I Became a Professional Writer, Surprise!
In October of last year, I made the decision to quit my second job in college administration. Instead of having one job, like the average person, I applied for another.
At the beginning of the fall term, I got a notification that the OSU Foundation was looking for a student writer. Being as interested in writing as I am, I thought it might be fun to apply. Still, I treated it as a game, something that I didn’t set my heart on because who would want to hire a half-assed blogger and full-time basket case? Regardless, I applied with my lengthy resume and some writing samples.
Half-way through October, I got an email. I expected to read, “thank you for applying, but the position has been filled,” instead, I was offered an interview.
On the morning of the interview, I convinced myself I wasn’t going to get the job. To control my nerves, I told myself, “This is just interview practice. Go in like you own the place, and deal with it later.” With that in mind, I started my interview off by showing up at the wrong place.
Let’s try that again, I went to the right place and wound up being 15 minutes late, but it wasn’t my job, so all was well. I strut in, or my equivalent as the human version of Bambi in heels, power suit and all and waited for my interviewer to come to get me. As soon as I entered the building, the nerves I had been feeling left me entirely. Sitting upright inside the reception area, I was unbothered by the ticking clock and the sound of heels clicking and clacking on concrete as my interviewer approached. That nervous shade of pink failed to color my face, I was ready to rock this interview and lose the job.
This false sense of confidence, coming from I don’t know where faltered when I entered our offices. I immediately went from a qualified professional to a starry-eyed kid in a candy store. Being a fan of aesthetically pleasing places, I would describe the office as an IKEA catalog incarnate; everything was that perfect shade of white, without the tell-tale signs of use.
Sitting in a small conference room, two people sitting across from me, the onslaught of questions began:
“What’s your major?” Psychology, incredulous stares all-around. “Why do you think you’re qualified for this job?” Well, I have a lot of experience writing creatively, and I’m quick on my feet. “Do you know what AP style is?” Yes; come to find out, AP and APA are two different things.
A lull in the conversation begins, and a third person enters the room. The final boss, so to speak. Except not really, she didn’t have many questions for me; if anything, she wanted me to ask her questions.
To finish the interview, I was given a writing assignment, which seemed appropriate for the position. I had to take a pre-existing email blast and reformat it to fit a shorter word limit and write a “catchy tag-line,” which come to find out is a lot harder than it seems (luckily it didn’t have to be SEO appropriate).
I left feeling great. I did what I could, and from how I felt, I thought I rocked it, but regardless it wasn’t my job, so the world was the same as it was before. The next morning, I would still wake up and make the dreadful walk from my car to the office, dreaming of what could’ve been.
Approximately 30 minutes later, I got a call. “Chloé, we’d like to offer you the job, do you want it?” That’s not really how it went, but you get the gist. I had been unsure about taking on a position for which I felt unqualified for. I’d been working in college administration for almost two years, and now I was expected to keep up with deadlines and write in a way I had never written before.
Now, four months later, I’m so grateful for the people that pushed me to take on this position. For my mother and my pseudo older sister for convincing me that it was stupid not to apply, and everyone else who convinced me to show up for the interview.
Working here has been one of the most rewarding positions I have ever found myself in. I used to dread going to work; that long trek to our windowless office, where I would be stuck all-day scanning documents and helping lost students. Now I anxiously await each shift and writing opportunity I get.
Of course, there have been some ups and downs. During my first few weeks here, I felt utterly useless. I had been given my own desk, but I didn’t feel like I had deserved it yet. My penchant, as a story-teller, is to write lengthy narratives filled with sensory details and information you wouldn’t necessarily need to include. To put plainly, my writing is fluffy, and my job requires the exact opposite.
Initially, I struggled to comprehend how I could possibly express all I needed to say in only 150 words, which seemed like a minuscule number. I didn’t really understand AP style and how it contributed to the role I played, and I most certainly didn’t feel that my writing game was up to par. Every time I sent a draft out, it would come back completely different and lacking most of the words I had provided.
Regardless of my own self-doubt, I kept getting feedback, and my writing kept improving. The more that time goes on, the fewer edits that are made to my work; the more my words appear in email blasts, newsletters, and other such mediums.
Four months ago, when I started this job, I felt the urge to post about this transition from my old to the current position, but, in the end, I chose not too. It felt too fresh to boast about the fact that I am currently getting paid to write, which is still a weird concept for me. So I held out, and I didn’t say anything.
Two months ago, I got assigned to two of my most significant projects to date: writing alumni profiles for our regional newsletter and student spotlights to be highlighted on our website and in print publications. For both of these projects, I was given tremendous responsibility and shown an equal amount of trust by both my supervisor and another senior writer on our team.
For both projects, I wrote the interview questions, interviewed them myself, and then drafted and re-drafted their profiles. At one point, I had an interview every day for an entire week.
For two months, I have been exhausted and exhilarated by the work being put into this project. I spent weeks going over the impressive lives of all these people and the journey they took to get where they are now. Finally, after two months of writing and interviewing and writing some more, my stories are getting published.
I’m so unbelievably grateful for this opportunity and the personal growth that resulted. I’m so thankful that all parties involved trusted me to tell their story, and I hope I’ve done them justice. Though my time at the Foundation is coming to a close, as my final term approaches, I am anxiously anticipating the final few opportunities I have to write with this amazing team and organization.