Old habits die hard

 I always dreamt of becoming a journalist. As a young child, I'd sit and watch the presenters do their thing in front of the camera and wonder how I could be just like them. I always thought it would be one of those careers I'd fit into nicely because I loved writing and performing. As someone who prefers to write down their thoughts, feelings and opinions rather than shout about them to anyone who will listen, this profession seemed perfect for me. I wanted to have my say and be taken seriously by people who doubted me but how could I even take myself seriously when everyone around me had nothing but negative things to say about a profession I loved.

Leaving uni was quite a scary thing for me. I'd got so comfortable being in the bosom of education that being pushed into the real world was a frightening prospect. As I imagined, the real world wasn't so welcoming to new graduates and I found myself struggling to keep motivated once the rejection letters started coming through. I couldn't understand what I was doing wrong but I soon learned that I didn't have enough journalism experience to cut it in the industry. It was frustrating because everybody seemed to expect me to just gain this experience out of thin air but no one was willing to give me a chance. That is, of course, until Catch 22 came along.

I had never heard of Catch 22 before but when my brother gave me the contact of someone who knew the editor, I was thrilled to learn that that it ticked all the right boxes. Championing young, undiscovered talent, Catch aimed to help me grow and build on my journalistic skills when no one else would bother to give me a chance. Eventhough the course looked like the perfect opportunity, I was nervous filling out the application. After so many rejections, I thought this would be another one to add to the growing number filling up my email inbox and swiftly being deleted. I couldn't believe it when I was called for an interview but my heart quickly sank when, one week later sitting infront of the course co-ordinator, Sharon and one of my potential tutors, Kate, I struggled to compose myself due to nerves. I wanted this so much but as panic set in, I said all the wrong things and lost track. I thought I had blown it and as much as friends tried to re-assure me that I was fine, deep down I was gutted. When I got the call to say I was successful I was absolutely gobsmacked and relieved. I couldn't believe that someone was actually willing to give me a chance and help me improve.

I was amazed at how quickly I clicked with everyone from the get-go. There was no awkwardness between the group and everybody seemed nice enough. It was nerve-racking being pushed straight into the deep end and I remember back to the first day when my other tutor, Simi, told us the do's and don'ts of writing. I now know that using the word 'I' in any form of print journalism is forbidden but old habits die hard and it took a while to break out of it.