And These are the Filing Cabinets...

Ah -- how lovely it is to be the intern.

No, seriously.

As a girl fighting tooth and nail to break into the ever-expansive and yet oh-so-elusive journalism world, to have my first internship at The Washington Post is really quite exciting.

But let me back up. As I was packing my bags for Blacksburg, Va., three years ago, I was all set to have Virginia Tech educate me in vocal performance and physical therapy. Yes, I began as a student double-majoring in music and pre-med. You may have a quizzical expression on your face; I agree. What was I thinking? Even if those two majors weren’t incredibly labor intensive (albeit in very different ways) and polar opposites, what the heck would I do with that combination of degrees? But there was no telling me that at the time.

I quickly found biology to be a bit more formidable than I had thought (OK, so I’m terrible at science), and began to cycle through the change-of-major process, oh, at least five times in three semesters. Enough times to hear the following from my mother every time we spoke: “So, what’s your major this week? Going into forestry this time?”

Knowing that music will forever be a passion and that I can write well enough, it took a surprisingly long time for the perfect career to come to me: music criticism!

Brilliant! I can keep my music minor and continue to study privately, and add a communication major!

…Now what?

It was this section of my plans that resembled, in my mind’s eye, a big, ugly blinking cursor on a blank resume. Between education (check) and that dream job (being paid to go to performances I’d flock to anyways), there lay a bit of an obstacle: work experience.

I needed an internship. Or two. 

Music criticism is a rather specific field. Of course there are publications such as Rolling Stone, which would’ve been terrific if I knew anything about pop music. Being classically trained with a love of jazz, I had no idea where to turn. So, I turned to newspapers, which do a little bit of everything.

Born and raised in Northern Virginia, I’ve grown up reading The Washington Post. Of course I knew that the Post reviewed shows, CDs, and other various performances. But it was a newspaper giant, one that I might meet after I’d been climbing the beanstalk for a few years.

I decided to apply for an internship at a D.C.-area music venue’s publication department. Weeks later, however, I thought, “Oh, what the heck? It can’t hurt to apply at the Post.”

Fast forward!

So here I am, the intern for The Washington Post Writers Group. Which, incidentally, has nothing to do with music criticism whatsoever.

We all know that the description for internships should read something like, “You will be doing the work that no one else wants to do. An enjoyment of databases and the ability to entertain yourself are preferred, but not required.”

Alas, this is the game we unemployed play. In order to break into the field of our choice, we must compete ferociously for internships. Only those with the highest GPA, most experience, best attitude and greatest willingness to work will be able to attain those coveted positions in which we … file and create spreadsheets.

I know this sounds very dark and gloomy, but an internship does, on the other hand, provide a wealth of opportunity. Forgetting the fact that this isn’t exactly my intended career path, the Writers Group is showing me the inner workings of the fifth highest circulating newspaper in the country. In addition, the Writers Group works closely with other newspapers worldwide, as the entire purpose is to market to those people in the syndication of its columns and features, so I’m gaining valuable insight into the business of writing. As every writer knows, getting someone to buy your pieces is the hardest part.

Oh, and did I mention that the Style section works right outside my office?

And so, I file with a smile and truly enjoy coming to work every day, with ears and eyes open.