get paid more.
My spirits lifted slightly when I started getting assigned little articles. I even got sent to cover a fashion show during Fashion Week, which was definitely the highlight of the experience, and I am of course thankful for that. I figured that this was a sign of appreciation and respect, that they must've looked through my clips I had given with my application and decided I was the best writer for the job. Then, my cynical/realistic side kicked in and I realized that their motivation was simply because if they gave it to me, then they wouldn't have to pay for it. It would just be written off as a perk of the internship. This practice is what infuriates me the most about internships. If you're paying someone else to do the exact same work, then you should pay me, even if I am "just an intern." Plain and simple.
There was never a moment when I didn't wish I could quit, but I wasn't given an excuse to consider it more seriously until this week. I picked up another gig at a new magazine. It's a risk, and it won't get me rolling in dough (at least not at the beginning), but I wanted to be able to dedicate more time (and better time) to the magazine that was actually paying me. I realized that the internship was costing me a lot more than it was benefiting me. The clips were nice, but they'll be immediately replaced with this new gig. The main reason I had considered it was the possibility of getting hired afterward, but I was discovering that this possibility was still slim to none. Not only was I not getting enough out of the internship itself, but they were demanding so much time that I was actually missing a ton of opportunities that would -gasp- pay me for my efforts.
What was stopping me most was guilt. I don't like to quit, and I don't like to disappoint people or leave them on the hook. But I can't begin to describe how liberating it was to come to terms with the fact that I didn't owe them anything. I owed them even less than a paying employer. There was an expected amount of time that I was assumed to be staying, but nothing that said I actually had to. I got what I needed from them, the experience, the clips, the spot on my resume, and now it's time for me to move on. I am nervous about breaking those ties for connections and networking, but I'm not even sure how fruitful they would be anyway.
A positive aspect of my position is that I'm free to follow up on any leads that could be beneficial with little to no risk. Even the shortest of experience is not a waste. Knowing when to cut your losses is a large part of playing the game. My friend said it best in his pep-talk of a letter, "People too easily accept their situations for what they are, and there is tremendous value in having the audacity to keep rejecting what's in front of you for the chance at something better."
And if none of that convinces you, here's what really did it for me, which shows how very professional I am. If you're hesitant because of guilt, remember the time when your full time job called you as soon as you got home on a Wednesday to fire you one and a half weeks in. Remember when you went to work only to discover that you were being fired or laid off and you had to turn right around and go home again. Remember when you were told you couldn't work "for a few days" because of a mistake on their part, and then months later you were practically begging them to fix it so you could start working again and then were only given one day a week with the worst shift. Remember how none of them gave a crap about you, so why should you now give a crap about them?
Feels a bit easier now, doesn't it?
Friday, September 17, 2010
Becoming A Businesswoman
The most surprising outcome of my path to becoming a writer has been the discovery that I am not only interested in business, but am actually a fairly competent businesswoman.My whole life I was confident in my ability in the creative aspects of the industry, but I always assumed I'd leave the bidness to someone more, say, mathematically inclined. But as I learned more about the publishing industry, I realized that I could handle the business side of things, and I even enjoyed them. And thank god, too, because you have to in order to succeed.
The truth is, if you want to be a writer, you have to be your own boss and establish yourself as a business. You have to think like a manager, marketer, accountant, PR executive and salesperson all at the same time. You're the brand and the product, and you're constantly selling yourself day in and day out. When you're self-employed, it's easy to think you're desperately searching for more and more employers, but in reality the opposite is true. You're the boss. One of the biggest steps you can take is transitioning to the mindset of thinking as editors, magazines, and websites as clients, not bosses. It's amazing how that transfer of power will help.
This life is a constant hustle. Until I find the illusive full time job with benefits, I simply can't rest because I'm constantly working. The job hunt is work, analyzing opportunities is work, coming to terms with what's working for me and what isn't is work. It's all too easy to get worn down and burnt out. But a business woman doesn't give up and let her company fail just because it's getting a bit difficult, and neither will I. Even when I'm curled up in the fetal position in bed, crying because I want to give up, I'm still slogging through the want ads online.
Knowing how to manage myself as a one-person company is one of the most valuable skills I'm developing as a writer. It's taking me a lot longer to be comfortable with saying "I'm an entrepreneur" than it did to say "I'm a writer," but it is, in fact, true. Now, I just need to own it. Then just think of how easily that'll translate to an editor position.
