J-School Confidential: Can Professors Catch Up?
This gal poo-poos how web-lame her profs are.
I have nothing to say about that.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Tumult on the Radio
Though I work mainly at home, I do drive to our Boston office weekly. It's nice to have a reason to Listerine and take off my slippers, and I basically walk into a day full of edit planning meetings. But it's about a two-hour drive (sans snow, which adds another 1.5), and so I listen to This American Life and RadioLab. (If you've not heard the latter obscure sciencey podcast, download immediately and pass along to Todd Evans and any other broadcast major you know. It's the sort of work that makes me wish double-majoring in the J School wasn't verboten.)
Anyway, TAL episode 344 (The Competition) had a real J-Law flavor to it that will make for a nice ride to your great aunt's boyfriend's daughter's house over the holidays. Specifically, listen to Act Two: The Race for Second Place (although Act 1 will make you reconsider when you last laughed off a human rights canvasser).
Anyway, TAL episode 344 (The Competition) had a real J-Law flavor to it that will make for a nice ride to your great aunt's boyfriend's daughter's house over the holidays. Specifically, listen to Act Two: The Race for Second Place (although Act 1 will make you reconsider when you last laughed off a human rights canvasser).
Monday, December 17, 2007
and may she RIP
I thought this deserved its own post:
Blueprint has folded.
Sigh. Although the magazine had its faults (a front-of-book too frenetic and random to be read easily, too much fashion in a so-called shelter publication), it was also fairly prolific (I think) with its use of typography, design, and content (it featured it's editor in chief's teensy-weensy Manhattan apartment, for one).
This is the latest in a many great magazines to sigh its last breath. Jane, Budget Living, Organic Style are three of my favorites that have recently shuttered. House & Garden, perhaps the grand dame of high-end shelter pubs, shut down a few months ago. Travel+Leisure Family, a mag I worked on while an ASME intern, couldn't survive out there on the newsstands all alone and gave up. There's even a website dedicated to the death of magazines. How morbid is that?
What do you think? Is it a terrible time to be in publishing (if Martha can't make it, who can?), or are these all just magazines being terribly unsuccessful finding an audience? Or, do I just have terrible taste in magazines, thus all my favorites die?
Blueprint has folded.
Sigh. Although the magazine had its faults (a front-of-book too frenetic and random to be read easily, too much fashion in a so-called shelter publication), it was also fairly prolific (I think) with its use of typography, design, and content (it featured it's editor in chief's teensy-weensy Manhattan apartment, for one).
This is the latest in a many great magazines to sigh its last breath. Jane, Budget Living, Organic Style are three of my favorites that have recently shuttered. House & Garden, perhaps the grand dame of high-end shelter pubs, shut down a few months ago. Travel+Leisure Family, a mag I worked on while an ASME intern, couldn't survive out there on the newsstands all alone and gave up. There's even a website dedicated to the death of magazines. How morbid is that?
What do you think? Is it a terrible time to be in publishing (if Martha can't make it, who can?), or are these all just magazines being terribly unsuccessful finding an audience? Or, do I just have terrible taste in magazines, thus all my favorites die?
and, exhale.
It's done, kids. We finished the first issue of our new magazine. It will be out January 14; for now, you can get a sneak peek here.
There was a time after college where I actually missed the all-nighters we pulled at Drake Magazine. I thought I'd never have that experience again; the commraderie, the creative collaboration, the feeling of really putting your own personal stamp on a publication. Well, let me tell you: launching a magazine is like that college stuff times 842. It was the late nights, the bad food, the pressure to be creative, plus the stress of trying to also have a life. (My dishwasher still isn't emptied and I haven't done laundry in weeks.)
However hard it was, though, I can say that I learned more still about magazine industry--stuff I didn't realize I didn't know: little nuances of the break of the book, budget issues (even more than we learned in J119!), things of that nature. I refreshed my copy-editing, proofreading, and fact-checking skills (yes, you WILL need this knowledge past your internships! And keep that copy of Strunk & White's "The Elements of Style." Seriously. Speaking of, have you seen Maira Kalman's illustrated version? That's a book after my own heart.) On the flip side, I realized I do know a hell of a lot about the business of magazines--my previous jobs have given me at least a working knowledge of what makes a good cover, how to include more service in the magazine, how to keep the reader top of mind, and that, really, 2,000 words about paint colors is TOO MANY WORDS.
As a staff, I'm hoping we learned a lot about what we're not going to do for the second issue. We're not going to wait until a week before we go to the printer to entirely switch out a department for another story. We're not going to start fact-checking two weeks out. And we're definitely not going to work until 10 p.m. without coffee or food (that makes for crabby associate editors ... me). And we may--I hope--re-introduce the serial comma (I miss it).
But I know all the hard work will pay off. After the new year, we're having a launch party, then it's all hands of deck for our second issue. (Secretly, I had a dream that I quit the magazine, and I was only sad because I couldn't go to the launch party. We all see where my priorities are, huh? Ha. I told my boss that; he didn't really find it funny.)
I wish I could send everyone I know at Drake a copy of the mag; you'll just have to watch the website and order a copy if you're interested. Oh, and check out the website for my blog! It'll be DesignSponge meets UltraPDX with a little Rachel thrown in there for good measure.
There was a time after college where I actually missed the all-nighters we pulled at Drake Magazine. I thought I'd never have that experience again; the commraderie, the creative collaboration, the feeling of really putting your own personal stamp on a publication. Well, let me tell you: launching a magazine is like that college stuff times 842. It was the late nights, the bad food, the pressure to be creative, plus the stress of trying to also have a life. (My dishwasher still isn't emptied and I haven't done laundry in weeks.)
However hard it was, though, I can say that I learned more still about magazine industry--stuff I didn't realize I didn't know: little nuances of the break of the book, budget issues (even more than we learned in J119!), things of that nature. I refreshed my copy-editing, proofreading, and fact-checking skills (yes, you WILL need this knowledge past your internships! And keep that copy of Strunk & White's "The Elements of Style." Seriously. Speaking of, have you seen Maira Kalman's illustrated version? That's a book after my own heart.) On the flip side, I realized I do know a hell of a lot about the business of magazines--my previous jobs have given me at least a working knowledge of what makes a good cover, how to include more service in the magazine, how to keep the reader top of mind, and that, really, 2,000 words about paint colors is TOO MANY WORDS.
As a staff, I'm hoping we learned a lot about what we're not going to do for the second issue. We're not going to wait until a week before we go to the printer to entirely switch out a department for another story. We're not going to start fact-checking two weeks out. And we're definitely not going to work until 10 p.m. without coffee or food (that makes for crabby associate editors ... me). And we may--I hope--re-introduce the serial comma (I miss it).
But I know all the hard work will pay off. After the new year, we're having a launch party, then it's all hands of deck for our second issue. (Secretly, I had a dream that I quit the magazine, and I was only sad because I couldn't go to the launch party. We all see where my priorities are, huh? Ha. I told my boss that; he didn't really find it funny.)
