I lied to you. Last week, when I said my Friday workout was hard.  I didn't tell you the whole truth.  I didn't say that I did that workout with tears pouring down my cheeks because of my absolute frustration.  I didn't say I'm working so hard and seeing absolutely no results, nothing to show for it. Nobody wants to hear stuff like that, but it's the truth, so it's getting said.   Am I giving up?  No.  I've committed to do this until July and that's exactly what I'm going to do.  Why?  Because I'm as stubborn as a mule and I know if I keep going there will, eventually, be something to show for it. The Weekend I had committed to five days of action-packed exercise (not really) but I really wanted to take the weekends off.  Therefore, my instruction was simply "Be active."   20 minutes on my exercise bike on both Saturday and Sunday would, I felt, fall under the category of being active.   Day Eleven I finished all my work over the weekend so it was simply a case of sending it off to my client and then beginning my personal training.  Monday's exercise is down in the fitness diary Day Twelve I'm finding the lower body workouts easier than the upper body - presumably due to all the cycling I was doing.  The half plank remains my nemesis.   Overall, a good workout that left my muscles quivering.   Day Thirteen It had been a long day at work.  Non-stop staring at the screen, wading my way through a 12-page brief and accompanying 26-page production deck, attending back-to-back briefings and getting to grips with the actual copywriting.  By the end of the day, I was left with a sore and spinning head, 18 pages of copy that I'd written and absolutely no desire whatsoever to do any exercise. I'll be honest: forcing myself to actually do the exercise was harder than the workout itself.  Except for the planks, because those are nightmarish.   Day Fourteen 20-minutes on the bike and that's me done.   Day Fifteen Friday night is takeaway night.  Fortunately, Phil says this is alright as long as I keep up the exercise routine and make sure there's still a calorie deficit. I lied to you. Last week, when I said my Friday workout was hard.  I didn't tell you the whole truth.  I didn't say that I did that workout with tears pouring down my cheeks because of my absolute frustration.  I didn't say I'm working so hard and seeing absolutely no results, nothing to show for it. Nobody wants to hear stuff like that, but it's the truth, so it's getting said.   Am I giving up?  No.  I've committed to do this until July and that's exactly what I'm going to do.  Why?  Because I'm as stubborn as a mule and I know if I keep going there will, eventually, be something to show for it. The Weekend I finally got to weigh myself at the weekend and discovered I had lost 3kg.  Seeing the needle shift like that made me feel like I had actually achieved something.  As usual, I spent 20 minutes on my exercise bike on Saturday and Sunday - and it actually felt easier.   Day Eleven I finished all my work over the weekend so it was simply a case of sending it off to my client and then beginning my personal training.  Monday's exercise is down in the fitness diary Day Twelve I'm finding the lower body workouts easier than the upper body - presumably due to all the cycling I was doing.  The half plank remains my nemesis.   Overall, a good workout that left my muscles quivering.   Day Thirteen It had been a long day at work.  Non-stop staring at the screen, wading my way through a 12-page brief and accompanying 26-page production deck, attending back-to-back briefings and getting to grips with the actual copywriting.  By the end of the day, I was left with a sore and spinning head, 18 pages of copy that I'd written and absolutely no desire whatsoever to do any exercise. I'll be honest: forcing myself to actually do the exercise was harder than the workout itself.  Except for the planks, because those are nightmarish.   Day Fourteen 20-minutes on the bike and that's me done.   Day Fifteen Friday night is takeaway night.  Fortunately, Phil says this is alright as long as I keep up the exercise routine and make sure there's still a calorie deficit. I lied to you. Last week, when I said my Friday workout was hard.  I didn't tell you the whole truth.  I didn't say that I did that workout with tears pouring down my cheeks because of my absolute frustration.  I didn't say I'm working so hard and seeing absolutely no results, nothing to show for it. Nobody wants to hear stuff like that, but it's the truth, so it's getting said.   Am I giving up?  No.  I've committed to do this until July and that's exactly what I'm going to do.  Why?  Because I'm as stubborn as a mule and I know if I keep going there will, eventually, be something to show for it. The Weekend I finally got to weigh myself at the weekend and discovered I had lost 3kg.  Seeing the needle shift like that made me feel like I had actually achieved something.  As usual, I spent 20 minutes on my exercise bike on Saturday and Sunday - and it actually felt easier.   Day Eleven Badminton was back on for Monday night, so I popped along to the local sports centre.  