The staff job possibilities are multiplying: Last week I went in for a "test day" as a bizarre way to interview for one magazine; yesterday, I took a test via e-mail for a second publishing house; and today I'll be getting up very early to interview at yet a third.

Something will pop soon. Let it be one that either has 1) interesting subject matter, or 2) a semi-humane commute. Or both!

Posted by: Attila Girl at 12:43 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Hm. Went in for my "audition day," and this doesn't look the the solution to my income problems. The person who attracted me to the company is leaving, and most of the rest of the crew there are barely out of diapers, which means (1) the company very likely can't afford me, and (2) no one has enough experience to see how great I am. Also: (3) if I were to get on-staff there, I'd be reporting to some 20-something. No thanks.

And then there's the fact that no one wanted to either talk to me about their supposed staff opening, or give me real feedback on what I was doing.

I may work freelance for them, but they'd have to make me a sweet offer before I'd be willing to consider settling down there. The thing I imagined was the biggest stumbling block—the commute—was actually the easiest element in the whole day.

I'm going to invoice them for today's work and move on to the next possibility.

It's very easy for me to tell my husband that we shouldn't act out of desperation, and even though we're a bit broke he shouldn't take any gigs that make him uncomfortable. It's quite another to enforce that rule for myself.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:57 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Most publishers who contemplate some sort of long-term relationship want a test project, which I don't mind doing. Of course, the tests that are strictly copyediting/proofreading can be annoying: particularly the one that was heavy on the foreign words and phrases, but didn't provide a Wester's 10 (the standard paper edition used in most publications right now [online is 11, and also respected]). And the sub-standard dictionary provided didn't contain the particular foreign phrases used. Other than that, it was an open-book test. Want to verify that the accents are right? Well, tough, Girl: you should have majored in French. Not English.

I sometimes wish the industry would just standardize those tests, and license people, so I don't need to go through the motion of acing their tests. Can't someone simply certify me as God's gift to detail?

Mostly these tests take a lot of time, and are graded by people who firmly believe that copyediting is an objective art. It isn't. Even proofreading isn't a completely objective process.

Client #1 sends me a couple of test stories, including one that needs to be cut. This is good thinking, of course: copy-fitting is one of the most delicate tasks an editor needs to perform: it's easy to cut the essentials out by mistake.

So, so far so good.

Then the client's wrangler asks if I have an example of a story I've edited, and I have to say, no: I can't imagine any author agreeing to let one of the line editors take manuscripts of his/her stories home as work samples (or galleys, even). And I've signed a confidentiality agreement for most clients. Even when I haven't, it's never occurred to me to take proprietary information home with me. (Charts with printer's impositions, sure: I do have a reference folder with some industry-wide information. But that's no one's company secret.)

I tell them "no," and hope that the question was an ethics test of some sort. Surely it was a trick question. I invite them to send me another story, something really "tough," to make up for my being too discreet to steal in-house material.

Then client #2 calls, and wants some help with the direction a particularly long project is going in. I read the stuff that is forwarded to me, and of course it's fantastic. I know what's going on: it's hard not to get lost in the woods when you've got a monster project in front of you. And there are times any writer could swear it all sucks, big time.

But one has to keep on going. I tell him it's great material. I can edit it, sure, but it's compelling work and the final project will be something special. And I'm utterly sincere in this.

Never mind that I'm an incredible prose stylist—if I do say so myself. This particular client is a terrific storyteller. I come home and ask my husband, "who the fuck am I to advise so-and-so on such-and-such?"

"He's paying you to do that," points out Attila the Hub. So he is. And I realize that I'm a very lucky woman indeed: working with people whose projects I genuinely believe in—who represent quality—is a privilege.

So, yes: I suspect I'll be acing this test, and working with Client #1. Because they're doing something extraordinary, and I know it. And they'll sense that I know it.

It's not something most people can fake. At least—I can't.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 08:25 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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