By Marian Daniells, News Staff
My first few trips to New York when I was 6, and later when I was 12, left me starstruck and fascinated. How could my hometown in California, with its simple green lawns and suburban soccer moms, possibly compare to a glittery world of skyscrapers and showtunes?
But when I made my way back to the Big Apple once I was older, I felt a little out of place. I found the fast-paced, single-mindedness of New Yorkers and the frenzy of the tourism industry exhausting.
But, of course, I was cursed with a passion for an industry that is centered around New York. From the time I was 12, it’s been a dream of mine to work at Marie Claire. I used to tell myself that I could write from anywhere, and I suppose that’s true; but to deny that New York — the “concrete jungle where dreams are made” — has a monopoly over the American writing industry is to be painfully naïve.
I had to come to terms with the fact that some day — and probably for many days — I would have to live, to work, to brown-nose and pay my dues in New York City.
And here I am...
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