They say there are no jobs in journalism anymore. In fact, there’s at least one, and you can apply right here. The Buckley Fellowship is a pretty wonderful opportunity — almost a bit too good to be true. After seven months on it, I feel a little guilty that I’ve bamboozled the world into paying me to learn about politics and foreign affairs and big ideas and prose style, and occasionally even to inflict my own thoughts on our readership. It’s a bit unfair that such jobs exist and are sometimes even given to recent graduates — but those who can take advantage of it should.
The fellowship is educational, lets you do meaningful and creative and satisfying work while serving a good cause, and all that jazz. But it’s also, more importantly, a lot of fun. We have a good time at the office. On Wednesday lunches you can enjoy battles of wits between NR’s hip young editors and writers, including but not limited to Kevin Williamson, Dan Foster, and Fred Schwarz. At after-work drinks, you can drop your card, and people marvel and ask, “You know Jooonah?” or “You know Derb?” And you can nod back, real cool-like, and say, “Intimately — I edit them.” (It’s true: When people ask if you know Jonah — and they always do — they pronounce all three o’s.)
It’s more fun than vacation. It’s more educational than grad school. If you’re young, and you like words, politics, and National Review, you ought to apply. If you want to find out more, feel free to e-mail me.
Application deadline is April 18th!