So, the process of telling friends about the new (ad)venture has begun. This has elicited some interesting responses. They can be categorised into the following:
- Huh? *puzzled face* Come again?
- Oh I’ve been thinking of doing something like that myself
- I get that. Let me introduce you to ‘so and so’ who is in a similar line
Clearly the second two are of most interest to a nascent freelancer although I do enjoy watching the odd brain work through just what the bejeebers a copywriter is. I confess to having such an odd brain not so long ago.
So the third response brings us to the dreaded word…NETWORKING
Things I really don’t like:
- Not being allowed to make lists
- Vampires on a plane
I appreciate life is full of doing things I don’t like. But networking? Must I? I fear I must. I get it conceptually, honest. But the ground work is a little more, ahem, dull. I love reading Twitter and following friends’ food photos on Facebook as much as the next person. But I fear the process of starting off on a new fork in life’s road means I need to be much more engaged and active in the process of digital networking.
Having spent a career networking, on a face to face basis, for the purposes of establishing business relationships, the word fills me with a tiny bit of horror. Please don’t mistake me. I am not misanthropic, nor do I shy away from social contact; quite the opposite in fact. I’ve spent many a happy evening ‘social networking’ in the bars and restaurants of London and am all the merrier for it; my liver not so much but there is always collateral damage in life. But as humdrum as the groundwork for digital networking is, it doesn’t have to involve those endless days of corporate conferences and seminars, listening to a succession of mini-CV recaps, life stories and ego-driven monologuing.
And, therefore, ooh, suddenly, I do see the benefits of digital networking in a whole new light.
And so to work..
So, this is very clearly a delayed post. Having had the grand intention of blogging once a week, a certain bundle of joy entered the equation and knocked me for six – or eleven if we want to destroy the cricket analogy. Eleven weeks on and I can think again.
Like a sluggish phoenix stumbling from the flames, I have shed a good proportion of the early days sleep deprivation and find myself reborn as a mum that can actually start to string a sentence together again. For the last few weeks my speech has been smattered with ‘ugghh’, ‘I forgot what I was going to say’ and a wail of ‘I need to sleep’. So writing this small amount has made me feel positively Tolstoyan (I know – but it should be word). I fully intend to generate lots of annoying neologisms in the future. He may have penned grandiose tomes but did he do it with a small, slobbery, smelly being next to him? Actually he may have but I’m definitely too tired to look it up on Wikipedia.
So I find myself slightly more in control with this new being and wondering how to build this altered life. You see they sleep quite a lot. The novelty of daytime TV wore off quite some time ago. Washing and ironing? I don’t think so. I find myself, therefore, drawn back to this world and, hold the press, starting to think about my future career plans again. The whole purpose of considering copywriting as a career was to find a job that would I could be passionate about, whilst also being complementary to looking after small beings: the flexibility to work from home, skipping the exorbitant nursery fees, pretending that I’m a good mum etc.
There is a certain discipline required to opening the laptop and writing, as opposed to slumping in front of the coma-inducing TV. Now I have many good qualities; I’m sure of it, honest, but self-discipline is not one of these. So, continuing the theme of my first post, this is merely a whisper of a post. The transition from career gal to being at home has been fascinating and warrants more pages than I choose to write now. And I find myself with multiple strands and themes I want to articulate; the challenges of establishing a new career at home, do I want to be at home, how to be at home. I don’t intend to write about being a mum. It’s been done far better than I could hope to. Musings indeed. Therefore a mini ‘yay’ from me for resurfacing into the world and dusting off my fiery feathers.
I can’t claim to be a fan when it comes to the poetry of T.S. Eliot. Quite the opposite, in fact. I dragged my sorry brain, kicking and screaming, through The Hollow Men in my pursuit of legitimate academic qualifications to springboard into my future glittering literary career.
Ah let’s pause there and insert your own screeching brakes sound effect of choice. Hard to resist attempting a sound effect, but sadly, it invariably sounds better in the head than vocalised.
Note: this also applies to my attempts at other accents. Try my Liverpudlian some time. You’d swear I was from Bangalore.
So, despite my deep-seated distaste for Mr Eliot and his irritating initials (it bothers me that I can’t remember what they stand for and it bothers me that it bothers me) I find myself returning to this line with more frequency than I care for.
Following an hiatus spanning 20 years, I’m back. Well ‘ish’. Seriously, let’s not go overboard with that declaration. Literary ambitions took second place to the reality of life for a while and corporate success was an undesired but rather surprising outcome. Now it’s time to pop a bit of WD40 on the rusty grammar, sweep away the tumbleweed from the creativity desert and vacuum the vocabulary cobwebs.
I’m creeping my way back into the written word. A soul searching few years has landed me at the base camp of copywriting. I read that a blog is a perfect way to begin the climb. So I will treat these early blogs as equipment gathering. Maybe I’ll come up with some decent analogies for blogging and crampons, copywriting and ropes, SEO and Everest next time round. But for now….
This is not a bang.
This is my whimper.