I’d arrived in New York in the late ‘90s, the last gasp of the glory days, although no one knew it then. New York was packed with writers, real writers, because there were magazines, real magazines, loads of them….a time when newly graduated college kids could come to New York and get paid to write. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn This was me. Only I wasn’t writing for a magazine, although, that was the original plan. Instead, I was working as an editorial assistant at a well-known (a-hem, romance) book publisher. I sifted through the slush pile; I wrote rejection letters; I answered my boss’ phone. One day, a reporter from Entertainment Weekly called. I can’t remember why exactly. But I do remember her name. It was Gillian. I remember because her name wasn’t pronounced the way I thought it would be. Her name wasn’t Jillian. It was Gillian. With a G, not a J. Like gill, not Jill – I made sure to tell my boss how to pronounce it correctly. And I remember being a little star … [Read more...]