More on Shoes

My mother bought me a shoe calendar for Christmas last year, a daily calendar featuring a different shoe for each day. Some shoes were vintage. Some were even antique, bordering on artifact. Others were sold as recently as 2008. And some were made as objects of art, never to be worn. My desk at home is way too small for a calendar, so the shoe calendar came with me to my new office job.

My job, being a job, was largely unpleasant, and my shoe calendar was my only comfort. I looked forward to the moment each morning when I saw the day's shoe for the first time, and when I turned to a new shoe each day I instantly forgot about the shoe from the day before. I never peeked at the next day, either. Each shoe was separate from all the others, as though only that shoe and that day had ever existed. And a whole year of shoes marched by without me knowing.

It’s as though the empty shoes, immobile and isolated on a white background, mesmerized me into forgetting that another day was draining away. And time's winged chariot didn't hurry near, but rumbled away in the distance, as soothing and unsettling a murmur as the traffic on the nearby 101.

This past Christmas my mother gave me another shoe calendar. Every day, I turn to the new shoe, still eager to see what colors and shapes will be revealed. But I now have the 2010 calendar sitting next to it, to remind me that each day stacks up to a whole year.

This year, friends, will be different. This year, I will not forget that a day is a part of a year going by. And I won't forget that a marathon is just a series of steps. In 2011, my shoe calendar will not mark time's journey, but mine.

So here's my plan for 2011, along with special instructions and tips for myself.

1. WRITE EVERY DAY! It is possible. Or very nearly.

2. WORKOUT ON MANY DAYS. You'll feel better if you do.

3. MEDITATE ON THE DAYS YOU CAN'T WORK OUT. It's the same thing, really, and doesn't involve sweating. Until July, when breathing in the valley makes your eyeballs sweat.

4. NO BOURBON ON WEEKDAYS. If step one is successful, this is a foregone conclusion, but I include it for you anyway.

How about you, friends? How do you plan to spend your year, in a day by day sort of way?

The Careerist 2.0

Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my first full-time job in Los Angeles. Why didn't you know that the Careerist got a full time job? Because I'm terribly behind on my blog, of course. Obviously.

Do I pretend to have good excuses for this? Of course I do. I'm going to pretend I have excuses for this all morning. The first is the aforementioned full time job. The second is the never-before-mentioned first novel.

I have never mentioned what I write on my blog, as The Careerist is supposed to be about work, and I don't get paid to write. That's the joke, see. But I feel that it is now time to mention what it is that I have been writing. Since I haven't been writing blog posts.

About two years ago, I started my first novel. I know that it doesn't make any sense to get a film degree, move to LA, and immerse myself in fiction. But getting a film degree doesn't make sense in the first place, so you can kiss my grits if you think I'm being foolish. Anyway, I read On Writing, and if Stephen King has no reason to convince me that I couldn't do it, neither do you. I finished it about eleven months after beginning it, and I have revised it several times since.

The next step involves getting it published. Am I foolish to think that it's easier to get a book printed than it is to get a movie made? Maybe. But one thing is clear, and that's the path to getting published. I need to have an agent to send it to the editors, but all I need to do to get an agent is get in contact with one and impress him or her with my book. Is that easy? No, but it's clear. And get this--literary agents have a process for contacting them, which they publish on their websites. It's as if they actually want to hear from you! You can send a letter or email and tell all about you and your book. It's called a query, and it's how you get an agent. That simple.

That's not to say that Querying is easy. It's difficult, and it involves a lot of rejection. But to a screenwriter, even an honest rejection is a gift. I still can't quite believe that someone stops what they're doing and reads my query letter. Every time I get a rejection letter, I have to face the fact that it's true. I'm really doing this. They're really reading it. The first time I got a rejection letter, I printed it out in color and showed it to everyone in the office. I was so proud.

One of the bloggers that I follow, a chap who used to be an agent himself, recently stated that there are more than 15,000 other people querying agents every year.

