Romantic Beginnings
I spent last night like I do every night, watching television with my mom in her apartment at the assisted living facility. I usually arrive at around 6:30 p.m., traffic permitting, and we settle in and watch reruns of All in the Family. It's one of my mom's favorite shows because Archie Bunker always reminded her of her father.
The synopsis of last night's episode was Gloria (Sally Struthers), and Michael (Rob Reiner) make a trip to the Poconos to "rekindle" their romance. At one point during the show, Gloria comes to the conclusion that the love has left their marriage and she comically whimpers that maybe they should get "a di, a di-di, a divoooorce." Michael freaks out and locks himself in the bathroom, and the audience hears him whaling from behind the door. I won't make you watch the whole episode, so I will just tell you that they end up making out on the floor of the bathroom after Gloria attempts to ram her way through the door at the same exact point that Michael opens it.
Where am I going with this? Romantic relationships are most often compared to and sometimes live or die upon the circumstances of their origins. At the beginning of a romantic partnership, there is this nervous, kinetic energy surrounding everything you do. It is the promise of something wonderful or something terrifying, but you and your engorged heart and libido take the plunge anyway. Infatuated folks are so willing to conquer the unknown with complete strangers when sex is involved, and it makes me wonder why we all don't take these types of risks with anything else in our lives. Think about all the things we sacrifice for blind passion - family, jobs, financial security, houses, lifestyles, moral and religious beliefs. It seems the only thing we're not willing to give up these days is political affiliations, but that is a whole other beast to tackle.
What if we treated every beginning in our life like that of a lovestruck teenager? Naivete aside, would we make better choices? As I am at the beginning of my editorial internship at Cleaver Magazine, I feel the same anxiety that I have felt when entering a new relationship. Do they like me ... do they really like me?
In my first weeks, I am just starting to navigate Submittable. I have a personal account and receive emails notifying me of when I have been assigned a piece to review. I set up a folder and a filter so that my abyss of an inbox would not envelop these notifications. I certainly did not want to realize weeks from now that I was slacking on my workload. I specifically read for Creative Non-Fiction although Cleaver accepts submissions for all types of pieces including Poetry, Fiction, Flash and their newest endeavor Radio Plays. To date, I have voted "YES" to accept three submissions, expressed a "Maybe" on a piece that I felt had potential but needed lots of editing and a "NO" on quite a few.
In my first blog post two weeks ago, I expressed a fear of not being able to properly critique a writer's work based on my limited experience. I was also afraid that writers who submitted their work could see my comments. Not that I would be cruel in any way, but I was worried that people far more qualified as a writer than I would be worried that their work was being passed over by some intern hack. It was a very real source of anxiety until Cleaver's Editor in Chief, Karen Rile, emailed me directly to assure me that my remarks would not be seen, they are kept private and can only be viewed by the editorial staff. I immediately let out a sigh of relief upon reading that first sentence but then immediately became self-conscious that Karen read my blog! However, she followed it up by saying "you're doing a great job."
And just like that, my heart is full, and this relationship's beginning is filled with ever more promise.
The synopsis of last night's episode was Gloria (Sally Struthers), and Michael (Rob Reiner) make a trip to the Poconos to "rekindle" their romance. At one point during the show, Gloria comes to the conclusion that the love has left their marriage and she comically whimpers that maybe they should get "a di, a di-di, a divoooorce." Michael freaks out and locks himself in the bathroom, and the audience hears him whaling from behind the door. I won't make you watch the whole episode, so I will just tell you that they end up making out on the floor of the bathroom after Gloria attempts to ram her way through the door at the same exact point that Michael opens it.
Where am I going with this? Romantic relationships are most often compared to and sometimes live or die upon the circumstances of their origins. At the beginning of a romantic partnership, there is this nervous, kinetic energy surrounding everything you do. It is the promise of something wonderful or something terrifying, but you and your engorged heart and libido take the plunge anyway. Infatuated folks are so willing to conquer the unknown with complete strangers when sex is involved, and it makes me wonder why we all don't take these types of risks with anything else in our lives. Think about all the things we sacrifice for blind passion - family, jobs, financial security, houses, lifestyles, moral and religious beliefs. It seems the only thing we're not willing to give up these days is political affiliations, but that is a whole other beast to tackle.
What if we treated every beginning in our life like that of a lovestruck teenager? Naivete aside, would we make better choices? As I am at the beginning of my editorial internship at Cleaver Magazine, I feel the same anxiety that I have felt when entering a new relationship. Do they like me ... do they really like me?
In my first weeks, I am just starting to navigate Submittable. I have a personal account and receive emails notifying me of when I have been assigned a piece to review. I set up a folder and a filter so that my abyss of an inbox would not envelop these notifications. I certainly did not want to realize weeks from now that I was slacking on my workload. I specifically read for Creative Non-Fiction although Cleaver accepts submissions for all types of pieces including Poetry, Fiction, Flash and their newest endeavor Radio Plays. To date, I have voted "YES" to accept three submissions, expressed a "Maybe" on a piece that I felt had potential but needed lots of editing and a "NO" on quite a few.
In my first blog post two weeks ago, I expressed a fear of not being able to properly critique a writer's work based on my limited experience. I was also afraid that writers who submitted their work could see my comments. Not that I would be cruel in any way, but I was worried that people far more qualified as a writer than I would be worried that their work was being passed over by some intern hack. It was a very real source of anxiety until Cleaver's Editor in Chief, Karen Rile, emailed me directly to assure me that my remarks would not be seen, they are kept private and can only be viewed by the editorial staff. I immediately let out a sigh of relief upon reading that first sentence but then immediately became self-conscious that Karen read my blog! However, she followed it up by saying "you're doing a great job."
And just like that, my heart is full, and this relationship's beginning is filled with ever more promise.
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