Oh, you know, it’s the classic story…
ACT ONE
…decide you want to write for world-renowned magazines like Esquire and The New Yorker, move to New York City, live in a studio apartment with three male models. Spend 16-hour days at a celebrity tabloid until your boss gets hired by Hearst to help launch a new magazine and decides you should be part of her team. Spend a year at that magazine, where the hours and pay are much better but you have to edit recipes and interior-decorating articles all day long. Get a try-out at Esquire. Win the job. Learn from some of the coolest, most-talented editors alive. Work on stories by authors such as Daniel Woodrell, Chuck Klosterman, James Lee Burke, Lisa Taddeo, and Stephen King. Attend parties to celebrate National Magazine Awards. Attend the magazine’s 75th anniversary party during which Bill Murray sidles up and suggests you buy an apartment together. Watch all that fun disappear when Lehman Brothers collapses and, with it, the American economy. Continue to work at Esquire on a project basis but also work for a group of publications in the Fairchild division of Condé Nast. Copyedit novels for Penguin Random House. Generally feel lucky.
ACT ONE PLOT TWIST
Attend a college friend’s wedding in which a bridesmaid pins you against the wall of a bar and explains that “you’re going to be friends.” Agree with the bridesmaid. Date the bridesmaid long-distance for a year. Turn the bridesmaid into a bride. Accept that she doesn’t like the city and move to her hometown: Lookout Mountain, Tennessee. Pat yourself on the back for the lengths you’ll go to for love. Process the fact that you’ve walked away from a twelve-year career in publishing and have no idea what you’re going to do next. Generally feel scared.
ACT TWO
Give branding and advertising a shot. Work as the copy chief and head writer for a couple of start-ups. Write advertisements in every possible format: print, digital, radio, television, billboard, and transit. Make a few great friends. Make tens of millions of dollars for the companies you work for. Generally think life is OK but that Act Two isn’t as cool as Act One.
ACT TWO PLOT TWIST
Realize that you became a writer because you didn’t want to be a salesman, and that copywriters are essentially salesmen at scale. Decide that in order to have a fulfilling career, you have to work on projects in which the writing is seen as the product, as opposed to a promotional tactic. Quit your job. Create a personal mission statement: Work on projects you’re proud of with people you care about.
ACT THREE
Question whether you’re really in Act Three. Like, seriously, you seem way too young for that. Keep writing every day. Pick up freelance projects you’re proud of with people you care about. Feel like Act Three is really shaping up to be as cool as Act One. But, again, is it really Act Three? Can’t be.