Well, it took me through February, March, April, May and most of June but I finally got my first job interview for a 'proper' graduate job with a salary worthy of that title. Although it looks as though I've been highly unsuccessful as they assured me I would have heard by now if I'd got it... Back to square one I guess. I can't help but feel slightly depressed.
I'm getting pretty fed up now. It looks like I'm stuck in the house I shared with my ex-boyfriend, unable to move out to get the fresh start that I'm craving for a good while yet. For example, I spent most of Friday trying to explain to the staff at my bank the very purpose of a graduate loan after they turned me down flat. I finally managed to convince someone that my case was legitimate, despite the fact that it was glaringly obvious in the first place. Having surmounted that hurdle (which was no mean feat), they then decided that because I didn't have £500 of DISPOSABLE INCOME every MONTH (after rent and bills), I wasn't eligible. When I tried to tell them that was ridiculous because if I had that much disposable income every month I wouldn't need a loan I simply got a response somewhere in the vein of "Computer Says No". Great. So I stormed off back home to be angry. Grrrr...
So what am I to do now? I hardly think I have the patience to spend another five months trying to secure one interview when my financial situation is so, well, stagnant. Do I adjust my career expectations now when I've come this far already? Everything just seems so, well, grim. I'm still writing of course, currently for The Vibe, a political website for young people. As it goes, I'm writing on the very subject of graduate employment at the moment. There's no denying the dismal reality of my situation of course (which some might say serves me right for trying to break into the most difficult industry in existence), but after speaking to a wonderful lady called Linda Buckham who works at my university's career centre, even I feel as though my confidence has had a fair old boost. And I've been assured I'm doing the right thing, which is a relief. After all, this can't last forever... I'll post my article here when it's published. Hopefully you'll find it fairly interesting. Thankfully, it's a slightly different take on the situation, opposed to the image of 2009 graduates as "The Lost Generation", which the newspapers keep shoving in our faces to make us feel hopeless and dismal.
In the meantime, I'd love to hear how other graduates are finding life after uni at the moment. Personally, I'm finding it's taking all the courage I have not to give up on my dream, and it's especially hard to juggle a million different things at once whilst trying desperately to carve out a name for myself in a tiny part of the media world.
God, I hate this not-being-a-student malarkey. I want rewards, not knock backs... But I guess for now I just have to just keep my head down, keep my confidence and toughen up. Oh, and actively seek out positive advice - watch this space for my feature!
Monday, 6 July 2009
Thursday, 11 June 2009
Time flies when you aren't having fun, eh?
Two months? TWO MONTHS since I last posted? Hang on... that can't be right. Where is my life going? I'll be forty before I know it at this rate...
Bloody hell, if I thought university was difficult, I certainly hadn't banked on graduating into the economy from hell and essentially just banging my head against the impenetrable brick wall that is the newspaper industry. I mean, I knew it was going to be hard, but I didn't think it would be this bad. I also hadn't banked on my relationship breaking down and being single at the most emotionally and financially unstable time in my life. But c'est la vie I guess. And its now time to stop moping around complaining that nothing is ever going to come right and start making things right myself.
So after a couple of months of running around screaming at everything and everyone and trying to form my life into some semblance of a new shape, it looks like my efforts may be about to pay off. My CV (or various forms thereof) has been flung far and wide, I've had two features published in the last couple of months and I have a week long stint at The Mail on Sunday next week. I so desperately want to make a good impression, but I must say though, working 30-odd hours in a call centre isn't particularly conducive to the imagination... mostly I just feel knackered all the time. So creatively I feel a little rusty to say the least, like that part of my brain has been hibernating. But now its time to wake it up and hope it'll be refreshed after it's little snooze.
Dancing around my room and shouting to the Hairspray soundtrack seems to help...
"And you can try to stop my dancin' feet but I just cannot sit still,
Cause the world keeps spinnin' round and round,
And my heart's keeping time to the speed of sound,
I was lost till I heard the drums then I found my way...
YOU CAN'T STOP THE BEAT!"
Oh yes.
Bloody hell, if I thought university was difficult, I certainly hadn't banked on graduating into the economy from hell and essentially just banging my head against the impenetrable brick wall that is the newspaper industry. I mean, I knew it was going to be hard, but I didn't think it would be this bad. I also hadn't banked on my relationship breaking down and being single at the most emotionally and financially unstable time in my life. But c'est la vie I guess. And its now time to stop moping around complaining that nothing is ever going to come right and start making things right myself.
