Sitting in my car, a years worth of possessions neatly packed into a box beside me, all I could think was, “HA, just what the world needs, another unemployed writer.”
Two weeks ago, just when our NMR team was beginning to anticipate the sweet freedom of the weekend, our investor’s assistant slunk into our writing room with a stack of envelopes and an expression that said, “I’m sorry but this wasn’t my decision.” And that was it. Without a hint of warning, our investor decided to stop funding our magazine and in a letter, informed us we were to pack up our stuff and get out of the office immediately (okay, the letter didn’t specifically say that, but it was pretty close).
Needless to say, it has been a rough two weeks. Sure, there are some benefits to being unemployed: I get to sleep in, I have time to workout, I can watch a James Bond movie in the middle of the afternoon, I have time to catch up on “Parks and Recreation,” I’m learning how to make stain glass windows. But let’s be real, no matter how much fun you try and make unemployment, it is the pits. When everyone else goes to work, I spend my day writing mountains of cover letters to editors that will likely cast my application aside without a second thought. And lots of free time always means lots of opportunity
to stress to think about the future. It’s a soundtrack that just plays on repeat in my head: Am I on the right track? How do I ever get noticed by those all-star publications that I want to spend my life contributing to? Am I good enough? Should I be reporting more? Writing more? Editing more? Should I really have another cupcake? Eh, what the hell.
For now, I am using my free time to travel and putting in long hours behind the computer filling out as many job applications as possible. I have two interviews set up so fingers crossed something pans out! And if not, I can just become a Disney princess right?