Half-term report

So, here I am nearly halfway through my stint at the major meeja outlet. I had a bit of a half-term assessment with one of my mentors today so now seems as good a time as any to take stock a bit of what's going on in my crazy freelance world.

Personal stuff
I've been quite shocked at how seamlessly I've slipped back into the persona of a "proper working person", by which I mean wage-slave. It took me about a week to get used to setting the alarm clock and getting up to it, racing out of the door to catch a bus and doing that whole commuter "thing" (although I've been infuriated at the number of people who refuse to give me the priority disabled bus seat I'm entitled to simply because they can't see my disability and my high heels nonpluss them so much they clearly think I'm lying even while I'm waving my concessionary pass in their faces). I've obviously been loafing it far too much over the last 5 or 6 years as a home-based freelance, despite the fact that fear of not having money to pay the rent and go out for a pint is the greatest motivation a freelance can have to generate work. I think I've long since proved I don't have to go out to work to be a productive member of society but it's been good to revisit the practice for the self-discipline. And, if I'm honest, I've enjoyed the company. Working from home can be lonely. I get out as much as I can and socialise online during the day, too, but what I've really appreciated is being (and feeling) part of a team again - it's been great to have others to bounce ideas off and hone them. It's made me rediscover some of my mojo and restored my confidence in my ability to generate great ideas and sell them to others.

What they say
Well, it all seems to be FTW for me at the moment! Right from week 1, I was getting good feedback great compliments to my face about what I was doing. (I have had to hold that ego well in check.) The nicest was being told that the producer is so chuffed with me she's happy to just let me get on with stuff despite being a control freak (I hadn't noticed that, actually, but I couldn't ask for better faith in me). They are also really delighted with my ideas, my range of contacts and my eye for a fresh angle on old topics. The compliments must go in both directions - the producer has been fab at ensuring that when my ideas have been passed on to other shows I've had credit for them. I think I'll be buying her a bottle of pink fizz come end of March.

But I did worry that, despite all the promises, I'd end up spending the whole 3 months generating cosy features for one programme only and not getting the opportunity to learn actual new skills. Halfway in, I started to really panic that this would be my fate - don't get me wrong, I'm really enjoying what I've done so far but it's stuff I already do, just in a different medium. At today's meeting I decided to be proactive and ask for the training I'm supposed to be getting. Result - I'll be starting it before the end of the week.

I've also been itching to do the organisation's social media stuff for them - it's in poor shape right now. In early January, there was a vague promise about this too but nothing materialised. So today I just demanded they give me the Twitter password and let me run the feed for a month. I promised I'd build a massive following (actually I promised to more than double it), create the conversations that simply do not exist right now at all (because the feed follows only one person back), generate news stories and features from it and drive audience. A bold boast but one I'm very confident I can deliver. I'll either get the password on Friday or be told to FOAD politely...

The best thing I heard today, apart from getting the go-ahead to run a major cross-platform social history project across the organisation, was that I'll definitely be offered freelance work beyond March and that I'd probably be offered a freelance contract if I can get to grips with all the techy radio stuff and shine there.

The lame bit
I'm having a real, live office crush. Oh, the shame! For the last few years, my office crush has been on the boy. Now, there's a human to contend with. I was toying with asking him out for a drink after a promising early conversation or two. But I'm being blanked this week and after I said "hi" to him in the canteen when I unexpectedly found myself next to him in the queue, he muttered a feeble response and stomped off. I think that one's best forgotten.

Office politics
It was inevitable that they'd rear their head at some point. I've been very careful to walk a studiedly neutral line over the last 6 weeks. I've been privy to some office gossip, of course, but never pried or made any comments remotely suggestive of where my views might lie regarding anyone in this workplace or even on the organisation itself. Despite my (for me) extreme caution, I still managed to get caught up in internal politics. A couple of years ago I took part in a studio TV debate on regional media and last week was asked to return to the topic and review the situation now. My "boss" cleared me to go off filming for an afternoon for the TV show, but that night when I got home a call from the TV show's producer revealed my participation had been vetoed by someone much higher up in the department I'm in right now. I've deliberately said nothing since then. My "boss" didn't bat an eyelid when I carried on working in the office yesterday instead of going out. He surely knew, though. I'm disappointed but I want to make the most of my current opportunity without pissing anyone off (I know, I know, this is most out of character for me) so I'm gritting my teeth and riding this out. The TV will manage without me (grr!) but there will be other chances. In the meantime, my current job has priority...

Radio silence. Radio noise?

Apologies yet again for a neglected blog. The last few weeks have been busy, chaotic and strange.

I sense a slight whiff of change in the freelance wind. After a desperately quiet summer, things picked up in the early autumn. It's not just me. Colleagues have also reported an uptick on the work front and there do seem to be more jobs being advertised after a lengthy period of falling axes.

In the midst of all this, I've attended several industry conferences - even teaching some social media stuff at one. And I also decided to apply for some proper training.

It's been a long time since I did training. There was the 2 1/2 years indentures when I started at the tender age of 16 and 3/4. It was supposed to be 3 years, but my bosses had the temerity to go bust and I spent the 6 months I should have enjoyed finishing my qualifications taking my kit off at the local art college instead to pay the bills and stave off starvation.

There have been a few spells of CPD since then, almost entirely 1-day courses with the exception of a couple that were 2 days.

So it was with some trepidation that I applied, almost on a whim, just a week ago for a 3-month placement. Yes - 12 whole weeks. I don't think I ever took the application seriously - I didn't really think the training on offer was for members of the Venerable Order of Knackered Old Hacks, but for the thrusting, bright young things snapping at my heels, which are very definitely not Louboutins.

Thus, it was a slight shock to be invited for interview. I was given 4 days' notice and asked to prepare a presentation on social media platforms for news. To show you just how seriously I took this challenge, I did nothing until 2 hours before the deadline to submit it. Then I flung it all together and emailed it with literally 1 minute to spare. (Not forgetting the computer crash I had at 30 minutes to go, with a struggle to reboot.) I wrote the notes to go with the slides while on the 40-minute train journey to the interview today.

Nothing like looming deadlines, eh?

On arrival, I was thrown straight into delivering my presentation - unrehearsed, naturally - and somehow managed not to swear, have a seizure or otherwise cock things up. But still I departed thinking, That'll teach me...

So I was delighted at 10.30pm tonight to get an email offering me a placement. I can't quite believe it. I shed a little tear, swore a lot, went totally nuts for 10 minutes and then reality kicked in.

From January to end March, I'll be doing paid upskilling training in a newsroom. Ignoring the fact that I've almost no proper newsroom experience, despite the 3 decades in the job, it's just hit me that my life is about to change completely.

No more loafing around in my dressing gown all day. I'm convinced my postie believes I'm an invalid, given the number of times I've answered the door in my pyjamas. It's been almost 6 years since I last actually "went out" to work. Almost 6 years since I last set the alarm clock for a pre-dawn commute to an office. I've forgotten what it's like, forgotten how to be on my best behaviour. Freelancing definitely deskills you in some respects, like how to get dressed at a sensible hour and how to maintain a wardrobe of suits. How to cope with colleagues for 8 or 9 hours a day. Perhaps this is what the training is for - to teach me how to handle a workplace again.

I jest, of course. I'm really looking forward to January and the opportunities that lie ahead, even while I'm wondering how I'll adjust to such a massive, if temporary life change.

I'm also wondering where I'll be placed. A newsroom for sure - I want that experience, after 31 years of feature writing. But there's a good chance it'll be at a radio station. So if you hear someone reading a bulletin oop north in giveaway soft southern jessie tones, there's a fair chance it'll be me...