Writing appeals to me because it gives one a chance to express thought and emotion graphically. Yet unlike other forms of communication, it allows the “feeler” time to gather himself, structure his feelings and articulate them appropriately for his audience. If I could paint, I would. There are emotions far too abstract for words, but that’s half the fun. Finding the right words to fit can be a challenge. I’m not one to shy away from competition and it thrills me to test myself by shaping a simile, mastering a metaphor or constructing context. As Samuel Taylor Coleridge once remarked: “Prose = words in their best order; — poetry = the best words in the best order.” I honestly enjoy writing both. But it’s been a while since I did either.
After putting plans for a career in music on hold, I was lucky enough to find a job in press and communications that enabled me dabble. Although there was a chance to tweak the craft somewhat, I was often churning out tacky marketing drivel and my copy rarely shone. I struggled with factual reporting as I’m a creative at heart and live for adjectives. I managed to splice some personality into the newsletters I edited, which was a relief, but wasn’t quite enough. I attended a sub-editing course in an effort to cull my descriptors and stick to the point. It helped enormously and sped up my work within weeks. Practice makes perfect, though, and I’ll be the first to admit I still like a waffle (see above) and still tend to be precious when self-editing.
These days, I’m changing more nappies than nouns, and am loathe to return to my desk-job. I want to free myself from the shackles of a nine-to-five and shape my future; rekindle those teenage dreams of fame, fortune and financial freedom. Other women do it, so why shouldn’t I? “The dream” of the moment is to freelance for national print press. What I’d give for a column… *sigh* I’d be just as grateful for a PR role within an environmental charity or organisation if the price was right. I’m still holding out for that “eureka!” moment, though. You know, the next Post It or milk carton to secure the financial future for my family for generations. Providing we still have a world to live on. But don’t get me started on that — yet.