From Grub to Caterpillar

Human Grub to Hungry Caterpillar

As the last precious days of the summer holiday swirl down the plug hole that is ‘shopping-for-things your-toddler-needs-for-pre-school’, I am going to dedicate my next two blogs to activities that you can and can’t do with a two-year old. 

I never appreciated just how easy life was during those first stages of your baby’s life – they are essentially a portable, compliant and extremely sleepy ‘human grub’.  

Just this morning I caught myself staring wistfully at a new mum, her baby cocooned snugly to her chest, deftly managing the self-scan checkout, whilst my mini Godzilla cleaved the heads off gerberas in the fresh flower section.

The brilliant thing about the human grub is that for about nine months you can strap them to you, or to someone or something else, and they will stay there.  Not only will they stay there, they will probably fall into a sound-proof sleep, meaning that everyday tasks, such as shopping, walking and eating (just remember to swat the crumbs from their heads now and again) are relatively easy to accomplish.

Once your grub grows legs, however, it is all about the walking, the poking and the squeezing.

So, in honour of all those at the walking, poking and squeezing stage, here are five things you can do with a two-year old.   

Canary Wharf – yes the heart of the UK’s financial and media district might sound like an unusual place to make a toddler happy but there is something about the heady mix of open spaces to dance, enclosed spaces to make raspberry noises, ratty pigeons to chase and sqooshy fountains to put your hands in that makes Canary Wharf toddler-nip.

Retirement homes – an elderly gentlemen approached Poppy in the supermarket the other day and said, ‘we have lots in common, you and I’. Putting this theory to the test I took Poppy to visit my granny at nursing home.   Expecting Poppy to start poking snoozy post-lunch elderly folk with copy of the Lady I was surprised to find the gentleman’s comment was true – something about the lack of speech, the unsteadiness on the legs and the comfortableness with bodily emissions, make toddlers and the elderly very happy companions indeed.

Gardening – it can be surprisingly easy to entertain your toddler in the garden.  Give them a bucket and spade.  Dig up a worm as an example and then say you need five more.  Brilliant.  Snails are even better, but sadly their shells make them a little more breakable.  I have a theory that if it starts to foam, it is time to rescue it. 

Ducks – providing the ducks are playing ball (our nearest duck shop is Marlow where they are quite frankly spoilt) feeding the ducks can be an endless source of toddler fun.  Gratifying and cheap - we like them.      

Ikea – we struggled with the idea of taking Poppy to Ikea but we were pleasantly surprised by the cheap scandowegian furniture experience.  Like an indoor Canary Wharf, but with cheap ice-cream and hot dogs, there are beds to roll on (with your shoes on), furniture mountains to climb and small pencils to chew.

Which unusual places have you found for toddler fun?   

Next time...funerals and four other places you can’t take your toddler.

Someone to colour-in required, good rate of pay, don't care if you go over the lines a bit

That'll be £16 please

The other night I dreamt my job was 'colouring-in'.  I received £16 per picture, which wasn't bad, considering my manager (a lady wearing a blue hair net who had served me in Greggs earlier that day) wasn't at all fussed if I went over the lines.

Pleased with my career move, I was just about to start on a picture of three Disney Princesses, when I was drop-kicked out of my dream job  into my reality - a child's heavy nappy needed changing:  'Mama leak! Mama leak!'  

Slightly disappointed that colouring-in wasn't a viable, or indeed real, job prospect, I was comforted by the fact that freelance writing is (despite the tra la la global recession).

In addition, if you know where to look, it can pay pretty well too.

Abra-kebab-ra 

  

The world wide web is like a great cyber mall version of John Menzies,  toting acres of empty shelves that need to be filled with the written word.   From Ezines, such as Red Neck World, seeking tips on critter crushing, through to high street businesses, like Croydon's Abra-Kebab-Ra looking for words to sell their meaty treats -  everyone these days is looking for enticing content. 

But as every freelance writer knows it can be time intensive pitching your work to online publications and potential clients.

However,  I recently stumbled upon on a website which takes the effort out of actively selling in content.  Constant Content operate an online market place that allows you to upload and sell your articles at a price that you set.  

