This is an unnecessary blog update. But I am at work and having wandered to EA who send me to three AEs, no one has anything for me to do. I've done the mail two days in a row now out of sheer boredom and am resisting doing it again today. BAD SUBMISSIONS, PLZ.
Showing posts with label lowly intern tears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lowly intern tears. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
In which Lopate suddenly wins my dorky heart
...by comparing his sister's cynicism to the Marquise de Merteuil.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
The Way This Works
A few notes, first.
"Dear Publisher: How are you doing? I hope that your doing good [sic, sic, sic]. I am a poet." I'm thinking, okay, this is clearly a child. No. Ladies and gentlemen, not only is this a veritable adult-human, but this adult-human has won poetry awards and has been published. I am losing faith in everything. I make an extraordinary number of allowances! I, too, typo up my life. But "I hope that your doing good" makes my skin crawl! Furthermore, he mixed "your" and "you're" up in one of his poems, too. Sighhhh. Learn your homophones, people. I know that you can be an intelligent person and still not know the difference between their, they're, and there, your and you're, but you cannot, cannot, CANNOT be a successful writer.
Actually, I don't know that that's true. SIGH.
Also, get the name of the publisher right on your envelope. I WILL notice if you get it wrong, especially if the word our company becomes suddenly takes on a dismal meaning.
"Dear Publisher: How are you doing? I hope that your doing good [sic, sic, sic]. I am a poet." I'm thinking, okay, this is clearly a child. No. Ladies and gentlemen, not only is this a veritable adult-human, but this adult-human has won poetry awards and has been published. I am losing faith in everything. I make an extraordinary number of allowances! I, too, typo up my life. But "I hope that your doing good" makes my skin crawl! Furthermore, he mixed "your" and "you're" up in one of his poems, too. Sighhhh. Learn your homophones, people. I know that you can be an intelligent person and still not know the difference between their, they're, and there, your and you're, but you cannot, cannot, CANNOT be a successful writer.
Actually, I don't know that that's true. SIGH.
"Daffodils we try to quell...yet they sprout like a golden spell...enclosed find a poem about these flowers...I think it will entertain you for hours...Thank you for considering my submission...I hope it aligns with your magazine's vision..." Cover letters in verse do nothing for me. But thank you for the thought.
Also, get the name of the publisher right on your envelope. I WILL notice if you get it wrong, especially if the word our company becomes suddenly takes on a dismal meaning.
For serious, people, I know I kid around with you, but, as Blackadder would say, "Underneath this playful, boyish exterior beats the heart of a ruthless, sadistic maniac" and you MUST, MUST, MUSTTT stop gluing your envelopes to your submissions. Thank you.
Now it occurs to me that I have never exactly explained what this whole process is (and this occurred to me when my dear friend Emily, who is, in addition to being my dear friend, a loyal reader of this bloggy thing, said 'wait, so what exactly do you DO? what's a first reader? what do they do? huhhhh?').
For this particular magazine, where we get too-many submissions each day and have a Lowly Intern doing the mail, the system is thus!:
Lowly Intern comes in Monday, Thursday. (Also Tuesday and Wednesday but non-mail days are of no interest to us just now). She sees "holy shit that is a big-ass pile of mail." After lunch, when she is bored and caffeinated, she takes on the mail pile which, incidentally, is situated just a bit above her 5'2 head and likes to slide and fall and die. Usually, therefore, she takes the in-tray down before getting the submissions, but since last time this backfired on her, she now takes the mail down bit by bit.
(It is CRUCIAL, dear readers, that you understand this process.)
Lowly Intern then staggers to her desk, where she hones her letter-opening skills (only tore one submission last week!). She checks the contents of each envelope quickly. Makes piles: Biggest (usually) is sumbissions; a few that were supposed to go to accounting; review copies of books for EA; art submissions which go to art department. Sometimes things that are just WEIRD, like, for example, Tinkerbell paraphernalia.
Having gotten rid of non-submissions, Lowly Intern begins the painful process of sorting them. Writers, PLEASE make sure your name is printed CLEARLY on your return address. Otherwise, when Lowly Intern goes to check your name against the VIP list, Lowly Intern has to take out your letter, unfold it, find your name (which is never where she thinks it will be), check it on the list, refold it because you weren't a VIP, battle it back into the envelope, and tear her hair out. True, this process is not the end of LI's life when it only happens once or twice, but in a pile of 100 envelopes, if she has to do that with 60 of them, she wants to die.
