La Rosa Knows

For some reason—maybe mercury is retrograde, or the impending premiere of Homeland has made people feel ambitious—I have been getting this question a lot lately:

How do I become a freelance writer?

In some capacity, I have worked as a freelance writer for the past 7 years. I started writing for magazines in college and since then I’ve been fortunate enough to write for places like Ecorazzi, Funny or Die, E! Online, The Soup, Fashion Police and Mad Atoms.

Each year I’ve been getting new gigs and I keep getting that question:

How do I become a freelance writer?

The truth is that there’s no right way to do it, but, as someone who has worked freelance, I have some tips and advice that might help!

How to Get Work

• Look for work everyday.

  

No one is going to hand you a job—but if that job person is out there send them my way. I check the following websites daily, and I have consistently gotten jobs this way.

ProBlogger Freelance Writing Gigs MediaBistro Craigslist

• Start a Blog

Clippings are the biggest hurdle for most people. To get a freelance gig you need clippings, but to get clippings you need a freelance gig. Sigh. What to do?!?

Start a blog. Allow yourself to write articles on what you’re interested in. I use Tumblr and you could too.

• Blindly Email Editors

To this day I email the editors of websites I like to read. If you look in the contact section on most websites, you’ll see a list of people available and ready to take your emails. You can feel free to blindly email those folks with a nice inquiry, something along the lines of…“Dear [insert name], I am emailing you today because I respect and am an avid reader of [insert website name]…”

More advice to come! Any questions so far?

This weekend I set sail for Catalina Island with E.

(SIDENOTE: “E” is my boyfriend and will be referred to as such for his privacy.)

We took the ferry from Long Beach, along with some Dramamine pills, and were excited for the following things:

• Bison
• Bison
• Bison (!!!)

Unfortunately, we quickly discovered that in order to see these wild Bison—which were left on the island after a film shoot—you have to trek at least 10 miles into the island’s corridor.

That wasn’t going to happen for the following reasons:

• I’m not that athletic.
• E would have to carry me.
• Again, not athletic.

With that in mind we decided to travel around some different hiking trails.

The first day we walked to the botanic gardens which, as one Yelp reviewer so aptly put it, is filled with cactus, cactus and more cactus. Though, to be fair, there are other things there, like this monument oddity dedicated to the Wrigley family.

The second day we managed a longer hike in which we spotted deer, a tiny lizard, and how the world will end. (That last bit occurred when I became deliriously dehydrated.)

Luckily, though, we ended each day with a good long spell of drinking. One such drink was a Corona margarita that I will be missing very much this week.

I think this question has an obvious answer, but nonetheless: Jealous?

Flavorwire put together this fantastic list of literary jibes that author’s have used for their characters. These are my favorite.

For bitter arguments in Parisian bars:

“I misjudged you… You’re not a moron. You’re only a case of arrested development.” – The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway

When only the juiciest alliteration will do (or when cursing out children): 

“You blithering idiot! … You festering gumboil! You fleabitten fungus! … You bursting blister! You moth-eaten maggot!” – Matilda, Roald Dahl

For long evenings of verbal sparring:

“In my mind, Martha, you are buried in cement right up to your neck. No… right up to your nose… that’s much quieter.” - Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Edward Albee

When you’ve finally decided to say what you’re thinking:

“You bloody old towser-faced boot-faced totem-pole on a crap reservation.” – Lucky Jim, Kingsley Amis

Last weekend I experienced the joys of being a bridesmaid.

My friend Janelle got married and, as such, I joined three other lovely ladies for the honor of wearing matching gowns and walking down an aisle…with a complete stranger.

Let me preface this by saying that I love weddings. I love being a bridesmaid. My friend looked FANTASTIC and I wept during the exchanging of the vows. It was a really fabulous event.

That being said, I’ve learned some things from this latest adventure. Life lessons that I hope future bridesmaids can improve from.

THESE are those lessons:

• Booze, Booze and More Booze
  

Behold, the bride and her matron of honor: They’ve got a Bloody Mary in one hand and champagne in the other—all smiles!

• Make Things Pretty

Want to know how to tame a “Bridezilla”? Make the bride feel beautiful at every possible moment.