Flotsam and jetsam

What appears to separate Constant Content from a lot of the flotsam and jetsam out there,  is that they pride themselves on setting high editorial standards.

This means, that as well as taking a short test before you join, every article you submit is subjected to a rigorous review and can be rejected if it does not meet their stringent editorial requirements.   

As a part of this, they also run a strict 'three strikes and you're out' rule (yes, they really are colour-within-the-lines- only type of people). 

But while this may seem harsh, this discipline helps to keep the standard of writing high on the web and is one in the eye for those naughty content farms who are happy to publish any old cobblers in the hope that it may attract visitors to their advertisers.

Furthermore, once you have had five articles accepted by Constant Content you can then access writing jobs posted by private clients.

So far, my time with Constant Content has been a positive experience - okay, it may not be as simple as colouring-in, but it does take some of the grinding sales work out of your role as a freelance writer, whilst also providing another mineable seam of job opportunities.  Which, let's face it, when some of your reality is spent dealing with 'Mama leak', is no bad thing.

Just remember to stay within the lines.

Broken goats, a flock of ‘dirds’ and more morons than you can shake a stick at – welcome to Woburn Safari Park

The entrance to Woburn Safari Park appeared so promising – all big squirly iron gates, sweeping driveways and wooden-clad bins.

But unfortunately our little family, well Matt and I – Poppy’s happy in a bin box - found the whole experience sadly lacking.

Perhaps it was because we visited on one of the hottest weekends of the year when a Peppa Pig frenzy was in full swing, or perhaps it was because Woburn Safari Park was simply having an ‘off day’ and wanted to put its feet up and eat a Calippo along with the rest of us, I'm not sure.

'Dird!'

The most disappointing aspect of our trip was finding out that, after they had frisked us for a whopping twenty 'London Pounds' each, that there really isn’t a lot of animal for your money.

We spotted one sulky lion in the lion enclosure, one sleepy bear in the bear enclosure, a rabbit in the giraffe enclosure and something blue and gelatinous floating in the penguin enclosure.

However, we continued to drive around the park, enthusiastically pointing out what animals we could see to our wide-eyed Poppy.

She would then shout back the word ‘dird!’ (toddler translator: bird) from the back seat whilst pointing at a scratty crow about four feet from the car.

The 'walky round bit'

After a full hour of 'dird' spotting we were pleased to reach 'the walky round bit' of Woburn Safari Park. By now our toddler’s need to touch something furry had reached fever pitch, so we quickly headed towards the goat and sheep area.

This took some time as, not only were there no signs (we refused to fork out an extra five London Pounds for a map), but we had to manoeuvre ourselves through a coach party of morons.

The thing about being a parent is that everyone hates you (apart from other parents) because you have a buggy and a wee thing that squeals random sayings like ‘smurf cheese’ at inappropriate moments. So you’re kind of on to a losing streak with crowds - they just want you dead.

Anyway, we managed to squish, squeeze and apologise our way down to the farm area where we were greeted by two frazzled goats who should have had ‘broken’ signs around their necks.

As the poor souls were already being petted aggressively by twenty sets of sweaty hot-dog fingers, we went in search of something else to bother.

'Pig Idol'

Ten minutes later we found ourselves watching 'George Pig' -the younger and less popular brother of cartoon deity ‘Peppa Pig’- trying to extricate his fat self from a port-a-loo.

Surrounded by impenetrable 'pig PR', we were then forced to wait thirty minutes (in a sun-trap) for Poppy to meet her Pig Idol.

Finally the rope went back and George went down on one knee to usher our pipsqueak forward. At which point Poppy let out a muffled whimper of panic and looked around for an escape route. Terrified she was going to bolt, we pushed her forward into George’s plump piggy arms.

From that moment Poppy was in pig heaven.

The crowd melted away, leaving her and George holding hands, nose-to-snout, while hearts and fireworks illuminated their pink Crayola sky.

After a few minutes, George, like Katie Price at a book signing, started to become visibly uncomfortable with the amount of time Poppy had pressed her face to his and we were forced to prize her from him.