So after a couple of months of running around screaming at everything and everyone and trying to form my life into some semblance of a new shape, it looks like my efforts may be about to pay off. My CV (or various forms thereof) has been flung far and wide, I've had two features published in the last couple of months and I have a week long stint at The Mail on Sunday next week. I so desperately want to make a good impression, but I must say though, working 30-odd hours in a call centre isn't particularly conducive to the imagination... mostly I just feel knackered all the time. So creatively I feel a little rusty to say the least, like that part of my brain has been hibernating. But now its time to wake it up and hope it'll be refreshed after it's little snooze.
Dancing around my room and shouting to the Hairspray soundtrack seems to help...
"And you can try to stop my dancin' feet but I just cannot sit still,
Cause the world keeps spinnin' round and round,
And my heart's keeping time to the speed of sound,
I was lost till I heard the drums then I found my way...
YOU CAN'T STOP THE BEAT!"
Oh yes.
Monday, 6 April 2009
Writing, waiting and too many cups of tea
Today I've been very disciplined (if I may say so myself). I decided that I was going to conduct myself like a proper freelancer (albeit an unpaid one) and work from home: proper office hours, 9am-6pm. So technically, I'm still working. As far as I'm concerned blogging, however self-indulgent, is still writing and writing = work.
Okay, so my professional journalist image is ever-so-slightly compromised by the fact that it's almost 5 o'clock and I've thus far done an entire day's work in my pyjamas with season three of Angel on in the background. But hey, I've been productive. Although, I'm slowly realising that a massive part of being a journalist is waiting. Waiting for people to call back, waiting for people to return e-mails...
Having finally got over my fear of calling people (thanks to my brilliant telephone gadget showing me that actually, I do sound okay on the phone), I'm slowly developing a dread of waiting. I'm not the most patient person in the world, so that's another skill I have to work on. Although, I'm managing to channel my tension in productive ways: hence the blogging here and at Le Petit Bookworm (check it out!)
Copious amounts of tea help the productiveness too. I do wonder sometimes whether the amount of tea I drink on a daily basis is healthy. When I don't have a cup of tea in my hand, I feel almost like I can't concentrate, I guess my humungous mug acts like a security blanket. I can quite happily drink anywhere in between 10 and 15 cups a day, sometimes more (although a lot of the time I get so absorbed in work they just go cold). Herbal tea is probably more healthy, but nothing beats a good strong cup of English tea builder stylee - strong, but milky.
Ahhh... I think it's time for another cuppa. And another episode of Angel.
Okay, so my professional journalist image is ever-so-slightly compromised by the fact that it's almost 5 o'clock and I've thus far done an entire day's work in my pyjamas with season three of Angel on in the background. But hey, I've been productive. Although, I'm slowly realising that a massive part of being a journalist is waiting. Waiting for people to call back, waiting for people to return e-mails...
Having finally got over my fear of calling people (thanks to my brilliant telephone gadget showing me that actually, I do sound okay on the phone), I'm slowly developing a dread of waiting. I'm not the most patient person in the world, so that's another skill I have to work on. Although, I'm managing to channel my tension in productive ways: hence the blogging here and at Le Petit Bookworm (check it out!)
Copious amounts of tea help the productiveness too. I do wonder sometimes whether the amount of tea I drink on a daily basis is healthy. When I don't have a cup of tea in my hand, I feel almost like I can't concentrate, I guess my humungous mug acts like a security blanket. I can quite happily drink anywhere in between 10 and 15 cups a day, sometimes more (although a lot of the time I get so absorbed in work they just go cold). Herbal tea is probably more healthy, but nothing beats a good strong cup of English tea builder stylee - strong, but milky.
Ahhh... I think it's time for another cuppa. And another episode of Angel.
Friday, 3 April 2009
Am I a journalist yet? Well, I'm published at least.
Living in shared house with three messy boys and writing features in the time that I'm not holding down an almost full-time call centre job is not a lifestyle which is particularly conducive to feeling like a professional adult.