VIPs are unclear to LI. She thinks that they are authors who have been published in our mags before, but not ALL authors who have been published in our mags before are VIPs. Very mysterious. Regardless. Though LI checks all names against VIP list, she pulls out only 2 or 3 VIPs each mail day. She also pulls out Humor Submissions.
Anything else goes in a Box. Boxes fill slowly. Oh. So. Slowly. In perhaps two weeks (or two days. It really depends on the size of the box and how much mail LI gets), she seals the box up, battles with the UPS website which does not agree with her ancient computer, and sends the box to a first reader.
First Readers are freelance somethingorothers who take our Big Box o' Crazies (sorry, writers, but most of our submissions are from Crazies) and read through them. We send them, in addition to ~100+ submissions, 100+ form rejects.
FR form reject (whoaaaaaa....FR...FR....coincidence? I think not.) MOST of what we send them. And then they send US a packet of the rest of them. This packet gets "INTERN" written on it, even though they swear they know LI's name.
Lowly Intern then reads through these ~50 or so submissions. She rejects most of them. She is a fraidy cat, though, so she sends perhaps 10-13 of them on to EA.
EA rejects most of them. In fact, most of them she gives back to LI to form reject. LI then feels silly for passing on something Form Rejectable.
The ones that we pass on, we write Reading Reports (RRs) on. They are mostly "Yes" "no" "Maybe", or in the case of one of our AEs, "if only this was better..." Then we suggest which magazine...and some comments i.e. "Ew, no, get it away." or "Writing was okay but plot fell flat here, here, and here..." RRs are saved on the same server, it goes from LI to EA to AE*s of various magazines, to the MAIN EDITOR.
---
*still Associate Editor, if we've forgotten.
---
One of my favorite things to do when I'm bored is to go through old RR's and see where the stories I've passed on are at. It's nice to see that two or three of them have gotten resounding "yes!"s ... And one I passed on half as a joke got really positive responses, too. It was a silly little fairy-tale that was goofily told and I was SURE it was going to get sent straight back to me to form reject, but no! It was liked!
Anyway, now that I've bored you all to death, I am off. I, you will be jealous to hear, am watching Hell's Kitchen. I am also finishing up Philip Lopate's "Getting Personal" which I semi-recommend. It is quite good. Just also quite long. And he has that intellectual's way of writing essays which is way more long-winded than, say, my lover Eula Biss. He sticks on one topic for aaaaages without bringing in any other random facts, then moves on logically from point to point to make his argument, sometimes backtracking and parentheticalling in a kind of confusing way. (Wow I'm making this sound terrible. It's a really good book! Great essays! It's a tiny bit dense for me. I tend to like essays that meander about, weaving lots of bite-sized tidbits into something big and fascinating. Like Hell's Kitchen. I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Or am I?)
Now it occurs to me that I have never exactly explained what this whole process is (and this occurred to me when my dear friend Emily, who is, in addition to being my dear friend, a loyal reader of this bloggy thing, said 'wait, so what exactly do you DO? what's a first reader? what do they do? huhhhh?').
For this particular magazine, where we get too-many submissions each day and have a Lowly Intern doing the mail, the system is thus!:
Lowly Intern comes in Monday, Thursday. (Also Tuesday and Wednesday but non-mail days are of no interest to us just now). She sees "holy shit that is a big-ass pile of mail." After lunch, when she is bored and caffeinated, she takes on the mail pile which, incidentally, is situated just a bit above her 5'2 head and likes to slide and fall and die. Usually, therefore, she takes the in-tray down before getting the submissions, but since last time this backfired on her, she now takes the mail down bit by bit.
(It is CRUCIAL, dear readers, that you understand this process.)
Lowly Intern then staggers to her desk, where she hones her letter-opening skills (only tore one submission last week!). She checks the contents of each envelope quickly. Makes piles: Biggest (usually) is sumbissions; a few that were supposed to go to accounting; review copies of books for EA; art submissions which go to art department. Sometimes things that are just WEIRD, like, for example, Tinkerbell paraphernalia.
