Hot Press:

Exciting, busy, fun, hard, enlightening, exhausting.

The preceding descriptors do little justice to the actual experience of interning at Hot Press magazine, but they are the best I can do. (By the end of my first week here, I had already experienced them all!)

Today is hump day, and I’m currently sitting at the reception desk with – a very rare – moment of peace. I doubt I will have enough time to finish this post before I have to switch off with another intern, but I wanted to at least start it. My days have been so long and busy that by the time I get home I am in no mood for blogging.

My first two days as an intern at HP (Hot Press, duh) were spent in a small office with four other people. I did some basic data entry, got to know most of the staff and learned the ropes, so to speak, of how to work here successfully.

Despite the simplicity of the task, those first two days were some of the best that I’ve had so far. It was the first time I got a real peek at what life is like for Irish people working in Dublin. It was very interesting, to say the least.

And, apparently, it was interesting for them, too. (Every time a “ya’ll” slipped out, I was told how cute it sounded.)

I’ve never been told that I have a country accent before, so I was a little surprised to find out that my accent is stronger than another intern’s from Texas. And, of course, I could not get enough of their lovely Irish accents, which are way cooler than mine.

On my third day as an intern, I joined the editorial floor. I was given a run down of how to create posts, properly size photos and upload articles to the website. I took as much notes as possible, but by the time I was left to my own devices I had forgotten everything, naturally. Luckily, Colm [pronounced Col-um for my friends back in the states] – my temporary tutor – was very kind and willing to answer any questions I had (which were quite a few!).

I was surprised, but delighted, to be given so much responsibility so soon. I received an admin log in and password, which allows me to update the site with the latest news and articles. It is incredibly intimidating to be given so much power, but it was also exciting at the same time to be included as part of the team so quickly.

However, my first day on the editorial floor was not the immediate success I had hoped it would be. (Who would have guessed, right?)

The power that had earlier intimidated me had now completely consumed me. In layman’s terms, I froze.

The first press release Colm asked me to cover should have been an easy enough piece, but, somehow, I had lost the ability to form coherent sentences. Everything I wrote sounded stupid or cliche. I started from scratch several times, never happy with the end result. It was my first article to be published on a reputable magazine’s website, so I demanded perfection – it had to be perfect.

By the time I had written something I deemed (marginally) acceptable, it was 5:55 p.m., and I had only five minutes until the work day’s end to upload the story.

Colm walked me through my first official upload (thank the gods) as I repeatedly promised that I’d do better tomorrow. It had, after all, taken me an entire day to write one measly article on some random Icelandic band.

I was about to press “update homepage” when my computer died. Colm immediately started laughing in his beautiful Irish accent, which caused me to start laughing, as well. (Anyone who knows me well, knows how much I enjoy the Irish accent.) The tension that had been tightening the muscles on my shoulders all day immediately dispersed, leaving me feeling giddy and light.

Colm brushed off my apologies about taking so long to write the article, saying that it was not a big deal, but I was still determined to come in the next day and do much better.

Luckily, for this post and my self-esteem, I came in the next morning and did do better. Much better. I managed to produce four mini-articles before the end of the day. None of these stories were anywhere near perfect, but the previous day taught me that perfection is hard won in this fast-paced business.

With love,

Kinsey

Kinsey Keys

aspiring memoirist rummaging through my noggin, stubbornly clutching the past to my chest like it’s a newborn babe starved for mother's milk.

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