In fact, whenever I sit down to write a feature it feels like I'm doing a university assignment that I'm waiting to be graded, just to prove to myself and to whoever I'm writing for that I'm worthy of a journalism qualification. I wonder when that's going to go away?
On the plus side, I have my first feature published in 3SIXTY magazine. If you're nosy/a friend/a follower/a fan (I wish), then you can download the current issue here: http://www.3sixtymag.co.uk/index.php?s=downloads
This week I've been mostly working on another feature for 3SIXTY and having to face one of my biggest fears: Telephone interviews with important people. I wonder if there's a name for this particular phobia? Probably not. Given the fact that I'm qualified as a journalist, I was trained in public speaking and I work in an outbound call centre, this fear clearly makes no sense.
I also have an irrational fear of answering machines. They just make me gabble like a possessed, crazy person. If I need to leave a message on somebody's answer machine, I have to actually write down what I'm going to say, and have it in front of me as a script. Is that pathetic? Or have a I just worked in too many call centres?
In an attempt to fight my fear and minimise note-taking-induced flustering, I got an exciting new toy today... an in-ear microphone. It's actually incredible. It fits in your ear like an ear-phone, but it's a microphone so you can record your telephone interviews. I coveted the one that I got to use for the week I was at The Sunday Times, so I bought my own. I'd recommend it - it beats balancing the phone in between your shoulder and your head so you can take shorthand notes.
Also, and finally, I have been invited to contribute to a book review blog, http://lepetitbookworm.wordpress.com/, by a fellow blogger JoWrites (aka BigMouthBlogGirl), so I can finally indulge myself and put my English Literature degree to good use at the same time. Fabulous.
In fact, whenever I sit down to write a feature it feels like I'm doing a university assignment that I'm waiting to be graded, just to prove to myself and to whoever I'm writing for that I'm worthy of a journalism qualification. I wonder when that's going to go away?
On the plus side, I have my first feature published in 3SIXTY magazine. If you're nosy/a friend/a follower/a fan (I wish), then you can download the current issue here: http://www.3sixtymag.co.uk/index.php?s=downloads
This week I've been mostly working on another feature for 3SIXTY and having to face one of my biggest fears: Telephone interviews with important people. I wonder if there's a name for this particular phobia? Probably not. Given the fact that I'm qualified as a journalist, I was trained in public speaking and I work in an outbound call centre, this fear clearly makes no sense.
I also have an irrational fear of answering machines. They just make me gabble like a possessed, crazy person. If I need to leave a message on somebody's answer machine, I have to actually write down what I'm going to say, and have it in front of me as a script. Is that pathetic? Or have a I just worked in too many call centres?
In an attempt to fight my fear and minimise note-taking-induced flustering, I got an exciting new toy today... an in-ear microphone. It's actually incredible. It fits in your ear like an ear-phone, but it's a microphone so you can record your telephone interviews. I coveted the one that I got to use for the week I was at The Sunday Times, so I bought my own. I'd recommend it - it beats balancing the phone in between your shoulder and your head so you can take shorthand notes.
Also, and finally, I have been invited to contribute to a book review blog, http://lepetitbookworm.wordpress.com/, by a fellow blogger JoWrites (aka BigMouthBlogGirl), so I can finally indulge myself and put my English Literature degree to good use at the same time. Fabulous.
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Life, or studentdom?
Well, here I am, sitting in a bookshop/cafe, drinking tea after tea, tapping away at my teeny-tiny laptop and pretending I'm a proper writer. Alas, due to a lack of journalism jobs, I'm not a professional writer yet. I'm kind of... freelancing... for free. Which sucks a little - but at least I'm getting some work out there. I also started writing my novel, which brings a huge sense of achievement with it, although I now have to discipline myself, in the absence of all deadlines, to keep it up. Yeah... that's not going too well. I've had a prologue and a chapter one for the last two weeks... and not much else. And now I've changed my mind again about my characters... oh dear. This is turning out to be a far more complex process than I thought. Hmmm... maybe I should enlist some help from some novel-writing tips books. Or maybe I just need to somehow develop the patience to plan before I jump in there and try and bash it out. I'm pretty sure that my idea is good - execution, however, is proving a problem.
On the plus side, I've written a feature that's set to be published in 3SIXTY magazine in April (www.3sixtymag.co.uk) which'll be my first ever published feature! So exciting! And not only that, I'm working on another feature - which, despite doing it for free, somehow makes me feel a little bit more like a writer. I figure, as long as I have a project going, that makes me one.