Having gotten rid of non-submissions, Lowly Intern begins the painful process of sorting them. Writers, PLEASE make sure your name is printed CLEARLY on your return address. Otherwise, when Lowly Intern goes to check your name against the VIP list, Lowly Intern has to take out your letter, unfold it, find your name (which is never where she thinks it will be), check it on the list, refold it because you weren't a VIP, battle it back into the envelope, and tear her hair out. True, this process is not the end of LI's life when it only happens once or twice, but in a pile of 100 envelopes, if she has to do that with 60 of them, she wants to die.
VIPs are unclear to LI. She thinks that they are authors who have been published in our mags before, but not ALL authors who have been published in our mags before are VIPs. Very mysterious. Regardless. Though LI checks all names against VIP list, she pulls out only 2 or 3 VIPs each mail day. She also pulls out Humor Submissions.
Anything else goes in a Box. Boxes fill slowly. Oh. So. Slowly. In perhaps two weeks (or two days. It really depends on the size of the box and how much mail LI gets), she seals the box up, battles with the UPS website which does not agree with her ancient computer, and sends the box to a first reader.
First Readers are freelance somethingorothers who take our Big Box o' Crazies (sorry, writers, but most of our submissions are from Crazies) and read through them. We send them, in addition to ~100+ submissions, 100+ form rejects.
FR form reject (whoaaaaaa....FR...FR....coincidence? I think not.) MOST of what we send them. And then they send US a packet of the rest of them. This packet gets "INTERN" written on it, even though they swear they know LI's name.
Lowly Intern then reads through these ~50 or so submissions. She rejects most of them. She is a fraidy cat, though, so she sends perhaps 10-13 of them on to EA.
EA rejects most of them. In fact, most of them she gives back to LI to form reject. LI then feels silly for passing on something Form Rejectable.
The ones that we pass on, we write Reading Reports (RRs) on. They are mostly "Yes" "no" "Maybe", or in the case of one of our AEs, "if only this was better..." Then we suggest which magazine...and some comments i.e. "Ew, no, get it away." or "Writing was okay but plot fell flat here, here, and here..." RRs are saved on the same server, it goes from LI to EA to AE*s of various magazines, to the MAIN EDITOR.
---
*still Associate Editor, if we've forgotten.
---
One of my favorite things to do when I'm bored is to go through old RR's and see where the stories I've passed on are at. It's nice to see that two or three of them have gotten resounding "yes!"s ... And one I passed on half as a joke got really positive responses, too. It was a silly little fairy-tale that was goofily told and I was SURE it was going to get sent straight back to me to form reject, but no! It was liked!
Anyway, now that I've bored you all to death, I am off. I, you will be jealous to hear, am watching Hell's Kitchen. I am also finishing up Philip Lopate's "Getting Personal" which I semi-recommend. It is quite good. Just also quite long. And he has that intellectual's way of writing essays which is way more long-winded than, say, my lover Eula Biss. He sticks on one topic for aaaaages without bringing in any other random facts, then moves on logically from point to point to make his argument, sometimes backtracking and parentheticalling in a kind of confusing way. (Wow I'm making this sound terrible. It's a really good book! Great essays! It's a tiny bit dense for me. I tend to like essays that meander about, weaving lots of bite-sized tidbits into something big and fascinating. Like Hell's Kitchen. I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Or am I?)
Monday, June 21, 2010
Let's talk about toilets
Just for a second.
See, toilets these days basically run my life. Your lowly intern has not yet been given a key. We keep the door to the meta-office locked (you know, the one that holds the Real Editor's offices and the Lowly Peoples' cubicles, and the lowly intern's shoe-box that, it has been suggested, could be made into a really baller fort if I brought in some old sheets). And somehow, even though your lowly intern unlocks that door before going to the bathroom, the door always seems to be locked again when your lowly intern gets back. Then I have to beg the receptionist to let me in, and she laughs at me.
Also, if I go around lunchtime I get locked out of the whole meta-meta office, and then to get in I have to ring the doorbell. Well, theoretically. The one time that happened, I just went to lunch with the bathroom key.
Lastly, the toilet in the office building is really freaking tall. Like, my toes barely touch the floor. What is up with that? I am short, but I am not THAT short, and there is something really unsatisfying about peeing with your feet off the ground.
This was a long way of saying, I went to the train station to pee today. THAT toilet was an overachieving freak and flushed itself four times in the midst of a 15 second pee break.
I'm done talking about toilets now.
