What Kind of Writer Should You Be?

The answer to this is, of course, whatever kind of writer you want to be.  When I started, I didn't really have much interest in news.  I looked at headlines, without thinking about them very much and then decided I wasn't interested.  Take today's BBC home page for example.  'Armed guards to protect UK ships'.  Ok, there are pirates off the coast of Mogadishu - I know that and I don't care.  Let people wealthy enough to own yachts get mugged.  Trade ships?  What do I care if the pirates put a dent in some company's profits?  'Syrian President warns off Western intervention'.  Seems fair enough.  Would England like it if Syria meddled in their home affairs?

Behind the soundbite headlines, there are of course, people.  Who knows even where to start with Somalia?  Perhaps at Wikipedia, which tells you that it has no central government, is characterized as 'a failed state and is one of the most poorest and violent countries in the world.'  Imagine what it's like to live there - it must be absolutely desperate.  So then you start thinking about the people behind the headlines and you realise that maybe you are interested, out of sympathy for those less well off than yourself.  It also serves to bring welcome perspective to your own life.  We all think about how our lives could be better, but it's rarer that we consider how they could be worse.

I only wanted to write about the things I was interested in.  Travel, food, music, cycling...I could go on but basically, the things that make me happy.  I'm not sure I have the courage or the skill to report on subjects that need bringing to the wider attention of the world.  However, I'm grateful that those journalists are out there and I've even been privileged to meet one or two of them.  I recently got an email from a photojournalist called Robin Hammond that left me feeling humbled and in truth, a little ashamed of my own writing efforts.  Robin took the picture you're looking at on this page, of a mentally ill Somali man chained to his bed.  If you've read this far, I urge you to take 6 minutes out of your day to watch his film here.  I can't think of many worse forms of existence than being mentally ill in an impoverished country.  Give what you can and help Robin reach his goal.

It's OK to say 'No'

In order to write for a living, you'd better be writing, which is something I haven't been doing a whole lot of recently.  Worse, I've been turning down opportunities to write.  'Why, you doughnut?' you might entirely reasonably ask.  There are two reasons; the first is I don't have the time and the second is that I don't have the interest.  The first reason is the most galling.  Travel writing has scored me some good bylines recently, both in this month's Sunday Times Travel magazine ('Lone Star' about Texas - no weblink because of the Times paywall) and also at MailOnline.  As a result I've been offered trips to Thailand, North Carolina and Texas recently but haven't been able to do them as keeping the 9-5 (and it's oh so important regular money) has had to take priority.  I can see a time when I can give that up (when I've paid for a wedding for one), but it ain't now.

I learned something about myself with the second reason.  About a year ago I would have taken any writing opportunity, so keen was I to garner bylines and contacts.  What I've learned is it doesn't do anybody any favours if you say yes to something that you don't have any interest in.  The first time it happened to me, I was so flattered that someone had wanted me (ME!) to write something for them, I said yes right away.  It was the blog for Square Mile .  No money in it, just writing something for someone who had a bit of faith in me.  After struggling to write about 400 words for each of them and then leaving a period of about six weeks in which I dreaded an email asking why I hadn't filed the next installment, I bit the bullet and wrote to them explaining why I couldn't continue.  Thankfully, the Editor was very understanding but if I'd have said no in the first place it would have saved all concerned a lot of time.  It's OK to say 'No'.  Probably better to miss out on one byline than have people think you're unreliable.

I really admire people like copy writers and business writers who can be given a project, let's say 'washing machines' and fulfill a brief, making the client happy and getting paid.  If it was me, I'd be sat in front of the laptop, probably having sat in front of one sentence that went something like 'Washing machines are the greatest invention of the 20th Century' for 20 minutes before getting onto Twitter and any number of subsequent websites that all the people I follow had posted links to.  I got into writing because I like to write, but also because I really like writing about all the good, interesting stuff of life: food, travel, movies, theatre, achievers, believers, deceivers...many, many topics.  But the point is that I have to write about stuff that is interesting to me.  Can't do it if my heart's not in it. Life's too short for that.

Reasons to Write - Luxury, Challenge and Freedom

It's happy week here at CIWFAL as my cup has been somewhat overflowing of late.  If you're looking for reasons to write, this is the post for you.  Writing has brought many new experiences (not least interviewing Jazzie B) but the last month has been something of a succession of gifts.  It's been like being courted.  First up there was the press trip to Costa Navarino in Greece for the Daily Mail.  If I hadn't pursued writing, it's unlikely that I'd ever have experienced 5 Star - my room had its own pool for God's sake.  Throw in 7 course tasting menus, picnics under the olive groves and a beach with the clearest water I'd ever seen and it was like all the chips thrown in on the karmic craps table had at last come home to roost.  The cherry on top was getting a commission from the Sunday Times Travel Magazine while I was there.  Not only will the money and byline be useful, but it's interesting to see how different Commissioning Editors work.

