Working with our intern at MedCity News got me thinking about my own internships. I, too, was once a 21-year-old eager to start my career. I had three internships, and they provided me with some amazing experiences as well as crushing blows to my self-esteem.
I spent one summer working as an intern in the features department of my hometown daily newspaper in Erie, Pa. I drove the company cars, interviewed people and wrote stories. One day, when they were either understaffed or trying to see if the intern could handle some stress, they sent me to Chautauqua Institution to hear Al Gore speak. I was clearly the most inexperienced reporter there. I was surrounded by people who had been in the business since I was a toddler. It was intimidating. It was my first exposure to pushy TV reporters who would interfere with my reporting for years to come. I got my story and wondered if I was in the wrong business.
That summer, I endured snide comments from my boss. I can still see her peering over her glasses and asking me things like, “Did your mother write that?” when I received a nice thank you note from a grateful person I had interviewed. I remember another employee calling me over to sit by her while she edited one of my stories. She was patient and kind. Thanks to people like her, I made it through.
My internship at John Carroll University was the best learning experience I got there. It was better than any class I took. I was working in the school’s public relations office when the alumni magazine editor, John Ettorre, noticed me. He started giving me small things to write. Before long, he had sort of poached me from the dear woman who did public relations then. John challenged me, encouraged me and taught me. I learned time-saving, make-you-look-like-a-professional stuff like doing research on a person before contacting him for an interview.
John could sniff out interesting people and stories. Then he’d do his research and interviews, type rapid-fire style on the computer, and end up with a story that was a joy to read. I’m grateful to him for what he taught me and I’m glad that he’s still offering words of encouragement, long after the official internship ended.
The other internship I had was at Cleveland Magazine, which I’m fairly sure is what got me my first job. Looking back on it now, I can see that much of it was gruntwork. They gave the interns the stuff nobody else wanted to do. I didn’t care. It was thrilling for this small-town girl to leave campus, take the Rapid downtown and go up to her own office. In the magazine’s annual city guide, I got a byline for stories about neighborhoods, attractions and shopping. The work entailed a lot of research and compiling of lists, but I got to do writing too. I lived for the days when I got to do writing.
The best thing the years of experience have given me is a thick skin. Every budding writer has to go through the process of being able to take criticism from others who are just trying to make the writing better. Interns may interpret these comments, changes and suggestions as a personal attack on something they’ve created, but it isn’t personal. It’s business. Whenever a writer is paid to create something, that product is going to be scrutinized by the buyer. And the buyer has the right to ask the writer to improve it.
Just the other day, one of my clients made changes to something that had already been through several revisions by the intern and one or two by me. I wasn’t offended. The client’s changes made the writing better. Each person brings a different perspective to his writing, and sometimes an objective eye is all that’s needed to turn good writing into great writing.