Some Lupie news: Lady Gaga is auctioning off the necklace she wore in her Poker Face video. Proceeds will go to the Lupus Foundation of America. Thanks, Lady Gaga! I liked you before, now I kind of love you! Information
15 blood tests: Mostly normal, or at least in the same place they were a year ago. In the interest of full disclosure, I did not hear the whole message the nurse practitioner left on my phone due to: she mutters, and I kept trying to listen to it outside in the traffic under the El trains. I got as far as C3, C4, ANA are all basically in range (ANA is a big factor in diagnosing, c3 and c4, I have no idea what they are but I know that their refusal to be normal was what led to my being shoved on Rituxan in my 14th year of life and 5th year of lupus), but I have yet to get as far as kidneys in the message.
You will find it strange to hear that this is frustrating to me. I have been feeling off for a year or so, and my blood tests refuse to show any evidence of this, and therefore there continues to be nothing we can do about it. Furthermore, I'm not allowed to take ibuprofin because it's hard on the kidneys. Ibuprofin doesn't work well anyway, since I spent too many years taking 800 mg three-four times a day. But they won't give me anything stronger because my doctor doesn't trust me to take meds like a responsible person and my blood tests do not show any reason for me to be in pain except for 11 years of my own immune system munching on my muscles and joints. I mean, I am not in BAD pain. It would just be nice to have a clear problem with a clear solution.
Pause for riotous laughter at the implication that there is ever a "clear" anything where my body is concerned.
In other news, spiders were fighting outside one of the editor's window yesterday. We were picking contest winners. By which I mean, watching a female try and devour her potential mate, who then fled.
And, there is nothing more fun than being handed a box of submissions and being told "This is our new first reader's audition box. He wasn't allowed to reject anything. I'd go make some copies of your form reject."
51 suggestions, I passed 13 on. Of those 13, I liked 2 okay, 5 were totally adequate, 3 I did not like but thought someone else might, 3 I hated but thought they had a good topic so if they were, like, totally rewritten they could be good.
I did, indeed, have to make more copies of the form reject.
And all this while stalling having to pee so I wouldn't get locked out.
Some suggestions:
1. Do not title a poem for 3-6 year olds "High." Do not, in it, mention not being able to see straight and request something relaxing. I do not care if the end point is that you like music, and music makes you high.
2. I love my grandmother as much as anyone. And I probably love your grandmother too. In general, I am a big fan of grandmothers. However, I cannot think of a single grandmother I would want to see in a Tinkerbell outfit.
Today, before 10 a.m. my dress strap snapped. See, I have this problem where I carry my shoulders kind of high, especially when I am tense which is not, you know, uncommon with me. And so when I have non-stretchy kind of crappy straps, they tend to break. And then they tend to be really hard to tie back together and I tend to spend the rest of my day trying to keep my shoulders down because there are other places on that strap not to mention a whole other strap that's wearing thin. When I went to the train station to pee, I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how attractive I felt.
Emily, since I know you are reading this, you should know that the wallet you made me gets me hit on infinitely more often than my good looks and charm 'round these parts. My good looks and charm: 0. The wallet you made me: 3.
See, toilets these days basically run my life. Your lowly intern has not yet been given a key. We keep the door to the meta-office locked (you know, the one that holds the Real Editor's offices and the Lowly Peoples' cubicles, and the lowly intern's shoe-box that, it has been suggested, could be made into a really baller fort if I brought in some old sheets). And somehow, even though your lowly intern unlocks that door before going to the bathroom, the door always seems to be locked again when your lowly intern gets back. Then I have to beg the receptionist to let me in, and she laughs at me.
Also, if I go around lunchtime I get locked out of the whole meta-meta office, and then to get in I have to ring the doorbell. Well, theoretically. The one time that happened, I just went to lunch with the bathroom key.
Lastly, the toilet in the office building is really freaking tall. Like, my toes barely touch the floor. What is up with that? I am short, but I am not THAT short, and there is something really unsatisfying about peeing with your feet off the ground.
This was a long way of saying, I went to the train station to pee today. THAT toilet was an overachieving freak and flushed itself four times in the midst of a 15 second pee break.
I'm done talking about toilets now.
