Lessons from you: reaching out to a virtual stranger

reaching-out-like-her-type

As a writer, I partly put words together for the fun of it, but mostly want to catapult those ideas into an invisible crowd of strangers. I want to reach out to people because I think that’s kind of nice. To share and share alike. As a species, it’s our ability to share knowledge and  communicate that’s helped us evolve. The newspaper, the phone, the TV, the Internet. To be some small part of that, to make sure these incredible inventions are put to good use, is paramount to the success of our existence, don’t you think? Both globally and individually.

So when opportunist Rosie reached out to me, having read something I wrote for the very talented Olivia over at The London Ladybird, I wasn’t just flattered, I felt relieved. Relieved for a generation of “sharers” who risk barely communicating at all. The Internet could send us one way or the other, and it’s our responsibility to make sure we stay connected. Perhaps more than we’ve ever connected before.

So, let me hand you over to Rosie of Thinkers Brew to tell our valuable and quite lovely lesson on reaching out, and the positive repercussions of taking a shot in the dark and connecting with a stranger.

THE IMPORTANCE OF REACHING OUT, BY ROSE MUSSEN

“When I was nearing the end of my degree in English and Creative Writing, it seemed that my lecturers realised they’d been a bit stingy with career advice. I remember going to a hastily organised talk given by some men who worked at a local publisher. It was utterly abysmal. One of the speakers made a reference to Peter Pan and how it was written by an author called ‘C.L Lewis’. Not even C.S Lewis, who obviously didn’t write Peter Pan. C.L Lewis. I could feel my best friend cringing next to me (she had recently completed her dissertation on J.M Barrie). That is quite a good example of the calibre of career knowledge I left university with. That, and being told by a creative writing lecturer that the beauty of being an author is that ‘you can have two jobs!’ – needless to say, it didn’t instil much confidence in me.

Fast forward two years to me working in hospital and running the administrative side of the world’s largest randomised surgical trial. I graduated with a degree in English and worked full time in obesity surgery research. Possibly the most irrelevant career path I could have gone down. But with student overdrafts to pay off and experience to gain, it served me well. Obviously I began to get itchy feet but had so few ideas of which career path to go down, I felt a bit stuck. I knew I wanted to write, that much was clear, but I didn’t want to write novels or poetry, which were the only focuses within the creative writing modules of my degree.

A friend had suggested to me a while ago that I might enjoy being a copywriter but I knew very little of what it entailed. Until I read a series curated by the amazing Olivia for her blog The London Ladybird. The series is called The Job Centre and my partner Pearl wrote a contributing post for it, so I thought I’d have a nosy at what other people had written and that’s how I came across Corin! Her post about being a copywriter shed light on a whole new kind of writing that I could do. I cast my mind back to winning a Double Decker chocolate bar in primary school for producing the best piece of persuasive writing and decided that writing copy was the career for me.

When I landed my first interview for a junior copywriter role at a marketing agency in Bath, I was thrilled but incredibly daunted by the prospect of it. I wasn’t sure who to go to for advice. It was a job in a completely different industry to mine and I didn’t know any copywriters. I plucked up the courage to send Corin an email explaining that I had read her piece for The Job Centre and asked her if she could offer me any tips. Her response was invaluable. She highlighted different ways that I could prepare, from producing a portfolio of writing that I had done in my free time, to arming myself with examples of bloggers and writers I admired. Corin also highlighted some important questions for me to ask that were things I wouldn’t have thought to enquire about because I wasn’t working in the industry. Helpful things like ‘how will I be briefed?’ and ‘what are the processes around delivering copy?’ all proved to be useful questions to ask in the interview because I was able to gain a really good insight into the role and the agency.

I’m thrilled to say that I got the job. I’m now working as a junior copywriter and absolutely loving it. Reaching out to Corin, a complete stranger, massively paid off and helped me secure a job that transpired to be completely the right job for me. By far the most helpful career advice I have ever received came not from University but as a result of making hopeful contact with someone and picking their brain.

If you’re unsure about making a jump into an unfamiliar industry or simply progressing within your current area, I can’t stress enough how much value there is in pinging an email to someone with a job you admire. They may not be able to offer you a definitive path to progression but they’ll probably be able to help and damn well (probably) won’t be a publisher who tells you that Peter Pan was written by C.L Lewis.”

