Some time has passed and it has given me time to think as I go about my daily routine.
I am working more now, although it's still just a retail job, and certainly nothing I wish to build a career around. However I do now have a better idea of how to go about my true business.
I am finding that I have all the resources I need around me every day. And that something that I find important is right in front of me.
Your friends are your best sources, since they are already established sources to work with. Art is one of the most important foundations of our society. I've come to see that now only is this something that has been staring me in the face for some time, but it may be the perfect starting point for my freelance career.
Freelance Art and culture. This may be the perfect thing to target right now. I already have a line of galleries I'll be attending this Summer. And along with them will be the opportunity to make valuable contacts.
Another major revelation I have made is that I've been going about this whole freelance thing the wrong way. Going to papers and magazines and looking to take on existing freelance jobs is not the way to get published. If I want to get my work out there I have to go out there and find my own stories and sell them to editors, even if in the start I need to volunteer my work for free.
I am still green, i don't know if this is going to work, but I will be damned if I am not going to try!
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Uninvited guest
June has been a mostly uneventful month for me, still little work to be found for freelance, but three incidents occurred during the past few weeks, around midnight each time, a visitation, of sorts.
It started on a date I'm unsure of when I was in the kitchen with a roommate, Luke. My friend, Ty was in the living room at the time. While we, Luke and I, were talking we heard a call from the living room, just down the landing.
"There's a bird in the room."
A bird? Luke and I went down the landing in time to hear our friend call again.
"No, it's a bat."
A bat. In the living room. No idea how it got in, but there it was, circling the living room. And there we were, three grown men, staying low enough that the frantic bat didn't collide with any of us.
While we tried to figure a way to get the bat out of the house, Luke decided to turn off the lights, open the front door and whistle. And sure enough, the bat made for the front door, following the sound.
And that was it, the bat flew away and that was the end of it.
For one night.
I couldn't figure out where it came from. As far as I knew all the windows were sealed, and the chimney was closed so it could not have come in from there.
A week or two pass and again around 2:00 a.m., same time as last, the bat appeared again. This time it clearly came from up stairs. So we knew for sure that it wasn't coming in from the chimney. This time, in Luke's absence Ty took up the same tactic of turning off the lights and whistling at the front door. However we weren't entirely sure it passed though the threshold of the door, since it was to dark to be completely sure.
Either way there was no longer a bat flapping about the living room, so we called it a night.
The third visitation happened a few days later in much the same way. It has started to become something of a routine, apparently for the bat as well. All we had to do was turn off the lights in the living room and open the front door and it made for the front hall.
Although it would fly around the front door, it seemed reluctant to, or unable to pass though the front door my itself. Ty again whistled outside and eventually it flew away. this time we were sure to close the door after seeing it leave.
Hard to say if that was the last we will see of the bat, my other roommate, Amanda, has affectionately named Hershall. In a way I miss it, it was an exciting change of pace, although I guess it's also nice to not have to worry about colliding with a bat when walking up to bed after 2:00a.m.
It started on a date I'm unsure of when I was in the kitchen with a roommate, Luke. My friend, Ty was in the living room at the time. While we, Luke and I, were talking we heard a call from the living room, just down the landing.
"There's a bird in the room."
A bird? Luke and I went down the landing in time to hear our friend call again.
"No, it's a bat."
A bat. In the living room. No idea how it got in, but there it was, circling the living room. And there we were, three grown men, staying low enough that the frantic bat didn't collide with any of us.
While we tried to figure a way to get the bat out of the house, Luke decided to turn off the lights, open the front door and whistle. And sure enough, the bat made for the front door, following the sound.
And that was it, the bat flew away and that was the end of it.
For one night.
I couldn't figure out where it came from. As far as I knew all the windows were sealed, and the chimney was closed so it could not have come in from there.
A week or two pass and again around 2:00 a.m., same time as last, the bat appeared again. This time it clearly came from up stairs. So we knew for sure that it wasn't coming in from the chimney. This time, in Luke's absence Ty took up the same tactic of turning off the lights and whistling at the front door. However we weren't entirely sure it passed though the threshold of the door, since it was to dark to be completely sure.
Either way there was no longer a bat flapping about the living room, so we called it a night.
The third visitation happened a few days later in much the same way. It has started to become something of a routine, apparently for the bat as well. All we had to do was turn off the lights in the living room and open the front door and it made for the front hall.