Scooping up our infatuated infant we decided to head home.

And although our memories of Woburn Safari Park maybe blighted by ill-thought out signage and broken goats, every time we mention the name ‘George’, our little girl disappears back into that beautiful memory and pulls the same face as when she does her first morning wee, the one that says: ‘Mummy, I am warm.’

You can't garden in skinny jeans and three other things I learnt this week...

It's been a thong hot summer

It has been a week of revelations, most inconsequential, but nonetheless it is good to know that this world still has a lot to teach me.

The first is...

You can't garden in skinny jeans

Perhaps I should be more specific. You cannot garden your front garden in skinny jeans.

This is because the world, his wife, and any passing person delivering 'McPizza' leaflets through your door, is likely to receive a non exclusive glimpse, of how should I say this, your 'whale tail' when you bend over.

'Whale tail' is the term taken from Roger's Profanisaurus which refers to the unsightly effect produced when a lady in ill-fitting jeans's thong rides way up for all to see.  

Anyway, don't do it.  I did it, and although there were fringe benefits - a slightly 'stranger danger' neighbour offered me his unused hedge cutter and a bottle of two euro red wine for free -  I became the cul-de-sac side-show, wriggling, hoisting and adjusting between every dig.

You can't argue with a man on the Atkins diet

The diet which supports rapid, unsustainable weight loss in order to achieve a slightly less wobbly beach body is in full swing at our household.  

Matt, who prior to Monday, drank fizzy pop like water and intravenously injected Twirl bars at 3pm every day, is in caffeine cold turkey.

This usually placid, centred soul has morphed into the testy version of Rod Hull's Emu - all black beady eyes and angry crinkled up beak ready to lunge if I do anything wrong.

So far, anything wrong has included shutting a kitchen cupboard and making a cup of tea 'too loudly'.

Dr. Atkins, you evil curtailer of carbs, you have a lot to answer for.

Some people are a bit too ok with death


I have had two slightly unsavoury encounters with death this week.

The first was during Sky news's gratuitous coverage of Amy Winehouse's demise in which they showed the poor love being transferred in a red body bag to an awaiting private ambulance.

I am sorry, did I miss the fashion memo which says your Summer '11 body bag should be clingy?

You could quite clearly see the outline of the recently departed Miss W, from her ballet pumps to her beehive.

Get that girl a box.  Ast-ounded.
     

The second happened at my dear filmmaker friend's beautiful barn conversion.  Plonked on a sun swathed deckchair, I drank in my surroundings: pink hydrangeas in full bloom, lavender bushes fizzing with plump bees and...holy shit...what is that?

Within flip flop distance of my pedicure was the rotting corpse of an animal.  I could see fur, backbone and tail.

I delicately drew the attention of my host to the critter carcass, only to receive the response: "Oh yeah, we think it's a baby squirrel.  We're waiting for the fur to fall off completely so we can have a proper look."

Good for you.  Why don't you make a time lapse film while you're at it?

And finally...

'You can afford shiny things by writing online' shocker

I have discovered www.constant-content.com, a lovely website where you can upload articles galore and get moolah in return.

I will tell you all about my adventures at cc in my next post. 

            

 

Say moo to content farms

Hi, I'm a freelance writer, milk me.

If there is one thing I have learned as a freelance writer, it is that working for content farms is a definite no no.

Content farms is the term used to describe companies that employ herds of freelance writers to generate large amounts of content (heavily peppered with lots of popular search terms) so that their articles appear higher on search engines. 

Their main goal is to create moo-lah by atracting readers to an article and, 'oh, look at that lovely pop-up advert for spandex shorts, I just must see more'...Kerching! for the content farmer, but sadly not for you.  

The return for writers is very low, with companies offering new writers on average 3 euros per article.  The more you write, the more euros you are likely to accumulate. But if you want to pay your bills and have enough left over for pop tarts, you will have to write a lot.      

Some writers claim they make a living through the content farm system but, honestly, there are better paid freelance writing gigs out there. You just have to know where to look. 

So take that daisy out of your mouth, dip your udders in a nice warm bath and say moo to content farms. 