Some Lupie news: Lady Gaga is auctioning off the necklace she wore in her Poker Face video. Proceeds will go to the Lupus Foundation of America. Thanks, Lady Gaga! I liked you before, now I kind of love you! Information
15 blood tests: Mostly normal, or at least in the same place they were a year ago. In the interest of full disclosure, I did not hear the whole message the nurse practitioner left on my phone due to: she mutters, and I kept trying to listen to it outside in the traffic under the El trains. I got as far as C3, C4, ANA are all basically in range (ANA is a big factor in diagnosing, c3 and c4, I have no idea what they are but I know that their refusal to be normal was what led to my being shoved on Rituxan in my 14th year of life and 5th year of lupus), but I have yet to get as far as kidneys in the message.
You will find it strange to hear that this is frustrating to me. I have been feeling off for a year or so, and my blood tests refuse to show any evidence of this, and therefore there continues to be nothing we can do about it. Furthermore, I'm not allowed to take ibuprofin because it's hard on the kidneys. Ibuprofin doesn't work well anyway, since I spent too many years taking 800 mg three-four times a day. But they won't give me anything stronger because my doctor doesn't trust me to take meds like a responsible person and my blood tests do not show any reason for me to be in pain except for 11 years of my own immune system munching on my muscles and joints. I mean, I am not in BAD pain. It would just be nice to have a clear problem with a clear solution.
Pause for riotous laughter at the implication that there is ever a "clear" anything where my body is concerned.
In other news, spiders were fighting outside one of the editor's window yesterday. We were picking contest winners. By which I mean, watching a female try and devour her potential mate, who then fled.
And, there is nothing more fun than being handed a box of submissions and being told "This is our new first reader's audition box. He wasn't allowed to reject anything. I'd go make some copies of your form reject."
51 suggestions, I passed 13 on. Of those 13, I liked 2 okay, 5 were totally adequate, 3 I did not like but thought someone else might, 3 I hated but thought they had a good topic so if they were, like, totally rewritten they could be good.
I did, indeed, have to make more copies of the form reject.
And all this while stalling having to pee so I wouldn't get locked out.
Some suggestions:
1. Do not title a poem for 3-6 year olds "High." Do not, in it, mention not being able to see straight and request something relaxing. I do not care if the end point is that you like music, and music makes you high.
2. I love my grandmother as much as anyone. And I probably love your grandmother too. In general, I am a big fan of grandmothers. However, I cannot think of a single grandmother I would want to see in a Tinkerbell outfit.
Today, before 10 a.m. my dress strap snapped. See, I have this problem where I carry my shoulders kind of high, especially when I am tense which is not, you know, uncommon with me. And so when I have non-stretchy kind of crappy straps, they tend to break. And then they tend to be really hard to tie back together and I tend to spend the rest of my day trying to keep my shoulders down because there are other places on that strap not to mention a whole other strap that's wearing thin. When I went to the train station to pee, I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how attractive I felt.
Emily, since I know you are reading this, you should know that the wallet you made me gets me hit on infinitely more often than my good looks and charm 'round these parts. My good looks and charm: 0. The wallet you made me: 3.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Friday's a Day for Cheese and Sex
Well, this used to be my (hilarious) joke at school while I made sandwiches/smoothies and craved cheese on Fridays. I don't actually have any cheese in the house and I've got no friends, let alone a willing feller, 'round these parts. On the other hand, I will have pizza tonight and I'm still reading the 18th century (seriously, did they EVER get dressed?) so I think the sentiment holds.
Well, I am done with my first week of Submissions Reading, Photocopying, Filing, and Reviewing Kid's Music.
(I can't tie my shoes
I can't tie my shoes
How do grown-ups do it
when it just gives me the blues?
Oh, I'm never so confused
as when I try to tie my shoes.)
I made it through a good 15 "humor" submissions and an enormous stack of ~50 or so January submissions that were sent back from a first reader who quit unexpectedly without sifting through the Crazies. I got to sift through the crazies. A few notes, for anyone considering submitting to a magazine, or, really, anywhere.
1. Loser Boy is sad because Pretty Girl is pretty and Loser Boy does not know how to talk to her. Luckily, Substitute teacher, who is a little bit like Loser Boy because he is like a Loser Teacher and the kids make fun of him, gives Loser Boy 4 paragraphs of life lessons and lots of Perspective. Loser Boy sees the light, recognizes that he will have lots of Regret if he does not talk to Pretty Girl NOW. Talks to Pretty girl. THIS IS NOT HUMOR.
