Gilmore's very first
Column that is. Don't get any weird ideas or anything. This won't be earth shattering. Hell, I'd settle for halfway decent. Being offered an editorial is a big deal. Huge, huge deal. And I can only hope that the powers-that-be made the right choice by handing me this gig.
I don't know if I'm very witty. And if there's one thing most successful columns have in common, it's their wittiness-factor. You'll just have to trust me on that, I did the research.
For those of you out there who don't know who I am, or what it is exactly that I did to get this cushy job, I'll give you a quick 411.
I'm a small town girl with big dreams. For as long as I can remember, I've been dreaming of one thing: being a journalist. I started planning the steps it would take to get me there before I even knew how to write. Really, my first plans involved crude crayon-drawn books and buildings to represent college and a stick-figure me interviewing another – unnamed but important – stick figure.
I would become the next Christiane Amanpour and I'd take the world by storm.
When I actually learned how to read and write, the lists became longer and more concrete. Gilmore's 8 steps to becoming the world's greatest reporter.
Step 1: get good grades in school.
Step 2: Use said good grades to get into private school
Step 3: Join school newspaper
Step 4: Graduate top of the class
Step 5: Start Harvard
Step 6: Graduate with honors from Harvard
Step 7: Get offered amazing job
Step 8: Write the best and most insightful articles ever as a foreign correspondent
When I see it all spelled out like this, it all seems very simple. Life however, doesn't abide by lists and steps no matter how well planned and detailed they are.
Sure, steps 1 and 2 went off without a hitch. I had very good grades and when I was 16 I transferred from my cozy-but-small-town high school to a fancy Connecticut private school.
The thing about those cozy, small town high schools is this: most of the students are the typical kind, mostly just going to get it over with and move on to the next chapter. Every once in a while you get those over-achiever types who don't really fit in with the rest. Those students might transfer out before high school is over, or they end up over classing most other students by sheer willpower if not actual brains.
I'll allow you to take an educated guess as to which category young me belonged to.
On the other hand, the thing about elite private schools is this: EVERYBODY's an over-achiever. There's generally no coasting through the experience just to get to the other end. Excellence is required at every turn, by everyone.
So while steps 1 and 2 were more or less a piece of cake, the rest didn't come nearly as easy. There was a paper at our school, run by the most uptight girl anybody has ever met anywhere. Nicknames like Mussolini were common and well-used. Not that she cared. For some reason she also took an instant disliking to me. Which in turn had a negative effect on my tenure at the paper. It took my quite a lot longer to prove myself as a writer than I would have liked. But in the end, step 3 was a success and it felt all the better because I had to work for it.
Step 4 was pretty much the same. I got my first D, ever. Which resulted in me studying my butt off and missing an exam because I was late. A little tip for all you high schoolers out there: If you're ever hit by a deer (you read it right, the deer hit ME) and are consequentially late for an exam, they don't accept that as a valid excuse.
In the end, even step 4 succumbed to my tenacity and willpower. I was high school valedictorian with no less than 3 acceptance letters to Ivy League.
Step 5 is where I really deviated from the Plan (It's a capital P). Devious tricks to get me to like Yale aside, I actually did end up a Bulldog. So, while it wasn't the originally dreamed Harvard, I did get my Ivy League dream.
It took me a little longer to finally reach step 6. A late bout of teenage rebellion caused me to quit school for a while. When I look back on my time away from school, living in my grandparents pool house and organizing parties for the DAR, I'm not entirely happy with myself. I do believe that at the time, it was good for me to re-prioritize and evaluate my life, I just wasted a lot more time than was really necessary. And almost ruined my relationship with my mother over it.
An old friend came along at just the right time with the right amount of kick in the butt. I graduated with my fellow students on time (thank god for summer classes) and with high marks.
Which leads us to step 7. While I did a lot of interviews at the end of my scholastic career, jobs just don't present themselves on a silver platter. I, like probably many among you readers, got my fair share of rejections. Fancy education be damned.
Luckily somebody took pity on me and decided to give me a chance. Before I knew it, I'd spent 1,5 years on a bus with 35 other reporters, reporting on the same thing every night. I won't lie, I loved the fact that I got to write every day and I'm still enormously thankful to my editor at that time for giving me a chance. But the constant repetition and the endless bus rides get to you after a while. So when the chance for something else popped up, I took it.
That's how a small town girl with plans and dreams ended up writing editorials for a big paper. As for step 8. Well, like I said before, dreams change and new experiences lead to new goals. Do I still want to be the best writer ever? Sure, and I'll strive towards that every day and with every word I write on paper.
But while six year old me dreamed to reach the stars, 25 year old me is much happier down here, on earth.
All I'm really trying to say is: Who really cares if I'm witty, I still got the job.