I've had to leave my contact lenses out for the past three weeks ahead of an optician's appointment in early May, so it was no exaggeration to say I could barely see a foot in front of me.  (I tried to put money in a towel, thinking it was the collection box.)  This, however, didn't appear to have a detrimental effect on my playing, causing me to wonder if I play so badly that good vision makes no difference. Day Twelve Everything just felt easier on Tuesday.  I powered through my lower body workout and even added 25 pound bands instead of the 20 pound ones I usually use. Day Thirteen It had been a long day at work.  Non-stop staring at the screen, wading my way through a 12-page brief and accompanying 26-page production deck, attending back-to-back briefings and getting to grips with the actual copywriting.  By the end of the day, I was left with a sore and spinning head, 18 pages of copy that I'd written and absolutely no desire whatsoever to do any exercise. I'll be honest: forcing myself to actually do the exercise was harder than the workout itself.  Except for the planks, because those are nightmarish.   Day Fourteen 20-minutes on the bike and that's me done.   Day Fifteen Friday night is takeaway night.  Fortunately, Phil says this is alright as long as I keep up the exercise routine and make sure there's still a calorie deficit. I lied to you. Last week, when I said my Friday workout was hard.  I didn't tell you the whole truth.  I didn't say that I did that workout with tears pouring down my cheeks because of my absolute frustration.  I didn't say I'm working so hard and seeing absolutely no results, nothing to show for it. Nobody wants to hear stuff like that, but it's the truth, so it's getting said.   Am I giving up?  No.  I've committed to do this until July and that's exactly what I'm going to do.  Why?  Because I'm as stubborn as a mule and I know if I keep going there will, eventually, be something to show for it. The Weekend I finally got to weigh myself at the weekend and discovered I had lost 3kg.  Seeing the needle shift like that made me feel like I had actually achieved something.  As usual, I spent 20 minutes on my exercise bike on Saturday and Sunday - and it actually felt easier.   Day Eleven Badminton was back on for Monday night, so I popped along to the local sports centre.  I've had to leave my contact lenses out for the past three weeks ahead of an optician's appointment in early May, so it was no exaggeration to say I could barely see a foot in front of me.  (I tried to put money in a towel, thinking it was the collection box.)  This, however, didn't appear to have a detrimental effect on my playing, causing me to wonder if I play so badly that good vision makes no difference. Day Twelve Everything just felt easier on Tuesday.  I powered through my lower body workout and even added 25 pound bands instead of the 20 pound ones I usually use. Day Thirteen I don't know what it is about the last few Wednesdays but they've been extra long and tiring.  I went from thinking I would have a quiet week to being all booked up.  When your schedule is busy, it feels so tempting - and so easy - to postpone training until tomorrow.  I was determined not to do that and made a start at 4:30.  The beauty of Phil's exercise regimen is you can work it around your schedule.  I definitely felt a pleasant twinge in my muscles afterwards but, honestly, it was a welcome escape from staring at the screen.  Day Fourteen 20-minutes on the bike and that's me done.   Day Fifteen For many months now, my little treat to myself is a takeaway.  I used to be able to eat what I wanted, when I wanted.  And, thanks to Phil, I can still do that.  Just about.  As long as I'm careful not to exceed my calorie count.   So, I'll end the week with a rather delicious carton of salt and pepper chips and a plate of sticky ribs in barbecue sauce.  Yum!

"Do you have a target weight in mind?" Phil asked. The answer was no.  I don't have any scales and I rarely weighed myself.  It wasn't about the weight.  It was about how I looked.   So, as I embark on Week Two of my Stupidity, AKA my 15-week training with Phil Agostino, I was unexpectedly excited to see that I had lost a little weight.   But the real training was just beginning. The Weekend I had committed to five days of action-packed exercise (not really) but I really wanted to take the weekends off.  Therefore, my instruction was simply "Be active."   20 minutes on my exercise bike on both Saturday and Sunday would, I felt, fall under the category of being active.   Day Four I finished all my work over the weekend so it was simply a case of sending it off to my client and then beginning my personal training.  Monday's exercise is down in the fitness diary as badminton.  Unfortunately, this was cancelled for the Easter holidays so I opted to do an upper body workout instead. The majority of time was spent watching videos to figure out what I was meant to do.  Never having been terribly active, names like "shoulder press" and "band tricep pushdown."  