This appears to be terrifying news for fiction writers, but I relaxed quite a bit when I read it. Only 15,000? There are easily 15,000 film students graduating this spring, and every one of those fresh-faced little fucks has a feature screenplay. Luckily, I am a better writer than a lot of the other 15,000 people looking for a book agent. I'm also better than every one of the film students graduating this spring. Am I arrogant? Absolutely. But I need to be if I'm going to drag my ass into this chair every day for no immediate reward.

While I've been figuring out this querying process, I've been reading lots of blogs by people working in the publishing world. And not only have I learned a lot about publishing, I've learned a lot about blogs. When I set out to write this blog, I conceived of each post as a chapter in a longer story. But that's not really the best way to create a successful blog. Blogs are about interactivity. They are networking tools, really. And inviting people to look, but not touch, is going to result in a blog with no readers. Only posting once every three months also results in a lack of readership, I have discovered. Mom, you're the only one still reading this. I love you.

Also, blogs are supposed to help writers build a platform. A platform is a fancy publishing word for risk mitigation. A writer with a platform is a writer with a market presence, just like a film based on a book has a market presence. Platforms are more important for nonfiction writers, but they certainly won’t hurt fiction writers. For example, Snooki has a platform. I don’t have to tell you what it is, because you know what (but not who) Snooki is.

Now, since I am Italian-American, but not a loathsome idiot bimbo, I have to create a difference platform for myself. Now we get to the point I am trying to make to myself (and to my mother). It’s time to revamp The Careerist.

The Careerist might be more about writing from here on out. Scratch that. It’s always been about writing, hasn’t it. I just might be more explicit, that’s all. I might even get all honest about my identity. Since I’m trying to build a platform, an indication of who I am may in fact be critical. Maybe I’ll also start inviting some input. Get some dialogue going here.

So…stay tuned. I haven’t been posting, but I have been working. And I have a lot to share. I hope you’re looking forward to it, Mom.

WWJD?

There’s No Such Thing As Free Parking

Remember when The Careerist got free parking at Dodger Stadium ? Well, that was the last time The Careerist ever got free parking at work.

Actually, that’s not quite true. On weekends while working at The Store, it was possible to sneak into the parking garage of a nearby office building. Sometimes, this included lying to the parking attendants about my parking pass being somewhere upstairs. But often as not, I could smile and wave and drive right in like I owned the place. On weekends.

On weekdays, Associates of The Store had to park in the mall garage. In addition to being unbearably crowded, the mall garage was absurdly expensive. As you entered the garage, you took a ticket that was stamped with the time. You had three hours from that time to exit the garage without having to pay. If you stayed in the garage more than three hours, the charge to exit quickly became $7, then $11, then finally the maximum $21. If you worked an eight-hour shift, you would pay $21, or more than two hours' wages. So basically, the last two hours of your shift you worked for free.

Dodger Stadium also gave The Careerist a free meal, if you will recall. While there was no such thing as a free lunch at The Store, there was such a thing as a regular lunch break. And while there was no such thing as free parking, once again California laws eased the burden. Every Associate at the mall was entitled to a fifteen-minute break after every few hours on the job. With a little luck, careful planning, and watchful anxiety, a Store Associate could time her breaks to occur just as her three hours of free parking expired, allowing her to rush to her car and drive it out of the garage and then right back into the garage before having to pay anything.

The Moving of the Car was a regular activity for each Associate, and each Manager had to help time the breaks so that everyone got a chance to not spend money on their job. (Since we were not interns, we rightly supposed that we should not be required to purchase our employment.) It became a very tricky Game, but before long, I had learned all the Ins and Outs of Parking, even if In and Out Parking was technically not allowed. Should you ever find yourself working at the mall and in need of parking advice, here are some Game Cheats.

