So I’ve been on the most stupid hiatus in the world and I’M SO SORRY. Like, really. The next 3,000 words of Future Talk are languishing on my hard drive, buried beneath a mile-thick layer of schoolwork. It is SO FRUSTRATING, but I promise to try my best to get back in the saddle ASAP!
Not that that’s out of the way, news. I have some. Some BIG news that explains why I’ve been away. Because although I might be an irresponsible nutcase, I have rare moments of clarity that sometimes result in journal updates. On occasion. Yeesh.
First thing first—and no, this isn’t the big news. I’m saving that for later like a sadistic sitcom writer. To start with, I’m alive and kicking and working my ass off in school. This term I’m only taking business classes (getting a minor in the stupid subject, that I am) and it’s extremely difficult for me. I’m way out of my element. Hopefully things will calm down soon and I’ll be able to start updating again. Next year I plan on focusing on what few classes remain for my creative writing BA and my philosophy minor, so it should be much more low-key! These days I have a weekly paper due for one class and a weekly social experiment presentation and analysis due for another; the last class has me reading about ethics until the wee hours of the morning. I can’t tell you how badly I’d love to punch Lao Tzu in the junk right now. Don’t get me wrong, I love philosophy enough to minor in the damn subject, but there’s only so much of the Tao Te Ching I can take in one sitting before becoming decidedly homicidal.
One more thing before the BIG thing: A-Cen is next week! For those not in-the-know, it’s a colossal anime convention at which I’m participating in the fanfiction panel. Check it out if you’re going to be at the convention, and please come say hi! I’ll also be cosplaying this year as a whole plethora of characters: Harley Quinn from Batman: Arkham City, Velma from Scooby Doo (YES), and Marceline the Vampire Queen from Adventure Time. Also Carmen SanDiego, but I have been routinely dressing up as her for Halloween for years so it barely feels like cosplay at all. A friend from home is flying up to cosplay with me as some complementary characters (Ivy, Daphne, Fionna) so that’s super fun, if not a little stressful considering she’s travelling over a thousand miles to get here. Yeeeeeesh.
And now… the BIG thing. Deep breath, here we go…
I recently applied to an internship. The internship was with a company interested in hiring someone to work on a picture book series for children, which would be based on a successful children’s video series they had filmed and released the year prior. The intern’s job would be to write a manuscript built around the content of each video, and then with the help of a hired designer plan out the book’s layout. The intern would receive full authorial credit for their work, basically ensuring official publication from an official publishing house. This is a pretty tasty carrot for creative writing majors, and since my school has one of the best and most populous CW programs in the nation, you can imagine the flood of applicants the project received. I sent in my résumé along with the rest of the mob, thinking that even if I wasn’t accepted (which didn’t seem likely given the sheer volume of talent pouring their way), I’d at least have put my name out there and given it the good college try, right?
Well, to my complete astonishment I was called in to be interviewed—“What the fuck is this shit?” I wondered. “Am I being punked?”
Thankfully, I wasn’t. They were apparently impressed with my past achievements, dedicated work history, and my (apparently) diverse degree plans. They asked me to actually start working on the project—to write a rough draft manuscript, just a few paragraphs, so they could see if my abilities were suited to the project. They’d tell me if I was hired based on what I sent them.
I tried not to get my hopes up. I told myself this was a long shot. They hadn’t told me how many others they’d asked to submit actual work and I didn’t feel it was polite to ask, but I assumed they were getting many other applicants to work on the project and that I was just a fish in the sea. A drop in the barrel. A nonentity. If I wanted to stand out and get this job, I’d have to be great. I’d have to soar. I’d have to dig deep and somehow write better than I EVER had.
And so began the doubting.
I’m a serial doubter when it comes to myself, my abilities, and basically all hopeful things—I’m a terrible pessimist with a cheerful grin. I never expect good things to happen, and when they do, I usually attribute them to luck as opposed to any fault of my own. As I started working on the application project, I felt myself begin to doubt just about everything aside from the persistence of the sunrise. I kept thinking things like:
“If I truly want to get the internship, I’m going to have to work harder than I’ve ever had before. Because if I don’t want it, if I don’t feel like I truly need it, I know I wouldn’t produce my best work. So… do I even want this thing or not?”
“If I don’t produce my best work… I was pretty much screwed.”
“But what if I try, and my best work isn’t good enough?”
“Should I even try?”
I called my mother to talk about the situation, and what she did was give me the verbal equivalent of a punch to the gut. “What do you mean, IF you want it?” she barked when I told her of my insecurities. “It’s publication, you idiot! It’s all you’ve EVER wanted!”
She called me a drama queen (fair) and a wimp (also fair) and a coward (fairer still), and I realized—yeah. I did want that internship. More than anything in the entire world, in fact. And suddenly, I was hopeful even though I’d been telling myself not to give in to that temptation.
Hope has this way of teaming up with tough-love moms and sneaking up on you so it can gnaw on your ankles. And it started gnawing on mine with sharp little teeth that said, “Dude, WTF, start writing already!”
So… that’s what I did, and then some. Instead of whipping up a few paragraphs, I mapped out the entire sample video, even including some plans I had for page layouts and content organization, obsessively tweaking and overhauling my work until the deadline came around and I was forced to send my baby-project in for their review.
As soon as I sent it in, I started pacing. A week passed. My carpet began to look threadbare. Another week passed. I swear you could see the floorboards. I fretted and bit off all my nails, thinking they hadn’t liked me, that my best had not been good enough after all, that disappoint loomed vast and dark on the horizon… and that’s when an email popped into my inbox.
The email told me that I’d gotten the job, and congratulations.
Hope blossomed into happiness, because that was probably the single most important moment of my writing career thus far. When I heard the news that I’d been picked, I quite literally started crying and doing my crazy happy-dance, because this means I’ll be getting my foot in the publishing door. I’ll be there. I’ll be credited. Type my name into Amazon and it’ll actually come up with something.
I hadn’t been looking for this internship. My school sent out a mass email to advertise the position. But I worked at it, and I dared to hope. This whole thing has taught me that the most unexpected moments, and the ability to open yourself up to dreaming, can lead to something good you hadn’t known was out there. Never forget to hope, guys. As my favorite author, Haruki Murakami, puts it: “There is nothing so cruel in this world as the desolation of having nothing to hope for.” Find your thing, and go for it. Dare to dream. Dive on in.
And now that I’ve finished my cheesy PSA, I’ll let you go. But thanks for reading. I’m sorry I’ve been AWOL, but this project… well. I’m going to give it my everything.
For those interested, this is the video series: http://www.amazon.com/Howd-They-Build-Fire-Truck/dp/B001CMZF46
((And to go with the theme of hope, a poet of great renown.))
“Hope”—Emily Dickinson
“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.”
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.”