For example, I arranged a lovely meat and cheese platter next to the makeup station. The Maid of Honor zoned the pictured table as a “pretty things only” space, (hence the garter, shoes, and bling). In this way, whenever the bride’s eyes tinge red and smoke billows from her ears, all you have to do is remind her of the truffle hors d'oeuvres on the adjacent table.

• Play Dumb

THIS is a final and critical lesson. If something bad or not so great is happening, pretend like nothing is wrong.

For example, the photographers missing? That’s weird. Not like he called you to say he was stuck in traffic and couldn’t really read the directions he’d written down earlier. No, that never happened, and you’re 100% sure he’ll be there any moment so the bride can have millions of beautiful memories to reminisce over in her old age. Nothing is at all wrong.

Did I leave anything out?

The Master has come up twice today, so I thought that might be the universe trying to tell me to blog about it.

It first came up when my boyfriend asked if I’d like to go see that new Paul Thomas Anderson film, to which I then said I was just impressed that he used the filmmakers full name, whereas slackers, like myself, would have instantly gone for the ole P.T. Anderson.

To make an otherwise inane story short, I said yes to seeing the film because A) It looks interesting B) Is getting a lot of buzz at TIFF and C) This is a man who uses my favorite redhead, Julianne Moore, quite often, and I support people that promote my people.

Then, this afternoon, my friend Andrew sent me this Huffington Post interview with Paul Thomas where he confesses his natural attraction to redheads. Here’s an excerpt, with interviewer Michael Hogan:

MH: There are a lot of redheads in this movie. Is that a coincidence?

PTA: Kind of. I have a natural attraction to redheads, anyway: Julianne Moore, Amy Adams. I have to say, not some kind of real by-design thing but one of those things that just keeps happening accidentally-on-purpose. The very nature of creating a family for Phil is that you’re going to have sons that have to look like him, that kind of thing. But yeah, it ends up looking really interesting.

Anyways, I guess it’s time for me to buy a ticket, because the universe wills it so! Is anyone excited to see The Master?

Today my friend from middle school, Janelle, will be marrying her fiancé, Anthony.

I feel lucky for a few reasons:

1. I get to be a bridesmaid and stand by her side at the altar.
2. Janelle found someone who suits her as well as Anthony does.
3. I get to eat cake.

Just kidding on that third one!!!…Kind of.

In all seriousness, I have known Janelle for a long time. Long enough that she saw me through my fat phase, knows about that time in middle school when I locked our math teacher out of the classroom (Sorry, Mrs. Kaczowka!), and was there on my 20th birthday when I wrapped a sheet around myself and declared, “I am Batman!”

I didn’t really become close friends with Janelle until high school. We ran in different circles, even though in a school of 100 kids having circles seems somewhat pointless. But it was in high school, when I started to get involved with theater, that Janelle and I felt a kind of kinship. When I say “kinship,” what I truly mean is that we both made each other laugh.

We’ve shared a love of roller coasters, Anthony Hopkins (no relation to her now fiancé, though, admittedly, the shared first name seems oddly convenient…), haunted houses, dancing to “Peanut Butter Jelly Time,” and all things completely nonsensical.

Keeping in touch and staying close has not been easy, especially since I decided to go to Boston for undergrad and Los Angeles for grad school, and Janelle landed at FSU then Iowa for veterinary school. 

She also landed Anthony (or he landed her, rather) and, like some winged Amazonian bird, my feathers immediately went up when I sensed a threat to my friendship. However, I can say with great pleasure, that we have stayed friends and I couldn’t be more excited to watch them both start a life together! Xoxo

But to the millions who said we wouldn’t last, I’d just like to say…

I CAN HAVE MY CAKE AND EAT JANELLE TOO! Or, wait, that’s the saying, right? No…? Let’s make it one?

Meet George La Rosa: a morbidly obese bearded dragon.

George came into our lives four years ago when my brother, Robert, bought him as a pet while at college. The lizard would come home for the holidays and needed certain accoutrements (i.e. a heating lamp, live crickets, etc.) to stay in tiptop shape.

Then, when Robert got into medical school, it became apparent that he couldn’t take George with him, because lizards aren’t permitted on plane rides. (Hello, PETA, this is your next cause.)

