Tell us something most people probably don’t know about you.
Photographers, artists, poets: show us MYSTERIOUS.
I wrote my first story when I was about ten or eleven and it was about a boy and girl who lived in Victorian England. Before that I made up stories for my paper dolls and they were always lonely little girl orphans who lived on their own and had to make do with whatever they had – which in their case, would simply be their meager wardrobe of paper clothes.
When I was fourteen I wrote my first serial ‘drama’, complete with, you guessed it, lots of drama between a man and a woman who shared the same name, Adrian – with her name spelled as Adrienne – and they shared a forbidden love. It was such a hit among my classmates at the Catholic private school I attended that I almost got expelled and the principal decided to remove me from drama club and deposited me personally into the geek-filled writing club. Definitely not a place for cool kids and I hated it.
I hated it so much that when the writing teacher asked us to write an original poem, I paraphrased one of Shakespeare’s Sonnets, copied from my older brother’s copy for his senior high school English class. When the teacher praised it and had it published in the school paper, I was the only one who wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of being published for the first time. To this day I still wonder if the teacher knew what I had done, and used the experience as a lesson.
But lesson learned. Since then, I wrote my own poetry from then on, and even charged classmates for many a lovesick poetry complete with Charlie Brown pen drawings.
During my junior year in college, I overheard someone say that applications were being taken for all positions for the college paper and though I knew everyone else who were suited for the job were all the usual geeks and nerds that my friends and I made fun of, I went in and applied, checking not only the position for Features Editor but Editor-In-Chief as a challenge from my own friends.
The challenge came about when I submitted an entry into a poster contest at the very last minute, using torn up photographs with burnt edges in a design I knew wouldn’t just be intellectually stimulating as most of the entries were, but one that would be raw and visceral in its choice of photographs used to convey its message. My entry was the only one which earned a unanimous vote among the judges (all our professors) and hence the challenge to see how far I would go in a position normally filled by the geeks or nerds of the class came up.
When I passed the first round of the application process which involved the submission of previous work, I found out that I was being considered for the Editor-In-Chief position instead of my first choice of Features Editor. The second round of the process involved an in-person interview with a panel of professors and being that I also worked as a radio newscaster and dee-jay at a popular radio station, I breezed through that interview by bluffing my way through all the answers. On the third day, I found out that I had edged out the smartest girl in the class by being chosen as Editor-in-chief while she was appointed Assistant Editor.
Since I really had no intention of fulfilling everything the job entailed as it sorely cut into a lot of my party time and dating this hot doctor and working at the radio station while trying to maintain my pathetic B- grade average, I told the assistant editor that she could do all the work for me behind the scenes and by senior year, I’d bow out and recommend her to take over the position.
That was fine with her and everyone was happy.