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Posts Tagged ‘Salon’s’

Cary Tennis on How NOT to Get a Writing Job

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Salon’s verbose advice columnist Cary Tennis struggles to answer a simple question:

How can I get a writing job?

He thinks newbie writers can just snag interview subjects by deception:

If there is an interview do the interview. If the interview subject asks, What publication? say you’re freelance. Don’t say the name of the publication. The subject will call people at the publication and they will say they’ve never heard of you. Then it will seem like you made something up. They don’t like that. They can be touchy. They think they’re important. So be honest: You are freelance.

Oh yeah, that’ll work. Call up Joan Walsh and try that line. Of course, the esteemed Heather Havrilesky lied to get her copy-editing job with suck.com. But that was then.

FBLA refers ingenue writers to the excellent advice offered here, right at mediabistro.com.

Re: image above. Unfortunately, the game doesn’t allow the player to negotiate kill fees, wrestle editors into submission and blast fact checkers into oblivion with a specially equipped laptop of death.

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Camile Paglia on Hillary Clinton’s Girly Men

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Salon’s Camille Paglia answers one of the most pressing questions of our time:

What kind of person would go to work for a Clinton in the first place?

Chris Richard of Agora Hills wants to know why Hillary Clinton is surrounded with such beta-males. La Paglia answers:

I agree that the male staff who Hillary attracts are slick, geeky weasels or rancid, asexual cream puffs. (One of the latter, the insufferable Mark Penn, just got the heave-ho after he played Hillary for a patsy with the Colombian government.) If I were to hazard a guess, I’d say Hillary is reconstituting the toxic hierarchy of her childhood household, with her on top instead of her drill-sergeant father. All those seething beta males (as you so aptly describe them) are versions of her sad-sack brothers, who got the short end of the Rodham DNA stick.

Of course, her husband, Bill Clinton, is both a slick weasel and a rancid, sexy-as-hell cream puff. Best of both worlds.

And for seconds of fun: the Hillary Tall Tale Generator.