6/2/09, 10:15pm: Met a prof of journalism from Rutgers on the A [sic] [it was the D]. We talked. He’s working on a project. He says he needs writers. I’ll keep you posted.
6/2/09, 10:17pm: Maybe? It’d definitely be a foot in the door. And the band [this word came up as came in the text] wouldn’t have to break up.
6/2/09, 10:18pm: Also, he has to like my writing first.
6/4/09, 10:02am: Contact from the journalism professor. Brief but established.
6/4/09, 10:09am: He sent a very short feeler email. I replied. I will wait.
6/4/09, 11:36pm: The professor and i are going to discuss his project over “coffee.”
6/4/09, 11:38pm: Damn is right. This is so crazy.
A couple of chats:
me: so. journalism prof i met on the subway. he sent a feeler email
friend 1: oh yeah?!
me: all it said was, “may, you must write”
so i reached out with a longer reply
and i will wait
10:04 AM friend 1: wow!
me: trying not to get too excited
10:12 AM friend 1: why not get excited?
what about “you should write” is not worth getting excited about?
me: well, i’m totally not succeeding at not being exciting [sic]
10:13 AM friend 1: haha.
10:05 AM me: story?
friend 2: definitely
me: just now.
checked the blog email
10:06 AM established contact from the journalism professor. he sent a feeler email
i replied. i will wait. the end
friend 2: that’s really exciting!!!!
10:07 AM me: so crazy
we’ll see if anything happens
10:08 AM friend 2: totally
There’s a little more to this story. He just happened to sit by me on the train. He asked if the D stopped at 72 Street. I told him the local B or C would and to transfer at 59th Street. He continued the conversation. He said I looked like the artsy type but spoke like an accountant. I told him that was an interesting observation. He asked what I did. I told I had lost my job, and he gave me a high-five, and I said something about thriving in a recession. I told him about my plans to return to school to pursue writing, because I love writing. He reacted in a surprised/delighted way. He asked if I had any of my work on me. I said I didn’t, but I referred him to my blog. He might be reading this now. (Hi, there!)He asked what I liked to write. I told him mostly personal essays, that I haven’t worked too much on fiction. He said he was a writer. A professor of journalism. I asked him what he wrote about, and he said “light stuff” like politics and war and economics, which he said were basically the same thing. He asked what I read, and I had some science fiction in my bag that I showed him, and then he mentioned writing about New York City’s economy, which is a lot like science fiction. We had gotten off at 59th Street. He said he could tell by speaking to me that I use my brain, or something like that. He mentioned he’d be working on a project and that he’d be needing writers. I told him my blog has a contact email if he likes what he reads and wants to reach me. I also gave him my number, and he gave me his card. The A train pulled into the station. I asked for his name. We shook hands and I said it was great meeting him. Then I rode the A train home and sent that first text to some friends once I surfaced from the subway. And the rest of it played out the way you see it. This may prove to be a wonderful opportunity, and I’d be fool not to run with it.
So, we’ll see how it goes.