I’ve always been a little bitter about the characterization of this generation as tech wizards, computer addicts and gizmo collectors. Now, I facebook ten times more than what’s considered a healthy amount, think online celebrity gossip sites are just what the world needed and want to become a minister that spreads the gospel of Google. All that I can do. But once you mention the word download, computer edit or new program, my eyebrows start to furrow into a worried line that just makes people around worry for me.  

This was the exact facial expression I was trying to avoid during my first absolutely! Magazine meeting. I had foreseen its arrival when, before leaving Dusty’s house, she asked me if I brought a laptop and searched intently for one when I said no. I’m the type of person who thinks bringing a notebook, a pen and several backups will get you through any meeting, but I guess it’s time for me to get with the digital age.

After my usual giggly introduction, we walked into Roger’s office. Considering I’ve finally become confident in answering ‘magazine journalist’ when questioned about my career aspirations, I knew I was going to have a good day. Updates on articles were floating around, new ideas for the direction of the magazine were introduced, future edits were being planned and I was soaking it all in. So, there I was enjoying the comforting conversation about paper and ink, when out of nowhere, came discussion about technology, causing a twitch to my left eyebrow. I listen to the news and being awarethe current trends, I shouldn’t have been shocked, but for some reason I thought in my future magazine dream world, I would just send my articles via email and then let someone else would mess with that techie stuff. But unless I expected to have more than one successful issue,  it didn’t look like that was the way it was going to work.

As they discussed Magazine Manager and distribution strategies, pulling up charts and online forms, I tried to pay attention to every title, program and list named just in case someone turned to me to quiz me on some knowledge that everyone expected me to have googled long ago. Ten minutes of resisting the eyebrow urge, I realized this wasn’t so bad. Technically, I wasn’t trying to figure out anything on the computer so I didn’t have anything to be worried about. Plus, I felt like I was an industry insider, taking in everything that I had never considered going into the final product.  

Despite my embrace of technology, only of the magazine and socializing variety, I was relieved after lunch. When Laura plopped a pile of papers in front of my desk and said, “Edit away,” I did an internal happy dance. Finally, I would be in my element! Finally, I would know exactly what the heck was going on! I don’t want to brag but back in the day, I was known in my circle for my editing skills. After reading the first paragraph and making a few punctuation edits, I heard Laura’s pen scribbling away on her paper. I peeked under her elbow. My goodness, what was this woman writing! It seemed like every sentence had another sentence of commentary. Was I supposed to be commenting? I read over my paper’s first paragraph again, thinking of anything I could contribute and decided to change a couple of words to be more descriptive. I continued reading and I could not figure out what else to edit. I went back to staring at Laura’s paper; it looked so official. I had forgotten all those editing symbols long ago, exchanging it for my own short hand and never thought someone else would have to read it without my explanation. After several rereads, I decided I could probably move on to the next article. I had never been so happy to be confused; I scratched out words and moved phrases, shooting for perfect clarity. After changing it all up, a thought crossed my mind. I know in high school, people don’t mind if you offer them suggestions for better phrasing, but don’t writers get upset about that type of thing? And why was Laura finished already?  My relief turned panicky as I continued reading. There was no transition between paragraphs; did they not do that past college?  After fifteen minutes of editing my own edits, I gave in and asked Laura what to do with my overly troublesome paper. “Well, do what you can and after this, Dusty edits it and she’s tough.” Well, thank goodness! I reviewed the punctuation, diction and even boldly made some suggestions and put it back on the stack.

At the end of the day, I text my sister, “I feel official.”  Although it wasn’t an easy walk in the park, it was weirdly assuring that, after years of planning my future career, sooner than I realized it, I was actually on my way.