Showing posts with label adulthood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adulthood. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Consider The Writer

image from  www.poewar.comThis week has been all about preparing for the Greater Grad Career Fair Downtown. Appropriate yet stylish new suit? Check. Ironed button-down shirt in the loudest color I could get away with? Bright pink, yeah! Panty hose and heels? …unfortunately, yes. Twelve resumes on cardstock paper? Got it. 60-second promotional speech on what a professional writer could do for them? Yes…wait, what?

I came to the career fair intending to sell my business minor and my previous work experiences. (I’m interning at a publishing company! I used to teach French college students to speak and write English!) Oklahoma is known for their oil and gas industries and not their writers. I was amazed when I realized they were actually interested in my Blog Critics articles, my blog and that I worked on the paper in high school.

One statement I’m not sure I responded to well enough was “You seem to be into the creative side of writing.” They were looking for a technical writer. The real question was, “Could you handle the business side of writing?” My answer to that is, Absolutely.

But how could someone who aspires to be a fantasy novelist possibly possess the skills to write about management or IT?

The proof is in the practice not the content.

Here are three things writers are universally that make them universally valuable:

First, writers are researchers. It doesn’t matter if I’m writing a news story or a character sketch or an instruction manual. Before anything goes down on the page, I have to believe without a shadow of a doubt that I know what I’m talking about. The agreement when a reader chooses to spend their time on our writing is that we won’t waste their time by being uninformed. That’s trust. That goal is also applicable in any respectable job field. A person unafraid to spend the time getting her work right is invaluable.

Second, writers are teachers. A writer bangs furiously on the keyboard for three main reasons: to inform, to persuade, or to entertain. Informing is arguably the most important. We love to share our knowledge and experiences. If you don’t believe me, think briefly of the massive self-help section in Barnes & Noble. We love teaching! In our (sometimes unsolicited) wisdom, we strive to connect you to the reverence we have for human rights, politics, conservation and, yes, shoes. We translate political-speak into something that makes sense for you. We take apart difficult concepts (what exactly happened to the economy, anyway?) discard the finger-pointing and give you what is important. Successful companies are founded on excellent communication (as are all relationships.) Successful communication is what writers do.

Third, writers are self-motivated. Writing is not a profession people go into for profit. There isn’t a niche for writers who hate writing but want someone to pay them. Writers without passion don’t fare well. They never make it that far. Part of this is because our passion is directly proportional to the amount of money we make. Yeah, we could just write that one piece for the paper or magazine per month, but we’d like to use the air conditioner this summer so we’ll pick up other opportunities to make that happen. If we’re very lucky, we’ll spend months and months and months locked up in the home office trying to create the next bestseller while our friends have forgotten what we look like and our family is afraid to knock on the door because of what happened "last time." Giving unlimited time to a profession that may never give back the amount of time we spent on self-educating and creating isn’t for the weak of heart. That’s passion, dear readers. There are plenty of employees out there, but tell me: how many are passionate about what they do?

The job hunt is getting worse every day, and the girl with the ‘Professional Writing’ sticker isn’t always taken seriously. She knows, however, that she’s every bit as capable of doing a great job as the business majors. So please, esteemed readers, consider the writer.

Monday, September 1, 2008

Am I growing OLD or growing UP?

It isn't hard to enjoy growing at my age. I can wear those ratty old jeans that my mother condemned years ago. I can stay out all night, or all weekend, if the mood strikes me. I can eat cake for breakfast and have pizza for dessert. Getting older, at this point, is great.

Then there are little reminders that I'm supposed to be maturing as each birthday passes. I'm supposed to be ready for separation from my best-friends-since-middle-school. I shouldn't be so concerned about the fact that one has just moved to Hawaii and I can't just show up at her door anymore. That's what happens when you grow up, right? People's interests change and they leave.

I recognize that moving as a fact of life, but I still haven't come to terms with the number of weddings I've been to or the engagements I've witnessed over the past year. Two friends have been "dropped" (the Greek equivalent of a promise ring) and three more with actual promise rings. One new bride is already pregnant after her one-year anniversary. She'll have her first child before she can have her first beer.

I have a friend who explained the madness the best. Or maybe she's the best example of the madness. Regardless, she has set up her future as a simple math problem. We start backwards with the fact that she wants to be finished having kids when she is thirty. So, we'll say that from age 28-30 she's having babies. Now, she will also make sure she's had at least two years of marital bliss before the children arrive. So she will be around 26 at her wedding. But, she isn't just going to rush into love, she wants time to make sure he's the one. 3-5 years for a thorough background check and compatibility test. My friend must then meet the man of her dreams by the time she is 23, at the latest. This doesn't factor in all the Mr. Wrongs that inevitably show up in your life just to slow you down.

Maybe I'm still immature, but I'm beginning to feel like I chased some bizarre little bunny down the wrong rabbit hole. I don't belong here, among the first houses and new spouses. I'm only now getting to know a guy I can see myself dating past Christmas. For me, that's a huge step. In my eyes, I'm growing up.

We're all supposed to be different and therefore incapable of making the same decisions at the same time, but when your clubbing friends are busy making dinner for their families on Friday night you have to wonder if there is a secret age for adulthood. When should growing old and growing up coincide?