The Clock Part 2: A Goddess is Born
Photo by ROMAN ODINTSOV from Pexels
Me and my big mouth.
In case you missed it, read Part 1 here.
Landing my first writing gig should have been a dream, but it felt like a nightmare. I feverishly researched the Zodiac. Learned as much as possible about each sign and the solar system.
Men are from Mars? Women are from Venus? Mercury retrograde? Earth sign? What? Apparently, the planets have far more power over us than we give them credit for.
Remember when people lost their shit after Pluto was downgraded to a star? So much so, NASA stepped in to say Pluto was still “one of us.”
As if our mnemonic identity was wrapped in “My Very Evil Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas.” No one wanted to live in a world that identified as, “My Very Energetic Mother Just Served Us Nachos.” I agree, but leave the nachos out of it. No need to take it out on them.
I had no a clue what I was doing, but did my best to craft something. I submitted the horoscopes on time, but when I got a call from my first editor, Justin, I was nervous. Justin waited for me in The Clock office.
“Are the horoscopes, okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, the writing is good,” he confirmed.
“Oh. Then what’s wrong?” I asked.
“You need a title,” he said.
“Oh, just “horoscopes.”
“That’s boring.”
“They’re horoscopes. They don’t need a title. Even if they have one, people wouldn’t get it whereas they know “horoscopes,” I protested with air quotes.
“Still need a title.”
“No…”
Justin folded his arms.
“Either pick a title or I will,” he threw down the gauntlet.
Image by Steve Johnson from Pixabay
Now, could I have just picked a title and satisfied my editor? Of course, but again, that would have been the easy thing to do. Instead, I opted to be an immature smart ass.
“FINE! How about GODDESS! Yeah, that’s it. GODDESS BETH! GODDESS BETH KNOWS ALLLLLLLLLL!” I got super dramatic.
“I want you to take this seriously,” he said firmly.
“I am! Horoscopes by Bethany Gates,” I said and left before he said another word.
The newspaper was distributed to the college on Fridays. When the publication hit the stand, I got butterflies in my stomach. I was going to see my writing in print for the very first time. I grabbed a copy and ran to my first class a few minutes early.
Keep in mind, the year was 1998.
Cell phones were not yet mainstream. Social media didn’t exist. AOL was the popular email provider and Netscape was the common search engine. Long story short, privacy was still highly fashionable. Heck, I wrote for a NEWSPAPER!
I blazed through the pages. There it was. Not only did Justin make the executive decision to title my horoscopes:
“Goddess Beth Knows All”
He ran a full body shot in the center of the article with the horoscopes revolving around it like a frame. Sidebar!
All the columnists had headshots featured next to the columns. Mind you—a headshot is merely that—JUST THE HEAD! Nothing below the shoulders.
When I took my headshot, I thought nothing of my outfit. Had I known this image would be published as my first debut, I might have opted for something a tad more professional.
Lose the mini skirt, scrunchie, stripped stockings and Doc Martens. Maybe relax the arms a bit. And, choose a background that is NOT a fireplace.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved the picture then and I still do.
The audience was a low-key, grounded, outdoorsy, hippie community who liked camping, hiking and snowshoeing in the White Mountains of northern New Hampshire.
While the image is not a big deal by today’s standards, it didn’t exactly resonate with that audience. My jaw dropped. Oh. Holy. Jesus.
I closed my eyes. Again, I learned the hard way. I was not the only liberal arts rebel on the newspaper staff.
I got the creeps, as if I were being stared at. I opened my eyes and slowly turned my head. Several students with open newspapers, were thoroughly disgusted. They collectively shot me repulsive looks.
I wanted to explain. To say that I was a decent human being. That I was afraid to pursue my writing. That my fear caused me to lash out at my editor, who in turn, pulled an epic prank. That I wasn’t a total egomaniac who was completely full of herself.
Unfortunately, the damage was already done and it was too big a mountain to climb. So, I did the only thing I could do—I owned it.
Reached into my backpack, pulled out my purple aviator sunglasses, leaned back in my chair and smirked at my critics.
Stay tuned for the next installment, “The Clock Part 3: Human Nature”
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