A journalist (by definition) is someone who writes for a newspaper or magazine, or who continually writes in a diary.
I used to only consider myself a journalist because of the latter half of this definition.
I just got paid for my first magazine gig. Awhile back I told you about this and was super pumped for it. Now it's all over and done with. I can officially look back and go over all the things I should have done differently.
Because this was my first "real" assignment, I had some anxieties throughout the process. A few times (okay, the whole time) I felt like an amateur, over-caffeinated fish out of water.
Seriously, you should hear the tape from my interview. I sound:
a) nine. Apparently my voice jumps three octaves when I'm feeling less than confident.
b) ridiculously nervous. You can actually hear me chewing on my nails while I interviewed the article's subject. So professional. And hygenic.
(Oh, and at one point, I totally thought I had accidentally erased the entire interview. Talk about a gut check moment. Turned out I was just using the recorder completely incorrectly.)
Thankfully, despite all of my self-esteem issues and paranoia about screwing up, my darling Hubs was there to give pep talks and reassure me that, no matter what, I was pretty.
(That's really all a girl ever needs to hear, right?)
Overall, this was a fantastic experience. I've dreamed about getting a writing assignment for a newspaper/magazine since I could crawl. I used to sit in my room at my lap desk (greatest invention ever) and write story after story, hoping that someone would want to read them.
Now, my first magazine story (and hopefully not last!) has been submitted. It will appear in Shawnee Magazine sometime this month.
And the whole world will see it.
(By whole world, I mean the residents of Shawnee county that subscribe to the magazine. Just let me dream a little, here.)
AND...as extra gravy, I totally got paid for doing something I love to do anyway.
I would tell you that I maturely took my journalistic earnings and placed them in a secure Roth IRA a la Suzy Orman.
But I already spent it. On my new Coach bag. Three weeks ago.
(Hey, if I know money's coming, it's going to get spent. Quickly.)
So, here it is, my first ever check received for journalist services rendered.
I guess my lap desk desk dreams finally came true.
I don't know all the rules on what I can or can't show, so I just axed all indications of how much I was paid. Money isn't the point anyway.