Meaning that the new caretakers of George would be none other than my parents, Sheila and Bill. Now, George had steadily increased in girth and appetite, going from a svelte, agile climber to, as my Dad dubbed him, “a lethargic lizardo.”

George had also moved on from deftly chasing crickets to being hand fed live worms with a pair of tweezers. So my parents, being the Italian/Irish people that they are, would dutifully feed George to his hearts content. Unfortunately, his heart and tummy desired 8 to 10 worms per day—a substantial sum!

Eventually this gorging on invertebrates led to a health issue: one day George didn’t make a bowel movement. In fact, he hadn’t “moved” in several days, forcing my parents to wonder if something was wrong. They researched local reptile veterinarians, found an appointment and went, carting their poor George along with them.

What happened was this: My parents and George sit in a waiting room, the veterinarian, “a woman with rainbow hair and multiple piercings,” came out to greet them and, upon seeing the patient, began to laugh uncontrollably. Apparently the diagnosis was clear upon first glance: morbid obesity coupled with an inability of the patient to lift its own body.

The conversation was as follows:

Vet: How often are you feeding George?

Dad: Once a day.

Vet: How much?

Dad: 8 to 10 worms.

Vet: Seriously?

Mom: Is that bad?

Vet: Lizards of this size should be fed 2 worms once or twice a week.

Mom and Dad: Oh…

[Vet proceeds with a lizard rectal exam, feels around, looks surprised.]

Vet: Also, George appears to be a she. Georgina.

[Beat.]

Vet: Can we take a photo of George for our Facebook page? I’ve never seen one this size.

Dad: Sure…

So, now we have a morbidly obese, sexually confused bearded dragon who hasn’t had a BM in days because it has, quite plainly, tried to eat itself to death.

Cut to the present: George is now on a lizard diet, consuming 2 worms twice a week and getting exercise on the floor of our living room. I can’t say that I’m noticing any immediate weight loss, but I’ve heard these things can take time.

Does anyone who may be going through a similar problem have any words of wisdom for George? Any weight loss tips?

Friends, Romans, LAX-bound men, lend me your ears!

Let me tell you a funny story about a girl—for our purposes here we’ll name her “I” and divulge this tale using the first person narrative.

Now, for some wacky reason, I decided to book a morning flight for my trip back to Florida to be a bridesmaid in my friend’s wedding. At the time, 6:30 a.m. seemed like a fairly reasonable hour to arrive at the airport, and even an ambitious task that I might take great pride upon achieving.

But, what I had regrettably forgotten is that sleep is necessary for survival. Silly, witless, I.

After a 3:30 a.m. wake-up call, harried shuffle into a waiting shuttle bus, and a large cup of coffee that had absolutely no effect on me, I’ve learned some very important rules to live by:

1. Don’t book morning flights.
2. If you accidentally break Rule 1, then do yourself a favor and pack snacks for the car ride. Your lack of hanger (hunger+anger) will thank me.
3. Whatever you typically order coffee wise? Double it.
4. Make sure you don’t have to speak to anyone on the flight, because if anyone so much as throws you a sideways glance that early in the morning, you will burn that place to the ground.
5. With Rule 4 in mind, plug in your iPod, put on a sleep mask, and wrap a plastic bag loosely around your head. People will be freaked out just enough to leave you the eff alone.
6. Mainly just follow Rule 1.

Right now, I am sitting at the Hilton Garden Inn in Napa, while my best friend Elisa mumbles to herself about the state of our hotel room, and my lack of packing.

For the past two days we’ve been wine tasting and eating to bide our time. This is a trip we’ve been planning for over a year, Napa was on both of our bucket lists, and now we are headed out to San Francisco for the rest of the long weekend.

The first day in Napa we rented bikes and I promptly fell off of mine, stone cold sober.

In spite of my bleeding wound, we forged ahead, biking through vineyards and drinking glass upon glass to ease the pain.

We’ve made a lot of friends along the way, especially yesterday when we went on a bus tour with our guide Lawrence. Below is a photo of Elisa and eye, a few glasses to the wind, and I don’t know what we’re laughing about.

Today we are both hungover. Life is good.

Love, Napa