Journalism 101

On our first day of my college journalism class my teacher asked us what we hoped to accomplish with writing- where did we want our writing to take us. To myself I started to craft an answer of poignant brilliance while listening to my fellow students hopes and dreams.

"I want to become a journalist and work for a really influential news source. Like the New York Times."

A solid goal.

"I want to start my own fashion magazine that would rival Vogue."

Very ambitious.

"I want to write novels. But I'd want them to get turned into movies."

Uh.. yeah... that's what all novelist's hope for.. a movie contract.

"I want to write for Rolling Stone so I can tour with all my favorite bands."

Yes... that sounds unrealistically feasible. I'm sure Rolling Stone wants to help you meet celebrities.

"I think I'd like to work for one of those tabloid magazines!"

Alright that's not exactly what she said. But she might as well have. People magazine? TV guide? USA Weekly? That's where you want your education in writing to take you? Years of schooling, thousands of dollars, hours of energy for fucking film credit and fancy cocktails with whoever is hot right now?

"I want to write shitty romance novels that only sell at CVS."

"I want to write spam emails and mail order bride contracts."

uuuughhhh!

"And where do you want a career in writing to take you emma?"

Don't say to the bar.. Don't say to the bar...


"Well after cashing my checks for writing obituaries- I suppose I'll go to the bar."

Hah. I wish I had said that. I don't remember what I said. Probably something half-witted witty snarky and far too thought out. Something about wanting to write to take me away from the things I despise so much. Something about writing taking my toilet water swirling uncontrollable half-assed sass thoughts into brilliance which will allow me to live in a house as opposed to in the park.

With that money I'll move away from society and make moonshine to keep the sentences coming.

Eventually I'll have a psychotic break in which I realize I've become a soulless drone for society to prattle over and dissect. I have become the capitalist goat whore which I have always despised. I'll go into a furious frenzy due to an overdose of herbal supplements. I'll start to hallucinate and watch my books form a stairway to hell.

Not glamorous. But good enough for someone to write a book about and then turn into a movie.

Turning profits has always been easier than turning a page.