In My Own Write

The new gig is going well, really well. Sure, my brain is FULL, and I sometimes have trouble shutting it off so I can sleep, but I really didn't dare hope it could be this good. Who knew insurance could be so interesting? I certainly didn't. My teammates are fabulous—it struck me the other day that I'm surrounded by writers for the first time—and I've hit the boss lottery big time. My new supervisor, the Director of the Communications Center, is sharp as hell, incredibly emotionally intelligent and has a fabulous sense of humor. She also believes in investing in employees. Exhibit A: she sent me to an Ann Wylie workshop in L.A. on Thursday and Friday. After a little more than a month on the job, she wanted me to go to a writing workshop on the company's dime.

For those of you unfamiliar with Ms. Wylie, I encourage you to check out her site. She's made quite a name for herself teaching classes and as a freelancer. Over the course of two days, I re-wrote, polished and perfected an article for State Fund's internal website that I'd written, and watched it transform with input from Ann and the class. It didn't take long for me to see why my boss holds Ms. Wylie in such high esteem, and why her techniques have shaped such a large part of our department style guide.

Ann told us that she's not a naturally gifted writer, but over the years she's developed effective techniques that serve her well. Her view is that writing is heavy lifting and if you're struggling, you're doing it right. She is of the opinion that hard work and technique trump natural talent every time. That comment raised my metaphorical hackles and I later realized it was because I didn't want to (and maybe still don't) believe that. I've long understood that writing equals butt in chair, but the idea that it's all technique and hard work crowds out the romantic notion of my muse floating out there, descending at will to bring me gifts of perfectly-polished prose.

As I continue to settle into my job and hone my craft, I have a hunch that I'll figure out a way to focus on technique and dedication but not disavow my muse. After all, each writer charts her own course.

With a Little Help from My Friends

Well, after seven long months, countless résumé tweaks, 48 applications, and some much-needed, greatly-appreciated insider knowledge from friends, I did it—I landed a state job. On Monday, I'll start my new gig as a Communications Consultant at State Compensation Insurance Fund. (Cue fanfare). To say I'm relieved is an understatement of ridiculous proportions. I don't do unemployment well, and am a terrible job hunter, but I will say I've handled things far better this time around than after Tower ended. I really have no idea what to expect, but as someone who rarely changes jobs (I don't leave jobs, they leave me), I'm trying to keep it together and not completely freak out about being the FNG after nearly nine years at my last job.

I do know that I'll have an entire week of training, or onboarding (and the state-speak begins) before I even sit down at my desk for the first time. What a concept. Comprehensive training. About the organization, my benefits package, what workers' comp is and how it functions, and presumably, the culture of the agency. I must admit that it's the latter I'm most concerned about. I know I can learn the language of a new industry, even the endless acronyms, and figure out the day-to-day functions of the job. But what's it going to be like working for the state of California? How corporate is it going to be? As in, how serious is the environment, and am I going to have to conduct myself like an actual grown-up 100% of the time and leave my sarcasm and fabulously witty personality at the door? While that probably sounds like a given to most people, consider my history. You can take the girl out of Tower...

However it will unfold, I'm ready for this new chapter to begin, and I won't forget the help of the friends who go me this far. And now, it's on me. Here we go...

And Then...

...there was that time I wrote a novel in 30 days. No, really. I did. I've been aware of National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, as it's better known, for years. I've never participated because I've always had an excuse about being too busy, or already in the middle of a project, or some other lame rationalization. So I decided this year was different; it was time to jump in and see what would happen.

For those unfamiliar with the project that became an international event, NaNoWriMo challenges writers of every skill level to write a 50,000 word first draft in 30 days. That's an average of 1667 words per day. And the less prepared you are, the better. The idea is to experience seat-of-your-pants-style creative writing. The very idea of which can make a perfectionist break out in hives, but I jumped in anyway, with an idea that didn't begin to take shape until about the middle of October. So I actually sat down to write a novel, without an outline and with a very vague idea of who the main characters were, in a month. And an amazing thing happened: the less I worried about sentence structure, finding the exact right word, knowing what would happen next, and how I'd get out of the corner I'd just written myself into, the story started flowing, the characters revealed who they were and the plot unfolded.

Freelance writer Chris Baty started NaNoWriMo in the Bay Area in July of 1999 with 21 participants. In 2000, it was moved to November, "to more fully take advantage of the miserable weather." Last year, over 400,000 participants labored over their keyboards and made something out of nothing. They conjured words out of thin air, coaxed characters out of their imaginations, created worlds and wrote novels. The Young Writer's Program, which started in 2004, is a writing workshop for K-12 students. Each year, more than 100,000 students and educators in over 2,000 classrooms around the world have participated. How cool is that? For those who've asked me what's next, the only thing I'm sure of is more writing.

Image courtesy of National Novel Writing Month

Ten Years

 

Ten years ago
Was the end of

An era

A legend

A way of life

Ten years ago

Was the beginning of

A new chapter

A new identity

A new way of life

Ten years taught me about

Accepting change and loss

Finding strength

Making peace with the past

Ten years ago today

I walked into an uncertain future

Today I look back

With fondness

With pride

With love for my tribe

Today I look back and

See how far I've come

Know I can find my way

Believe how far I can go

Still Amazed…With Good Reason

It will come as a surprise to exactly no one that I was one of the 15,000+ cheering, screaming, dancing fans in attendance at the Golden 1 Center Tuesday night, to catch the inaugural show by none other than Paul McCartney. Most people know that I've loved and adored Sir Paul since I was a teenager. My closest friends indulge my fangirl tendencies and politely listen to my raving about his genius. And while it's highly unlikely I'd hang with anyone who didn't at least like him, I readily acknowledge that I'm in the group wherein fan truly comes from fanatic. To those who fail to see the light, I could just state the obvious and point to his unrivaled success and other-worldly ability to crank out hit after hit (which I've done in the past), but what really sets Macca apart from his rock star royalty contemporaries is his natural ability to engage an audience.

