Disclaimer: All of the below information is completely true and not exaggerated in any way. I'm telling you this because exaggeration is my forte, but I went with the truth this time.
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I am inquiring as to how one should go about getting a writing job at your beloved Vogue Magazine. Assuming this gets to you (I googled your address, so I can’t be sure), I appreciate the time you’ve taken to read this. (If this letter ends up in the hands of a random New Yorker, hello. Also, why are you opening mail that isn’t yours? That’s a felony.)
Because we aren’t having this conversation in person and you can’t answer my above inquiry right away, here are a few reasons you should consider hiring me.
In the second grade, our teacher matched us with fifth grade “tutors” who were to help us write a story. By that time, I was already an accomplished writer (as you can imagine) so I took offense to my teacher’s assumption that I needed a tutor. Nevertheless, I wrote that paper on my own, and I wrote it good. My tutor was happy to get out of her assignment and I was immensely proud of my hand written, one page paper. (Double spaced, font size approximately 24pt.)
When we were asked to read our papers aloud to our class with our tutors present, I gladly volunteered. The first line of my paper went something like this:
“When I was born, I had to spend a week in an incubator because I took my first breath when only my head was out.”
Now, technically, I did take my first breath when only my head was out (as do most babies). What I failed to mention was, my head wasn’t completely out so that breath I so bravely took also contained “fluids” (let’s not think too much about those “fluids”). As a result I got pneumonia which put me in an incubator in the ICU for a week. At least that’s what my mom explained to me years later when I was in junior high still believing that taking your first breath when only your head is out results in a one week incubator stay. (I’m not too bright when it comes to science. Or math. Or geography. Or history.) (Good thing I can write, huh?))
Still not convinced? Fine.
In the sixth grade we were asked to write a letter to the President (Bush) addressing his (possibly fabricated by my teacher) desire to make us go to school on Saturdays. I took this assignment to heart. I wrote that letter to Mr. President, and I wrote it good. (The repetition, I know.) The letter contained phrases like, “You aren’t even in school so how could you even know what it’s like?” followed by, “It’s not fair!” and, “Some of us have to go to church on Sunday mornings so Saturdays are our only day to sleep in.”
I felt very confident about my letter. So confident, in fact, I spent the majority of my time daydreaming about how my teacher would actually send that letter to the President. He would be so touched by it that he would banish the thought of ever having school on Saturdays and there would be a holiday in my honor! Oh the magnificence of that letter!
And then my teacher gave it back, without praise. Oh the infuriation of my sixth grade self. She had circled almost every sentence in my paper and wrote things like “opinion” and “assumption” in the margins. What, we’re no longer allowed to write opinions and assumptions in angry letters to the President? She had crushed all my dreams with a single red pen.
If you’re still on the fence about hiring me, here are a few more reasons that may help sway your decision:
-I trust Wikipedia.
-I love Harry Potter.
-I once wrote three paragraphs about doughnuts.
-I often quote Mean Girls.
-I’m a great stand in for mannequins should you ever run out. (Double-threat guy!)
-I once played Cher in a “music through the ages” performance opposite a girl dressed as Sonny.
Okay, we’re getting off topic.
I grew up wanting to be a lot of things (see: singer, dancer, wakeboarder, stylist, designer, actress, model, mother, etc.); writer was not among them. I realized my love for writing when I started growing up. Unfortunately it was after I stopped going to college (I was a late bloomer). I don’t have a bachelor’s degree in, well, anything. I have an associates degree but it’s pretty worthless because it’s in “University Studies.”
While I believe college is so wonderful, I believe that great writers cannot be taught. It’s an ability that few have and most don’t. I feel I’m among the able few (#humblebrag) and I’m confident you’ll agree. (Yes, I did just use a hashtag in a letter).
I can’t promise you that I’m as fresh, candid, and audacious in person, but I also can’t not promise you. (That’s a double negative. What a way to end a letter, right?)
Breanne Nicole Rutledge