However, all these paled in comparison to my nemesis: the plank. Anyway.  I began with a quick five-minute warm-up on my bike, then set up my resistance bands to do something called a "wide row."  It felt relatively easy so I was probably doing it wrong. Next on the list was a half push-up, which certainly got the heart pumping.  It didn't feel a great deal different compared to a normal push-up (which, late last year, I did 10 a day every morning.)   On to said shoulder press with the resistance bands.  I opted to use a 20-pound band, which I feel was just at the right difficulty.  I went on to do some raises, which involved standing on the middle of the band and raising my arms.  Sounds simple, but my shoulders certainly felt it. I wrapped up with a half plank, which, although it says it's easier than a plank, did not feel any better at all.  I made such a hullabaloo over this simple exercise that my altruistic cat came over to make sure I was alright (I wasn't) and sat with me until the end of the exercises (emitting a contented purring, no doubt born of the fact that she did not have to do said exercises.) Day Five sdsd "Do you have a target weight in mind?" Phil asked. The answer was no.  I don't have any scales and I rarely weighed myself.  It wasn't about the weight.  It was about how I looked.   So, as I embark on Week Two of my Stupidity, AKA my 15-week training with Phil Agostino, I was unexpectedly excited to see that I had lost a little weight.   But the real training was just beginning. The Weekend I had committed to five days of action-packed exercise (not really) but I really wanted to take the weekends off.  Therefore, my instruction was simply "Be active."   20 minutes on my exercise bike on both Saturday and Sunday would, I felt, fall under the category of being active.   Day Four I finished all my work over the weekend so it was simply a case of sending it off to my client and then beginning my personal training.  Monday's exercise is down in the fitness diary as badminton.  Unfortunately, this was cancelled for the Easter holidays so I opted to do an upper body workout instead. The majority of time was spent watching videos to figure out what I was meant to do.  Never having been terribly active, names like "shoulder press" and "band tricep pushdown."  However, all these paled in comparison to my nemesis: the plank. Anyway.  I began with a quick five-minute warm-up on my bike, then set up my resistance bands to do something called a "wide row."  It felt relatively easy so I was probably doing it wrong. Next on the list was a half push-up, which certainly got the heart pumping.  It didn't feel a great deal different compared to a normal push-up (which, late last year, I did 10 a day every morning.)   On to said shoulder press with the resistance bands.  I opted to use a 20-pound band, which I feel was just at the right difficulty.  I went on to do some raises, which involved standing on the middle of the band and raising my arms.  Sounds simple, but my shoulders certainly felt it. I wrapped up with a half plank, which, although it says it's easier than a plank, did not feel any better at all.  I made such a hullabaloo over this simple exercise that my altruistic cat came over to make sure I was alright (I wasn't) and sat with me until the end of the exercises (emitting a contented purring, no doubt born of the fact that she did not have to do said exercises.) Day Five I'm finding the lower body workouts easier than the upper body - presumably due to all the cycling I was doing.  The half plank remains my nemesis.   Overall, a good workout that left my muscles quivering.   Day Six  sdsd "Do you have a target weight in mind?" Phil asked. The answer was no.  I don't have any scales and I rarely weighed myself.  It wasn't about the weight.  It was about how I looked.   So, as I embark on Week Two of my Stupidity, AKA my 15-week training with Phil Agostino, I was unexpectedly excited to see that I had lost a little weight.   But the real training was just beginning. The Weekend I had committed to five days of action-packed exercise (not really) but I really wanted to take the weekends off.  Therefore, my instruction was simply "Be active."   20 minutes on my exercise bike on both Saturday and Sunday would, I felt, fall under the category of being active.   Day Four I finished all my work over the weekend so it was simply a case of sending it off to my client and then beginning my personal training.  Monday's exercise is down in the fitness diary as badminton.  Unfortunately, this was cancelled for the Easter holidays so I opted to do an upper body workout instead. The majority of time was spent watching videos to figure out what I was meant to do.  Never having been terribly active, names like "shoulder press" and "band tricep pushdown."  However, all these paled in comparison to my nemesis: the plank. Anyway.  I began with a quick five-minute warm-up on my bike, then set up my resistance bands to do something called a "wide row."  It felt relatively easy so I was probably doing it wrong. Next on the list was a half push-up, which certainly got the heart pumping.  