The truth is, if you want to be a writer, you have to be your own boss and establish yourself as a business. You have to think like a manager, marketer, accountant, PR executive and salesperson all at the same time. You're the brand and the product, and you're constantly selling yourself day in and day out. When you're self-employed, it's easy to think you're desperately searching for more and more employers, but in reality the opposite is true. You're the boss. One of the biggest steps you can take is transitioning to the mindset of thinking as editors, magazines, and websites as clients, not bosses. It's amazing how that transfer of power will help.
This life is a constant hustle. Until I find the illusive full time job with benefits, I simply can't rest because I'm constantly working. The job hunt is work, analyzing opportunities is work, coming to terms with what's working for me and what isn't is work. It's all too easy to get worn down and burnt out. But a business woman doesn't give up and let her company fail just because it's getting a bit difficult, and neither will I. Even when I'm curled up in the fetal position in bed, crying because I want to give up, I'm still slogging through the want ads online.
Knowing how to manage myself as a one-person company is one of the most valuable skills I'm developing as a writer. It's taking me a lot longer to be comfortable with saying "I'm an entrepreneur" than it did to say "I'm a writer," but it is, in fact, true. Now, I just need to own it. Then just think of how easily that'll translate to an editor position.
Learning to Recognize an Opportunity
I've come to discover in this business that it's all about the culmination of little victories. It's rarely the case when you face a situation and think "Aha! I have now succeeded!" I've lost track of the times where I haven't even realized I've been given an opportunity until a few hours, or even days later. Sometimes, they're not so easy to recognize.
This week's example comes from a job-searching saga. I am still on the constant hunt to either add more and more freelance work to my plate or get a damn job already. A few weeks ago, when I came back from my Labor Day trip, I had a mini breakdown. It was one of those existential crises that I face every few weeks or so, where I question what the hell I'm doing with my life. I decided that I was going to try casting a wider net.
That night, I started looking for book publishing jobs and marketing jobs. (There might be something coming my way with marketing, actually, but since I'm superstitious, I don't want to jinx it by discussing it too much here prematurely.) I applied for an editorial assistant position at and independent literary agency, and mere minutes later, I got a response asking if I could interview later that week.
It was a phone interview at first. She would then pick a few candidates to come in for an in-person interview and go from there. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt as the interview was taking place that it was going really well. She compared me to Joyce Maynard and called me "a prolific writer." That had to be a good sign, right? Well, that weekend I got the worst kind of rejection.
She said that I was "tremendously impressive," and a "terrific writer," and that I was her top choice of the applicants, but she ended up hiring a former colleague who was looking for work and had more related experience. I was deeply upset. Hearing "You would've gotten it, but - " is never fun, and I bemoaned the fact, once again, that connections are everything.
I didn't even see the part at the end of the email where she offered me an informational interview. Once I finally read it, I didn't see the point. I agreed half-heartedly, mostly with the purpose of networking in mind. But then, slowly but surely, I began to understand that this was actually a great opportunity. A literary agent who I already know thinks I'm a great writer is taking time out of her busy day to buy me a coffee and sit down to talk.
For years, the idea of being an author has mostly been a pipe-dream. Of course, that's what I've always wanted to do, but I knew how difficult it was and so I turned towards becoming a magazine writer (because that's so easy) as a more realistic way of writing for a living. But now, all of a sudden, a meeting with an agent has fallen into my lap, an opportunity that my more literary friends would kill for. I'm not saying I'm expecting to come out of this meeting with an agent, nor am I expecting that even if I magically walked away with an agent that I would be published, but you know what? That's a possibility. And it's all because I didn't get a job I wanted.
One door closes...
This week's example comes from a job-searching saga. I am still on the constant hunt to either add more and more freelance work to my plate or get a damn job already. A few weeks ago, when I came back from my Labor Day trip, I had a mini breakdown. It was one of those existential crises that I face every few weeks or so, where I question what the hell I'm doing with my life. I decided that I was going to try casting a wider net.
That night, I started looking for book publishing jobs and marketing jobs. (There might be something coming my way with marketing, actually, but since I'm superstitious, I don't want to jinx it by discussing it too much here prematurely.) I applied for an editorial assistant position at and independent literary agency, and mere minutes later, I got a response asking if I could interview later that week.
It was a phone interview at first. She would then pick a few candidates to come in for an in-person interview and go from there. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt as the interview was taking place that it was going really well. She compared me to Joyce Maynard and called me "a prolific writer." That had to be a good sign, right? Well, that weekend I got the worst kind of rejection.
