New York and such

So here I am in New York. Specifically, in the lobby of my NYU dorm in the East Village, listening to horns honk incessantly outside and watching all sorts of random people walk in and out past the security guard. I just got back from my first day of work. The training guy (and most of the people within earshot) already thinks I rock because I caught a fact error in a famous writer's obit.

But for the uninitiated, I should start with how I got here.

This all started about a year and a half ago when I was on my (now) ex-boyfriend's sister's ex-boyfriend's blog reading a column from the San Fransisco Chronicle called Notes and Errata (Specifically, this one.) At which point I decided I wanted to intern at the Chronicle. So I found out that I had to enter this thing called the Dow Jones Newspaper Fund, which sends copy editing interns to a whole crapload of major papers, which required you to take a big scary editing test. So I found out that one of my professors happened to be giving this test and I took it, and then one day when I was skipping that same professor's class my nap was awakened by the Director of Copy Desks at the New York Times who said that I had been selected for an internship there.

First I spent two weeks at copy editing boot camp (And I'm not lying, the man who taught it is an ex-Marine) In Philadelphia. But that's another post.

I've been in New York for about a week, paying $860 a month to live in a "suite" - a private room with a teeny-weeny kitchen and bathroom that I share with another girl (READ: Crashing at my place is not an option, unless you really enjoy spooning). But that being said, I think rent in Manhattan averages $2000 a month, and there is a laundry room in the basement and a really nice workout facility down the street that I can use for free. Plus, the village is an amazing neighborhood. "Rent" took place here. The other night I went wandering around with two other interns who know the area and we discovered an amazing bakery that has been open for 113 years (and now none of us can remember where it is). Basically, life in New York involves a lot of eating. And walking. And once I get paid, shopping.

But when I'm not eating and walking, I'm working. It's a headtrip knowing that I am working someplace where I can get in an elevator and stand next to a Pulitzer Prize winner and where typical conversations include, "He's covering Gaza?! But no one can get into Gaza!" Also, there's the free book table, where they dump off all the extra review copies for anyone to take. During training we got to meet the editor and the publisher and sit in on the meeting where the section editors pitch the stories they think are Page One-worthy.

My job is at the News Service, which is the department that sends content to other papers that buy it from us. We put out a large-print edition, the Times Digest, an international weekly insert that goes to 20 or so major papers worldwide, and we run our own wire service (like The Associated Press). This is where they are starting me.

My co-workers at the News Service like to tell me I have the best job of all the interns. They may be biased, but I do have Saturdays and Sundays off, which hasn't happened to me in a long time. But I think I am going to celebrate the upcoming weekend by going to bed. Nighty night.