A writer friend and I [adjusts monocle, strokes chin whiskers] were talking about how to get work in new publications lately andzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....
Woh, sorry. I just bored myself shitless there for a second. Anyhooo. We were talking about how to break into new publications. And the conclusion we came to was that you basically just have to hang around until they really have no other choice but to use you for an assignment because of the mere fact that you are there at the exact moment they are shit out of ideas. Your email pitch happens to show up in an editor's inbox on the day he or she needs something written, and BANG you're in.
Long story short, it reminded me of what it used to be like trying to hook up with broads. Granted, it's been quite a long time since I've been in the mix as it were, but when you think about it, getting into a magazine, or getting any job really, is the same as getting handsome with some bird with a pissed-off roommate and a box of cat shit in the corner of her tiny apartment. You just hang around long enough until you're called into the game. Like Rudy Ruettiger with a boner. Then everyone carries you off the field on their shoulders while the crowd cheers and old men cry into their hats. I think. Like I said, it's been a while since I've been there.
Remember that shit though? Just sitting there all night, toughing it out. Tough-ing-it-out-all-fuck-ing-night. The utter shit you'd talk. The shit you'd have to listen to from whatever other hopeful mopes still had their hat in the circle. Hoping you'd be the last person around. The interminable, iron man triathlete will you needed to just sit on that shitty futon in Allston or wherever it is douches in your city get drunk until everyone else gave in and peaced out? It was like one of those hands-on-a-truck contests that they have out there in real America, but instead of getting a free car at the end if you can hold on long enough you get a half-assed hand job.
Anyway, if you really want to know, that's exactly the same way journalism works. Except at least in one night stands you have a better chance of getting a call back the next day.
Woh, sorry. I just bored myself shitless there for a second. Anyhooo. We were talking about how to break into new publications. And the conclusion we came to was that you basically just have to hang around until they really have no other choice but to use you for an assignment because of the mere fact that you are there at the exact moment they are shit out of ideas. Your email pitch happens to show up in an editor's inbox on the day he or she needs something written, and BANG you're in.
Long story short, it reminded me of what it used to be like trying to hook up with broads. Granted, it's been quite a long time since I've been in the mix as it were, but when you think about it, getting into a magazine, or getting any job really, is the same as getting handsome with some bird with a pissed-off roommate and a box of cat shit in the corner of her tiny apartment. You just hang around long enough until you're called into the game. Like Rudy Ruettiger with a boner. Then everyone carries you off the field on their shoulders while the crowd cheers and old men cry into their hats. I think. Like I said, it's been a while since I've been there.
Remember that shit though? Just sitting there all night, toughing it out. Tough-ing-it-out-all-fuck-ing-night. The utter shit you'd talk. The shit you'd have to listen to from whatever other hopeful mopes still had their hat in the circle. Hoping you'd be the last person around. The interminable, iron man triathlete will you needed to just sit on that shitty futon in Allston or wherever it is douches in your city get drunk until everyone else gave in and peaced out? It was like one of those hands-on-a-truck contests that they have out there in real America, but instead of getting a free car at the end if you can hold on long enough you get a half-assed hand job.
Anyway, if you really want to know, that's exactly the same way journalism works. Except at least in one night stands you have a better chance of getting a call back the next day.
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3 comments:
haha, holding out long enough. so apt.
"Rudy Ruetigger with a boner." Genius. Someone buy the man a drink already.
sitting there. just waiting.
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