New York, New York

I’d never even dreamed of it, I was both awed and terrified when the possibility was presented to me, and yet I could see it so clearly: my life in New York as an editor for a magazine I love.

For nearly two months I’ve been living in limbo: nostalgic for London when I wasn’t even sure I was going anywhere. The possibility of New York and this job cast its shadow everywhere: Do I sign up for a race in December? Do I lock myself into a 12-month mobile wireless contract? Do I book a night at a pop-up supper club for sometime in October? The other week I went to the cricket mostly because I wasn’t sure if I’d be here another summer and have the opportunity. And just Tuesday I caught sight of the huge yellow bins that store the sand to grit ice in the winter. I wondered if I’d be here to see it.

And now – overnight – the possibility is gone. It feels a bit like a breakup – I am mourning the (work) life I started to dream about but now can’t have.

I knew it all seemed too good to be true. The answer to my financial problems, my general work malaise, the total vortex of uncertainty that is my life, and BN2 all in one midtown Manhattan office. I couldn’t wait to ditch a poorly paid recurring assignment that doesn’t even pay my rent, yet sucks up tons of time and energy (and fills up my inbox with questions from some of the dumbest editors I’ve ever encountered.) Oh yeah, and just think of the (nonfood) treat – I had a particular necklace in mind -- I could buy when I got the job.

I knew something was wrong when – after saying how great she thought my edit test was (and it was a bear to do – I submitted it with renewed respect for the magazine) – I had tentative plans to chat with the editor last week.

She didn’t call; I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Then a few days passed. Silence. (This is one of the people who’s been sending me friendly emails throughout the whole process.) I wasn’t overly keen to have the conversation, frankly – as much as I’d started to dream about going, and telling myself I’d try it for a year, I was still terrified of actually doing it.

Finally yesterday I sent a cheerful email saying I was sorry we’d missed each other and suggesting some times for next week.

She responded – hours later – with a note saying that if I’d been reading about the company lately (there’s a seriously grim article here), I’d understand why they now were filling the position from within.

I deliberately resisted checking my email last night – I knew something was up – and so I received it this morning, just as I was starting another day of poorly-paid-recurring-assignment. Not exactly the shot in the arm I needed to dive in, let’s put it that way.