How Not to Get a Job

I’ve been working from home today, writing a few articles for my copywriting job. I enjoy it. It’s a fun output for my writing and, through research I inevitably have to do on the subjects (like granite countertops, limo services, LASIK surgery), I learn a lot.

I was looking through some old documents when I came across a job application. Fresh out of the MFA, I was applying to everything I could find that had anything to do with writing. Whenever they asked for a sample, I sent fiction. After reading an excerpt of my book, a guy got back to me and asked me to submit some essays. “They can be about anything,” he said. “I don’t care what.” He claimed to be too busy with his company and needed someone to write articles that would appear on Huffington Post and Business Insider.

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NYT: Two Gunshots on a Summer Night

NYT: Two Gunshots on a Summer Night

I found this┬álist of 2013’s best crime journalism as chosen by the nation’s best crime reporters. Still trying to recover from an obnoxious headcold, I read most of them last night under my electric blanket, eating a baguette. The best among them is The New York Times piece on the murder-or-suicide of Michelle O’Connell, the 24-year-old mother and girlfriend of Jeremy Banks, a Floridian deputy sheriff.
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“Sitting shocked…”

“Sitting shocked on the grass nearby, he stared at his hands ‘with unbelieving terror… The skin hung from them like long icicles. The fingers were curled and pointed, like the claws of a great wild bird–distorted, pointed at the ends like talons, ghostly thin. What would I do now? What use would be these paralyzed talons to me for the rest of my life?'”
– Max Hastings, “Inferno: The World at War, 1939-1945”