I wish I could send everyone I know at Drake a copy of the mag; you'll just have to watch the website and order a copy if you're interested. Oh, and check out the website for my blog! It'll be DesignSponge meets UltraPDX with a little Rachel thrown in there for good measure.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Alert! Alert!
Sound the gongs: Pratt's back.
The smartie behind Sassy and Jane mags is going to be hosting a reality show spin-off of Ugly Betty (yes, the show that our own Tanner spends his days and weekends chained to; explain, Tan). I'm willing to let the type of TV show slide since it's Jane who's involved. (If you've not picked up How Sassy Changed My Life: A Love Letter to the Greatest Teen Magazine of All Time—or if it's not required reading, which I would completely vouch for—it is a super-fun way to spend an afternoon hopped up on Seattle's Best in Borders.
If you're a Pratt fan, give a shout.
The smartie behind Sassy and Jane mags is going to be hosting a reality show spin-off of Ugly Betty (yes, the show that our own Tanner spends his days and weekends chained to; explain, Tan). I'm willing to let the type of TV show slide since it's Jane who's involved. (If you've not picked up How Sassy Changed My Life: A Love Letter to the Greatest Teen Magazine of All Time—or if it's not required reading, which I would completely vouch for—it is a super-fun way to spend an afternoon hopped up on Seattle's Best in Borders.
If you're a Pratt fan, give a shout.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Unproductive? Yes, Please.
I recently moved from Des Moines to Illinois and, over the past week, have discovered the challenges and rewards of working remotely. (I'm still working full-time as an editor for Lexicon but am working from home ... I have more structure in my day than a freelancer would, but it's just me in my sunny little office, so I'm just waiting for distractions to beckon.)
So far, I've managed to be incredibly productive, in part because we're too darn busy for me to slack off. But, just as there is in any office setting when a deadline looms or in your college dorm room when there's a paper to write, the temptation to fall victim to lures of You Tube or all the darn RSS Feeds I subscribe to is there.
So I have two questions to pose to you, whether you're working full-time, freelancing, or going to school. The first is, where do you go online when you want to be productive but you need to stop staring at that article, if only for a minute? And—let's be honest, more importantly—where do you go when you don't want to be productive?
So far, I've managed to be incredibly productive, in part because we're too darn busy for me to slack off. But, just as there is in any office setting when a deadline looms or in your college dorm room when there's a paper to write, the temptation to fall victim to lures of You Tube or all the darn RSS Feeds I subscribe to is there.
So I have two questions to pose to you, whether you're working full-time, freelancing, or going to school. The first is, where do you go online when you want to be productive but you need to stop staring at that article, if only for a minute? And—let's be honest, more importantly—where do you go when you don't want to be productive?
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Gawker, remembered
While you're hedging Meredith hall pre-finals, take a gander at this smart recap of Gawker Media's history, brought to you by N+1 magazine (which I really don't understand--art? culture? music? NYC needs another?).
Friday, November 16, 2007
Coal in their stockings.
You know the holidays are approaching when Rachael Ray is on every channel hawking spicy doughnuts and olive oil, and the Post is headlining with women's hips-to-smarts ratios.
But, oh, Blueprint, how you make me yearn for hostessing abilities.This is the magazine I'm giving my newly-nuptialed or homeowning friends this year. UPDATE: Apparently, this mag was way ahead of its time. Like many before it, it's folding, but the website it staying. Guh.
Got a mag you're gifting?
But, oh, Blueprint, how you make me yearn for hostessing abilities.
Got a mag you're gifting?
Monday, November 5, 2007
The rest of Gen Y wants to kick my shins.
I am afraid of LinkedIn.
I am afraid of yet another social network in the way that I'm afraid of getting a GAP credit card: I already have a Banana Republic one. And an Old Navy card. I use them occasionally (enough to get the birthday coupons), but don't especially need the impetus to spend more time and resources on more stuff that's novel but not all that exciting. And if I cave and get another piece of plastic for the same monolith company, I'm basically committing 90% of any future purchases of tissue t-shirts to one of three stores. (Out here in the woods, it's slim shop-pickings, for sure.)
It's late and my metaphors, like this plum wine here, suck. But it's like this: I already have a moldy Friendster account, OK? I MySpace a couple times a week. I accept the requests from people I met once at a friend's friend's barbecue, and then wonder, when they post new haircut photos, if I have ever actually met this person at all.
Isn't life too short to spend time confirming the existence of the art assistant you never actually spoke to from three jobs ago?
(To muddy this tirade further, what if LinkedIn goes the way of that schmancy Forth & Towne, the Gap too-hip-for-its-own-good brand that tanked badly last summer? That is: What happens to all those webs of friendships and colleague relationships when the au courant network is abandoned like ponchos from four years ago? Do we re-seek all those folks again when the next network launches? Moreover, what does it mean if we don't?)
Because Facebook didn't exist when I graduated and was student-only until recently, it's a site that I just cannot navigate or get jazzed by enough to have a personal account. (Where's all the glitter?? What about my tickers?!) But when you work on the internet, you have job-based accounts for everything online, and Facebook's about to fall in line for me, as well. (I have another post in me about the debacle of merging personal and professional profiles on social networking sites that don't allow corporate accounts (or pseudonyms, say irate Canadian bloggers)—thanks for nothing, Facebook—but that'll be for another day.)
LinkedIn, though? Another place to virtually nod in the direction of some people I don't speak to but once every two years, at most?
I am afraid of yet another social network in the way that I'm afraid of getting a GAP credit card: I already have a Banana Republic one. And an Old Navy card. I use them occasionally (enough to get the birthday coupons), but don't especially need the impetus to spend more time and resources on more stuff that's novel but not all that exciting. And if I cave and get another piece of plastic for the same monolith company, I'm basically committing 90% of any future purchases of tissue t-shirts to one of three stores. (Out here in the woods, it's slim shop-pickings, for sure.)
It's late and my metaphors, like this plum wine here, suck. But it's like this: I already have a moldy Friendster account, OK? I MySpace a couple times a week. I accept the requests from people I met once at a friend's friend's barbecue, and then wonder, when they post new haircut photos, if I have ever actually met this person at all.
Isn't life too short to spend time confirming the existence of the art assistant you never actually spoke to from three jobs ago?
(To muddy this tirade further, what if LinkedIn goes the way of that schmancy Forth & Towne, the Gap too-hip-for-its-own-good brand that tanked badly last summer? That is: What happens to all those webs of friendships and colleague relationships when the au courant network is abandoned like ponchos from four years ago? Do we re-seek all those folks again when the next network launches? Moreover, what does it mean if we don't?)
