First, a Daily Intel excerpt:
"When you're a single lady in your early twenties and you live in New York and work in publishing, you sometimes feel so sorry for yourself that you burst into tears, spontaneously and without warning, in public. We've been there, and so we empathize with how annoying it is for Risa Chubinsky, a twentysomething subsidiary-rights manager at Simon & Schuster who lives in Park Slope, when she bursts into tears at a local bar — just like anyone in her situation would! — and finds herself upstaged by people who are even fatter, less talented, and incapable of financially supporting themselves than she is."
Well, this might as well be an excerpt from my life last year. Verbatim. The "fatter, less talented, and incapable of financially supporting themselves" upstagers being spoken of are, of course, the Park Slope baby brigade. And oh, it's so true. However, this Daily Intel article goes on to baby hate, while I baby love because they are so cute and they can't help it that their moms drive their strollers like madwomen.
For the most part, or at least on my best days, I don't regret abandoning my NY editorial dreams. It wasn't the right time, place, or economy...And maybe it wasn't the right me either. Maybe in a few years, a different version of myself (and a different version of the world) will be better equipped for it.
But, I must admit, old habits are hard to kick. I still get my daily Publisher's Lunch. I still peruse all the blogs and bestseller lists. Though, now it's for pleasure and curiosity over the previous feelings of pure yearning and preparation. And all my publishing minded friends, even the ones who have gone different directions like myself, seem to do the same thing, too. And we share our findings. There were two great articles about publishing last week.
Another great article is the Wall Street Journal's "The Death of the Slush Pile." I know the slush pile all too well. In fact, I would say that the slush pile and me have a somewhat intimate relationship. And maybe the slush pile is dying, which is great and horrible. As a slush pile reader I was always hoping, waiting really, to read the first few lines of what I just knew would be a hit. It would be a magic moment. And though I never had that moment, there were some close calls. And the taste of the promise made it so that I never hated the slush pile quite as much as I should. Maybe that's the writer in me. The girl that knows that one day my writing will be in the slush pile and that maybe some intern will read it and believe in me and root for me. Or maybe it's from our American Idol culture, where the underdog-the slush pile everyman- actually makes it. Or maybe it's the American Dream and promises of equality where one can feel good in knowing that their work will at the very least be glanced out, thumbed through, by some twenty-something punk.
Whether your care about reading, editing, books, slugs, baseball, marshmallows, bon-bons, puppies, or daisies, I think everyone will think these articles are pretty interesting. So, check 'em out and tell me what you think.