I am a woman in my 40’s. And with those words I seal my fate as an entry-level wannabe in the world of broadcast journalism. Sadly, I came to this realization too late in the telegenic/chronologic time horizon that haunts the woman broadcaster. My lightbulb moment came when I entered a contest to be “Anchor for the Day” on the Today Show in February 2007. I put together a 2 minute video, sent it off, and wouldn’t you know, I beat out thousands of others to become one of the finalists. I’m good at that kind of humorous vignette production—I know how to be snappy, funny and strike the right balance between cheeseball and someone-you-could-potentially-take-seriously-reading-from-a-teleprompter. But to cut to the chase, I didn’t win. I was outvoted by a lovely school teacher from Houston who had her entire school district, her husband’s entire school district, her mega-church and all their extended networks across the state of Texas voting for her. Sadly, I can’t claim to be that popular.
But I can claim to be delusional. I still, at age 46, have this inner voice telling me that I’m gonna “make it big”, though the details on how that will happen are a little hazy. By day, I have recently gone back to work after some years of basically staying at home with my kids. I started my career as a corporate recruiter which I did for many years before taking a break. Right after my Today Show defeat a couple of years ago, I started recruiting again. I do enjoy it and it certainly pays well. But I can’t say it’s my passion. During my corporate recruiting “hiatus at home”, I spent about 3 years in the fashion business. My sister had started a small women’s shirting business that blossomed into a full collection, complete with sales reps, an investor and she and I running the show. That was great fun—I am passionate about fashion and beautiful fabrics—and I loved working with my sister, but the business itself demands not only every last moment of your day, but every inch of your soul as well. That movie “The Devil Wears Prada” is really not far off the mark. So eventually, we closed the business and went back to our normal lives. And still, that little nibbling, nattering voice telling me to keep moving, keep putting myself out there. I guess I thought the Today Show gig was the antidote to the naggin’ in my noggin, but since it doesn’t like I’ll be hanging out over the Starbuck’s decanter with Matt, Meredith, Ann and Al, I had to keep moving. I just wish I’d embarked on that broadcasting career when I wasn’t so chronologically challenged.
One thing I’ve always enjoyed and done pretty well is writing. It’s a thread that runs through all of my personal and professional life—writing up candidate profiles, composing copy for brochures and websites, creating entertaining emails, always trying to make the mundane seem less vanilla, more thrilla’. And my friends have always encouraged me to do something about it, but I was always too busy to sit down and find a starting point. Last spring, I had a dream that led me to that starting point for a book. The next morning, I sat down, wrote out the first page in one ten minute rip, and then put it away. For a couple of months. I had my beginning, the rest would come later. And an interesting thing happened. That voice in my head went into remission, into sort of a low-grade hum. Not gone, but hovering, as if after months of telling me, “Cold, colder--FREEZING!” as I went in other directions, it was now telling me, “Warm, warmer, getting hot…”
By this past fall, I had started adding tentatively to my book, and then a major life event fell on me out of the sky—my husband was laid off. To this day he is still unemployed. I don’t know if it was fear or the need to emote or the hope I could make some cash from this someday, but that event took my writing to a new level, from spigot to firehose. And not just my efforts on my book. Suddenly my mind was making stories out of everything—an interesting trip I had to the grocery store, people with tattoos and piercings, my dog, the etiquette of neighborhoods, my family’s annoying habits—but would anybody care about my musings on all these random topics? Really, the only way to tell now is to put the stuff out there in cyberspace and let it float downstream with the rest of the flotsam and jetsam and see if anyone snags me on their hook. All I know is that I’m doing something I love, keeping my mind from straying to darker corners and hoping that, at long last, I have finally found my groove. And that freakin’ little voice in my head has stopped its yammering. It seems to be singing my tune, and I’m doing my best to warble along.
But I can claim to be delusional. I still, at age 46, have this inner voice telling me that I’m gonna “make it big”, though the details on how that will happen are a little hazy. By day, I have recently gone back to work after some years of basically staying at home with my kids. I started my career as a corporate recruiter which I did for many years before taking a break. Right after my Today Show defeat a couple of years ago, I started recruiting again. I do enjoy it and it certainly pays well. But I can’t say it’s my passion. During my corporate recruiting “hiatus at home”, I spent about 3 years in the fashion business. My sister had started a small women’s shirting business that blossomed into a full collection, complete with sales reps, an investor and she and I running the show. That was great fun—I am passionate about fashion and beautiful fabrics—and I loved working with my sister, but the business itself demands not only every last moment of your day, but every inch of your soul as well. That movie “The Devil Wears Prada” is really not far off the mark. So eventually, we closed the business and went back to our normal lives. And still, that little nibbling, nattering voice telling me to keep moving, keep putting myself out there. I guess I thought the Today Show gig was the antidote to the naggin’ in my noggin, but since it doesn’t like I’ll be hanging out over the Starbuck’s decanter with Matt, Meredith, Ann and Al, I had to keep moving. I just wish I’d embarked on that broadcasting career when I wasn’t so chronologically challenged.
One thing I’ve always enjoyed and done pretty well is writing. It’s a thread that runs through all of my personal and professional life—writing up candidate profiles, composing copy for brochures and websites, creating entertaining emails, always trying to make the mundane seem less vanilla, more thrilla’. And my friends have always encouraged me to do something about it, but I was always too busy to sit down and find a starting point. Last spring, I had a dream that led me to that starting point for a book. The next morning, I sat down, wrote out the first page in one ten minute rip, and then put it away. For a couple of months. I had my beginning, the rest would come later. And an interesting thing happened. That voice in my head went into remission, into sort of a low-grade hum. Not gone, but hovering, as if after months of telling me, “Cold, colder--FREEZING!” as I went in other directions, it was now telling me, “Warm, warmer, getting hot…”
By this past fall, I had started adding tentatively to my book, and then a major life event fell on me out of the sky—my husband was laid off. To this day he is still unemployed. I don’t know if it was fear or the need to emote or the hope I could make some cash from this someday, but that event took my writing to a new level, from spigot to firehose. And not just my efforts on my book. Suddenly my mind was making stories out of everything—an interesting trip I had to the grocery store, people with tattoos and piercings, my dog, the etiquette of neighborhoods, my family’s annoying habits—but would anybody care about my musings on all these random topics? Really, the only way to tell now is to put the stuff out there in cyberspace and let it float downstream with the rest of the flotsam and jetsam and see if anyone snags me on their hook. All I know is that I’m doing something I love, keeping my mind from straying to darker corners and hoping that, at long last, I have finally found my groove. And that freakin’ little voice in my head has stopped its yammering. It seems to be singing my tune, and I’m doing my best to warble along.
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