It's obvious that he's a born performer, as were the other three Beatles, but Paul can face a club, an arena or a giant outdoor stadium and talk to the crowd as if we were all sitting in his living room. He's honed his between-songs banter over the years, but it never comes across as rehearsed or stilted; it really feels like we're having an intimate conversation, whether he's talking about the inspiration for a particular song, or telling a story about the early days of the Beatles. Tuesday night he talked about how nervous he and his Liverpool compadres were during their first recording session with George Martin, and said that he can still hear the nerves in his vocals on "Love Me Do" when he listens to that track.

The stand-out crowd-engaging moment from that night though, was courtesy of a 12-year-old. (The age range at his concerts is truly wonderful). People often bring hand-lettered signs to the shows, and Sir Paul has recently been inviting fans whose signs catch his eye onto the stage. This girl's sign read, "I’m 12 years old and I want to hold your hand." She was wearing a Beatles t-shirt and I'm sure her knees were shaking as she crossed that stage. Paul asked her name and said he wanted to hold her hand too, and then took one in both of his. Every person in that arena felt that girl's elation, and when Paul put his arm around her and she started to cry we all did too. Whether or not you're in regular contact with your inner fangirl, like, ahem, some of us, moments like that bring out the teenager in everyone. I'll be forever grateful that an artist I've admired for so long still wants to perform and bring joy to his legion of fans. No doubt about it, we’re still amazed...

Buzzword Bingo

I like word games as much as the next grammar geek, but I must confess that I'm growing weary of rewriting my résumé and tweaking state applications to contain just the right words that will be picked up by the bots and then hopefully land in front of a human. I understand the game: pour over the job description, select that perfect combination of words or phrases that will somehow indicate my being the best fit for that particular position, incorporate them into my work experience and, voila! The bots will swipe right. (I suspect chicken bones, hemlock and runes are also involved, but I can't prove it). I understand how the game works, but I'm tired of it.

However, since I have no choice but to continue playing if I'm going to land a gig, I need to figure out how to deal with this nonsense. So I choose sarcasm (duh), which will surprise no one. The recurring hits are just begging for a top ten list, so here they are, in no particular order:

Compelling. As opposed to what, boring as hell?
Strategic vision. Presumably a strategy is in place before hiring begins...
Web savvy. Does this really even need to be stated?
Multi-faceted. Two-faced?
Digital expert. h/t to Rojer, does this mean an expert thumb twiddler?
Implement (verb). Just say "start" or "put in place."
Collaboration. Just once I'd like to see this described as "playing nicely with others."
Analytical thinker. Wait. You want me to think and be able to analyze stuff?
Stakeholder. I'm not even sure why this one bugs me, it just does.
Facilitation. I'd like to see this one as "make stuff happen."

Of course, all of the above are perfectly benign, when encountered by themselves. It's seeing them day after day in a multitude of job listings that's making my head hurt. I'm thinking of making scorecards and setting up online matches for my similarly displaced compatriots. And, since thinking of this analogy, I can't help but picture Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons saying, "Worst bingo game ever!" 

The Continuing Saga of “This isn’t What I Planned…”

Unemployment misconception #437: Being out of work, I'll post on my blog every week. Nope...it hasn't turned out that way. Granted, I am putting serious hours into the job search, tweaking my resume this way and that, trying to make my skill set and work history sound compelling. There's another INFP stumbling block - I'm so over talking about myself. But even with all of that, I can't claim I'm putting in 40 hours a week, so why am I not cranking out the blog posts, or writing much of anything lately?

I'm really not sure. We've all heard, or possibly given, the advice to put the angst (or fear, anger, depression, etc.) into the art. And it makes sense. Great art comes from great upheaval. When all is well and we're cruising along with no conflicts, there's no edge, which is boring. So given my current unemployed status, frustration at the less than robust job market, and general feeling of "what the hell do I do next?" I should be writing like crazy. It appears my muse isn't so fond of angst. Or, it might be that I have very little tolerance for my own whininess and I just don't want to explore what's going on in my head right now. Most of my former colleagues are in the same boat, and things really could be much worse, but I'm pretty fed up with this week, with events ranging from ridiculous to annoying to disappointing to are you freaking kidding me?

It started with an email informing me that my online application was reviewed but I don't possess the desired qualifications to warrant an interview. Then, another day passed without a phone call about a job I interviewed for on the first. It's starting to look like the decision has been made but it has nothing to do with me. Awesome. Here's something I couldn't make up: I received a physical letter thanking me for going paperless. Seriously. The winner though, was an email sent at 5:30 this afternoon, telling me my application is being reviewed but they need my unofficial college transcript, by Friday at 4 PM. Um, what?? My transcript? In two days? I had no idea I'd ever need to even think about that again. So I went to Sac State's website, jumped through the required hoops and $26 later was promised a "rushed" copy, in three days. Super. I'm sure I'll see the humor in all of this...eventually, and possibly even be inspired. Perhaps my muse leans toward off-beat humor, which would surprise no one.