It didn't feel a great deal different compared to a normal push-up (which, late last year, I did 10 a day every morning.)   On to said shoulder press with the resistance bands.  I opted to use a 20-pound band, which I feel was just at the right difficulty.  I went on to do some raises, which involved standing on the middle of the band and raising my arms.  Sounds simple, but my shoulders certainly felt it. I wrapped up with a half plank, which, although it says it's easier than a plank, did not feel any better at all.  I made such a hullabaloo over this simple exercise that my altruistic cat came over to make sure I was alright (I wasn't) and sat with me until the end of the exercises (emitting a contented purring, no doubt born of the fact that she did not have to do said exercises.) Day Five I'm finding the lower body workouts easier than the upper body - presumably due to all the cycling I was doing.  The half plank remains my nemesis.   Overall, a good workout that left my muscles quivering.   Day Six  It had been a long day at work.  Non-stop staring at the screen, wading my way through a 12-page brief and accompanying 26-page production deck, attending back-to-back briefings and getting to grips with the actual copywriting.  By the end of the day, I was left with a sore and spinning head, 18 pages of copy that I'd written and absolutely no desire whatsoever to do any exercise. I'll be honest: forcing myself to actually do the exercise was harder than the workout itself.  Except for the planks, because those are nightmarish.   Day Seven sdsd "Do you have a target weight in mind?" Phil asked. The answer was no.  I don't have any scales and I rarely weighed myself.  It wasn't about the weight.  It was about how I looked.   So, as I embark on Week Two of my Stupidity, AKA my 15-week training with Phil Agostino, I was unexpectedly excited to see that I had lost a little weight.   But the real training was just beginning. The Weekend I had committed to five days of action-packed exercise (not really) but I really wanted to take the weekends off.  Therefore, my instruction was simply "Be active."   20 minutes on my exercise bike on both Saturday and Sunday would, I felt, fall under the category of being active.   Day Four I finished all my work over the weekend so it was simply a case of sending it off to my client and then beginning my personal training.  Monday's exercise is down in the fitness diary as badminton.  Unfortunately, this was cancelled for the Easter holidays so I opted to do an upper body workout instead. The majority of time was spent watching videos to figure out what I was meant to do.  Never having been terribly active, names like "shoulder press" and "band tricep pushdown."  However, all these paled in comparison to my nemesis: the plank. Anyway.  I began with a quick five-minute warm-up on my bike, then set up my resistance bands to do something called a "wide row."  It felt relatively easy so I was probably doing it wrong. Next on the list was a half push-up, which certainly got the heart pumping.  It didn't feel a great deal different compared to a normal push-up (which, late last year, I did 10 a day every morning.)   On to said shoulder press with the resistance bands.  I opted to use a 20-pound band, which I feel was just at the right difficulty.  I went on to do some raises, which involved standing on the middle of the band and raising my arms.  Sounds simple, but my shoulders certainly felt it. I wrapped up with a half plank, which, although it says it's easier than a plank, did not feel any better at all.  I made such a hullabaloo over this simple exercise that my altruistic cat came over to make sure I was alright (I wasn't) and sat with me until the end of the exercises (emitting a contented purring, no doubt born of the fact that she did not have to do said exercises.) Day Five I'm finding the lower body workouts easier than the upper body - presumably due to all the cycling I was doing.  The half plank remains my nemesis.   Overall, a good workout that left my muscles quivering.   Day Six  It had been a long day at work.  Non-stop staring at the screen, wading my way through a 12-page brief and accompanying 26-page production deck, attending back-to-back briefings and getting to grips with the actual copywriting.  By the end of the day, I was left with a sore and spinning head, 18 pages of copy that I'd written and absolutely no desire whatsoever to do any exercise. I'll be honest: forcing myself to actually do the exercise was harder than the workout itself.  Except for the planks, because those are nightmarish.   Day Seven 20-minutes on the bike and that's me done.   Day Eight Friday night is takeaway night.  Fortunately, Phil says this is alright as long as I keep up the exercise routine and make sure there's still a calorie deficit. I'll be honest: this week hasn't been the greatest.  There have been long and tiring days at work, along with a total lack of desire to exercise and the feeling that I'm just getting fatter and fatter, leaving me unmotivated.  Pushing through that to actually do the exercise isn't easy. However, it was a lower body workout today and, I must admit, I find this one easier than the upper body.  I had a wonderful dream where I had nice muscles and a slim tummy.   Then I woke up.

