A Nook with a Tilted Lamp

August 29, 2010

In Which I Land an Internship and Reminisce

Filed under: Uncategorized — by justatiltedlamp @ 10:03 pm

I am finally an intern once again! Best yet, it’s kind of a dream internship come true. I spent every moment since my interview on Friday fretting and obsessively checking my e-mail as I assured myself that I probably wouldn’t get it, and that would be fine. (I would probably cry and feel rejected and be discouraged, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Entirely.) Monday morning was a challenge. There was work to be done! Data to be mined! BUT OH GOD, LET JUST CHECK GMAIL ONE MORE TIME, JUST IN CASE. NO NOTHING NEW. … MAYBE NOW.

And then I was accepted. I might have promptly burst into tears. (Would you believe I am not actually big on crying. And I never do it in public places.) So I hunched over in my cubicle, wiped at my eyes, and grinned like an absolute moron.

–And then I was distracted and finished Mockingjay. Face is a little frozen going D: and I am filled with the urge to read something light-hearted and happy and dear god, I’ve never had so many favorite characters die. I can’t actually imagine reading this when  I was younger. Pretty sure it would have left me a broken shell of myself.–

Right. Internship! So exciting.

I nearly had an internship at a literary agency at the start of summer. I was all sorts of shocked because two places wanted me! (After several summers where I applied and was never able to obtain a coveted internship, it was pretty astonishing to be on demand.) One did online and print guides for families and schools. Better yet, they would pay! Just a little, but way more than nothing. Oh, but the other was a literary agency.  How could I resist? I had only gotten the offer from the guide one, and held back on responding for a day since I had the interview at the literary agency. (If there had been more of a gap, I would’ve replied explaining how there was one other option.) Anyway, I ended up horribly late for the interview.  The agent had neglected to give me the building number, and I hadn’t realized and taken the initiative to find it. Add on to that the fact that I managed to add the wrong number into my phone (her’s was incredibly similar to my home number, so I automatically had entered a single digit incorrectly). No one that I could contact by phone was able to go online and find the number for me. Eventually, I convinced my sad, little phone to do it, and ta-dah, interview! And she offered me an internship! All was happiness and glitter and a polite, regretful rejection to the guide folks.

And then the agent never e-mailed me again. She had told me that she would e-mail me in three days to let know her start date (dependent on her vacation), and she never did. I contacted her after a week or two, inquiring into how she was. No response. I had sacrificed my paid internship opportunity for this. Luckily, Cambridge called around a week later, informing me that I had qualified for a position in their summer internship program, otherwise, I would have been in a bust.

Hugely disappointing, that experience was. (See how it brings out the inner Yoda in me?)

ANYWAY, I officially have a real internship at a literary agency. And the agent actually e-mails me back! Let’s not even go into how the people at this agency are marvelous and hilarious and intelligent, and how exactly did I luck out? I’m leaning towards a fluke. Or maybe this is a prolonged dream, and go OH NO, I ONLY LANDED THE INTERNSHIP IN MY DREAM. I do that sometimes. Well, mainly I think I have gotten this awesome book or something. Last night, I dreamed that I had crushed my glasses. Huge relief that was not reality.

Of course, now that I was accepted, I find myself filled with new woes and concerns. Mainly I fret about failing them. Pleasing people is kind of one of my big motivators. In school, I always did my work and participated in class and whatnot, in some part because I wanted to make my professors proud. They put this effort into teaching us and were nearly always so brilliant (I only ever disliked two professors, and one only taught 1/6th of the class, so..it’s more like 1 and 1/6th professor…s).

My fears ranked according level of horror:

1. I will miserably fail the literary agency by turning out to be incompetent and proving unable to meet their expectations.

2. I toss out the NEXT BIG THING.

3. I crush the dreams of writers.

4. I catch an awful cold and miss days.

5. I arrive late.

Totally manageable. Well, except for the first two since they reflect poorly on my character and..uh..make me feel like an especially terrible person.

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