In high school, I had big plans of becoming a marine biologist. My love for marine mammals trumped all other interests, regardless of what my parents and teachers had always told me about my writing skills. Apparently, I was decent at writing. I remember my third grade teacher, Mrs. Strohs, writing in my yearbook, “I can’t wait to read a book you write!” To that, I scoffed. I knew I could write, but I didn’t particularly like to write. I liked memorizing facts about sea life, spurting out the Latin names of every member of the whale family to classmates who either didn’t bother to listen, or listened just so I would shut up.

It was in high school when my dreams became a little bit blurred. I almost failed chemistry, and geometry, and trigonometry. I fell asleep in AP biology every afternoon (What? It was after lunch and those super nachos are filling), and I started become more interested in deconstructing my favorite Fiona Apple lyrics instead of listing off every Cetacean member with baleen.

I also was interested in Star Wars when I was four. I am not four in this photo (Credit: Jessica "J.Ho" O'Higgins)

By the time it came to go to college, I went through three majors, as most college students do. Biology was first, until I remembered that I hated math and was no good at science. Theatre was next, until I realized that instead of wasting my time and money, I would be better off moving to New York or Los Angeles. A bachelor’s degree was important to me, so there was no way I was giving up on education. It was my mom who said, “Why don’t you go into writing, or English or journalism? You’ve always been a good writer.” Insert me grumbling. But, she was right. What else was I going to do? I ended my freshman year of college declared a journalism major.

I was ambivalent about my choice. I really didn’t want to report on crime and school boards, but I figured I would have a better chance at a job than if I were to go for an English degree (remember, this is before the age of the Smartphones, Facebook, and whining about the economy to feel better about ourselves).

But that was before I saw the movie that “changed my life”, as young, enlightened college students often say. That movie for me, as well as any other amateur wannabe rock journalists, was Almost Famous. Not necessarily the sex and drugs part, but the rock and roll part. I wanted to talk to musicians about what inspires them, why the live on the road, and be part of that creative process. To this day, it’s still one of my favorite movies, but when I saw it as a 19-year-old who had no clue what to do with her life, it gave me direction.

By graduation time, I ran across a posting for a freelance writer position at an entertainment guide. I checked out the website, and it was sketch-city. I decided against applying, until my friend pointed out that I had nothing to lose and should just go for it. That sketchy website is what gave me my career, and by far, one of the accomplishments I am most proud of – a staff member at Revue magazine.

I work here!

Not to say I fell into it easily. I was, for lack of a better term, an assignment whore. I took every assignment I could and turned it in days before deadline because, well, this was my dream, and it was far better than working retail at Younkers.

Currently, I have been working somehow with Revue for two years and a sprinkling of months. I have had opportunities to interview multiple musicians, live the Almost Famous lifestyle while covering festivals, attend a Playboy party, and realize that hard work and a good attitude will make your career that much more enjoyable.

I’ve also learned that not all celebrities are divas. Sure, the Billy Bob Thorntons and Mel Gibsons of the world may prove otherwise, but those two are just piss puddles in an Olympic-sized swimming pool.

The truth is, the “all press is good press” motto doesn’t necessarily work all the time – especially for artists who rely on tour revenue to get by. The ones that have accepted that mantra are extremely pleasant. They know their fans are watching, reading, and listening. You can be the best musician in the world, but without your fans buying songs, tickets, t-shirts, you won’t ever get off that launching pad.

So with this column, you’ll be getting first-hand experiences, quotes from rock stars, and hopefully, some laughs. But, you won’t get much diva behavior, because rock stars gotta eat too.

Rock on.

-Lindsay

This entry was posted on Friday, June 4th, 2010 at 12:53 am and is filed under Blogs. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.