trying to pitch an article.
Honestly don't even know what I'm doing, but I'm trying to pitch articles to local magazines (for free) to see if they'll bite.
The Surreal, Disillusioned Life of a Post-College Graduate
By Allison Lynch
It’s 3am, and my zombified eyes have taken on the white glow of the harsh, fluorescent light of my computer screen, which is currently browsing a Craigslist ad for the title of a Product Description Writer. Adequate enough, I think to myself. Although it doesn’t fulfill my lifelong dream of becoming an editor for some uppity Condé Nast publication, it is, perhaps, a step in the right direction. And it certainly beats the “VERY UniQuE Modelling Gig!!” I stumbled upon earlier for Agnes Family Funeral Parlors, which requires models to dress up as a recently departed individual and lie face-up in an open casket. I really hope that’s not a real job posting, because if it is, then I feel bad for the poor girl who believes this will kick-start her modeling career and catapult her into the runway world of Milan. One can only dream.
Three hours ago I vowed to go to bed instead of applying for my fiftieth job and bitterly skimming through Facebook photos of my friend’s “CBS Internship in Brooklyn” album. So, this was the volatile life of an unemployed college graduate with a degree in Creative Writing. This is what I had become, a job-hunting machine who graduated Magna Cum Laude, but sounded like a two-year-old overcoming speech difficulties when speaking on the phone with employers. Five months ago, I strode across the stage of my alma mater, fully suited in a skin-tight red dress, platform wedge high heels, and a puff-paint decorated graduation cap. The sun was shining, the world was smiling, and the bagpipes (yes, bagpipes; our mascot is The Fighting Scots) were playing Pomp and Circumstance in the distance. Some five hundred writing assignments and three hundred books later, I had successfully completed my four years of college. Now it was time for the real world: moving out of the house, ladder-climbing the professional world, and establishing myself as a strong, confident, young woman.
Yeah, all of that, except for a few minute problems, the primary one being that I had no idea how to find a job. The possibilities were endless, but at the same time so scant. I could do anything. I could pack my bags and move to Sweden, I could join the Peace Corps, I could dedicate my life to my hobby sculpting miniature foods out of clay – all of these were viable options. But questions of practicality loomed over my increasingly slumped shoulders, and I soon learned that post-college life was as promising as the extra five pounds I magically acquired from a diet of banana bread and chocolate.
Job-applications and apartment hunting were completely foreign territories nobody had prepared me for. Somehow, everyone around me seemed to know what there were doing. Suddenly, everyone’s vocabulary was doused with adult phrases like “first and last month’s rent,” “I’m studying for the GRE,” or, my least favorite, “We’re getting married!” Was it just me, or did I miss a step between the transition of moving out of my dorm to working forty hours a week? What happened to the days when my friends and I complained about Dr. Borgman’s incomprehensible syllabus guidelines, and drunkenly stole other people’s Lean Cuisines from the community kitchens? Everything was a competition now. I knew people who lied on their resumes, people who were living in Manhattan under daddy’s paycheck with internships at places like Good Housekeeping, and people who were shipping off to Singapore to teach English. And then there was me, Allison, a former college student whose identity had been uprooted and tossed into a vacuumed abyss of hopeless accomplishments.
Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating. Maybe my situation wasn’t as pathetic as I thought. After all, I didn’t have any student loans to pay back, which was a miracle in itself, and I wasn’t confined to a single career path and years of schooling like those silly people who decide to become lawyers or doctors (kidding, your professions are significantly important). I had made a lot of changes in my life since graduating, drastic changes that forced me to detach from everything that felt comfortable, and thrust me into a phase of my life I like to call “what-the-hell-am-doing.” These drastic changes included breaking up with my fiancé to pursue my career, finally attending church after a 3-year hiatus, and running 60+ miles a week to train for the Cape Cod Marathon. I was motivated - no, desperate – to become someone important, to prove to the world that I had the passion, the skills, and the enthusiasm to manifest my creativity and have my voice be heard. Goodness, I’ve been writing too many cover letters.