So, I applied for another internship. I just did it on a whim because it was just email and I didn't have anything better to do tonight. Don't care if I get it or not. I didn't try and make it professional sounding, I just told them like it is.
Editorial Internship
Responsibilities include reviewing, reading and evaluating unsolicited manuscripts; assisting with copy editing, manuscript editing and proofing; reading, reviewing and critiquing manuscripts in process; compiling detailed editorial questions and/or research questions for manuscripts in process; assisting with research projects related to manuscript development such as fact-checking, reference checking, title research, competition book research, etc.; preparing for and attending acquisition meetings; assisting with special editorial needs or projects; assisting with other department projects, especially publicity and marketing. The internship is unpaid and candidates must commit to 10 hours per week for a term of 10-12 weeks.
Job Qualifications:
Applicants must be a junior or senior level college student majoring in English, Creative Writing or a related field. You must be interested in pursuing a career in publishing or a related industry. Interns must be detail-oriented, able to handle multiple projects at once, have a strong background in literature, and possess good writing skills. Send resume, cover letter, and a 1-2 page writing sample (on any subject or from class assignment) via email to: chood@peachtree-online.com
So, that's how it is.
Here's my cover letter. It's probably retarded, but at least it will stand out. It's definitely me to a T
Peachtree Publishers
November 10, 2008
chood@peachtree-online.com
To whom it may concern:
I'm writing to you because you publish books.
I can understand how that statement seems like the most obvious thing in the world, but frankly, I've found that the number of actual book publishing companies that offer internships in Atlanta is surprisingly small. Or maybe your advertising is better, since your company has shown up on the Career Center's weekly e-mail. But regardless, I'm writing because I'm not interested, like the majority of my peers, in having anything to do with publishing a newspaper or magazine. I'm a publication management major because I want to publish real books, with spines and bindings, and pages that aren't chalk full of advertisements, that actually mean something. I'm a comparative literature minor because I have an appreciation for good writing. Real writing; none of that inverted-pyramid style stuff they keep teaching me in my journalism classes. And yes, even children's books have more plot than a three-inch column story with a clever headline and a mugshot. I'm writing to you because I know that the education I'm getting right now is sorely lacking in the tools I'm going to need to succeed out in the real publishing world. Unless perhaps I want to go publish a literary magazine, which might be as close to doing what I want to do as I could get.
After reading the brief description about the internship, if it's all it claims to be, then your program is more comprehensive than the other (few) publishing internships that are out there, which is exactly what I'm looking for: an espresso shot of the publishing industry. Also, I honestly think that an internship at a children's book publisher would be more mentally stimulating than one at an academic book publisher any day. Not that I have a problem with mundane, my current transcriptionist job is the epitome of mundane, but editing indexes for 12 weeks isn't the experience I'm looking for. I'm looking for a hands-on, educational-but-fun, well-rounded program which you seem to provide.
I'd like to be able to tell you that I have so much outside experience that it wouldn't even fit on my resume, but the truth is that I'm a workaholic. I work between 31 to 37 hours a week, in addition to going to school. So, when I do get a spare moment of time, I'm not out joining the local magazine club or yearbook staff; I'm sitting on the couch curled up with thriller, a bookmark, and a glass of milk. What I can tell you is that being a workaholic provides for the immediate need to be detail oriented and super organized with a penchant for time management. I'm going to be there, on time, and work from the time I get there to the time I leave. And since I love to work, I'm always going to have a good attitude about it, even if I have to get up at 6am to drive to Atlanta from Athens. I don't even drink caffeinated beverages, so that's really saying something.
With that being said, attached is my resume, which further details my skills and qualifications.
I look forward to hearing from you, and will follow up in two weeks to answer any questions that you may have.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
And the piece of writing I submitted was an excerpt (second draft) of a short story I worked on in my creative writing class.
The following is an excerpt of a short-story that I was working on in a creative writing workshop I took. This is second draft; not nearly as close to completion as I'd like as entire work is about 12 single spaced pages depending on font.