Because Facebook didn't exist when I graduated and was student-only until recently, it's a site that I just cannot navigate or get jazzed by enough to have a personal account. (Where's all the glitter?? What about my tickers?!) But when you work on the internet, you have job-based accounts for everything online, and Facebook's about to fall in line for me, as well. (I have another post in me about the debacle of merging personal and professional profiles on social networking sites that don't allow corporate accounts (or pseudonyms, say irate Canadian bloggers)—thanks for nothing, Facebook—but that'll be for another day.)
LinkedIn, though? Another place to virtually nod in the direction of some people I don't speak to but once every two years, at most?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Wanna Learn More?
In case anyone was in the least bit intrigued by my pitch about the Legal and Ethical Issues of New Media seminar we held at Drake recently, here's the link to the podcast so you can listen for yourself (you'll need iTunes to listen in).
The first portion features a lecture and Q&A with Professor Peter Yu about copyright issues and the Internet. The second portion includes a panel discussion/Q&A with:
The first portion features a lecture and Q&A with Professor Peter Yu about copyright issues and the Internet. The second portion includes a panel discussion/Q&A with:
- John Riha, editorial director of Special Interest Media at Meredith Corporation (he has some interesting insights, magazine people!)
- Chris Snider, assistant managing editor for digital at the Des Moines Register
- Nathan Wright, founder of social media consulting firm Lava Row
- Mike Sansone, an independent business consultant specializing in business blog and conversational copywriting
Monday, October 22, 2007
my motivation level
So, who knew? Des Moines is cool. Or, so they're trying to make you believe. Thoughts? Do you agree? And if you aren't planning on staying in Des Moines after graduation, is an ad campaign going to change your mind? But hey, kudos on the effort, really.
Back to Portland though. Tonight, my motivation level to work at home is at an all-time low. Working on a start-up local magazine requires a lot of work from home. And a lot of work on the weekends. And a ton of networking every minute I step out into the city. It's for that reason--because I'm in a brand-new city and I moved here completely solo--that I feel like I have to take advantage of every social opportunity. Tonight, instead of writing an 800-word article on Oregon paint palettes, I went to a spelling bee. A real-life spelling bee in a bar on N. Mississippi Ave. A few slices of pizza and a Sierra Nevada later, I made it through the third round and was ultimately rejected on "dicto-someting." I can't remember what word I lost on; it may not have even been in English. This was hard, folks. I'm going back next week after studying the dictionary.
Anyway, the point is, I can't work. I told myself I'd work when I got home at 9 pm. Well, it's 9:53, and so far I've done nothing. I thought this procrastination jazz would end after college. Not so much. Any advice on how to get through the "but I don't want to" barrier?
In other news, the new job is going well. A lot has happened since my last post. In short, my furniture finally arrived, I spend a lot of time meeting strangers and converting them into new friends, I've found a new favorite Thai restaurant (does it count if it's actually a cart?), and I'm on a search for the city's best falafel. I'm planning a trip to the coast, Mt. Hood, and the Columbia River Gorge. Yes, it rains. Almost everyday. So, I've learned the bus system.
Workwise, there are definite growing pains of being on a start-up mag (we have to order our own printer paper?), and I sure do miss my old staff. Small steps, though. It took three weeks for my boss to tell me I did a "great job," and a story presentation I did today went over with flying colors. I tell myself I don't need this sort of positive feedback from my editors, though. I'm not one of those compliment-starved Millennials. I have thick skin! I know I'm doing a good job; who cares if no one tells me that, right? Why, though, do I still feel like I'm wading through the muck, unsure if my work will be ultimately rejected?
I've worked with editors before (in college and outside) who ok pieces from the beginning but when it gets to a point just preceding publication, he/she decides it all needs to be changed. Why, oh why? Ah, insecurity. Another thing that didn't end after college. As many articles as I've written, as many editors who have edited my words, I still (still!) take criticism personally. (P.S. I had to spellcheck "criticism." Apparently there was a reason I got out on the third round.) So, hey, if you're dreading getting those comments back from a prof or an editor, just remember: we ALL get edited. No matter what. I edit everyone. It's my job. So, when I put on my writer hat, I just have to remember that there's a red pen sitting on the other side just waiting to mark up all my words.
It's 10:09 pm now. I gotta get moving. I'll let you know how the article goes.
Back to Portland though. Tonight, my motivation level to work at home is at an all-time low. Working on a start-up local magazine requires a lot of work from home. And a lot of work on the weekends. And a ton of networking every minute I step out into the city. It's for that reason--because I'm in a brand-new city and I moved here completely solo--that I feel like I have to take advantage of every social opportunity. Tonight, instead of writing an 800-word article on Oregon paint palettes, I went to a spelling bee. A real-life spelling bee in a bar on N. Mississippi Ave. A few slices of pizza and a Sierra Nevada later, I made it through the third round and was ultimately rejected on "dicto-someting." I can't remember what word I lost on; it may not have even been in English. This was hard, folks. I'm going back next week after studying the dictionary.
Anyway, the point is, I can't work. I told myself I'd work when I got home at 9 pm. Well, it's 9:53, and so far I've done nothing. I thought this procrastination jazz would end after college. Not so much. Any advice on how to get through the "but I don't want to" barrier?
In other news, the new job is going well. A lot has happened since my last post. In short, my furniture finally arrived, I spend a lot of time meeting strangers and converting them into new friends, I've found a new favorite Thai restaurant (does it count if it's actually a cart?), and I'm on a search for the city's best falafel. I'm planning a trip to the coast, Mt. Hood, and the Columbia River Gorge. Yes, it rains. Almost everyday. So, I've learned the bus system.
Workwise, there are definite growing pains of being on a start-up mag (we have to order our own printer paper?), and I sure do miss my old staff. Small steps, though. It took three weeks for my boss to tell me I did a "great job," and a story presentation I did today went over with flying colors. I tell myself I don't need this sort of positive feedback from my editors, though. I'm not one of those compliment-starved Millennials. I have thick skin! I know I'm doing a good job; who cares if no one tells me that, right? Why, though, do I still feel like I'm wading through the muck, unsure if my work will be ultimately rejected?
I've worked with editors before (in college and outside) who ok pieces from the beginning but when it gets to a point just preceding publication, he/she decides it all needs to be changed. Why, oh why? Ah, insecurity. Another thing that didn't end after college. As many articles as I've written, as many editors who have edited my words, I still (still!) take criticism personally. (P.S. I had to spellcheck "criticism." Apparently there was a reason I got out on the third round.) So, hey, if you're dreading getting those comments back from a prof or an editor, just remember: we ALL get edited. No matter what. I edit everyone. It's my job. So, when I put on my writer hat, I just have to remember that there's a red pen sitting on the other side just waiting to mark up all my words.
It's 10:09 pm now. I gotta get moving. I'll let you know how the article goes.
Monday, October 15, 2007
I Want To Know ...
Hey alums and current magazine students. I have question for you.
