Confessions of an Impatient Writer
I’m not an impatient person in that I am reasonable about waiting for most things. I don’t lower the tip when my delivery driver is late with my Uber Eats order. It takes a while for me to get angry or frustrated when I have to wait in long lines at the store, at amusement parks, at the fucking DMV. However, I admit that I can be impatient in the sense that waiting just hurts sometimes. It is profoundly painful to be so ready and so excited about things, only to have to sit in the dark, waiting for the next step, wondering if there will even be a next step.
Today, I am working through this pain that has been brought on by my internship/job search. I’m one of those people who changed their major a few times before falling in love with one thing. For me, that thing is defined by my college as “Communication & Media.” Think writing, journalism, PR, marketing, content creation. An all-encompassing degree program of everything I love. I took PR classes, film, and TV production classes, so many writing classes. I enjoyed them all, and I did good work.
Now, I’m almost done, and I just want to know what’s next. I’m waiting, and it hurts. It fucking sucks, and there’s little I can do about it. I’m sitting in the dark. I have no more fun classes to take. No more assignments to do. For some reason, my program requires not one, but two internships for graduation. Each internship is worth one credit, even though all of the other required courses are worth three. I don’t really understand that, but whatever. I successfully completed one unpaid internship, and while I enjoyed it, I am not keen on working for free. It was fine. It was a pill I had to swallow. I understand paying one’s dues, so alright. Whatever. Doing that once was fine. It was a learning experience. Now, a single credit hour stands between me and my Bachelor’s degree. The thought of doing several more months of unpaid labor is fucking with me, to be honest. I already work. I already don’t make enough to even afford a shitty starter apartment in my city. I’m thankful that I get to live with my parents, but I would like some space. I’m also a mom, and raising a kid is a (fun, but demanding) full-time job in and of itself. I am eager to be self-sufficient. I want my degree in hand so I can be seen as fully qualified for all the positions I want to apply for. If I have to forgo sleep to take on yet another job, I would like to at least be compensated this time around. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.
Despite my appeal to the powers that be to waive my second internship based on experience and circumstances, I was told no. I’m fine with that because at least I tried, you know? Now I’m searching for internships again, but I’m determined to find one that pays. Either that or an entry-level position to get my foot in the door as a writer or content creator. I am ready and willing to work. I search. I apply. And then I wait, and I wait, and I receive the occasional generic rejection, and I wait some more. In the dark again. With no way to follow up. No feedback. Dwindling hope that is fading faster than the daylight as we grow ever closer to winter.
I’m going to keep going, keep trying, keep applying because I have no other choice. I’m far too close to quit, and my very unconventional educational journey deserves a happy resolution. So I’m searching, sending, waiting. And it hurts. The work involved is not hard. I can write a fantastic cover letter. I can talk about myself and my skills and experience all day. The hard part is just the waiting. This type of waiting fucking sucks because, unlike sitting for 2 hours at the DMV, I don’t know what the end result will be. I don’t get to see the progress. I don’t get to see the line growing shorter. I don’t get take comfort in the fact that my number will soon be called and I can get what I came here for and move on. This waiting is concentrated pain that spikes with the occasional rejection email, but has yet to subside. It hurts, but it’s a pain I have to endure right now. I am no stranger to disappointment, working my way up, sacrificing, and rolling with the punches, but I fucking loathe this waiting. It is testing the limits of my already cautious optimism. I am just working and waiting in the dark, hoping for the light to shine on me sometime soon.
I suppose I should end this by saying that I’m very obviously looking for paid work related to writing and/or multimedia content creation. I’m most passionate about media criticism, fandom culture, beauty, and nerd shit (I am a cosplayer and a gamer, two of the absolute nerdiest things you can be), but I’m also endlessly curious about any and everything.
You can also see the range of content I produce by checking out my writing portfolio or by browsing my site and other social media. Here’s to getting out of the dark. Eventually.
~DeLa Doll
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DeLa Doll is a culture writer, cosplayer, and artist based in Florida. She has been writing professionally since 2016, with some of her work being featured on sites like HuffPo and /Film. She is an advocate for meaningful diversity and representation in media, a gamer, a mom, and an avid user of DIY hair dye.
