Big Feet, Big Dreams

Bore in store? I've blogged about this before. But I think it's worth repeating.

In college, I did an internship one or two afternoons a week at the local branch of the American Heart Association, writing press releases in the small upstairs room of an old Highland Park house. Before graduation, two of my supervisors took me out to lunch at the brand-new Hyatt Regency in New Brunswick. One of the women asked me what my plans were after graduation.

I want to work at a magazine.

Which one?

I don't know, one of the women's magazines in New York.

You can't start there. You'll never be able to get a job at one of the big magazines right away. You'll have to start smaller and get experience first, at somewhere like New Jersey Monthly. 

I don't know what I said, but I know what I thought. Those were fighting words. What do you mean I can't start at a big magazine in New York? I'm sure the woman was trying to be helpful, so I wouldn't get my hopes crushed, but I didn't want to work in New Jersey. I wanted to climb onto the #167 bus from Dumont and work in Manhattan. That was the heart of it all, and the comment from the well-suited PR professional only made me more determined to dig my heels in.

And while I like New Jersey Monthly now [it's gotten better], back then, I didn't know it from donuts, and besides, I had stars in my eyes. I had read The Bell Jar, eagerly devouring every detail of Sylvia Plath's internship at Mademoiselle. I had immersed myself in stacks of bound issues of Better Homes and Gardens at the Rutgers Library for my journalism thesis on gender roles in advertising. I had sat transfixed during media classes, and been awed when a friend a year older mailed me an issue of Seventeen, where she was working. And I danced at party after party with my friends from The Daily Targum--after the Bruce Springsteen music, we'd often end up wrapping our arms around each other's waists and kicking high to Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York."

I meant those words--If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere... And the reason I bring all this up is that here I am nearly 30 years later, faced with starting out again. So I'm sending my resume and writing samples to my dream magazines. Why not? After this long in the business, I've met a fair amount of people, and email is a helpful tool.

I tip my hat--well, the ends of my pink Coach scarf--to the young women and men out there who are hitting the pavement for the first time, too. It ain't always easy, but it really is fun to pursue a dream job. Never say never, to quote Justin Bieber.

Good night, sweet dreams of success.

TCOY

1. Boot camp in the soccer dome; a lot of sprints.
2. Walked Sug around block once.
3. Bought turkey, light Swiss and good rye bread for lunch sandwiches.
4. Long bubble bath.