What legal and ethical issues of new media (ie blog, vlogs, wikis, social networking sites, etc.) concern you? What do you have questions about in your own careers or classes related to these topics?
The Drake SJMC Junior National Advisory Council is hosting a seminar on the topic on Friday, October 19 in the Drake Legal Clinic courtroom. It's from 3 to 5 p.m. and if you're in Des Moines and can make it we'd love to see you there. We have 6 expert panelists representing the following fields: law, magazines, newspapers, PR, advertising, and broadcast/radio. And in addition to giving you insights into how they deal with legal and ethical issues surrounding new media in their own fields, they'll be answering your questions.
So if you have any questions of comments you'd like to share, post them here. And if you're around, come join us at the seminar. It's free (and there will be treats afterward).
And stay tuned ... If the stars align, a podcast of the event will be available online. More about that later.
What legal and ethical issues of new media (ie blog, vlogs, wikis, social networking sites, etc.) concern you? What do you have questions about in your own careers or classes related to these topics?
The Drake SJMC Junior National Advisory Council is hosting a seminar on the topic on Friday, October 19 in the Drake Legal Clinic courtroom. It's from 3 to 5 p.m. and if you're in Des Moines and can make it we'd love to see you there. We have 6 expert panelists representing the following fields: law, magazines, newspapers, PR, advertising, and broadcast/radio. And in addition to giving you insights into how they deal with legal and ethical issues surrounding new media in their own fields, they'll be answering your questions.
So if you have any questions of comments you'd like to share, post them here. And if you're around, come join us at the seminar. It's free (and there will be treats afterward).
And stay tuned ... If the stars align, a podcast of the event will be available online. More about that later.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Blogroll.
Before you send that passive-aggressive email to one of your co-staffers, read this. According to neuroscientists: polite face-to-face exchanges, 1; email bullying, 0.
Also, the J-School Confidential series on Mediabistro.com is a solid look at what's up with the folks who'll be vying for your (and my) job someday soon.
I take my toast in the morning with the NYTimes.com, Mediabistro, and Celebrity Baby Blog. (Shut up, it's my job.) And whatever got caught in my Google Reader. Alummies, etc.: share it.
Also, the J-School Confidential series on Mediabistro.com is a solid look at what's up with the folks who'll be vying for your (and my) job someday soon.
I take my toast in the morning with the NYTimes.com, Mediabistro, and Celebrity Baby Blog. (Shut up, it's my job.) And whatever got caught in my Google Reader. Alummies, etc.: share it.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
The Gospel of Ed
Have you heard of Ed? I'm talking about Ed2010, to the uninitiated. It's essential for any wannabe magazine writer/editor out there. Especially for those of you—like all of you aspiring Drake kids—who are new to the game. Why? It's an organization dedicated to helping young folks interested in the magazine business understand how it all works. Specifically, Ed provides loads of internship and job listings in magazines (check out the website or subscribe to the daily newsletter); advice in the form of classes, seminars, and tons of info on the website; and social fun/networking with others with frequent happy hours. The Ed mothership is based in New York City (like the magazine industry), but there are chapters around the country in most major cities and at lots of college campuses via Ed on Campus.
Now, why do I sound like a publicist for Ed2010? Because I work for the organization, as the Ed on Campus Director. I oversee all the campus chapters, like the one at Drake. (Or, rather, the one at Drake that should be up and roaring like it was when I started it three years ago! Get on it, students!) The reason I write about it so kindly—and devote lots of my free time to it—is because it's a great group of folks who want nothing more than to see magazine whippersnappers reach their dream magazine job. (In fact, Ed2010 was started in the late '90s by a bunch of editorial assistants who planned to be editor in chiefs by the year 2010. Ed's mission has changed a little since then, as we're almost there. Also of note: By 2010, Ed2010 will be known as simply Ed.)
Since my first and only internship in NYC was through the American Society of Magazine Editors (to all Drake juniors out there, you must apply for their essential internship!), I never found an internship or job off of Ed, but I know dozens of other now-magazine editors who did. And all the networking I've done through Ed led to at least one of of my freelance gigs (at the sensational New York Post, but that's another blog post entirely). Not to mention, all the great people I've met who are now just good friends.
Anyway, sorry for the long way around. What I'm saying is if you don't know about Ed2010, you should! Go check out the website. And as for networking via Ed? You've already made at least one contact: Me.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
a brand-new start
Yesterday was my birthday. Good-bye 23, hello 24. I’m at home with my family in Kansas City, right now. We had cake and coffee and I opened a few presents. A bit different than the past four (five?) birthdays I’ve spent in Des Moines. (Funny those college and post-college birthdays became more normal than those with the fam, you know?)
Anywho, 24 promises to be interesting. After all, I’m moving from (er, have already moved from) Des Moines to Portland, Oregon. I’m just spending time with my family in KC ‘til I fly out on Saturday. Then Monday, I start a new job at a start-up home/interior design magazine.
I spent four years at Meredith. They treated me very very well (and I’m not just saying that because they might be reading this). I clocked in three years at Country Home magazine. I had an entire front-of-book department credited to me, plus my own blog. I chose stories, got them photographed, wrote them, and edited the entire section. I dabbled in the feature well. Producing credit? Check. Writing? Yup. Editing? Photo shoots? A bit o’ styling? Check, check, check. I got a ton of experience right out of college. I can't complain at all.
But, I was getting super antsy. Days went by that I realized I was writing the same ol’ stuff each month, and my mind would wander to why I went into journalism in the first place. To write about home decorating or to be the next Sy Hersh? Or somewhere in between? And at 23, had I already sold out to some extent? And yes, I loved it, but I was growing tired of Des Moines, too. I just felt a calling to do something else.
I’d been to Portland only a couple of times before, most recently last summer for a press junket for work. I fell in love. It was so ME. So, when I saw an open position for this regional magazine on my Mediabistro job alerts, I applied that day. Wrote the cover letter, flew to Massachusetts for another work trip, and mailed the packet of information, thinking there was no chance on God’s green earth that I’d get the job. I don’t live in Portland! They’ll laugh at this Kansas/Iowa hybrid for her naivete!
Needless to say, when the editor called me for an interview, I was thrilled. I prepared a ton. I studied up on Portland like I was cramming for the next day’s mid-term. He called, we chatted, and I thought--all things considered--it went pretty well. Then, I got a second interview. Then, I flew out for a third interview. It was while I was on the plane that I had a come-to-Jesus talk with myself: If you get this job, hotshot, are you really ready to move to Portland? Are you ready to leave your cushy job at Meredith to work for a start-up magazine? Are you giving up on your dream to go back to New York? Wait, is that really your dream or just what you thought you were supposed to do? Huh? Figure it out!
I answered none of those questions on the plane ride (and I still haven’t, fully). I just continued to cram as though I was being tested (I tend to over prepare) and did the best I could at my all-day interview. At the end of the day, I got the job.
