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...

Learning curve

Just over a fortnight ago,on a whim, I applied to do a top-up training course. Today, I completed the first week of intensive workshops. I'm pretty shattered and tattered but it's been most interesting, for a number of reasons.

The biggest shock to the system was learning to commute again after a 6-year hiatus. Although I'm naturally a very early riser, I fought daily against the excruciatingly loud digital bleep of my alarm clock at 5.30am. On at least 2 mornings I was sorely tempted to roll over and crash out again. I don't know why this is - my insomnia frequently wakes me that early and I'm happy to get up, stick the kettle on and crack on with work. But I dislike jumping straight in the shower, deciding what the hell to wear and putting my face on for the day while it's still dark outside. Catching a bus at 7.10 is anathema, sitting on a crowded train even more so. It's bearable - just - as long as I have a large carton of coffee, a paper and don't have to talk to anyone. By today, I felt I'd just about got the hang of things again - nicely in time to unlearn them.

People. I'm naturally sociable, but equally like my own company and frequently crave solitude. This week has taught me that freelancing from home can definitely turn one into a misanthrope. Working largely alone for so long meant I had to learn to work in a team again, something long since forgotten (and, truth be told, after my last spell as a staffer coping with a colleague who was literally bonkers and made my team's life hell, something probably best left behind). I had a huge midweek bust-up with one of the other trainees, inevitable under the circumstances. It was resolved next day but it's served to remind me that in Q110 I'm probably going to have to button the lips that are normally left to speak as bluntly as they care to.

As for the rest, it was hard not to be aware of the age gap between myself and the other gang members. Interestingly, I was way ahead of them when it came to the geek stuff. Although I'm probably an early adopter, I generally expect 20-summats to be ahead of me there. So it was with some surprise that I discovered that 10 years of blogging, plus proficiency in Facebook, Twitter and a bunch of other social media stuff put me furlongs ahead. I was bored and a little frustrated, therefore, during the first couple of days while we were taught how to blog and exploit social media platforms. In the latter half of the week, I did learn new stuff - how to make a digital movie and audio slideshow, for example.

For me, the most bizarre bonus was undoubtedly the unexpected friendship I seem to have struck up with an investigative journalist who dropped in to teach the group how to dig up information on the deep web. A lot of the workshop was, again, stuff I already knew from doing this kind of work in the past but we not only had that in common but also some other things. We swapped cards, Facebooked each other and before you could shout "publishing deal" we were mooting the idea of writing a book together. How weird is that? No weirder than spending 2 hours in someone's company and feeling like you've known them for ages.

Some other points of note: I've had so little free time this week that I've been coming home to a mountain of email that I've had less than 2 hours to sift through in the evening, dealing with the urgent ones and mainly deleting the rest before collapsing into bed. I failed to put the bins out. I cleaned none of the house. The boy was undoubtedly very unhappy at being locked in all day for 5 days in a row. I was so tired one night I overslept the next morning by an hour (yet miraculously still managed to arrive at the course only 5 minutes late - don't ask me how). I was also so tired that I cancelled several evening social engagements I should have showed my face at. Just how do ordinary people manage all these things? I have clearly lost the knack and I'm wondering just how I will cope with 3 months of this when a mere week was evidently such a struggle.

I have a month's respite now, a month in which I have 2 books to edit for clients, plus do my other regular freelance gigs and somehow psyche myself up for returning to the external workplace for 3 months. Scared? You bet. Cocky? Damn right. Somehow I just know I'll pull it out of the bag even though it will more than likely be through my usual combination of winging it, bluffing it and shitting it.

What I really want to know is where it will lead afterwards. But that's another story. So stay tuned...

Flattery, ignorance

First, flattery. So there I was on Twitter a week or so ago following various conversations, one of which asked people to plug a certain teenage journo. Normally, I wouldn't, but I was the same age (16) when starting out and had the same hunger. It struck a chord, so I did the RTdecent thing and retweeted something this person had written.

I was rather flattered some days later to see that said teen hack had plugged me on Mr Tweet, and described me as "amazing, sharp, humorous, the best journalist there is". I'm paraphrasing, obviously but I did enjoy the ego-stroke. It almost convinced me I should have taken on Julie Burchill, after all.

So it was with some disappointment that I discovered, some days after the announcement of the 2009 Manchester Blog Awards, that I'm probably not among the (currently) 120+ nominations for the simple reason that I'm not yet listed on the blog roll at The Manchizzle, not this one or the other one. Or indeed any of the other ones. An oversight or several that I'm hastily trying to correct.

Never mind. I have survived long enough without gongs. I'm happy to have fans of a tender 16 years, which probably counts for a lot more.

But a nomination would be nice. HINT HINT...

Hacking, slacking and death

The older I get, the faster time seems to whizz past. And so yet another month has somehow whistled past my ears without me blogging. There are reasons for this. Wimbledon, as usual, sucked up a fortnight of my time, during which I did very little work. Like many bloggers, I seem to have shifted my excess verbiage to Twitter instead of posting here. And while I've not exactly been loved up, I do seem to have acquired a new Mr WfH, which has also occupied my precious spare time.