She said that I was "tremendously impressive," and a "terrific writer," and that I was her top choice of the applicants, but she ended up hiring a former colleague who was looking for work and had more related experience. I was deeply upset. Hearing "You would've gotten it, but - " is never fun, and I bemoaned the fact, once again, that connections are everything.
I didn't even see the part at the end of the email where she offered me an informational interview. Once I finally read it, I didn't see the point. I agreed half-heartedly, mostly with the purpose of networking in mind. But then, slowly but surely, I began to understand that this was actually a great opportunity. A literary agent who I already know thinks I'm a great writer is taking time out of her busy day to buy me a coffee and sit down to talk.
For years, the idea of being an author has mostly been a pipe-dream. Of course, that's what I've always wanted to do, but I knew how difficult it was and so I turned towards becoming a magazine writer (because that's so easy) as a more realistic way of writing for a living. But now, all of a sudden, a meeting with an agent has fallen into my lap, an opportunity that my more literary friends would kill for. I'm not saying I'm expecting to come out of this meeting with an agent, nor am I expecting that even if I magically walked away with an agent that I would be published, but you know what? That's a possibility. And it's all because I didn't get a job I wanted.
One door closes...
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Finding the Day Job
During the entire day of my last shift of my last part-time job in college, all I could think was "I'll never have to work a shitty part-time job again." I was brimming with confidence, and as graduation approached I truly believed it. I had already been offered the job at the iPhone app, which promised me as many hours as I liked, and I was optimistic that at any moment now I'd be offered an entry-level position at a magazine.
I haven't exactly had the greatest luck when it comes to part-time jobs. I've been fired, laid off, shut out from returning to an old job and was once simply not put on the schedule ever again without notification or explanation. (This last one, I'm pretty sure, was my inept manager not wanting to admit she had been wrong in hiring another person when her business wasn't doing well enough to really warrant one instead of any reflection on my performance.) I've had bosses that I hated, feared and completely disrespected. I had never been paid more than $9.50 an hour. Needless to say, I was filled with excitement at the prospect of never having to deal with that shit again.
And now, I'm applying to part-time jobs again. The thing is, as a freelancer, nothing is ever guaranteed. That iPhone app I trusted to pay my rent? There was a bureaucratic snafu that disabled me from working for over a month, which they didn't bother to fix since it meant one less person on the payroll. After pushing them for the last time, I was back on. But the successful rush they were enjoying in the beginning has now dwindled. Half of the staff is now gone and the hours are extremely low. I'm now only being scheduled for six hours a week during the crappiest shifts (which, at a 24/7 iPhone app can translate to working from midnight to 6am). That's a measly $90 a week.
I've had other smaller success since moving to Brooklyn. But, those are now in the past. I've already described the trouble with On Demand. I was also hired as a writer for a website, but after a week of assignments, I suddenly stopped hearing from them. (I've also yet to receive a check for those handful of posts at a whopping $12 a pop.) I've received enthusiastic responses to my resume that was sent in inquiring about a job, only to be offered an (unpaid) internship instead: "We love you! You're amazing! How about you come work for us? The only this is, though, we don't feel like paying you." I've interviewed for a paid internship, but wasn't chosen (I think they could tell I didn't really want to work there). I've pitched articles and had them turned down because they were too similar to ones that were already run, or because they aren't quite exactly what they're looking for. And all this isn't even touching on the hundreds of applications I've sent in without any response whatsoever.
My saving grace is that I live in an "up and coming" neighborhood of Brooklyn, so my cost of living is pretty damn low and easily attainable. That being said, I ain't making it on $90 a week. And so, I've started the humiliating task of finding another crappy part-time job. The worst part is that the competition for these jobs in New York is almost as high as for impressive jobs. You have to have years of NYC-specific experience, certification, and be moonlighting as a model to be considered. After spending the past few months fighting and promoting myself for much more worthy jobs, it's embarrassing to be writing such passionate and desperate cover letters for cashier and counter-person positions. This is especially true since, with my aforementioned history with this kind of thing, I'm using my professional writing skills to seriously spin my experience.