Cheat #1

If you are scheduled for an eight-hour shift, you get an hour for lunch and two fifteens. Your car will need to be parked for a total of nine hours, counting the lunch break. So if you are really smart about it, you will only have to move your car twice—during your first fifteen and at the very end of your lunch break, leaving you free to (gasp!) actually take a break during your last fifteen. This only works if your lunch break takes place exactly five hours after your shift begins, which the managers rarely allow since they are terrified of giving you a paid lunch.

Cheat #2

There are kiosks in the parking garage where you can pay for your parking before you go to your car. This system encourages people to avoid paying at the exits, and therefore keeps the traffic flowing. If you are on the verge of going over your three hours, you can put your parking ticket in the kiosk, where it will be marked as paid. Then you have an extra ten minutes or so to get to your car and exit the garage! If you hustle, you could whirl through the mall supermarket and pick up some string cheese and a Gatorade in that amount of time. Just hope that the supermarket express checkout is clear of people with more than ten items.

Cheat #3

I still can’t believe how this could be, but it’s true. Even though the sign says that only your first three hours are free, they don’t immediately start charging you after three hours. I am such a tightfisted maniac that I never risked going over three hours until months into my employment at The Store. The first time I was a minute late and didn’t get charged, I thought I had been lucky. But I did not press my luck, and never imagined that I could have had even more time if I wanted it. I had probably worked there for nine months before someone told me that I could go as much as ten minutes over without getting charged. This was astonishing. But The Associates had to wonder…how far would the kiosk machine let us go? Minute by minute, we tested our limits. The parking system at The Mall allowed us to go up to eighteen minutes over before charging us. Combine Cheat #3 and Cheat #2 and you have just bought yourself almost half an hour of extra parking time, which is extremely helpful in accomplishing Cheat #1.

Cheat #4

Sometimes other, more foolish people will leave their parking tickets lying about in a fitting room or on the ground. Check every singe one of them! If the time on the found parking ticket is sufficiently later than yours, you might even buy yourself a full hour-long lunch break by not having to move your car until your final fifteen. Bonus!

Cheat #5

If you are one of the foolish people who dropped her parking ticket, woe unto you. A lack of a parking ticket means you have to pay the maximum $21. However, it is possible to sneak out of the parking lot behind another car as it exits, while the arm is still up. Note--this maneuver must be timed perfectly and is generally only to be attempted by ballsy types.

Cheat #6

There are alternatives, of course. A couple Associates biked to work. There’s also the bus. But this is only an option if you don’t live on the other side of a mountain, in a place so far away that it is called “The Valley.” And there’s free street parking about half a mile away on Blessed, Blessed Beverly Glen Boulevard. This option requires extra time to make it to work, and extra time to get home. But that extra time in fact buys you two full fifteen minute breaks during which you may eat a snack and use the bathroom (glory!), a full hour of lunch, and an entire shift sans parking concerns. Just be careful about where you park on street-sweeping days. Parking tickets cost far more than $21.

Cheat #7

Don’t get in fistfights over parking spaces during the holiday season, no matter how infuriated you are by the Beverly Hills housewife in the Audi SUV. Remember, as an Associate of The Store, you are a professional, and the shoppers are just amateurs. Remain aloof.

Riple

Riple

A brief note on the importance of proofreading your ninth grade creative writing "visual poem" assignment well in advance of the due date.

No Paid Lunches Means Always Getting Lunch

When I pulled into the mall parking garage on Black Friday, I knew that my doom was at hand. And I didn’t mind. Because after the doom, there could be sleep.

I congratulated myself for keeping the job at the Store even when the Hedge-Fund Job seemed in the bag. I had been quite wise, I thought, to hedge my bets. But jiminy crickets, was it tough going when I had to work both jobs at once.