2. Loser Boy #2 does not like sports. Dad likes sports. Dad makes Loser Boy #2 do sports. Loser Boy #2 does not want to do sports. Dad says without sports, will send kid to "Athletic School." Loser Kid #2 sees the light, does sports. THIS IS ALSO NOT HUMOR.
3. People expect to be faced with lots of Rich Infidels in Africa. Instead, find Semi-Human Faceless People, surrounded by Goldfish that Fly. Yeah, I don't even know. This was not a humor submission. I could not even finish it.
4. You cannot stop me from sending you a rejection, I'm sorry. You cannot stop me from sending you a rejection, not even if you
a) include a self-addressed stamped envelope that does not seal (newsflash: we own tape)
b) include an SASE that is empty and sealed (really?)
c) fail to include an SASE
I understand. I understand that humor is hard, and writing is hard. And writing for kids is really hard. I would not attempt it. It is just that "humor" does not mean "nothing terrible happens." All I ask, all I ask is for one chortle. A small one. How about a snicker?
***
Well, I am still on my mother's computer, which has deleted this post once and a half. Best Buy still hasn't called to update me on McGillicudy's transplant (new screen!) Speaking of people who have not called to update my on things, still no word on blood tests. Called nurse today, was politely informed that she is not in on Tuesdays and Fridays.
It's interesting to check out other lupus blogs, by the way. There's the official blog of the lupus foundation at Their Official Site; they have a long list of other blogs on the side. The thing that's always been a problem on my end is hardly any people my age write (an exception). Even those few who do, though, tend to be lupus n00bs. I am a veteran. Lupus and I have passed our tin? bronze? anniversary (what's 10 years?) which is actually longer than most of the adult-bloggers have had it, too.
So I try to make it interesting for any potential blog-followers, but I forget that what is totally un-novel to me is novel to normal people or even Lupie n00bs.
However, in case you were wondering, those IV machines? Fantastic scooters.
Well, I am done with my first week of Submissions Reading, Photocopying, Filing, and Reviewing Kid's Music.
(I can't tie my shoes
I can't tie my shoes
How do grown-ups do it
when it just gives me the blues?
Oh, I'm never so confused
as when I try to tie my shoes.)
I made it through a good 15 "humor" submissions and an enormous stack of ~50 or so January submissions that were sent back from a first reader who quit unexpectedly without sifting through the Crazies. I got to sift through the crazies. A few notes, for anyone considering submitting to a magazine, or, really, anywhere.
1. Loser Boy is sad because Pretty Girl is pretty and Loser Boy does not know how to talk to her. Luckily, Substitute teacher, who is a little bit like Loser Boy because he is like a Loser Teacher and the kids make fun of him, gives Loser Boy 4 paragraphs of life lessons and lots of Perspective. Loser Boy sees the light, recognizes that he will have lots of Regret if he does not talk to Pretty Girl NOW. Talks to Pretty girl. THIS IS NOT HUMOR.
2. Loser Boy #2 does not like sports. Dad likes sports. Dad makes Loser Boy #2 do sports. Loser Boy #2 does not want to do sports. Dad says without sports, will send kid to "Athletic School." Loser Kid #2 sees the light, does sports. THIS IS ALSO NOT HUMOR.
3. People expect to be faced with lots of Rich Infidels in Africa. Instead, find Semi-Human Faceless People, surrounded by Goldfish that Fly. Yeah, I don't even know. This was not a humor submission. I could not even finish it.
4. You cannot stop me from sending you a rejection, I'm sorry. You cannot stop me from sending you a rejection, not even if you
a) include a self-addressed stamped envelope that does not seal (newsflash: we own tape)
b) include an SASE that is empty and sealed (really?)
c) fail to include an SASE
I understand. I understand that humor is hard, and writing is hard. And writing for kids is really hard. I would not attempt it. It is just that "humor" does not mean "nothing terrible happens." All I ask, all I ask is for one chortle. A small one. How about a snicker?
***
Well, I am still on my mother's computer, which has deleted this post once and a half. Best Buy still hasn't called to update me on McGillicudy's transplant (new screen!) Speaking of people who have not called to update my on things, still no word on blood tests. Called nurse today, was politely informed that she is not in on Tuesdays and Fridays.