Title
The wave of sound rushes through the air in an ever-widening arc, knocking free the dust and mold spores that so far long had been stagnant in the air. It crashes into the crumbling walls, causing paint chips to fall to the ground and dry-rotted doors to tremble and sag lower into their frames. The disturbed air settles back into its oppressive stale thickness, coating the fine membranes of her lungs with a layer of death and decay with every breath. She coughs, but the thin sound is eaten by the air and does not seem to travel past her lips. The grandfather clock chimes again, throwing its sound against her and into her; the sound wave sliding through her body and pulling at her soul and warmth as if to drag it along. The air mists where her shallow breaths meets with cold in front of her face. She hugs herself and digs her nails into the fleshy part of her forearm until the knuckles were white and little capillaries have already burst under the pressure, leaving red squiggly lines under her nails when she loosens her grip. A pallid moon-glow sneaks past the grease and grime on the windows, sheepishly spilling thin light onto a thread-bare carpet. A large rat boldly crosses from one side of the room to the other. Its fat body sways heavily side to side, eyes glowing into the darkness, and its tail, like an overgrown worm, drags behind it. She stands motionless in the center of the room as her head revolves slowly and her eyes, trying to separate the black from the gray, scan the room. There is nothing. She is alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jennifer slammed the door of her 1997 Chrysler and hurried up the steps to her building as she fished in her purse for the keys. The rain was coming down in torrents, mirroring her mood, and her faded blue blouse was soaked and clinging. Stumbling awkwardly into her cramped apartment, she flung herself on the couch and flipped on the TV. As she lay there for a second just staring up at the unknown stain on the ceiling, the phone rang, piercing her calm.
“Hello? Jennifer Blackwater speaking.”
“Hey, Jen, it's Ryan. I know it's late and that you've had a long night at the bar, but I was wondering if we could get together tonight. I need to see you.”
Jennifer lowered the phone from her ear, and glanced slowly around her apartment. She heard the tink of the leaky faucet on the kitchen sink hitting a dirty cup. She held the phone loosely in her hand as if to drop it carelessly. This was the last person she wanted to be with that night.
“I'm sorry Ryan, but I'm really too beat to be good company. I think I'm just going to hit the sack.”
“Jennifer, please, it will only take a minute, but it's importa-”
“Please, Ryan, tonight's just no good for me. Okay?”
A pained sigh issued from the other end. “Fine. I'll talk to you later.”
Hanging up the phone, she shuffled to her room to get out of her wet clothes. She actually wasn't tired at all, being it was Wednesday night, the bar had only a couple of usuals and a few guys who had just had “women troubles.” After her father died Jennifer couldn't find the heart to sell that old place and bartending wasn't really a hard job. At any rate, it pulled in enough money to keep her above water, and sports nights were usually packed enough that she'd make two weeks worth of pay in one shot. Some of the locals had known her since she was just a scrawny 12-year old kid. Where would they go for their nightly headache if she sold it off to some hot-shot college rich kid, who would just turn it into another rave bar or eclectic coffee shop.
Ryan was a guy she had met during a particularly slow night; he had just been looking for a friend of his when he’d spotted Jennifer, and for some reason, they hit it off right away. Just like one of those cheesy love films that she hated so much. Honestly, the real world wasn't supposed to work like that, but then in tripped Ryan. He was comical and sensitive, not to mention that he had that rugged look that reminded her of her father in his better years. That's how they all started out anyway; the movies, not real life. But, sometime a handful of weeks ago, they had had a falling out as she realized that she couldn't live forever in that little apartment, and that she hadn't really seen much of the world at all. Of course maybe this came because of the string of French movies that Lifetime decided to play the night before and had her dreaming of crepes all week since. Where could you get a good authentic crepe but in France anyway?
I'm sure you're sick of reading all this by now, but comments would be appreciated.
The Air Force career day thingy is tomorrow, so I'll probably update about that as well.
PS. Dad, I only smoke hookah like once every two weeks. Jeez, there are worse things I could be doing, ya know. I don't even drink. That's a lie, I had a glass of sangria a few nights ago, but that was one glass (wine glass) that took me an entire night to finish.