On the work front, I've been semi-busy. It's tough out there right now (of which more in a mo). I gave up pitching a couple of months back when it became clear that the pitching I was doing was disappearing into a budget void. The distraction of the tennis generally means I slack off over June/July anyway so I can lie on my sofa and yell at the tv. And I've had enough copywriting and editing work to keep things ticking over enough to pay the bills. I'm now actively chasing new work and contemplating a fresh round of pitching features again.

The book continues to do well. I've completed the amendments that will be incorporated into the 3rd edition and a friend who has been commissioned to create a graphic novel about the story of Joy Division is going to quote me and the book in regard to Ian Curtis' epilepsy. Fame at last, steady on old girl!

In the interim, I've become an avid follower of certain blogs about journalism. I'm loving Journopig, a splendidly sarky take on the media. Fleet Street Blues continues to provide a great service posting vacancies, which are in short supply these days, as well as some pithy commentary on the current state of play. Overheard In The Newsroom amuses me daily. And last, but by no means least (to eke out that tired old cliché one more time), I'm reading Playing the Game. Sometimes I want to cry when I peruse the latest entry, others I want to howl with laughter (viz. the entry on HR). Much of this reminds me of my days as a junior on a weekly listings mag - the drinking, the piss-taking, the swearing (how the fuck do you think I learned to drink like a pro, eh?), the stroppy ed or two... I'm sick of reading about how my industry is dying (it's not, it's just going through a period of major change, ok) but PtG reminds me of everything that is good about the trade I love and why it's being ruined by profit vampires and accountants.

Lastly, I've yet again spent a couple of days in sad reflection and been on the receiving end of a journalist's mic. Many moons ago, as a young trainee, I worked alongside the very talented Harry Horse. We were more or less the same age - two teenagers forging our way in the press. I lost touch with Harry many, many years ago and only 18 months ago discovered the tragic circumstances of his death. So it was with a huge shock that I learned this week - a year to the day of publication - that the circumstances were far more bloody and gruesome than I could ever have imagined. Within 24 hours I was being interviewed by the hack investigating the story and reminiscing about the teen artist I knew 30 years ago. Poor Harry (and Mandy, obviously). It seems so out of character for the man I once knew and was close to. My heart breaks.

And on that note, till next time...

Media Diet Week 42

Press: once again, I've been sampling the joys of our national railway network and unsurprisingly this involved spending at station newsagents. I quite like hoofing down to London for meetings - it's a welcome break from the computer and the opportunity to indulge in print media. Wednesday's trip involved buying The Guardian and a copy of Look (because I love the high st. fashion spreads). I had little chance to read either as I got involved in a lengthy conversation with the traveller opposite, who turned out to be a repo man. He's working in interesting times (and in the field of business equipment repossession) so the insights were fascinating. For once, I didn't mind not reading on the train. On the journey home the next morning, I made an impulse purchase of Mojo, lured by the cover splash of the feuds that led to The Clash splitting and the free CD of rebel songs. Opening Mojo, I was reminded why I gave up buying rock mags a while back, despite my background as a rock hack. Today's crop are full of self-indulgent, rambling nonsense by writers of my generation who can't accept that punk is long gone and keep rehashing their own brand of nostalgia, like picking at scabs on the knee. I haven't tried the CD yet, it better be worth it. Also, Mojo has a truly nasty serif font in a ridiculously small point size that makes reading difficult and means I may never get round to investigating the finer points of the Clash break-up.

Blogs: this week's big theme has been Twitter. Dave Lee blogged first about his thoughts on extracting the best out of it. I also posted some thoughts. The Guardian's Charles Arthur reckons link-sharing is key to Twitter, while Sally Whittle shared the hilarity of TwitterKarma and etiquette. Me, I think Twitter is undoubtedly fantastic for spreading linky love but it is also a jolly useful grease gun for oiling the wheels of social networking - Twitter-natter is good for getting to know people and, this week especially, supporting friends and colleagues through tough times as they cope with dying pets and other stresses. On a technical note, I'm reluctantly contemplating abandoning Bloglines forever. Its RSS feed is still delivering the goods hideously late, unacceptable when you're in the media and need stuff quickly. My back-up is Google Reader and I'm probably going to switch permanently to that, despite my reluctance to succumb to all things G. At least Reader is reliable. And if IT apps don't want to lose market share to the Google monolith they need to ensure they are up to scratch.