Giving my notice at Country Home was the hardest thing I’ve had to do, professionally. I had a great group of co-workers, mentors, and friends there. But I’ve burned no bridges and left on the terms of, “If the magazine folds, which we hope it won't, we suppose you can come back, wink, wink,” which is always comforting, I suppose.
I’m flying out Saturday. My cute apartment in Des Moines is all packed up and on its contents are on their way to Portland (I hope). I have an Aerobed waiting for me until all my furniture (and books and magazines and CDs and DVDs and artwork and every other worldly possession) arrives. It feels pretty darn good to start my 24th year on a brand-spanking-new note. I guess I essentially answered all my lingering questions when I bought the one-way ticket out west, huh? Wish me luck!
Anywho, 24 promises to be interesting. After all, I’m moving from (er, have already moved from) Des Moines to Portland, Oregon. I’m just spending time with my family in KC ‘til I fly out on Saturday. Then Monday, I start a new job at a start-up home/interior design magazine.
I spent four years at Meredith. They treated me very very well (and I’m not just saying that because they might be reading this). I clocked in three years at Country Home magazine. I had an entire front-of-book department credited to me, plus my own blog. I chose stories, got them photographed, wrote them, and edited the entire section. I dabbled in the feature well. Producing credit? Check. Writing? Yup. Editing? Photo shoots? A bit o’ styling? Check, check, check. I got a ton of experience right out of college. I can't complain at all.
But, I was getting super antsy. Days went by that I realized I was writing the same ol’ stuff each month, and my mind would wander to why I went into journalism in the first place. To write about home decorating or to be the next Sy Hersh? Or somewhere in between? And at 23, had I already sold out to some extent? And yes, I loved it, but I was growing tired of Des Moines, too. I just felt a calling to do something else.
I’d been to Portland only a couple of times before, most recently last summer for a press junket for work. I fell in love. It was so ME. So, when I saw an open position for this regional magazine on my Mediabistro job alerts, I applied that day. Wrote the cover letter, flew to Massachusetts for another work trip, and mailed the packet of information, thinking there was no chance on God’s green earth that I’d get the job. I don’t live in Portland! They’ll laugh at this Kansas/Iowa hybrid for her naivete!
Needless to say, when the editor called me for an interview, I was thrilled. I prepared a ton. I studied up on Portland like I was cramming for the next day’s mid-term. He called, we chatted, and I thought--all things considered--it went pretty well. Then, I got a second interview. Then, I flew out for a third interview. It was while I was on the plane that I had a come-to-Jesus talk with myself: If you get this job, hotshot, are you really ready to move to Portland? Are you ready to leave your cushy job at Meredith to work for a start-up magazine? Are you giving up on your dream to go back to New York? Wait, is that really your dream or just what you thought you were supposed to do? Huh? Figure it out!
I answered none of those questions on the plane ride (and I still haven’t, fully). I just continued to cram as though I was being tested (I tend to over prepare) and did the best I could at my all-day interview. At the end of the day, I got the job.
Giving my notice at Country Home was the hardest thing I’ve had to do, professionally. I had a great group of co-workers, mentors, and friends there. But I’ve burned no bridges and left on the terms of, “If the magazine folds, which we hope it won't, we suppose you can come back, wink, wink,” which is always comforting, I suppose.
I’m flying out Saturday. My cute apartment in Des Moines is all packed up and on its contents are on their way to Portland (I hope). I have an Aerobed waiting for me until all my furniture (and books and magazines and CDs and DVDs and artwork and every other worldly possession) arrives. It feels pretty darn good to start my 24th year on a brand-spanking-new note. I guess I essentially answered all my lingering questions when I bought the one-way ticket out west, huh? Wish me luck!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
What? Me an Expert On ...
A funny thing happened on the way to becoming a newspaper journalist. In my first semester at Drake, around the same time I started reporting for the Times-Delphic, I heard about a brainstorming meeting for Drake Magazine. I was intrigued. So I attended the meeting, queried for a story, and somehow, surprisingly, managed to land a feature story (about the moms of the crazy Des Moines-based band Slipknot, of all things). Tracking the moms down and getting them to talk wasn’t easy, but I loved every minute of it. Before long, I was editing for Drake Magazine (thanks, Lexi). And I was hooked.
That’s the funny thing with magazines. You never know where life will take you. After a stint as a communications intern at the Iowa Natural Heritage Foundation, an apprenticeship at Better Homes & Gardens, and a summer ASME internship at National Geographic Traveler in Washington, D.C. (yes, you can do all of these things as a Drake magazine student!), I spent my senior year interning for a small (read: one-person) custom-publishing company called Lexicon. And (lucky me) before I even got to that panic-stricken time senior year when most magazine students start flipping out because they don’t have jobs, my boss at Lexicon offered me a full-time position. And I took it, without a lick of trepidation.
Now I’m managing editor of the company, which has grown from just the two of us to five full-time employees and a couple of very capable interns (Drake students, of course). No, it’s not a big consumer magazine in New York. And it’s a long way from my dreams of Sports Illustrated or Newsweek. But you can’t beat the variety.
On any given day I might be writing or editing articles on everything from international travel and healthy eating to retirement living and how small businesses can increase traffic to their websites. On top of that, I regularly create editorial outlines for magazine and book projects, select photography for home design publications, work with graphic designers on a variety of web and print projects, assign articles to freelance writers, copy edit and proofread everything from book proposals to entire books, create proposals for new magazine or book projects, and pen posts for our blog. Whew.
Does this mean I’m an expert on any of these things? Not so much. I might edit stories on world travel, but I’m just now packing for my first trip to Europe (Italy, here I come). I’m not a small business owner and I’m certainly not retirement age. And I’ve written I don’t know how many stories and books on home design—bathrooms, kitchens, trimwork, decks and patios, you name it. But when I recently bought my first house and had to figure out what colors to paint the walls, did I rely on my expertise culled from hour upon hour of research on color schemes? Of course not. I called my mother.
The secret to surviving in the world of magazine publishing is that you have to be willing to research. To be a generalist. To have a passion for learning new things, even if they’re things you never in a million years thought you’d care enough to write about. Say yes to those assignments that don’t interest you in the least and an even bigger yes to the ones that do. And along the way, you just might find out where your passion lies and what you want to be when you grow up. (When I figure it out myself, I’ll let you know.)
That’s the funny thing with magazines. You never know where life will take you. After a stint as a communications intern at the Iowa Natural Heritage Foundation, an apprenticeship at Better Homes & Gardens, and a summer ASME internship at National Geographic Traveler in Washington, D.C. (yes, you can do all of these things as a Drake magazine student!), I spent my senior year interning for a small (read: one-person) custom-publishing company called Lexicon. And (lucky me) before I even got to that panic-stricken time senior year when most magazine students start flipping out because they don’t have jobs, my boss at Lexicon offered me a full-time position. And I took it, without a lick of trepidation.
