Wednesday, 02 March 2011
This evening, I attended a “Publishing Seminar” organized and put on by my college. My one word for describing this event is: depressing.
Do you want to know how to take your English degree and get a job in the world of editing and publishing? Be an intern! Yes, that’s right, two of the three people on the panel discussion were editors working for local book publishers (the third was a published poet) and they one of them stressed how she spent their summer during college working as an inern at places where she eventuall got hired. The guy, meanwhile, told his tale of woe how he almost got hired at this great publishing house, but that they decided to go with their intern instead. So then he moved back hom and lived with his parents for a few months while working as an intern at another company. That company eventually hired him.
Did I mention they didn’t get paid for these internships?
The other thing they mentioned was the importance of networking. For example, that same guy noted how he’s in charge of reading the incoming unsolicited manuscripts that they receive every January and May. He says some are good, some are not so good, but regardless, they end up going with people they know – like maybe one of the manuscripts comes from a former classmate of one of the editors. I figured I would go up to him and get to know him after the seminar and tell him a little bit about my book…but then I learned that he received his degree from Bringham Young University.
Thursday, 03 March 2011
Today, over dinner, while discussing the third in what is (apparently) an endless procession of lay-offs at my job, Owen started crying. Turns out, he was very sad that I might lose my job. When we tried to console him, he told us that he still wanted to be able to go to the ball pit.
Yeah, that’s right – did you know my company has a ball pit? Okay, so actually they don’t. Instead, at the local community center, about a mile from my company, there’s a play area for kids. And Owen didn’t want to lose that.
See, when we lived in Big Lake, Jennifer would drop Owen off with me for a couple of hours every Monday while she went to a therapist. At first, I didn’t know what to do with Owen. Sometimes I brought him into my job and took him to the cafeteria to have lunch with my co-workers. Other times, I took him to Cub, and we’d just walk around and then eat in their dining area. Once the weather became warmer, we went to the local regional park and played on the playground or walked on the beach.
At some point, I eventually realized their was a community center in town, and I began taking him there. For $3, he could play in this kid’s area, with slides, mazes, and, yes, a ball pit. There was even a special area cordoned off for kids under three years old (which he was back then). This was the perfect place, because he could be loud and crazy, or just sit quietly and play with a toy. When he was done playing for a little bit, we’d go eat lunch off on the side, then head back in for some more play.
The area where we ate overlooked a swimming pool, and Owen said he wanted to go swimming in the pool one day. After several months, I finally made good on that and we began heading into the swimming pool every Monday.
Anyway, today we explained to him that we haven’t been to that ball pit in a long time, and that there are other play areas we’ve been to in the meantime. He said, “but they don’t have pools.” Well, es, we conceded that that was correct, but then we pointed out how we’d been to other pools, too.
Here’s the funny thing: do you the last time we went to that community center? Three years ago today. Owen has more than doubled in age since his last visit there, but he still recalls that place fondly. Pretty cool, I think.