It's interesting to check out other lupus blogs, by the way. There's the official blog of the lupus foundation at Their Official Site; they have a long list of other blogs on the side. The thing that's always been a problem on my end is hardly any people my age write (an exception). Even those few who do, though, tend to be lupus n00bs. I am a veteran. Lupus and I have passed our tin? bronze? anniversary (what's 10 years?) which is actually longer than most of the adult-bloggers have had it, too.
So I try to make it interesting for any potential blog-followers, but I forget that what is totally un-novel to me is novel to normal people or even Lupie n00bs.
However, in case you were wondering, those IV machines? Fantastic scooters.
Monday, June 14, 2010
In which I am a hazard to the process
Good evening, blogosphere! I write again out of the depths of my mother's computer because, see, the something liquid in the something layer of McGillicudy's screen did something and they had to send it somewhere to have something done...it's $200. That part I understood.
Today was my first day being an Editorial Intern! Actually, it's pretty cool. I basically do exactly what the editorial assistant would be doing if there wasn't an editorial intern to do it for her. Read submissions. Write reading recommendations. File things. Also moderate the web forum so that the kids don't scare each other.
Things I have never done before and are harder than they look: using a letter opener.
Potential disasters:
1. Tearing people's submissions in half
2. Tearing a letter from the publisher's insurance company in half
3. Giving up, opening it by hand, and tearing the top off someone's cover letter.
4. Stabbing oneself
5. Scratching oneself
NOTE: 4 and 5 are different. When you stab yourself, you get a puncture wound. When you scratch yourself it's much more mild.
Other injuries incurred: The welt on my left hand due to one of those heavy duty rubber bands. It had previously been holding a huge-ass stack of envelopes together. Yet, when I tried to put it BACK around that self-same huge-ass stack of envelopes, all hell broke loose. Your sympathy is much appreciated.
Today was a lot of learning the, uh, "ropes" (as the kids are calling it these days), but I did go through a huge stack of "humor" submissions.
I do not fancy myself an expert on the process. I do not even fancy myself an expert on good writing, and certainly not on humor-writing. HOWEVER. I am fairly certain that "not TOO terribly depressing" does not COUNT as humor. Other things that do not count as humor: "Ha ha we thought a murderer broke into the house. He didn't."
Actually I will be honest...form-rejection was scaring the hell out of me. That is the part where I, your lowly intern, try to weed out the obvious "no's" so that the lovely editorial assistant did not have to read them. But, especially because it was supposed to be "humor," I was just terrified that my particular sense of humor was just too picky / not right for the magazine and that I was going to reject what was, in reality, the most vomit-inducingly funny pieces ever.
Well that was an attractive way to put it.
I plan on getting over it, though.
And I read a couple really good stories! Okay, one. But it was really good!
Okay, since we are discussing hazards, remember how I said I had fifteen blood tests done? That amounted to 8 vials of blood taken, which has resulted in a really impressive bruise. Four inches long about that vein.
The nice part of all this is that I have no heard back from my doctor about the results of these tests. Oh, she called, let's not get ahead of ourselves. And she left a message saying basically "Oh, you're not picking up your phone. Cool. Well, I'm leaving town tomorrow. Bye!"
In the meantime, I have these swollen lymph nodes in my neck that have been there for more than two months now. Originally it was assumed I had a mild cold or allergies, then it was assumed I had mono, then three mono tests came back negative and we were about to flip our shit and get the suckers biopsied when a savior mono test came back positive. Backstory: complete.
So, having found what I thought was another swollen node in the groin area and having a freaking panic attack, and having JUST been hit with the fatigue that should have hit, like, when I still had mono, I went to my doctor a few days ago to hear the following phrases that you never really want to hear from your doctor:
"Oh, yeah, you're right. Mono doesn't really work like that."
"Don't worry, that's not another gland, that's just a cyst. Hold up. Why do you have a cyst?"*
"Well we'll do the basic test now. If it comes back wonky, we'll do a more expensive test. Tell your parents, because nothing ever comes back normal with you."
"When was your last kidney biopsy? Really? That long ago? Hmm."
*Been There Done That (Cyst in the Reproductive System Edition): Two years ago, or three, who really knows, I had a cyst the size of a lemon removed from my left ovary. But since my doctor would not say anything besides "cyst, not gland, go see your OBGYN have fun" we may get a repeat of Cyst in the Reproductive System. Which, incidentally, has nothing to do with lupus.