Firstly, it was cool how they found me.  The Commissioning Editor, Katie Bowman, contacted the Texas Tourist Board and they mentioned me going last year for Square Mile.  Then she checked out my website - so if you write and you haven't got one, why not?  Katie got in touch having checked out some of my work and the result was me getting the commission.  Getting my original copy sent back with strike throughs and suggestions for tweaks always leaves me wondering if the recipient thinks it was a pile of crap, even thought I'm assured this is pretty normal practice.  Luckily for my ego, Katie was encouraging and flattering in equal measure, which left me very open to her suggestions for improvements.  They made sense and I learnt that a good Editor will help you to up your game and improve your writing.  Not only was the commission a stimulating and challenging experience, it's another new title in my portfolio.  Bonus!

Writing has also brought me a new bike, albeit a loan for two months.   The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea are pushing cycling, maybe because most of the residents hare round in stupidly big 4x4s.  Blue plaque tours were the borough's first attempt at getting the posho's to try two wheels and because I went along to that I got asked if I wanted to be a 'bike hero'.  Disappointingly this did not come with a superhero outfit, not even a blimming cape or mask.  On the plus side, we now have a racing green Brompton (in its folded form) as the new centre piece in our living room. It's the kind of ingenious invention that makes you come over all patriotic in these times when the haters keep going on about Britain not producing anything anymore.  Though she's a bit nervous of London drivers, I'm hoping the Mrs will get the cycling bug so we can traverse the city together.  If the smile on her face as she road tested it around the manor is anything to go by, it won't be long before she's seen the light.

The Great Twitter Portwit Project

The photographer Chris Floyd has made a great film about his Twitter Portwit project.  I think I've written before on here about how the nature of friendship is changing due to Facebook and Twitter.  Chris is very articulate on the subject - if you click the headline above you can read about his reasons for investigating. Whether you think Twitter is 'A huge free-flowing endless conversation with lots of witty, intelligent people' or just a lot of people posting inanities about their daily life, you should find something that will interest you.  You can find the video here.  And if you get to about 8 minutes in, you'll hear me talking about 'false electronic intimacy'.

Anyway, I was lucky enough to be a part of the project and Chris' portwit (portraits of wits? I don't know) of me is here.  Never had my photo taken by a pro before don't think, bar the odd candid taken by Stephen Perry.  I've got my favourite shirt on and I've got no idea what I was talking about that made me put my hands up by my head like that.  I honestly wasn't doing the Steps dance to 'Tragedy'.  Honest.  In other news, Square Mile commissioned me to write about Microfinance Institutions.  They're not charity in the traditional sense.  They loan small amounts to businesses in the developing world so that people can make a living for themselves.  Loaning to some of the poorest people globally is not without its controversies of course.  You can read the feature here.

The Hamster Wheel of Procrastination

The truth is, I'm nowhere near writing for a living.  As much as I'd like it to finance my life, writing is more like a hobby for the time being.  I've got financial commitments; I've got rent to pay, I've got a wedding to save for and London is an expensive city.  Even going out for a pint these days burns a hole in your pocket.  So what I do for the sake of a regular wage, five days a week, is get up and go to work on one of the photo desks at Associated Newspapers.  Phew, that's a weight off.  Maybe I'll become Catholic - the confessing sure feels good.  I don't feel alone either.  My suspicion is that quite a few of us are doing something for money while wishing we were doing something else.  Not that that makes it alright.

Bar the occasional self loathing of working for one of Fleet Street's more dubious organs, there are some advantages to the day job.  I can connect with people who might be able to give me work.  In the last couple of weeks I've met the Commissioning Editors for print and online travel sections and also someone in the book reviewing section who might be able to help me out if I ever pull my finger out and get a 2nd draft of the book together.  There are other advantages too.  I can walk to work, the day rate is pretty good and the hours are 10-6.  So, plenty of time to write around the day job, you might think.  But here's the thing - I've discovered that I have no self discipline. 

Post waking up and ablutions, there's at least an hour there in the morning to write but I can easily eat that up by taking more time over breakfast (see what I did there?) and/or making sandwiches for lunch.  Then there's the sports news (8.35am) and the weather (8.45am) that it seems absolutely crucial to watch.  It's also important to keep a clean inbox right?  That way you're more organised.  No problem: I can easily piss thirty minutes up the wall deleting spam and writing replies I meant to send a week ago.  Not to mention Twitter and Facebook.  It's obviously of vital importance to keep up with social media.