So writing, at the moment, is more like a hobby than a profession. And to earn a little money, I'm working for a fundraising company in Brighton raising money for the NSPCC and Great Ormand Street Hospital to earn a living. Which, as far as jobs go, isn't too bad.
The hunt for journalism jobs continues... If it doesn't pick up, maybe I should just head back to university and back into the student bubble. Now, let's see what MA courses are on offer round here...
On the plus side, I've written a feature that's set to be published in 3SIXTY magazine in April (www.3sixtymag.co.uk) which'll be my first ever published feature! So exciting! And not only that, I'm working on another feature - which, despite doing it for free, somehow makes me feel a little bit more like a writer. I figure, as long as I have a project going, that makes me one.
So writing, at the moment, is more like a hobby than a profession. And to earn a little money, I'm working for a fundraising company in Brighton raising money for the NSPCC and Great Ormand Street Hospital to earn a living. Which, as far as jobs go, isn't too bad.
The hunt for journalism jobs continues... If it doesn't pick up, maybe I should just head back to university and back into the student bubble. Now, let's see what MA courses are on offer round here...
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Becky Bloomwood: Every Shopaholic's Heroine
I went into town today. I decided that mooching about my room, tapping away at the odd job application and eating too many chocolate brownies was getting to me. So a nice walk into town would blow away the cobwebs and give me some inspiration. Lovely. Only, the trouble is, that there are shops out there. Lovely, big and beautiful shops full of wonderful things that I can't have because I have no money. Being unemployed generally sucks. It sucks most when for the first time in ten years, I can't seem, to find a job. I had more money when I did a paper round at the age of twelve than I have now. But alas, the pull of Primark is far too strong for any girl to resist (£3? For this handbag? Wow...) And so I bought two dresses. Oops. How on Earth did that happen? I swear I don't know. I walked in the door then must have blacked out and the next thing I knew, I was walking out holding that super eco-friendly brown paper bag. It was totally beyond my control, honest. But it was fine. It was a bargain. Bargain-tastical. I figure I'll have a job soon. I will. Positivity will bring me a job. Yes.
On the subject of compulsive shopping (its a sickness I tell you, a sickness!) I'm really not sure about the Confessions of a Shopaholic movie starring Isla Fisher. For those who don't know, it's based on the series of Shopaholic books by Sophie Kinsella (who is, I reckon, the best chick-lit author out there). The books are about Becky Bloomwood, (ironically) a financial journalist working in London who happens to be not only useless with money but addicted to shopping. This results in her getting in huge amounts of debt, with the books following her as she attempts to control her compulsive spending - with hilarious results.
So, why did the film have to be set in America? In the books Becky is English and the books are (largely) set in England. It's not that I'm particularly patriotic, and it's not that I don't love America (they gave me Buffy for godssake), but if it ain't broke, surely there's no need to fix it. It really gets on my wick when films change major details of books (like it's entire setting) and then get away with saying "based on the books by so-and-so". And anyway, isn't Isla Fisher Australian? Couldn't she have just put on an English accent instead of an American one? Grrr... So I'm torn between a) wanting to see an adaptation of one of my favourite books on screen, and b) not wanting to be bitterly disappointed because they make a mess of such a great character.
Becky is, without question, the embodiment of every self-confessed shopaholic out there. I happen to be one, and have been since I got that paper round ten years ago. Come rain, snow or blistering heat, I would deliver those damn papers and get that £15 a week. I promptly spent it on clothes, shoes, bags and other frivolous things that I didn't need in the slightest. I loved it. I was the BEST bargain hunter and still am, that £15 could get me two outfits. And it still can. But then, that just means that rather than having a few expensive things I don't need, I have LOADS of cheap things that I don't need. For some reason, going out and buying things I need just doesn't give me the same buzz as buying things I don't need at all...
Now, I'm not by any means as terrible with money, or as addicted to spending as the highly exaggerated character of Becky - but every girl who loves to shop will be able to relate to her brilliant reasoning process when it comes that that thing that you've just got to have. Only, in Becky's case - that's everything.
Okay, so maybe I will watch the film... Reviews anyone?