"Your blood pressure is perfect. GOOD JOB." Why thank you, nurse.
Other things I enjoy: Getting an email telling me that CellCept, another "Been There Done That (drug edition)" has been doing well in phase III trials. Hooray!
That is all, friends. Hopefully I will have more interest from the publishing world soon. Oh, did you all go out and buy a Eula Biss book? No? FOR SHAME!
Today was my first day being an Editorial Intern! Actually, it's pretty cool. I basically do exactly what the editorial assistant would be doing if there wasn't an editorial intern to do it for her. Read submissions. Write reading recommendations. File things. Also moderate the web forum so that the kids don't scare each other.
Things I have never done before and are harder than they look: using a letter opener.
Potential disasters:
1. Tearing people's submissions in half
2. Tearing a letter from the publisher's insurance company in half
3. Giving up, opening it by hand, and tearing the top off someone's cover letter.
4. Stabbing oneself
5. Scratching oneself
NOTE: 4 and 5 are different. When you stab yourself, you get a puncture wound. When you scratch yourself it's much more mild.
Other injuries incurred: The welt on my left hand due to one of those heavy duty rubber bands. It had previously been holding a huge-ass stack of envelopes together. Yet, when I tried to put it BACK around that self-same huge-ass stack of envelopes, all hell broke loose. Your sympathy is much appreciated.
Today was a lot of learning the, uh, "ropes" (as the kids are calling it these days), but I did go through a huge stack of "humor" submissions.
I do not fancy myself an expert on the process. I do not even fancy myself an expert on good writing, and certainly not on humor-writing. HOWEVER. I am fairly certain that "not TOO terribly depressing" does not COUNT as humor. Other things that do not count as humor: "Ha ha we thought a murderer broke into the house. He didn't."
Actually I will be honest...form-rejection was scaring the hell out of me. That is the part where I, your lowly intern, try to weed out the obvious "no's" so that the lovely editorial assistant did not have to read them. But, especially because it was supposed to be "humor," I was just terrified that my particular sense of humor was just too picky / not right for the magazine and that I was going to reject what was, in reality, the most vomit-inducingly funny pieces ever.
Well that was an attractive way to put it.
I plan on getting over it, though.
And I read a couple really good stories! Okay, one. But it was really good!
Okay, since we are discussing hazards, remember how I said I had fifteen blood tests done? That amounted to 8 vials of blood taken, which has resulted in a really impressive bruise. Four inches long about that vein.
The nice part of all this is that I have no heard back from my doctor about the results of these tests. Oh, she called, let's not get ahead of ourselves. And she left a message saying basically "Oh, you're not picking up your phone. Cool. Well, I'm leaving town tomorrow. Bye!"
In the meantime, I have these swollen lymph nodes in my neck that have been there for more than two months now. Originally it was assumed I had a mild cold or allergies, then it was assumed I had mono, then three mono tests came back negative and we were about to flip our shit and get the suckers biopsied when a savior mono test came back positive. Backstory: complete.
So, having found what I thought was another swollen node in the groin area and having a freaking panic attack, and having JUST been hit with the fatigue that should have hit, like, when I still had mono, I went to my doctor a few days ago to hear the following phrases that you never really want to hear from your doctor:
"Oh, yeah, you're right. Mono doesn't really work like that."
"Don't worry, that's not another gland, that's just a cyst. Hold up. Why do you have a cyst?"*
"Well we'll do the basic test now. If it comes back wonky, we'll do a more expensive test. Tell your parents, because nothing ever comes back normal with you."
"When was your last kidney biopsy? Really? That long ago? Hmm."
*Been There Done That (Cyst in the Reproductive System Edition): Two years ago, or three, who really knows, I had a cyst the size of a lemon removed from my left ovary. But since my doctor would not say anything besides "cyst, not gland, go see your OBGYN have fun" we may get a repeat of Cyst in the Reproductive System. Which, incidentally, has nothing to do with lupus.
"Your blood pressure is perfect. GOOD JOB." Why thank you, nurse.
Other things I enjoy: Getting an email telling me that CellCept, another "Been There Done That (drug edition)" has been doing well in phase III trials. Hooray!
That is all, friends. Hopefully I will have more interest from the publishing world soon. Oh, did you all go out and buy a Eula Biss book? No? FOR SHAME!
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