But even if I've somehow wasted the morning, I'm usually home around 7pm so there's some spare hours to get creative.  That is, if I didn't have to feed myself - can't be imaginative on an empty stomach can ya?  Post cooking, eating and washing up, there's the food coma to contend with, so while I'm digesting I might hit the remote.  You would not believe how many great things there are to watch on TV.  Sometimes there's a film on that I've only seen maybe six or seven times but it's a classic right?  I couldn't not watch it really.  I can do some writing after.  But then there's 'Family Guy'.  Oh, go on then, I won't watch both episodes, just one and then, then, God you know what, I'm real sleepy all of a sudden.  I might have to hit the hay.  I'll do some writing in the morning...

Before you know it I'm back at my desk at the Mail cursing myself for not getting some writing done.  But there's always tomorrow, right?

Out of My Box

Before I started writing, my inbox only ever contained two types of emails: those from friends and junk. No I didn't want to apply for Dogshit University in the States, no I didn't think a credit card with 27% APR was an attractive proposal and no I didn't want to buy some super erection guaranteeing blue pills that couldn't be called Viagra because of copyright infringement. Ok, maybe I thought about the last one.

There are now less emails from friends, mainly due to Skype, Messenger and Facebook chat, not to mention dwindling attention spans that make it easier to text or tweet.  Plus kids - very time consuming, those little critters, it would seem.  The junk is of a very different nature.  It's my own fault really.  You stick your contact details out there in the hope that someone will give you a writing gig and before long you're on the mailing list of every Tomasina, Richard and Harriet.  I've had press releases recently about a drug that helps with Tinnitus and an art trail in Walthamstow.  Proper random or what?

The trouble is, given that I'm interested in a lot of different stuff, I get hooked into a lot and keep the emails, thinking 'Yeah, I'll RSVP to that later, that sounds really interesting' and all that ever happens is a week later I've got an inbox full of crap and I've missed all the good stuff because I didn't take note of the date.  Right now I've got a Techmeetups Mobile App Expo thats looking pretty good to me.  I'll never end up going. 

But here's the good bit.  As well as all the mindless distraction, there's a wealth of wonderful things.  In the last two weeks I've had invites to press trips to New Mexico, Greece and Montenegro.  I know why I get these things: I've done some travel writing.  But I also get things like free albums to download (hello Autokratz - haven't listened to it yet but will get around to it, honest), free listen links to other music (cheers Hed Kandi) and the occasional gem that I really love.  I've no idea why PRs send me these things but I see them as a kind of reward for sifting through and deleting all the other crap that I get sent.  Definitely worth 79p on Itunes if it was an option is the Telemachus track, the video for which is above.  Not only a great tune but also made me very nostalgic for stoned sunny days in my first London neighbourhood - Brixton.  Telemachus got in touch as he knows a rapper I wrote about a while back called Skandal.

As one of the Editors who I've written for wrote to me recently 'There's no money in this game anymore, it's all about the perks.'  One of the nicer ones I've had the pleasure to experience recently is here.

Bad Mood Rising

A couple of sunny Saturdays ago, the Mrs and I caught up with some friends who we hadn't seen for a while.  The sun was out and we were heading for Syon Park for a picnic and this is usually the sort of thing that makes me happy; some good conversation with people I love, the chance to pig out on food, some booze and the sun warm on my skin.  The only problem was that I was in a funk.  Down days are rare for me (you only have to switch on the news to see get a sense of perspective) but when they come, they're hard to shake.  My usual solution is to be on my own.  That way I can skulk around feeling gloomy and I don't have to risk snapping at anyone and pissing them off too.  Not having this option as the four of us sat in a traffic jam trying to get out of town, I eventually started bitching.
The gist of it was that I didn't really feel like I was living.  Forty hours a week in an office with no natural light moving things around on a screen was doing nobody any good apart from the people who appreciated their TV guide coming out on a Saturday (I'm working on the picture desk at Weekend, the Saturday Mail supplement).  There had been a lot of sunny weather that week and while the blossoms were erupting to soften hard London streets and deliver their lovely scent over the usual smell of exhausts and rubbish, I was inside.  That wasn't living.  I'd been reading Tom Hodgkinson's 'How to be Free' at the time as well and I don't think that helped (though it's a great read).

Your friends have a habit of supporting you, or when necessary, telling you to stop being such a bloody miserable bastard.  In this case, my friend Ali reminded me of something that I'd said to her a couple of years previous when I started thinking about writing for a living. Somehow, the Costa Rica commission had come up in conversation.
'You what?' she said, incredulous, in her no-nonsense Manchester accent (she gets more Manc when she's being forthright about something).
'So, do you remember a couple of years ago when I asked you what kind of writing you wanted to do and you said to me that you'd like to be in the position where you were doing travel writing and that people were asking you to go to a certain country and write about it for them?'
She arched an eyebrow and didn't need to say more.  I got it: she was telling me that I wasn't doing too badly.  It did the trick.  I got over myself and all concerned were able to get on and enjoy the day.

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In other news, the Texas travel piece finally got printed.  You can read it here.  I also got asked to start writing a blog for the Square Mile people which is here.  Lastly Pass Me On continues here.