I can't help but feel a little bit like a failure. I was so proud of myself for making it this far as a writer alone. Even if I was struggling and afraid, I was doing so with pride in the profession of my dreams. I so wanted to be that person that "made it," without ever having to revert to waiting tables. But, it's a rough world out there, particularly for the print industry. I know that, without the exception of a very lucky few, this is the reality for everyone. I know that there are hundreds of people in this city who are living their lives just like I am, pushing papers while they live out their real lives in the evenings and on the weekends. I won't even be completely selling out, since my internship is starting next week. I have two interviews in the next couple of days, and one is even a little exciting even if it's not completely according to plan. So, we'll see how it goes.
Monday, August 9, 2010
The Siren Song of PJs
One of the challenges a person takes on when they work from home is resisting the urge to spend the whole day in their pajamas. What's the point if no one is going to see you, right?
Wrong! It doesn't matter. If you want to stay a sane person fit for society, do yourself a favor and get dressed. It doesn't have to be a cute, perfectly put-together outfit. As long as it's something other than what you slept in, then you're good to go.
If you fall into the trap of wearing your pajamas day in and day out, you'll start to feel like less and less of a functioning person. It'll affect your whole demeanor and likely take a toll on your quality of work and you determination to work in the first place. Just like with creating a workspace, it's all about the frame of mind when you're working from home.
Not only will it affect your work, but it'll also carry over to your normal life. I read a great quote in one of the September issues the other day that said "Style is like a muscle. If you don't continue to exercise it, then you'll lose its power." Sooner or later you'll be faced with some social situation and not have a clue as to how to dress for it.
Don't let that happen to you!
Wrong! It doesn't matter. If you want to stay a sane person fit for society, do yourself a favor and get dressed. It doesn't have to be a cute, perfectly put-together outfit. As long as it's something other than what you slept in, then you're good to go.
If you fall into the trap of wearing your pajamas day in and day out, you'll start to feel like less and less of a functioning person. It'll affect your whole demeanor and likely take a toll on your quality of work and you determination to work in the first place. Just like with creating a workspace, it's all about the frame of mind when you're working from home.
Not only will it affect your work, but it'll also carry over to your normal life. I read a great quote in one of the September issues the other day that said "Style is like a muscle. If you don't continue to exercise it, then you'll lose its power." Sooner or later you'll be faced with some social situation and not have a clue as to how to dress for it.
Don't let that happen to you!
Creating a Workspace
Before a few months ago, I hadn't used a desk since I had dial-up and had to be tethered to the wall in order to go online. Even when one was provided for me in dorm rooms, I always preferred to sit on my bed. I didn't have one in my room at all in my apartment for the last year of school. But when I knew I'd be moving to the city, something didn't sit right with me about the idea of a professional writer conducting her business from her bed. So, I bought a desk. And I vowed to actually use it.
My rule was going to be that whenever I was writing for work that I would sit at the desk. This rule has already been broken a handful of times, but usually I'm good and actually follow through. (Like now, for example. I knew it would be far too silly to write about the importance of writing at a desk curled up under my blankets.) The key is to make your workspace enticing. Create an area that's comfortable, inspiring, pleasing to the eye. As in, make it a place you actually want to be and work in.
One of the toughest parts about working at home is battling cabin fever. As much as an everyday job can suck sometimes, at least it's a routine excuse to get out of the house and go somewhere different. We don't have that luxury. In fact, I'm assuming that most people don't even have a separate room to call their office. Instead, "going to work" means going off to that corner in the studio, living room, or bedroom. I'm about four feet away from my bed, and maybe one foot away from my dressing area. But, somehow, whenever I'm sitting at my desk I do feel that it is a separate entity in my room, and that I'm in a much different environment than when I'm on my bed. Most importantly, I like being here. I'm surrounded by things that I enjoy. It's probably the area that has the highest concentration of things that make me happy in my whole apartment (aside from my closet, that is). Here it is:
My rule was going to be that whenever I was writing for work that I would sit at the desk. This rule has already been broken a handful of times, but usually I'm good and actually follow through. (Like now, for example. I knew it would be far too silly to write about the importance of writing at a desk curled up under my blankets.) The key is to make your workspace enticing. Create an area that's comfortable, inspiring, pleasing to the eye. As in, make it a place you actually want to be and work in.