Now I’m managing editor of the company, which has grown from just the two of us to five full-time employees and a couple of very capable interns (Drake students, of course). No, it’s not a big consumer magazine in New York. And it’s a long way from my dreams of Sports Illustrated or Newsweek. But you can’t beat the variety.
On any given day I might be writing or editing articles on everything from international travel and healthy eating to retirement living and how small businesses can increase traffic to their websites. On top of that, I regularly create editorial outlines for magazine and book projects, select photography for home design publications, work with graphic designers on a variety of web and print projects, assign articles to freelance writers, copy edit and proofread everything from book proposals to entire books, create proposals for new magazine or book projects, and pen posts for our blog. Whew.
Does this mean I’m an expert on any of these things? Not so much. I might edit stories on world travel, but I’m just now packing for my first trip to Europe (Italy, here I come). I’m not a small business owner and I’m certainly not retirement age. And I’ve written I don’t know how many stories and books on home design—bathrooms, kitchens, trimwork, decks and patios, you name it. But when I recently bought my first house and had to figure out what colors to paint the walls, did I rely on my expertise culled from hour upon hour of research on color schemes? Of course not. I called my mother.
The secret to surviving in the world of magazine publishing is that you have to be willing to research. To be a generalist. To have a passion for learning new things, even if they’re things you never in a million years thought you’d care enough to write about. Say yes to those assignments that don’t interest you in the least and an even bigger yes to the ones that do. And along the way, you just might find out where your passion lies and what you want to be when you grow up. (When I figure it out myself, I’ll let you know.)
Saturday, September 15, 2007
My Dot Com Beat Up Your Magazine
Before you skip over this post entirely because you’re a mag major completely uninterested in anything not bound, glossy, and sold for $3.99, let me say this: I was you. Ok, maybe not you, exactly—I don’t know what beverage you’re smuggling into Carnegie to finish up Drake Mag, or what fight you’re having with the copyeditor of your capstone pub, but basically you, if you ever thought, “By the grace of Sallie Mae, I will never lame out my career to some preachy website when there’s prettiness and profit in the world of magazines.”
I never intended on becoming a web editor. In fact, when I took Wright’s web design class my senior year and barely waded through Flash (project extraordinaire: 12 poorly image-mapped pages about my cats), all the while I thought, This is why I have a magazine internship. I used the internet for my job, relied on it for class, Friendstered until my fingers were numb—but I was a magazine gal, through and through. Chicago style. Breaks of books. BRC cards. “Drafts in my inbox by 8:01.”
But three years into my Meredith Integrated Marketing internship (duties: getting bagels for photo shoots; phone-heckling PR hacks; writing sidebars), I landed a full-time position there writing new magazine proposals and managing the production of an infant formula’s brochure and mini-magazine campaign for new and expectant moms. (I also studied child development in school; I’m not just a stickler for punishment.) And in between trips to LA to talk with formula management folk and begging Des Moines copyeditors, often literally on their doorsteps and many times my own Drake J-profs, to rush-CE my Xerox proofs, something incredible happened: The damn web snuck onto my to-do list.
I was to write copy for the formula company’s website, promoting their new product, but only insofar as it related to typical formula choices. Mini service articles with incognito product endorsements. I loved it. To be honest, I loved every part of that crazy job: Its wackpack pace, its seriously smart editors. But this web stuff was especially neat: Writing punchy copy snippets that would be live by the end of the week? O-kay!
Because what I loved about magazines, and you are a Liar McLiar Pants if you say you disagree, is that at the end of the process, MY NAME was going to be on something in someone else's hands. And even when it wasn’t my name, it was my stuff, my golden pearls of copy, my photo choices and dumb pull-quotes buried in the depths of a newsstand (or a pile of mail, à la Integrated Marketing). And on the web, it was still all mine—I just didn’t need to wait 94 light years and three issues later to see it there.
Fast-forward a year. Over lunch with a Totally Awesome Editor at A-Dong (8C, 3C), I’m told of a job in New York City: the editor position of American Baby magazine’s website. Am I interested? She’s heard of my work on web sites, and few people had interest in editing baby copy and had experience on the web —can she recommend me? I’m hesitant—I spent a good chunk of my childhood in New York and have never been jazzed by subway schlepping—but agree. Literally three weeks later, I am unpacking a UHaul in Park Slope, Brooklyn, two days (and 53 outfit try-ons) away from starting at AmericanBaby.com. (TIP: When hiring managers ask how fast you can be there, calculate in hours, not weeks.)
I spent two years at AmericanBaby.com, spelunking through content management systems, search engine optimization guidelines, and web-writing tutorials. Some days, I missed magazines something fierce: Languid editing! Deadlines that stretched for months! Flourishing headlines and prize-worthy prose! It was a tough transition to writing for search engines, clipping the decks and intros that I knew my old editors would have applauded but web folk saw as a hindrance to the pacing of the story. Whaddya mean, no closing paragraphs? AP STYLE!?
But I latched onto something huge—enormous, really, but painfully cloying. I realized that I was finally contributing to the something I was using every day. (Ok, not breastfeeding logs, but you get it.) I’d spent years using the internet to get done what I needed. And finally, I was adding to that pot of information and service goo. (This was pre-Wiki, which could have sailed me past this milestone without taking a web job, I know. I also know how lame this all sounds, but bear with me.)
And the stuff I was putting out there was fun, and, as reader feedback relayed, useful. I created a virtual nursery, full of safety hotspots that gave babyproofing advice. (I didn’t understand load times then.) I wrote weekly newsletters, had dialogues with Mom-readers who thought I had answers. I took classes, but in web and child development know-how; all my editors were serious about me knowing my field. I started looking at story ideas in bigger ways: Could I make this topic an e-mail newsletter course instead of an article? Could we add links within slideshows to increase page views? And meanwhile, all the rules were changing: How fast could I reprogram stories so Google picked them up easier?
And then, on a limb (and the promise of contributing to a start-up), I left NYC and went back to print. And it was … print. A brilliant magazine, with super-talented people, but not the job or industry that I’d spent the previous years excited about—and pretty good at.
Enter the Totally Awesome Editor from A-Dong (TIP: Never, never lose touch with good colleagues, even if you just send a "Happy Tuesday!" once a year), and I’m now back on the web, a senior editor at a great parenting website that’s been around long before the dot-com bust whose infamy probably turned you off to the web in the first place. I write about all types of shit—literally—and help build new tools. Everyday, I’m tasked with taking story kernels and making them pop—a new link-optimized quiz? Interactive checklist?
Basically, I love working on the web because it stretches my brain—and actually pays my bills. Full disclosure, though: I still subscribe to 16 magazines.
