A million girls would kill for this job.

This weekend, I went to a party in Williamsburg. It was so stereotypically Williamsburg that I felt like I was in a movie - everyone around me was talking about their band, several girls there worked at Babeland, and everyone, absolutely everyone, had weird, asymetrical haircuts. Except for me, with my choppy layers and my spring highlights and my dress from H&M. I guess I can console myself with the thought that I would have looked cute were I at a Manhattan party, drinking wine instead of a PBR.

Why is this significant? Because it seems like every time some cute boy wearing an ironic t-shirt and eyeliner came up to me to talk, the first question out of there mouths was "What do you do?" Pretty standard opening question at a Manhattan party. And then I would answer. And all of a sudden, they would become much more interested in me.

"I've been trying to get into publishing forever!" said one cute boy who had graduated from college three years ago and was currently working at (where else?) American Apparel while waiting for his pop-emo band to take the music industry by storm. "How did you do it? What's your secret?"

And so the night went. People who had spent their money on the Columbia or NYU Publishing course, but still couldn't get a job. People who were working in textbooks, hating their jobs and being bored out of their minds, desperately trying to get some experience so that they could try for a job in trade publishing. People who were temping at publishing companies, or working on the sales side, just to get their foot in the door.

It was eerily similar to what we're all going through with magazines. So naturally I didn't have the heart or the guts to say to someone, "Oh, what I really want to do is work in magazines."

It's a tough situation for those of us with good jobs that other people want. I know that when I first got out of college, part of the reason I took my job in book publishing was because so many of my friends who'd been searching for years told me I'd be crazy NOT to take it. Every time someone in a bar asks me what I do for a living, their reaction is always "Wow, what a great job!"

Which, naturally, makes it even harder to leave it. One of you commented that I might find I miss book publishing once I finally get a job in mags, and I definitely think that's partially true. And I think it's probably a little true for all of you who are working in books, or publicity, or fashion. If it's a good job that you enjoy, then it's much harder to leave, even if you're convinced that magazines are your true calling.

We should try to remember that just because a job is coveted doesn't necessarily mean it's right for us. Miranda Priestly taught us that. Although maybe not very convincingly. I probably would kill to be Anna's assistant.

-Ed's Girl #5

It's okay. Ed's girl likes a little pain.

Everyday I voluntarily undergo painful experiences. I get up at six in the morning so that I can run before work. I wax. I give blood. I (try) to date. There's a lot of pain in my life, and for the most part I enjoy it. Running makes me feel good, waxing makes me look good, and giving blood makes me a good citizen. Dating, we just won't talk about.

The point is, most of the painful activities I undergo have some sort of reward, and that makes the pain bearable.

So for me, nothing is more painful than going to one of the huge magazine shops in the city. I torture myself. I open up mags where I've interviewed and look at the articles they gave me as edit tests. Was my hed better? Was my dek better? I look at mastheads and search desperately for the names of new editorial assistants. And then I google them. Why did they get the job instead of me?

Even worse, I now work in a building that contains several magazine companies. Every morning when I get on the elevator, dressed in my super serious publishing clothes, I stare enviously at the girls going to the higher floors, dressed in the pretty, whimsical dresses I wish I was wearing. "That should be me!" I think to myself, sort of crazily. So far I've managed to refrain from saying it out loud, but it's only just a matter of time.

Am I insane? Should I stay out of the magazine stores? Stop stalking the girls who've been more fortunate than I? Or do the rest of you do this too?

If you're like me, I have some advice for you. Leave the computer, or the mag store. Go outside. It's the first beautiful day in a long time here in New York. Soak in the sunlight, and forget about mags for a while. Who knows, maybe you'll even run into an editor walking her puggle in the park.

-Ed's Girl #5

Ed's New Girl

Why am I posting this entry at 7 AM? Because nowadays, that's the only time I have to myself.

Let me back up and explain.

About a month ago, I left my good, steady job in book publishing. I had left all my friends, family, and pets to come live in New York, and I couldn't bear the idea that I wasn't doing what I really wanted to do - work in magazines. I was sure I'd have a new job before my two weeks notice were up. After all, I'd gotten my book job from my very first interview, two days after I graduated. My friends and family assured me I was very hireable.

Well, pride goeth before a fall obviously.

A month later, I still had no magazine job. I'd come close a few times - three interviews at three different major mags, three different edit tests, three different editors telling me they loved me, were so impressed with me, but had decided to go with a candidate who'd had a stronger edit test. One of these magazines was my absolute dream job. My heart was a little bit broken, and, more importantly, my landlord was banging on the door of my apartment, demanding my rent. Concerned relatives were calling every day to ask how my job search was going. I went to visit my grandparents, and they worriedly stuffed fifty dollar bills in my pockets. My friends started to offer to buy me drinks. I started to stay in my pajamas all day, watching Oprah and Rachel Ray, and drinking wine at two in the afternoon.

So, with a heavy heart, I started applying to every job I was even remotely qualified for. And, wouldn't you know it, another major book company bit. The pay was good. The health insurance was good. And, seemingly unlike magazines, they wanted me.

I started my new job yesterday. The people and my boss are amazingly nice, the job is good and interesting (I mean, who among us wouldn't want to spend most of their day reading?), and the commute is easy. My boss knows my true love is magazines, but I can tell he's hoping that I'll end up an editor of a different sort.

So that's my story. I'm determined not to let myself get too comfortable - I want a job in mags, I won't let myself get sucked into books. I'm going to freelance, I'm going to check the job boards every day, I'm going to go on interviews. Just, um, after working hours. My cubicle doesn't really allow for me to do anything on my computer other than actual work.

Keep the dream alive, cube dwellers,

-Ed's Girl #5