Although it would fly around the front door, it seemed reluctant to, or unable to pass though the front door my itself. Ty again whistled outside and eventually it flew away. this time we were sure to close the door after seeing it leave.
Hard to say if that was the last we will see of the bat, my other roommate, Amanda, has affectionately named Hershall. In a way I miss it, it was an exciting change of pace, although I guess it's also nice to not have to worry about colliding with a bat when walking up to bed after 2:00a.m.
Monday, June 2, 2008
The Journalist
Two years is an amazingly short period of time, especially for career training.
That's exactly how long they gave us to learn the basics on how to be effective reporters, editors and, to an extent, photojournalists.
For the past two years people would often refer to me as "the journalist". Ironically (well not really ironic now that I think of it) I never once called myself a journalist in the past two years. I called myself a journalism student, an intern reporter or a journalist-in-training. Now that I think of it, I really was a reporter, for a school paper. I found out after working for the Mississauga News that real newsrooms work just about exactly how the school paper did. Maybe my college just had an especially well organized and high quality paper. I haven't seen any other college newsrooms nor have I been to any professional newsrooms aside from the Mississauga News so I really have very little to compare.
Regardless, now that my program is just about over (I have one missing credit to make up for a general elective before I'm a real graduate) I'm starting to realize how tough the whole freelance game really is.
No car means no staff reporter job. Also no diploma makes things even more complicated. I have a sort of "job" writing "articles" (see "glorified blog") for an "online magazine" I don't care to name. granted, they won't accept anything and they do pay for articles (although I have yet to see a dime due to a very long uploading process since we don't get to work face-to-face with the editors) however it's really more a side-thing I do for fun, like any other blog.
But a real freelance job, that would be a nice change of pace. However none of the local papers seem to care to return my calls as an official freelance reporter for the paper. And finding stories worth selling are hard to come by on your own.
So here I am, a freelance journalist without work. Still not quite feeling like a journalist. When i pointed that out once, a friend told me;
"Isn't that what a freelancer is?"
And I got to thinking, yes, I guess that is true. A freelance journalist out of work is a freelancer. I guess you're not really a journalist until you have a job. Or maybe I'm just completely green still and have no idea what I'm talking about.
However, I'm working at what I can, given my limitations. I'm making contacts where I can and slowly, I getting stories together that may never be published, but the important thing is I'm getting practice and, most importantly, making contacts for the future.
I don't know if anyone will ever read this blog, but I will continue to record my freelance career here. Maybe it will help others in the future. Who knows.
That's exactly how long they gave us to learn the basics on how to be effective reporters, editors and, to an extent, photojournalists.
For the past two years people would often refer to me as "the journalist". Ironically (well not really ironic now that I think of it) I never once called myself a journalist in the past two years. I called myself a journalism student, an intern reporter or a journalist-in-training. Now that I think of it, I really was a reporter, for a school paper. I found out after working for the Mississauga News that real newsrooms work just about exactly how the school paper did. Maybe my college just had an especially well organized and high quality paper. I haven't seen any other college newsrooms nor have I been to any professional newsrooms aside from the Mississauga News so I really have very little to compare.
Regardless, now that my program is just about over (I have one missing credit to make up for a general elective before I'm a real graduate) I'm starting to realize how tough the whole freelance game really is.
No car means no staff reporter job. Also no diploma makes things even more complicated. I have a sort of "job" writing "articles" (see "glorified blog") for an "online magazine" I don't care to name. granted, they won't accept anything and they do pay for articles (although I have yet to see a dime due to a very long uploading process since we don't get to work face-to-face with the editors) however it's really more a side-thing I do for fun, like any other blog.
But a real freelance job, that would be a nice change of pace. However none of the local papers seem to care to return my calls as an official freelance reporter for the paper. And finding stories worth selling are hard to come by on your own.
So here I am, a freelance journalist without work. Still not quite feeling like a journalist. When i pointed that out once, a friend told me;
"Isn't that what a freelancer is?"
And I got to thinking, yes, I guess that is true. A freelance journalist out of work is a freelancer. I guess you're not really a journalist until you have a job. Or maybe I'm just completely green still and have no idea what I'm talking about.
However, I'm working at what I can, given my limitations. I'm making contacts where I can and slowly, I getting stories together that may never be published, but the important thing is I'm getting practice and, most importantly, making contacts for the future.
I don't know if anyone will ever read this blog, but I will continue to record my freelance career here. Maybe it will help others in the future. Who knows.
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