I never intended on becoming a web editor. In fact, when I took Wright’s web design class my senior year and barely waded through Flash (project extraordinaire: 12 poorly image-mapped pages about my cats), all the while I thought, This is why I have a magazine internship. I used the internet for my job, relied on it for class, Friendstered until my fingers were numb—but I was a magazine gal, through and through. Chicago style. Breaks of books. BRC cards. “Drafts in my inbox by 8:01.”
But three years into my Meredith Integrated Marketing internship (duties: getting bagels for photo shoots; phone-heckling PR hacks; writing sidebars), I landed a full-time position there writing new magazine proposals and managing the production of an infant formula’s brochure and mini-magazine campaign for new and expectant moms. (I also studied child development in school; I’m not just a stickler for punishment.) And in between trips to LA to talk with formula management folk and begging Des Moines copyeditors, often literally on their doorsteps and many times my own Drake J-profs, to rush-CE my Xerox proofs, something incredible happened: The damn web snuck onto my to-do list.
I was to write copy for the formula company’s website, promoting their new product, but only insofar as it related to typical formula choices. Mini service articles with incognito product endorsements. I loved it. To be honest, I loved every part of that crazy job: Its wackpack pace, its seriously smart editors. But this web stuff was especially neat: Writing punchy copy snippets that would be live by the end of the week? O-kay!
Because what I loved about magazines, and you are a Liar McLiar Pants if you say you disagree, is that at the end of the process, MY NAME was going to be on something in someone else's hands. And even when it wasn’t my name, it was my stuff, my golden pearls of copy, my photo choices and dumb pull-quotes buried in the depths of a newsstand (or a pile of mail, à la Integrated Marketing). And on the web, it was still all mine—I just didn’t need to wait 94 light years and three issues later to see it there.
Fast-forward a year. Over lunch with a Totally Awesome Editor at A-Dong (8C, 3C), I’m told of a job in New York City: the editor position of American Baby magazine’s website. Am I interested? She’s heard of my work on web sites, and few people had interest in editing baby copy and had experience on the web —can she recommend me? I’m hesitant—I spent a good chunk of my childhood in New York and have never been jazzed by subway schlepping—but agree. Literally three weeks later, I am unpacking a UHaul in Park Slope, Brooklyn, two days (and 53 outfit try-ons) away from starting at AmericanBaby.com. (TIP: When hiring managers ask how fast you can be there, calculate in hours, not weeks.)
I spent two years at AmericanBaby.com, spelunking through content management systems, search engine optimization guidelines, and web-writing tutorials. Some days, I missed magazines something fierce: Languid editing! Deadlines that stretched for months! Flourishing headlines and prize-worthy prose! It was a tough transition to writing for search engines, clipping the decks and intros that I knew my old editors would have applauded but web folk saw as a hindrance to the pacing of the story. Whaddya mean, no closing paragraphs? AP STYLE!?
But I latched onto something huge—enormous, really, but painfully cloying. I realized that I was finally contributing to the something I was using every day. (Ok, not breastfeeding logs, but you get it.) I’d spent years using the internet to get done what I needed. And finally, I was adding to that pot of information and service goo. (This was pre-Wiki, which could have sailed me past this milestone without taking a web job, I know. I also know how lame this all sounds, but bear with me.)
And the stuff I was putting out there was fun, and, as reader feedback relayed, useful. I created a virtual nursery, full of safety hotspots that gave babyproofing advice. (I didn’t understand load times then.) I wrote weekly newsletters, had dialogues with Mom-readers who thought I had answers. I took classes, but in web and child development know-how; all my editors were serious about me knowing my field. I started looking at story ideas in bigger ways: Could I make this topic an e-mail newsletter course instead of an article? Could we add links within slideshows to increase page views? And meanwhile, all the rules were changing: How fast could I reprogram stories so Google picked them up easier?
And then, on a limb (and the promise of contributing to a start-up), I left NYC and went back to print. And it was … print. A brilliant magazine, with super-talented people, but not the job or industry that I’d spent the previous years excited about—and pretty good at.
Enter the Totally Awesome Editor from A-Dong (TIP: Never, never lose touch with good colleagues, even if you just send a "Happy Tuesday!" once a year), and I’m now back on the web, a senior editor at a great parenting website that’s been around long before the dot-com bust whose infamy probably turned you off to the web in the first place. I write about all types of shit—literally—and help build new tools. Everyday, I’m tasked with taking story kernels and making them pop—a new link-optimized quiz? Interactive checklist?
Basically, I love working on the web because it stretches my brain—and actually pays my bills. Full disclosure, though: I still subscribe to 16 magazines.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
La Lohan Launches Me at EW
My first few days at Entertainment Weekly—now more than a year in the rear-view—should have clued me in to the challenges and constant craziness that awaited me in my new position. But I was naive then and thought that my first assignment—stalking everyone on the set of Lindsay Lohan's latest train-wreck flick, Georgia Rule—was a rare occurrence. Ha! Boy, was I clueless.
If I'm remembering correctly, my third day at EW was a Monday. On the previous Friday, a letter from Georgia Rule's producer reprimanding La Lohan was leaked to TMZ.com (if you don't read this site, you should—it's a one-stop shop for all things celebrity!). The scathing missive, which was meant only for Lohan and her bevy of handlers, reprimanded her for partying, missing days of shooting, and generally causing distress to the entire production. When scandalous things like this happen, no one officially attached to the project—producers, actors, crew—are usually allowed to talk to the media. Obviously, the case here, too. So little old Tanner, who thought he knew how to report, was given a call sheet. (I'd never seen anything like this before—every cast and crew member from the flick and any numbers we could dig up for them.) My assignment? Call every single person on—from Lohan's publicist to the caterer. Oy.
I was intimidated. Were they really asking me to call every grip and lighting specialist working on the project to see if they'd dish on Lohan? Yes, exactly. They might as well have asked me to call Dick Cheney—I was frickin' scared.
So I put in the calls. No one was answering their landlines of course—most likely under the instruction of the publicist for the flick. (I've since learned all these little things.) But calling just once wasn't enough. Call back, the editors urged! Try again—it can't hurt! I mean, maybe that production assistant won't realize it's someone they don't know calling their personal cell phone! Oy, again.
But success was mine—eventually. A guy in lighting got back to me and spilled a few of the beans about Lindsay. Score!
Thinking about it now, the whole thing—and mostly, my squeamishness about it—seems trivial and silly. A typical day now consists of me putting in constant interview requests, covertly calling producers and talent to try to get a few quotes to make a story juicer, and urging the sources I do have to talk to me "off the record," "on background," or "not for attribution." (Terms that, honestly, I had never heard before I showed up at EW. Every journalist with a newsy bent needs to know about the difference—they can really help you!).
