I'm not entirely sure when I decided I was going to be a writer, but I know I never gave much thought to the nancial reality of my choice. I grew up a very spoiled child, and when I turned 18 I peeled of to my private university in a new teal Mustang, blasting Ace of Base with the windows down.
My first ever writing gig was a college internship with an Indiana entertainment magazine. News 4U was a rather thin publication, and because this was the '90s, it was printed on actual newsprint - the kind that smells oddly delicious and turns your palms purple. My boss was the sole editor. A long-haired fellow in his late 20s, he was a sort of watered-down Goth. He eyed my pastel J.Crew sweaters like I’d shown up to work wrapped in expired lunchmeat.
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