When I was small and adults asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I didn't hesitate.  "A writer," I said.  (Occasionally, I might say "taller" or "older" and risk getting told off for being cheeky.)  But the answer in my head was always the same.  I wanted to be a writer. About the age of six, I knew we were struggling for money so I decided to write poems and stories, just like the mother did in The Railway Children.  I reasoned she had been able to earn enough to support herself and three children (with a little help from that kindly old gentleman on the train) so I figured I could support myself and my mum with little to no trouble.  After all, I never had any shortage of ideas for poems and stories.  Regretfully, nobody told me that, in order to make money, somebody actually had to want to buy your poems and stories.   I was probably about eight when I bought my typewriter from a jumble sale and began making my own "newspapers".  I would type until my fingertips were sore - and then type some more.  I created all kinds of newspapers, featuring myself as Editor, Chief Correspondent, Agony Aunt, Comic Strip Artist...  Eventually, I upgraded to an electric typewriter as a treat to my fingers. When I was nine, my mother decided to enroll me in a university course, alongside my schoolwork and I began to study writing properly.   About the age of eleven, we got our first computer.  I discovered Pinball, Hearts, Minesweeper and, more importantly, Word.  I would spend hours writing novels and I was absolutely certain I would be either a famous novelist or a journalist.   I was passing every module in my university course and submitting my fiction work to publishers (who would always send very kind rejections.)  This didn't worry me too much - I'd read somewhere writers should expect to receive enough rejections to be able to wallpaper their entire house.   At around sixteen, my stepdad was (strongly) encouraging me to get a job.  After a failed attempt to clean a holiday house, I decided to look for writing jobs.  I approached a local newspaper (who ignored me), but nothing really came of that.   A chance meeting in a coffee shop changed all that.  My mother struck up a conversation with a grey-haired man enjoying his lunch, who handed her his business card.  "He's an editor," she announced when she returned to our table.  She gave his business card to me and I studied it.  "Fred Silver, Editor."  He was based in Stornoway and ran a newspaper.   Everybody left the cafe, except me.  My heart was pounding but I knew what I had to do.  I slipped into the seat opposite the man. Dolly Parton wrote in her autobiography that she had said to someone "I want to work for you."  The person had said something along the lines of "You've got the job.  You're the only person who said they actually wanted to work."  (It's been many years since I read her autobiography, so forgive me if I've mangled the quote!)  However, that anecdote stuck with me and I always determined if I ever got the chance to work for anyone that I would use those exact words. So, without further introduction, I slithered into the seat opposite the Stornoway editor and said: "I want to work for you." After finishing his mouthful, Fred gave me my very first writing assignment.  Little did we know it was going to be the first in a long series of assignments.  But I completed it, then he asked me to create a story based on an interview.  Shortly afterwards, I went out to the Isle of Lewis for some work experience - and I worked for Fred until 2020.   In that time, I helped kickstart the Isle of Skye's first online news-site and ultimately became the editor and chief newsgatherer for it.  I also wrote for award-winning website, We Love Stornoway; helped create similar news-sites for the isles of Barra and Vatersay; photographed and wrote for The Heb Magazine and, latterly, became sub-editor of The Skye Magazine.  I got to interview Alexander McCall Smith, photograph Rod Stewart and Amy Macdonald when I reported on their concerts and interview TikTok stars.   When I got the letter saying I was being made redundant, I sat on my windowsill with the sun on my back and felt an eerie sense of calm.  I had loved this job and would have been happy to stay with the company all my life - suddenly Covid had changed everything, but I wasn't panicking.   It felt like being sixteen again.  I was Googling writing jobs.  My plan was to stay with journalism and see if any local newspapers would have me now.  But I kept seeing advertisements for something called "copywriting."  What on earth was that?  I hadn't heard of it.   When I Googled it, I discovered this definition: "copywriting[ˈkɒpɪrʌɪtɪŋ]NOUNthe activity or occupation of writing the text of advertisements or publicity material." "That's what I've been doing for years!" I thought.  "Well, that's what I'll do then."  