One of the toughest parts about working at home is battling cabin fever. As much as an everyday job can suck sometimes, at least it's a routine excuse to get out of the house and go somewhere different. We don't have that luxury. In fact, I'm assuming that most people don't even have a separate room to call their office. Instead, "going to work" means going off to that corner in the studio, living room, or bedroom. I'm about four feet away from my bed, and maybe one foot away from my dressing area. But, somehow, whenever I'm sitting at my desk I do feel that it is a separate entity in my room, and that I'm in a much different environment than when I'm on my bed. Most importantly, I like being here. I'm surrounded by things that I enjoy. It's probably the area that has the highest concentration of things that make me happy in my whole apartment (aside from my closet, that is). Here it is:
1. This is my clock. It is an hour behind. I never changed it from daylight savings time because I rarely use it to see the time. I have my computer/watch/phone to do that. It's there mainly for the aesthetic, and because I really like the sound of a clock ticking. Most people hate that sound, but I find it really soothing.
2. When I moved into my first apartment, I expressed the desire for "big girl art." This meant that it was framed, and it wasn't just a print or a poster. My best friend's mom got these for me for my birthday, and they eventually wound up in my hands right before I moved here. I like them because they make me feel sophisticated and adult. The ladies in the picture are very fashionable and glamorous, which is what I want to be. It reminds me of the lifestyle I want to have, and who I'm usually writing for.
3. This is my bookcase. I plan to paint it sometime soon because it's not very attractive. It has one of my awards in it to pump my ego, my trusty Totoro to watch over me, reference books, notebooks and the books I've enjoyed enough to purchase and tote around with me. It's often been helpful to stare off into space in their direction, which leads to me thinking about them, and then helps me direct my writing or think of an idea.
4. This is my snazzy to-do basket. There isn't much to say, but I figured it needed an explanation.
5. This is a wind-up brain that my dad gave me as a stocking stuffer. I keep it there because I think it's hilarious, and it's somehow extremely useful to wind it up and watch it walk around my desk as I'm thinking. I suggest everyone gets one.
6. These are my initials in antique printing press blocks. I've been on the hunt for these for a year, so when I finally found them at the Brooklyn Flea I was thrilled. I'm a fan of antique anything, but I'm especially obsessed with letterpress. I love the aesthetic and the values it has. I find it inspiring.
7. On a more technical note, a good printer is a must. This is a Canon MP160 and I've been very happy with it for years. It has a scanner and copier in it too, which I have made use of a hundred times. The scanner is particularly useful for freelance writers who tend to conduct business digitally. There will be plenty of times when you'll need to scan in your signature, or a copy of your ID for paperwork. It simply doesn't make sense to not get an all-in-one like this!
8. These are postcards of covers of amazing retro pulp fiction novels. They're ridiculously funny and, again, they come from a period that I find inspiring. In case you can't read them, their titles are Tender Hearted Harlot, Loves of a Girl Wrestler, and Fleshpots of Malibu.
9. All of the desk organizers I found in stores were awfully utilitarian, so I decided to make my own that were cheerier. I got three sheets of coordinating craft paper in fun patterns, and then simply used Modge Podge to paste them onto old jars of assorted sizes.
10. This is a squirtgun. There's a kitten in my apartment, and she likes to jump up on the shelf and bat at my earrings. This used to be effective until she started fighting back.
Not pictured, but oh so important: A memo pad. Definitely necessary.
If you make your workspace inviting, you'll be much more moved to actually sit down and get to business. It's all about the inspiration.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The Ego Cycle
One of my biggest handicaps for working in a creative field is that I don't quite have the ego for it. Let's face it, artists are narcissists. When I'm thinking logically (which isn't often), I'm pretty convinced that I'm a good writer, but remembering that beyond a few moments is tricky. I've noticed that it's always the same cycle whenever I embark on a new project.
While I'm planning it and just starting out I get extremely excited and optimistic. I'm fixated on the thought that this is The Idea, the thing that'll get me noticed and published and famous and rich. It's the best idea I've ever thought of! It's going to be great! Amazing! Spectacular! It'll get me on the cover of New York Magazine!
But then, as I start working on it (and therefore remembering that writing requires work) I get down on myself. I'll think, "who am I to think that I'm anyone worth writing? Who in their right minds would ever want to read this crap? This is awful! Why would anyone care about what I have to say?" This last question is particularly strong in my mind since I write memoir. I'm just some nobody, some young nobody. Who would want to read my writing outside of my friends and family?
If I get over this bump (and, sometimes, I don't) I'll truck along for a little bit more out of duty than passion. Then, slowly but surely, I'll get excited about it again. I'll remember why I loved the idea in the first place and the conviction is renewed.