TV/radio: the start of the week was full of gems on the small screen. Last Sunday, the ever-delightful and interesting Stephen Fry kicked off his US travelogue on the Beeb - yes, it was cosy and a tad predictable but it was perfect Sunday night viewing, especially as Fry has an unerringly instinctive eye for the quirky. Lulled into warm cuddliness, I flipped over immediately after to watch former Blair spin-doctor Alistair Campbell talk with extraordinary frankness about his breakdown in Cracking Up. This was top-notch telly - uncomfortable to watch at times but also important as TV desperately needs to show more good programmes about mental health, especially as 1 in 5 of us will suffer from depression at some point. I also enjoyed the opener of Wired on Monday, a thriller about bank fraud (great timing!) - it got off to a good start, let's hope it can sustain the pace and deliver a cracking denouement. Charlie Brooks (ex-Janine in EastEnders) was woefully underused, though.

Books: I'm still on The Arsenic Labyrinth! I know, I know, it's been 2 weeks already and I'm still only just over halfway through. I'm determined to finish it this week. Especially as I have some essential reads stacking up in the to-read pile.

Twittering on...

Journalist Dave Lee recently wrote an interesting blog post about using Twitter. As a Twitter user myself, I've found it incredibly useful. I subscribe to a number of useful news feeds from various media organisations and most of my tweep crowd are fellow hacks or flacks - it's good to be able to swap links on interesting new stuff (you never know when that might trigger an idea for a pitch). I've been offered the opportunity to beta-test new tech products and I've chatted to editors about possible topics for features (I once saw a colleague pitch an idea to an ed and secure the deal, all by tweeting!). I also use it as my water-cooler to chat to colleagues and my handful of non-work friends using it.

I had tried Twitter last year but didn't "get" it at the time. This time round, I picked up on its uses right away.

Dave Lee is absolutely right when he points out that news organisations such as the Beeb need to sort out their Twitter feeds and also engage in conversation. I use the BBC Magazine feed - while it follows me back, my attempts to engage in conversation have been met with silence. What's that all about? I'd really like to build a relationship with BBC Magazine via Twitter, as one day I might pluck up the courage to pitch them. Not responding means you might as well just pump out a bog-standard RSS feed if you don't want to converse with your followers.

Most of the hacks I follow tweet a well-balanced mix of links to their articles or blogs, or links to other stuff of interest, chit-chat on newsworthy topics (yes, we're all chucking in our tuppenceworth on the financial crisis right now) and personal stuff. Those I followed who turned out to be only tweeting what they ate for lunch or whatever, I unfollowed fairly quickly. My day is full enough already and there's no space for that kind of pure trivia - it's best left to blogs or chatting to mates on Yahoo Messenger.

I blogged the other day that Stephen Fry has joined Twitter and how rapidly he got followed by thousands (and also very generously began following many of us in return too). I hope Fry's Twitter experience won't be as crippling as his Facebook one - he was obliged to create a fan page on Facebook to manage his massive fanbase and the demands it put on his already limited time. Twitter definitely seems to work best when you exercise some control over who you follow and (occasionally) let follow you back. That said, Fry's already been regaling us with some splendid photos hot from his trip to Kenya (including the notch of a rhino's ear!) and it's fun to have this little peep into his extraordinary life. I enjoy tennis ace Andy Murray's tweets for the same reason.

Twitter is definitely at its best when it combines focus and the personal and is reciprocal.

Media Diet week 18

Press: after the holiday, it was good to get back into my normal newspaper routine. I've read very widely this week - on top of my usual Guardian/Sun habit (one serious, one tabloid), I also delved regularly into the Telegraph, Mirror and even (ssh!) the Mail while following the appalling Fritzl case in Austria. I've spent so much time reading I'm behind on my work. The world stops when a story like that emerges and there are just no words.

Blogs: sod the blogs this week - I was persuaded to sign up for Twitter instead. Seems like most of the hackosphere is tweeting away - I spotted many people I know and many I know of. I've had fun getting a little community going around my own tweeting and was quite flattered to see some top journos deciding to follow me. No doubt the excitement will wear off soon, like it did with Facebook, but I suspect I will find Twitter more useful for work. Talking of Facebook, a PR company I like very much (and it's not often I say that) held a groundbreaking 2-hour live chat there this week so small companies could ask questions about PR and the media. I swung by for a while and ending up getting an idea for a pitch and making a very useful contact.

TV/radio: I watched the first episode of The Invisibles on Thursday, expecting it to be like Hustle - stylish and witty. It wasn't. It was dire. What a waste of a talented cast. I missed two episodes of The Apprentice while away, except I didn't really miss it - this year's crew have failed to excite me yet and most of them seem fairly indistinguishable so far. Until Wednesday, when I saw what a cow Jenny Celery is, what a bully Lee is and what a pointless pin-up Alex is. Over in Ambridge, not much is happening as usual, but that's why I like it - it ambles along slowly and undemandingly, yet is compulsive listening. Ross the Red-Top Wannabe is back digging for dirt again and I just loved his blog on the Archers homepage.

Books: I've just started Val McDermid's Beneath the Bleeding. I'm several chapters in already and I doubt it'll take long to finish as McDermid is usually unputdownable. It's another of her Tony Hill/Carol Jordan thrillers so I'm expecting great things and so far it's living up to expectations. And I've a stack more crime fic to get through after this one. I'm a happy bunny.