Posted by: Kristy | June 11, 2009

Writer’s Workshop: They totally want to hire me. They just don’t know it. Yet.

For this week’s Writer’s Workshop, thanks to the lovely Mama Kat, I’m killing three prompts with one post. Because that’s how I roll.

The prompts: What have you been busy doing that’s keeping you from updating your blog? How hard is it for you to get back into the swing of blogging when you take time off? (inspired by Sera) AND Where would you like to be? (inspired by T.J.) AND write a letter.

Buy a new pen. Call the moving van. Oh, and a job would be helpful.
By Kristin

This week I decided I may be the neediest woman on the planet.

Also, batshit crazy.

I’m just sayin’.

Let me explain. Seeing as how God created me to be a writer — and I at this time no longer write for a living — I normally find way too much of my inner purpose and my self-perceived contributions to society in this blog. It’s where I comment on life, where I connect with people, where I communicate and forge friendships and practice the journal part of journalism.

I always have maintained that I don’t want it to become a “Dear Diary” of the Interweb. I had a Xanga for that in high school and college. This is a relevant blog. Sure, I talk about life, but only if it’s humorous, or meaningful, or easy to relate to others’ lives. I try to keep random and frustrated word vomit to a minimum. (But it’s my space — not to be confused with MySpace — and I can break my own rules on occasion; however …)

To that end, when I get frustrated I actually write less because I’m afraid I will say too much. Or just be cryptic and confusing. Add to that extreme lack of spare time during the past 10 days and you get very few blog posts at all, let alone any of an enjoyable nature.

What keeps me from writing? 1) Frustration 2) Being busy and

3) My synapses stopped firing.

No, for serious. Come on, it’s called writing. Top to bottom, left to right. Group words together to make a sentence … skills apparently that have left me in the wake of waves of intense loneliness, despondency and feelings of lackluster worthlessness.

(Don’t ask; I don’t even know from where this is coming.)

You know what’s pathetic? When a writer can’t write a freaking cover letter about what makes her a good writer. Or even write a blog post about nothing in a way that makes nothing interesting. My GOD. This is not English Composition 101, this is a part of who I am. Apparently that part of me is on strike right now.

I discovered an ad for an editorial assistant from my personal version of The Mothership. How do you think a prestigious metropolitain publication that makes me drool will respond to this:

“Dear the most amazing publication on the planet,

Please consider me for the editorial assistant position advertised on I am so in love with you, I would shit a brick just to get an interview. I don’t even care that you’re so slanted the words roll off the page. I’ll completely compromise my political ideals for the chance to work in such an esteemed newsroom. You are my personal Mothership. My Mecca. Please call me home. I will be the best little editor-in-training ever. I’ll be like an eager little puppy. The non-yippy kind. Unless I get excited. Then the yippy kind.

I’m obsessed with awesome grammar. I am pretty much a grammar ninja. Poor grammar makes me wail and gnash my teeth. I’m that annoying girl who corrects my friends and edits my church bulletin instead of listening to the sermon. Ugly grammar makes me bitchy. Beautiful grammar reminds me of rainbows and puppies.

Please at least just call me and make my life. Just a call. Thank you for your consideration.

Hugs and kisses,


Now THAT would impress them. And it’s about all I’ve got right now. Sigh.

Perhaps my awesomeness moved on without me, which totally would explain … a lot.

It would explain why I feel like the neediest woman ever. Which I’m not. Honest. I just get frustrated with myself on nights like last night. I was sitting in my living room (after great girl time with a friend, so I don’t know from where this next part came) totally sucking rocking at being in a long-distance relationship that never frustrates me at all, no, never. I wasn’t at all upset with myself for being non-cute and fat-feeling. I totally wasn’t feeling like a nerd, and feeling purposeless. I didn’t ache because I just wanted to DO something or WRITE something or BE something other than alone in my living room at 10 p.m. on a Wednesday.

And I promise I definitely did NOT start crying in the middle of an episode of “NCIS” and give myself huge eyeliner-slash-mascara racoon eyes.

Are you laughing at me yet? Because you totally should be. This morning I was laughing at me.

I told you. Batshit crazy.

I’m convinced my amazingly mad being-a-normal-and-sane-person skills moved to where I want to be without me. They’re just waiting for me to catch up. So either they’re in NYC with my hardcore sweet cover letter that’s going to get me a fantastic job at The Mothership, or they’re in Columbus where I can throw my telephone and instant messaging and evenings alone in an empty apartment in the Olentangy River.

I hope they send for me soon. I’ll just be over here. You know, getting over it.

The End. 🙂

(We now return you to your regularly scheduled program of Kristin waking up tomorrow and no longer being insane.)


  1. You should totally send that cover letter, it rocks, and only smacks a little of desperation – hey recessionary times call for innovative ways to get noticed in the job market ::::right?::::
    Anywho, just visiting from Mama Kats hood, have a great day!

  2. umm. that was pretty much fantastic. please submit if you have not already. thank you.

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