And repeat. It never ends. I've come to notice that this exact cycle exists as a freelancer, too. (It probably exists for every profession, but for now I'm going to pretend it's a unique problem to writers.) If I get a yes or two, or a promising lead, or even an exciting no (Bon Appetit may not have had room for any more freelancers, but they wrote me a personalized letter to tell me so!) then I'm all confidence. I pride myself on the fact that I'm doing the seemingly unthinkable: supporting myself as a writer straight out of college. I'm able to remind myself that it was naive to expect a position at a magazine by graduation, and that I'm doing all of the right steps to be able to get there soon. I take note of all my little successes instead of focusing on the big picture where I'm falling a little short.
But then, the days will pass. I won't hear anything from any of the dozens of jobs I applied to that I truly thought I'd be perfect for. I get worn down from the constant competition, the importance of luck and connections to get anywhere in this industry (of which I have little), the endless disappointments and frustrations with my gigs and lack thereof, and of course my increasingly pitiful paychecks. I start to think that I'll never make it, that I'm bound to completely fail and have to move out of the apartment that I love in the city that I love back to living at my dad's house upstate (which literally drove me crazy the last time I lived there for more than two weeks). It makes me want to give up and assume the fetal position in bed forever.
One of the most difficult parts about freelancing is getting over that state of mind. Even when it seems completely hopeless, you have to get out your computer and keep trying. Keep searching those ads, keep applying to jobs, keep pitching articles. Read your old blog posts, articles and stories to remind yourself that you can do it. (Even reread your acceptance emails to remind yourself that others think you can do it too.) Then, get the hell out of the house and go to events, museums, parties, restaurants, flea markets. You're not going to come up with any new ideas by staring at the same wall you've been staring at for six straight hours. Sooner or later, you'll get some sort of validation to encourage you to keep at it again. Trust me, you'll be back to thinking you're awesome in no time.
While I'm planning it and just starting out I get extremely excited and optimistic. I'm fixated on the thought that this is The Idea, the thing that'll get me noticed and published and famous and rich. It's the best idea I've ever thought of! It's going to be great! Amazing! Spectacular! It'll get me on the cover of New York Magazine!
But then, as I start working on it (and therefore remembering that writing requires work) I get down on myself. I'll think, "who am I to think that I'm anyone worth writing? Who in their right minds would ever want to read this crap? This is awful! Why would anyone care about what I have to say?" This last question is particularly strong in my mind since I write memoir. I'm just some nobody, some young nobody. Who would want to read my writing outside of my friends and family?
If I get over this bump (and, sometimes, I don't) I'll truck along for a little bit more out of duty than passion. Then, slowly but surely, I'll get excited about it again. I'll remember why I loved the idea in the first place and the conviction is renewed.
And repeat. It never ends. I've come to notice that this exact cycle exists as a freelancer, too. (It probably exists for every profession, but for now I'm going to pretend it's a unique problem to writers.) If I get a yes or two, or a promising lead, or even an exciting no (Bon Appetit may not have had room for any more freelancers, but they wrote me a personalized letter to tell me so!) then I'm all confidence. I pride myself on the fact that I'm doing the seemingly unthinkable: supporting myself as a writer straight out of college. I'm able to remind myself that it was naive to expect a position at a magazine by graduation, and that I'm doing all of the right steps to be able to get there soon. I take note of all my little successes instead of focusing on the big picture where I'm falling a little short.
But then, the days will pass. I won't hear anything from any of the dozens of jobs I applied to that I truly thought I'd be perfect for. I get worn down from the constant competition, the importance of luck and connections to get anywhere in this industry (of which I have little), the endless disappointments and frustrations with my gigs and lack thereof, and of course my increasingly pitiful paychecks. I start to think that I'll never make it, that I'm bound to completely fail and have to move out of the apartment that I love in the city that I love back to living at my dad's house upstate (which literally drove me crazy the last time I lived there for more than two weeks). It makes me want to give up and assume the fetal position in bed forever.
One of the most difficult parts about freelancing is getting over that state of mind. Even when it seems completely hopeless, you have to get out your computer and keep trying. Keep searching those ads, keep applying to jobs, keep pitching articles. Read your old blog posts, articles and stories to remind yourself that you can do it. (Even reread your acceptance emails to remind yourself that others think you can do it too.) Then, get the hell out of the house and go to events, museums, parties, restaurants, flea markets. You're not going to come up with any new ideas by staring at the same wall you've been staring at for six straight hours. Sooner or later, you'll get some sort of validation to encourage you to keep at it again. Trust me, you'll be back to thinking you're awesome in no time.
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