A few years ago, I went back to my secondary school to take part in the careers fair. It was set up in a kind of speed-dating format, with people of different professions - mostly parents and school alumni like me - sitting at desks around the main hall. Students interested in our particular industry could come and sit down to ask questions one-on-one. I think I was the only journalist there, and although my table was less busy than that of the doctors and research scientists, I did have a steady stream of students asking how they might get into journalism.
Mostly, they asked things like “do I need to study journalism at university to get a job” (answer: no), or “could I still have a career as a writer even though my A-levels are all science subjects” (answer: yes). But one girl took a very different approach. She walked over to my table, sat down, and without saying hello asked: “So, how much creative freedom do you have?” I mumbled something about being a freelance journalist, which means that I get to choose what I work on - I tend to generate my own ideas and, if they’re commissioned, see them through. She nodded thoughtfully and, without missing a beat, asked: “What are you going to do if the ideas run out?”
That was, genuinely, her final question. After I’d answered, she nodded, cheerfully said “thanks!” and moved onto the next desk, leaving me with my existential dread. It’s not an exaggeration to say I still think about this girl all the time. What is she doing now? Was she real or simply my anxieties come to life? This must have been at least five years ago and “what are you going to do if the ideas run out” still echoes around my head every time I find myself with a blank Word document and the entire internet stretching out in front of me, trying to decide what my next project could be about.
The answer I gave her was that ideas don’t really run out: it’s like training a muscle to start noticing things you read or hear in a different way. As that muscle develops, you start to have a better sense of what the basic building blocks of a good story look like. Before I went freelance back in 2012, I’d been unhappy in a staff job for a while, and felt like I might never have another idea in my life. This wasn’t a great starting point for launching a career contingent on coming up with stories and pitching. But I found that - like anything - once I started, it got easier. (Being excited about work again helped too, as did the terror of suddenly not having a salary).
When you’re in the habit of thinking about ideas, you start filing away interesting tidbits you read or hear somewhere in your brain so that they can spark something later on. I write a lot of this stuff down in lists - sometimes in draft emails to myself, or in the Notes app on my phone. A lot of them are total garbage. But often something as straightforward as a throwaway sentence in a news story that made me think “huh? what’s what about?” has been enough to generate a piece that I loved working on.
Mostly, I think I stand by this answer. I still have moments where I feel like I will never have another creative thought. This is typically when I’m under pressure to come up with an idea speedily (helpful!), or when I’ve been too busy with day-to-day work to actually read the news or talk to people - all these things are so crucial to helping ideas naturally germinate. But I’ve now passed through enough of these periods to know that the ideas usually do start flowing again, especially if you’re reading, talking, and listening. I would love to hear your thoughts on generating ideas. And if you are the girl from the careers’ fair, PLEASE tell me how you are doing.
Reading/listening
This New Yorker story about 14 years of Conservative rule is masterfully done, if incredibly depressing. It didn’t necessarily reveal anything I didn’t already know, but seeing it all set out so clearly is utterly damning and enraging.
The Spectator columnist Taki is pretty openly racist and misogynistic. I didn’t realise he had also been convicted of attempted rape by a Swiss court. This Atlantic story about the trial and the reaction (or lack thereof) in the British media is fascinating.
Have you noticed everyone on social media talking about being “dysregulated” or needing to “regulate” their nervous system? I enjoyed this piece in the Cut, about this new example of therapyspeak.
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