Words

I am a bit of a logophile. I absolutely adore the way words weave together in elegant prose. I love discovering new words, and especially learning snippets of other languages. As a novice writer, I would agonize over choosing the exact word I wanted, rather than a placeholder, before I could move on and finish a piece. Thankfully, I later discovered the power of revision. 

Years ago, I received a gifted copy of The Big Book of Words You Should Know, which began the journey to where I now own a small collection of obscure dictionaries. My most recent acquisition is The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig, a delightful collection of emotionally evocative words of the human condition that we feel but lack the language to express. 

As I have been involved with my publishing internship for two months now, two words in particular from this lyrical dictionary jumped to my attention.

zielschmerz

n. the dread of finally pursuing a lifelong dream, which requires you to put your true abilities out there to be tested on the open savannah, no longer protected inside the terrarium of hopes and delusions that you started up in kindergarten and kept sealed as long as you could.

German Ziel, goal + Schmerz, pain. Pronounced "zeel-shmerts."

I dreamt of being a published author when I was in kindergarten. The very first book that I ever wrote was called Let’s Bring Books to School, which was written and illustrated by six-year-old me, stapled together and treasured for years before it was lost in a box of keepsakes. While the dream has shifted, 35-year-old me is finally able to explore the intricacies of the publishing world. When my professor first mentioned this immersive publishing experience, she warned that, as an intern, the work would not be glamorous. The stereotypical intern’s job is to do the grunt work and bring the coffee. Being that my internship is completely virtual, I had no idea what to expect. Much like beginning a new job, the same nervousness held me close as I ventured into this new frontier to gain experience. Call me overly confident, but when I look at any publishing jobs listed on LinkedIn, I think to myself “I could do that. And if I can’t, they’ll train me.” Most of what I’ve been doing with my hours with SFWP is creating social media graphics and promotional videos to highlight their upcoming booth at AWP23, yet I find myself grunting very little. I’ve jumped headfirst into the zielschmerz, and there’s no looking back now.

apolytus

n. the moment you realize you are changing as a person, finally outgrowing your old problems like a reptile shedding its skin, already able to twist back around and chuckle at this weirdly antiquated caricature of yourself that will soon come off completely.

From apolysis, the stage of molting when an invertebrate's shell begins to separate from the skin beneath it + adultus, sacrificed. Pronounced "ah-pahl-i-tuhs."

Even though you could call me overly confident, I also struggle with imposter syndrome. I am very good at my job as a teacher, and I know that I have many transferable skills that would lend well to the publishing industry. While some might consider content creation and graphic design to be grunt work, it’s genuinely fun for me. I experience this apolytus when I look back over the last three years on social media. I began creating content on social media during quarantine as a way to build connections with people while being stuck at home. It wasn't until I wrote my letter of inquiry to SFWP that I realized my hobby on the “silly little dancing app” has actually helped me hone marketable skills in this industry. My “aha” moment was when I realized I am completely capable of doing my tasks well. They trust me to do my job, and so I should trust myself as well. 

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