Just imagine what reaching out to someone might do for you…

Read more of Rosie’s beautifully honest musings here.

If, like Rosie, you’d like some tips on becoming a copywriter (or if there’s anything you love a piece of unbiased advice on) please don’t hesitate to comment below or get in touch.

 

 

Advertisements

How it feels to find ‘the one’

FullSizeRender(18)

It’s still a shock that these words form part of my vocabulary, but on 9th March, my boyfriend proposed to me. He booked us into Kandaya, a luxury resort in the Philippines, and proposed to me by candlelight on the beach. Champagne, white sand and starlight. Playing the song I always hoped he would. How the bloody hell did I ever get so lucky?

As surprised as I was, the feather-light feeling resonates more with being offered a job you were quietly confident about, and still being completely and utterly surprised about getting. Of course we are going to get married. I knew that from the very beginning. I just didn’t allow myself to believe I could be so fortunate. That finding ‘the one’ could be as easy as drunkenly bumping into someone at a festival.

I’ve naturally spent the hours since Joe’s beautiful proposal reflecting over our 3 years together. He came into my life and made it shine, made me shine. Why should anyone settle for anything less when it comes to being with someone forever? Because I honestly believe the perfect person is out there for absolutely everyone. And if you waste time obsessively searching, or settling for second best, you’ll simply never find them.

I’ve had my share of turbulent relationships. I thought that’s what love meant; a kind of angry obsessive passion that steals away your energy. A fire that burns right through you leaving charred black scars, only to be filled with the same flames that caused them. Sure, you can love someone this way, but can you marry them? Devoting your life to someone demands a rock-solid foundation, not one of molten lava.

So, how do I know he’s ‘the one’? He makes me feel special. I never knew it was possible to learn to love yourself through the eyes of another. I don’t need to hide under makeup for him, and yet he still makes me want to look my best every day. He makes me feel safe. Safe enough to risk marrying. Safe enough to risk going travelling with and spending every day (hour) together. Safe enough to risk telling him my deepest fears and weirdest secrets, safe enough to risk being entirely me. Safe enough to risk thinking there are no risks with him. Which, of course, there aren’t and never will be. A relationship should give you the energy to face the world, not pose as a daily challenge.

I’ve come to appreciate that passion in a relationship doesn’t stem from heated arguments, it simmers gently in the background because of a concentrated interest in each other’s wellbeing. We never pick fights. We miss each other at any given moment we’re not together. We wave to each other from across the platform when our separate trains arrive. We go for  nights out on our own. We make time for each other’s friends. We laugh hysterically every single day. We sing duets while washing the dishes. I tell him what to wear and he cooks me dinner. And when I fall asleep in the taxi, he carefully carries me to bed.

At first I found it hard to get my head around this strange new feeling of dependency. I have always made a point of living my life very much on my own terms, and he was the same. In the early stages of our relationship, we refused to accept we were a couple, despite talking every day and spending the entire weekend together for almost 6 months before we admitted defeat. Some sort of other-worldly magnetism had been irreversibly activated. What struck me most, was how very easily I said goodbye to my old life and welcomed everything about my new one with him. I couldn’t help it, everything else quickly came second to him, purely because I loved him.

I’m not saying that every relationship should look like mine. But without pressure, it should be able to turn into something effortless. Something you both understand and accept to be true. Something that, however it looks to other people, makes you happy simply because it exists without cause. Something that was just always meant to be there, completely beyond all control and reasoning. Natural, raw and self-assured.

The beauty of the whole thing, and the very reason I know it’s right, is that I didn’t sacrifice myself for him, or he for me. Combined, something clicked and we created new-improved versions of ourselves. I went from unemployed and unsure of everything to living in London and writing for a living. I dared to believe in myself, and my dreams started to come true one by one. His best friends became mine, and mine his. Our relationship brought people together, and our lives connected so seamlessly its hard to imagine how they ever existed before.

Best of all, I accidentally found him. I wasn’t searching for love, it just happened. Maybe I’m just one of the lucky ones, but mostly I want people to know that the love you see in films does exist. For everyone. If it’s possible to be that happy, it’s always worth the risk. Worth waiting for and fighting for. Have faith in chance and the everyday connections we have with the world, and, like that, love will find its way to you too.