Show me the funny

Funny is good, funny is memorable, funny sticks, funny makes money.

In the same way you’re not going to tell someone about that coach journey where you remembered your ticket, found your seat, sat facing forward for a bit before arriving at your correct destination,  you'll dine-out for weeks on that National Express journey, where a man (smelling suspiciously of Zoflora) projectile vomited over the teenager reading the NME before nonchalantly pulling out a cigarette and asking the coach driver if he 'had a light?'. 

The same is for copywriting. 

Of course you can deliver the reader safely from A to B, serving up salient key points and tit bits of information along the way, before directing them to C – a shuttle bus to the appropriate website. 

Or, you can take them Dukes of Hazzard style.

Blazing a trail through your content, narrowly avoiding haystacks, before throwing them, hungry for more, at the dusty boots of Daisy Duke. 

Of course it depends on who you’re writing for. The above technique doesn’t necessarily apply to Saga Magazine.

'Punny' Funny

As copywriters we're happy to litter our work with puns, the gentlest form of comedy, which allows your audience to ‘muh-huh’ inwardly.  But to go all out funny requires the talent and courage to stick to your wit.

But if you can do it, do it. 

Why funny is good

Funny is memorable

 

Funny ads and virals stick in everyone's mind. 

However, you want people to remember what you are marketing, whether it is you, a product, service or idea.   

For example, how often have you had this conversation?

“Have you seen that advert? You know, the one where the man is dressed up like a big moth, and he goes to a buy a tent, and his hair’s all funny and...Oh, you remember, he’s a big fat moth...”

“No. What’s it for?”

“I can’t remember. A car I think.”

When recalling your copy, will your audience remember what is being promoted?   

Big brands, like Cadbury for example, can afford to go ‘off-road funny’, as proved with their series of adverts featuring drumming gorillas and dancing dry cleaning. However, as a copywriter don’t upstage who or what you are promoting.

Ideally the funny should be the ketchup on the banger, not the banger itself.   

Funny sells

Funny is a powerful weapon when it comes to raising interest and increasing sales.  

In the same way children are drawn to anything with a smiley face, humour breaks down barriers and makes a warm, fuzzy connection with your users. 

Funny spreads

The only thing that garners a response quicker than a Facebook update saying ‘OMG! I just found out my DNA test results!’ is a funny status update.

We all know that social media is the font at which pretty much all forward thinking companies and individuals worship, and nothing will put you on the social media map quicker than consistently witty updates. 

So, if you want to be taken seriously, put your money in funny.   

Writey tighty then...

So this is how we are going to roll. 

You're funny. I'm funny.

We can both write. 

You, like me, have thrown off, or are giving serious thought to throwing off the shackles of the corporate machine, to pursue a freelance writing career.

Well done you - give yourself a big Al Pacino ‘Hoo-hah!'   

FREELANCE WADERS

Having worked as a copywriter for several years I recently leapt into the freelance pond.

It was murky at first but with the help of some friendly freelancers, open minded editors and the endless advice and counsel provided by other freelance writer's blogs, the water and pond skaters have begun to clear. 

Now realising I'm not going to drown, in fact I have acquired some rather fancy freelance waders, I am in the fortunate position of being able to help others who fancy dipping their toes.


ON OFFER

As well as highlighting essential online resources for freelance writers, you can expect top tips on:

1)How to write funny for money - where the real writing jobs are (i.e.not the ones offering $3 for 500 words on animal husbandry)

2)How to pitch your own material to magazines - including mastering the elusive query letter/email 

3)Surefire ways to drive traffic to your blog - without the need to go totally Charlie Sheen  

And this, this is the really good part.

4)Ways to make your writing 25% funnier - that's 50% funnier if you're quite dry

Yes funny, because nothing quite hits the spot like funny.

FRUIT BAT

And because it can't all be work, work, work I will also be offering light relief in the form of posts about my world.

Whether it is a list of things my two-year old left in my shoe or random utterances my partner has said in the bit between sleep and dream (‘mmm government-made chocolate’), it's all relevant.

(By relevant I mean irrelevant).

Ta ta for now