For instance, just this week, I was writing a quick story about the Creative Arts Emmy Awards (the more technical awards given out a week before the Primetime show). Anyway, managed to score a chat with Kathy Griffin (wait, is that really a score? ha!) about winning for Outstanding Reality Program for her hilarious show Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List. (Honestly, if you don't watch, you must. Now.). Anyway, this was Monday—the day after Britney's disastrous VMA performance. Kathy's bread and butter is trashing everyone else, so she was more than happy to go on a bender about Britney. Simply put: Score! The next day, the top editors decided to make the Britney story a cover story, and the writer used my reporting. Random questions about current events can always come in handy in a story.
Day three or day 414—this is my job. Luckily, I just know what the heck I'm doing now.
If I'm remembering correctly, my third day at EW was a Monday. On the previous Friday, a letter from Georgia Rule's producer reprimanding La Lohan was leaked to TMZ.com (if you don't read this site, you should—it's a one-stop shop for all things celebrity!). The scathing missive, which was meant only for Lohan and her bevy of handlers, reprimanded her for partying, missing days of shooting, and generally causing distress to the entire production. When scandalous things like this happen, no one officially attached to the project—producers, actors, crew—are usually allowed to talk to the media. Obviously, the case here, too. So little old Tanner, who thought he knew how to report, was given a call sheet. (I'd never seen anything like this before—every cast and crew member from the flick and any numbers we could dig up for them.) My assignment? Call every single person on—from Lohan's publicist to the caterer. Oy.
I was intimidated. Were they really asking me to call every grip and lighting specialist working on the project to see if they'd dish on Lohan? Yes, exactly. They might as well have asked me to call Dick Cheney—I was frickin' scared.
So I put in the calls. No one was answering their landlines of course—most likely under the instruction of the publicist for the flick. (I've since learned all these little things.) But calling just once wasn't enough. Call back, the editors urged! Try again—it can't hurt! I mean, maybe that production assistant won't realize it's someone they don't know calling their personal cell phone! Oy, again.
But success was mine—eventually. A guy in lighting got back to me and spilled a few of the beans about Lindsay. Score!
Thinking about it now, the whole thing—and mostly, my squeamishness about it—seems trivial and silly. A typical day now consists of me putting in constant interview requests, covertly calling producers and talent to try to get a few quotes to make a story juicer, and urging the sources I do have to talk to me "off the record," "on background," or "not for attribution." (Terms that, honestly, I had never heard before I showed up at EW. Every journalist with a newsy bent needs to know about the difference—they can really help you!).
For instance, just this week, I was writing a quick story about the Creative Arts Emmy Awards (the more technical awards given out a week before the Primetime show). Anyway, managed to score a chat with Kathy Griffin (wait, is that really a score? ha!) about winning for Outstanding Reality Program for her hilarious show Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List. (Honestly, if you don't watch, you must. Now.). Anyway, this was Monday—the day after Britney's disastrous VMA performance. Kathy's bread and butter is trashing everyone else, so she was more than happy to go on a bender about Britney. Simply put: Score! The next day, the top editors decided to make the Britney story a cover story, and the writer used my reporting. Random questions about current events can always come in handy in a story.
Day three or day 414—this is my job. Luckily, I just know what the heck I'm doing now.
Monday, September 10, 2007
I live in New York now? Wha??!!
At first glance, I'm sure the apartment broker saw "naive" stamped on my forehead. The form I filled out for the agency said it all: a 21-year-old girl from the Midwest, fresh out of college, with no rent history. I can't blame the guy. I was beginning to wonder if I'd taken too big of a risk. Find an apartment in Manhattan before my first day of work at Reader's Digest? That gave me four business days. Naive, certifiably insane-take your pick.
Well, I wasn't naive. I had brought all the paperwork I needed to New York so I was able to sign a lease on a fantastic find two days before I started my job. Two months before that, my post-graduation plan was to get a job in Des Moines. Any job. Now, I live in NYC and am a research associate editor at RD. Wondering how the heck I pulled that one off? Let me explain...
In late October, I was an anxious college senior looking forward to my December graduation. Memories of my ASME summer internship at RD were still fresh in my mind as I juggled interning at Lexicon (an editorial packaging company), working in the Magazine Center, editing the capstone magazine, freelancing for Meredith publications, and attending classes. In my "spare time," I desperately sent out resumes and clips to Des Moines companies. Oh, and I was planning my wedding (see "certifiably insane" above).
In the midst of all this craziness, an HR rep from RD e-mailed me: There was an open research position-would I like to apply? A few phone interviews and a research test later (and a conversation with my fiance in which he basically said, "If you get offered a job at Reader's Digest, there's no way we're not moving to New York"), I accepted the job offer. I added "coordinate a move across the country" to my schedule and plowed through the rest of the semester on pure adrenaline.
Thankfully, my first day at RD was a fairly smooth transition since I already knew most of the staff from my internship. Learning all the research procedures and guidelines was a bit stressful, but it was nothing compared to the huge gamble I took trying to find an apartment.
Sound like a whirlwind, stressful way to move to New York and start your first full-time job? Well, the rest of the year didn't calm down much. My fiance moved to NYC in May and job-searched while working two internships. It paid off, though, because one of his internships just hired him as a full-time employee. And, our wedding is finally here-September 15, in good ol' Des Moines.
So, here's a question for you: What else do you want know? I'll reply to all comments, I promise! -Bridget
Well, I wasn't naive. I had brought all the paperwork I needed to New York so I was able to sign a lease on a fantastic find two days before I started my job. Two months before that, my post-graduation plan was to get a job in Des Moines. Any job. Now, I live in NYC and am a research associate editor at RD. Wondering how the heck I pulled that one off? Let me explain...
In late October, I was an anxious college senior looking forward to my December graduation. Memories of my ASME summer internship at RD were still fresh in my mind as I juggled interning at Lexicon (an editorial packaging company), working in the Magazine Center, editing the capstone magazine, freelancing for Meredith publications, and attending classes. In my "spare time," I desperately sent out resumes and clips to Des Moines companies. Oh, and I was planning my wedding (see "certifiably insane" above).
In the midst of all this craziness, an HR rep from RD e-mailed me: There was an open research position-would I like to apply? A few phone interviews and a research test later (and a conversation with my fiance in which he basically said, "If you get offered a job at Reader's Digest, there's no way we're not moving to New York"), I accepted the job offer. I added "coordinate a move across the country" to my schedule and plowed through the rest of the semester on pure adrenaline.
Thankfully, my first day at RD was a fairly smooth transition since I already knew most of the staff from my internship. Learning all the research procedures and guidelines was a bit stressful, but it was nothing compared to the huge gamble I took trying to find an apartment.
Sound like a whirlwind, stressful way to move to New York and start your first full-time job? Well, the rest of the year didn't calm down much. My fiance moved to NYC in May and job-searched while working two internships. It paid off, though, because one of his internships just hired him as a full-time employee. And, our wedding is finally here-September 15, in good ol' Des Moines.
So, here's a question for you: What else do you want know? I'll reply to all comments, I promise! -Bridget
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