The Store, as I previously mentioned, did not have a lot of work hours to dole out to a poor little noob like me, regardless of how snazzy my footwear was. So they had no problem adjusting my availability and keeping me completely off the schedule until late afternoons. However, this meant that when they did feel compelled to put me to work, they did so until the store closed at 10pm. So I would head down to Santa Monica at 5:30am and work in the cold with no lunch break until 3pm. Then I would go to the mall. On very lucky days, I could sleep in my car in the parking garage for an hour or so before beginning my shift at The Store. Then, I would work until 10pm. Of course, that was only on weekdays. On weekends, I worked longer shifts until 10pm. In this way, I worked something like 20 days straight, often with double shifts, until I went to my friend’s wedding in St. Louis.

But don’t worry, there’s good news too. There was much less traffic at 10pm than there was at 3pm. And because of the mall’s location, I could take Beverly Glen Boulevard instead of the 405 North. Beverly Glen smells like ivy, juniper, jasmine, and rich people, especially at 10pm when the air is cool. It is a delicious drive. Slightly less delicious when you are delirious with exhaustion, but still delicious. So those evening shifts weren’t completely joyless.

There’s also the fact that no retail job will ever let you skip lunch. In fact, nothing made the managers of The Store madder than people who tried to go without a lunch break. The laws in California require workers to clock out within five hours on the job, and if you fail to clock out before five hours have passed, you get a paid lunch break. So if you clock out for lunch even one minute late, The Store had to pay you for an extra hour of work. The Store did not like to pay for extra hours, so lunch was always a sure thing.

And of course, working two jobs means you get paid for two jobs, which was quite a help to me. Especially because I had suffered a Great Mishap.

A week or two previous to my employ at the hedge fund, I went to the DMV to get my California drivers license. Naturally, I got a perfect score on the test. Then, on the way home from the DMV, I ran a stoplight in West Hollywood at an intersection that is monitored by a camera. Because that’s what book smarts will do for you. The ticket that I received in the mail, accompanied by a photograph of me blasting through the intersection in my subcompact, was in the amount of $390.

The total sum of all my earnings at Dodger Stadium that season was $388.

The Great Mishap caused Great Woe. But Great Woe is what credit cards are for, so I survived.

And that’s all I had to do, really. And what better time to go into survival mode than at holiday time? So I went to work on Black Friday and faced doom for five hours. Then I clocked out for lunch.

Jumping Ship

The day before my last day at the assignment, I called the Recruiter from the coffee shop across the street to tell her that I didn’t want to take the job. I was informed by the agency Gatekeeper, i.e. the receptionist, that my Recruiter was out for the day. I agreed to call back the next day and scuttled back across the street to endure another day of chilly tedium.

The next day, which was the last day of my two-week temporary assignment, I visited the coffee shop just as soon as Business Hours for Normal People began and called the agency again. The Gatekeeper told me that my recruiter was, again, unavailable. I explained that I needed to talk to her rather urgently, because I did not want to accept permanent employment at my assignment and expected them to offer. “I need some guidance here!” I cried.

“What’s the job?” asked the Gatekeeper. I told her who I had been working for over the past two weeks. “Oh, no one wants that job,” said the Gatekeeper.

“Oh great,” I said. “So you have done this before.” She put me on hold and came back with another recruiter, who is also the president of the company.

“You don’t want the job? Why not,” he barked.

“Because it’s not related to entertainment,” I replied.

“They do film financing, don’t they?”

“NO!” I snapped.

I was instructed to demure as much as possible and tell the hedge fund that I would need to think about any offers, and that they would also need to talk to my Recruiter before I could give any answer. But as the day wore on, I started to realize how dumb this plan was.

So when the Junior Hedger in Charge of Administrative Hires brought me up into the lofty conference room to talk to me about how the job was going, I made bold to tell him I didn’t think it was for me. He didn’t seem surprised. I guess someone had also told him that no one wanted that job. Probably all the dozens of temps from the agency that came before me. So I gave him my parking pass, and headed home on the 405 North.

I didn’t know how I was going to stay afloat, but I was buoyed up by the thought that the very next day would be Thanksgiving. And the day after that, the holiday season at the Store would begin. I tightened my belt, slipped on the Sperrys, and hoped that those extra holiday hours would pull me through at least until January.