A writer's haven

First and foremost, a brief apology for such a long and unjustified absence on my part. You should know I'm back and more enthused than ever to be doing what I love on a (more) regular basis.

My productivity - or rather lack of - is something I've been thinking about a great deal over the summer. A question I've found myself encountering time and time again is where is the best place to get work done. And much to my excitement I think I've cracked it.

You may be thinking nice, quiet office with a cushy leather office chair. Or you might say the relaxing atmosphere of a Saturday morning sat at your kitchen table, with a freshly squeezed OJ and the dulcet tones of Radio 2 playing softly in the background. Maybe you think you work at your best from the comfort of your bed on a Tuesday night, donning flannel pajamas large Pinot Grigio in hand.

Undoubtedly, all great places to work. Sometimes you need peace and quiet. Sometimes you need Jeremy Vine’s familiar tones. Heck, sometimes all you need is a nice large glass of something cold and Italian to spur you on to meet your word count.

But the best place of all really does come from the huge clichéd stereotype of writers. No, not the washed up, writer’s block-ridden Edward Morra in Limitless, penning his dead-end novel from the familiar squalor of his pigsty of a New York flat.

Equally, it’s not always as glamorous as Carrie Bradshaw makes it out to be, juggling her relationships and shoe collections with deadlines and interviews in the exclusive borough of Manhattan where she resides. Nor is life as a journo always quite as exciting as Tintin’s; the adventurous reporter turned eponymous hero, never without his trusty sidekick Snowy in tow.

So it’ll probably come as no surprise to you when I tell you I’m at my most productive cuddled on a sofa in the corner of a well-known coffee shop chain, hot chocolate in one hand, large calorific pastry in the other.

Writer’s block is something to which I am very familiar, despite my brief career so far. It’s not that you don’t have the ideas or inspiration, it’s that you can’t get them out. I imagine it’s similar to how a mute must feel; thoughts whizzing round your head, and simply no way to get them out, make yourself heard. It’s frustrating, agonizing, and more than anything down right bloody inconvenient. My inconsiderate arsehole of a brain obviously doesn’t appreciate the fact I have deadlines to meet, when it’s playing hide and seek with my ability to string a half-decent sentence together.

So when I’m in the grip of this foul beast (yes, I do personify it, and it really is an awful creature!) I take myself off to a coffee shop and settle myself in a corner where I can see everyone come and go. Before I know it, the juices start flowing – well, I am sort of writing about clichés, why not include a few?! – I type word after word, and sometimes if I’m lucky I read it back and not only does it make sense, but it is vaguely engaging! Huzzah.

By the time I pause for breath, I often find my mocha has gone cold and the population of fellow customers has turned over twice. But it's all worth it, because I've succeeded in putting pen to paper: a fundamental skill often frequently but temporarily disengaged in a writer's existence. I've met my word count, whilst adding some points to my loyalty card. Surely a win win situation for everyone.

Don't tar us all with the same brush...

The journalism industry has suffered many heavy blows over the recent years, the most poignant and memorable of which was the shutting down of the News of the World, following hack-gate. Consequently, people have lost their faith in journalism, in newsrooms, in the hacks themselves, and it would seem a small proportion of journalists have given the rest of us a bad name.

Now, when I tell people I'm a trainee journalist, I'm greeted with very mixed responses, most frequently of which is something along the lines of "Eurgh, you're undercover then?" or "Better watch what I say!"

People don't think they need us. They think we don't have any place in society. And I guess as much as our job is to write and educate, it's also our responsibility to prove them wrong.

So this is just me saying, we're not all the same; we don't all want to hack your phones and break into your houses, some of us just want to write, make you laugh, inform you, tell you about the things which you NEED to know.

Journalist problems

writ·er's block n. A usually temporary psychological inability to begin or continue work on a piece of writing. There are a thousand ideas swimming around in my head put getting them out and stringing together a passable sentence is proving practically impossible! See, did that even make sense?! It's literally driving me round the bend now! And, breathe.

Another day, another blog..

Sooo.. another blog created. Already have a tumblr but apparently tumblr is not 'journalismy' enough, so had to make another one.

Some of you might know me, some of you may not; that's the beauty of it. For those who don't, I am a loud, red-headed, food-loving, cake-baking, gossiping, over-excitable, 19 year old trainee journalist studying at the University of Lincoln.. ('trainee journalist' sounds so much better than student, haha!)

Hoping to graduate with a decent degree and the prospect of finding a job in the industry immediately. Wishful thinking on both counts.

Anyway, this is my blog. Love it, hate it, pass it on, whatevs :)