On the subject of compulsive shopping (its a sickness I tell you, a sickness!) I'm really not sure about the Confessions of a Shopaholic movie starring Isla Fisher. For those who don't know, it's based on the series of Shopaholic books by Sophie Kinsella (who is, I reckon, the best chick-lit author out there). The books are about Becky Bloomwood, (ironically) a financial journalist working in London who happens to be not only useless with money but addicted to shopping. This results in her getting in huge amounts of debt, with the books following her as she attempts to control her compulsive spending - with hilarious results.
So, why did the film have to be set in America? In the books Becky is English and the books are (largely) set in England. It's not that I'm particularly patriotic, and it's not that I don't love America (they gave me Buffy for godssake), but if it ain't broke, surely there's no need to fix it. It really gets on my wick when films change major details of books (like it's entire setting) and then get away with saying "based on the books by so-and-so". And anyway, isn't Isla Fisher Australian? Couldn't she have just put on an English accent instead of an American one? Grrr... So I'm torn between a) wanting to see an adaptation of one of my favourite books on screen, and b) not wanting to be bitterly disappointed because they make a mess of such a great character.
Becky is, without question, the embodiment of every self-confessed shopaholic out there. I happen to be one, and have been since I got that paper round ten years ago. Come rain, snow or blistering heat, I would deliver those damn papers and get that £15 a week. I promptly spent it on clothes, shoes, bags and other frivolous things that I didn't need in the slightest. I loved it. I was the BEST bargain hunter and still am, that £15 could get me two outfits. And it still can. But then, that just means that rather than having a few expensive things I don't need, I have LOADS of cheap things that I don't need. For some reason, going out and buying things I need just doesn't give me the same buzz as buying things I don't need at all...
Now, I'm not by any means as terrible with money, or as addicted to spending as the highly exaggerated character of Becky - but every girl who loves to shop will be able to relate to her brilliant reasoning process when it comes that that thing that you've just got to have. Only, in Becky's case - that's everything.
Okay, so maybe I will watch the film... Reviews anyone?
Friday, 13 February 2009
'Pop!' goes my bubble
It's now February. My exams are done, my portfolio of work passed and I got my shorthand at 100 words a minute. Oh yes. For those of you who don't know, that's FAST.
So I'm blogging again, although I now have no idea where I'm headed since my lovely little student bubble suddenly popped, leaving me to experience the joys of the real world. Or rather, the non-joys of a recession.
As unemployment figures soar to almost two million... I start trying to find a job. Yay me.
For the last two weeks I've been frantically applying for every journalism, reporting, writing and PR job that I'm even remotely qualified for (environmental, financial, food processing news... Oh God, it's depressing) but as yet, all remains quiet on the job front.
Almost all the journalism jobs out there right now are finance ones in various guises. Which, to be honest is hardly surprising in a time when all anyone can talk about is the global recession. Indeed, it is the credit crunch no more.
So, determined as ever to make it in any way possible, under any circumstances imaginable, I've been buried under the slightly terrifying (albeit pinky) pages of the FT attempting to get to grips with everything to do with the economy in exactly five days flat.
Desperation I hear you say? Probably.
But if I can turn myself into a financial journalist in the space of a week, then surely I can do anything. Right?
...I'll keep you posted on that one. But for now? To the temping agency I go.
So I'm blogging again, although I now have no idea where I'm headed since my lovely little student bubble suddenly popped, leaving me to experience the joys of the real world. Or rather, the non-joys of a recession.
As unemployment figures soar to almost two million... I start trying to find a job. Yay me.
For the last two weeks I've been frantically applying for every journalism, reporting, writing and PR job that I'm even remotely qualified for (environmental, financial, food processing news... Oh God, it's depressing) but as yet, all remains quiet on the job front.
Almost all the journalism jobs out there right now are finance ones in various guises. Which, to be honest is hardly surprising in a time when all anyone can talk about is the global recession. Indeed, it is the credit crunch no more.
So, determined as ever to make it in any way possible, under any circumstances imaginable, I've been buried under the slightly terrifying (albeit pinky) pages of the FT attempting to get to grips with everything to do with the economy in exactly five days flat.
Desperation I hear you say? Probably.
But if I can turn myself into a financial journalist in the space of a week, then surely I can do anything. Right?
...I'll keep you posted on that one. But for now? To the temping agency I go.
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