I created a Facebook page, organised a website and got my first client thanks to a Facebook share.  I'd also taken on a job making and serving pizzas in a local takeaway - scribbling ideas for my business on the back of old orders.   When I was small and adults asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I didn't hesitate.  "A writer," I said.  (Occasionally, I might say "taller" or "older" and risk getting told off for being cheeky.)  But the answer in my head was always the same.  I wanted to be a writer. About the age of six, I knew we were struggling for money so I decided to write poems and stories, just like the mother did in The Railway Children.  I reasoned she had been able to earn enough to support herself and three children (with a little help from that kindly old gentleman on the train) so I figured I could support myself and my mum with little to no trouble.  After all, I never had any shortage of ideas for poems and stories.  Regretfully, nobody told me that, in order to make money, somebody actually had to want to buy your poems and stories.   I was probably about eight when I bought my typewriter from a jumble sale and began making my own "newspapers".  I would type until my fingertips were sore - and then type some more.  I created all kinds of newspapers, featuring myself as Editor, Chief Correspondent, Agony Aunt, Comic Strip Artist...  Eventually, I upgraded to an electric typewriter as a treat to my fingers. When I was nine, my mother decided to enroll me in a university course, alongside my schoolwork and I began to study writing properly.   About the age of eleven, we got our first computer.  I discovered Pinball, Hearts, Minesweeper and, more importantly, Word.  I would spend hours writing novels and I was absolutely certain I would be either a famous novelist or a journalist.   I was passing every module in my university course and submitting my fiction work to publishers (who would always send very kind rejections.)  This didn't worry me too much - I'd read somewhere writers should expect to receive enough rejections to be able to wallpaper their entire house.   At around sixteen, my stepdad was (strongly) encouraging me to get a job.  After a failed attempt to clean a holiday house, I decided to look for writing jobs.  I approached a local newspaper (who ignored me), but nothing really came of that.   A chance meeting in a coffee shop changed all that.  My mother struck up a conversation with a grey-haired man enjoying his lunch, who handed her his business card.  "He's an editor," she announced when she returned to our table.  She gave his business card to me and I studied it.  "Fred Silver, Editor."  He was based in Stornoway and ran a newspaper.   Everybody left the cafe, except me.  My heart was pounding but I knew what I had to do.  I slipped into the seat opposite the man. Dolly Parton wrote in her autobiography that she had said to someone "I want to work for you."  The person had said something along the lines of "You've got the job.  You're the only person who said they actually wanted to work."  (It's been many years since I read her autobiography, so forgive me if I've mangled the quote!)  However, that anecdote stuck with me and I always determined if I ever got the chance to work for anyone that I would use those exact words. So, without further introduction, I slithered into the seat opposite the Stornoway editor and said: "I want to work for you." After finishing his mouthful, Fred gave me my very first writing assignment.  Little did we know it was going to be the first in a long series of assignments.  But I completed it, then he asked me to create a story based on an interview.  Shortly afterwards, I went out to the Isle of Lewis for some work experience - and I worked for Fred until 2020.   In that time, I helped kickstart the Isle of Skye's first online news-site and ultimately became the editor and chief newsgatherer for it.  I also wrote for award-winning website, We Love Stornoway; helped create similar news-sites for the isles of Barra and Vatersay; photographed and wrote for The Heb Magazine and, latterly, became sub-editor of The Skye Magazine.  I got to interview Alexander McCall Smith, photograph Rod Stewart and Amy Macdonald when I reported on their concerts and interview TikTok stars.   When I got the letter saying I was being made redundant, I sat on my windowsill with the sun on my back and felt an eerie sense of calm.  I had loved this job and would have been happy to stay with the company all my life - suddenly Covid had changed everything, but I wasn't panicking.   It felt like being sixteen again.  I was Googling writing jobs.  My plan was to stay with journalism and see if any local newspapers would have me now.  But I kept seeing advertisements for something called "copywriting."  What on earth was that?  I hadn't heard of it.   When I Googled it, I discovered this definition: "copywriting[ˈkɒpɪrʌɪtɪŋ]NOUNthe activity or occupation of writing the text of advertisements or publicity material." "That's what I've been doing for years!" I thought.  "Well, that's what I'll do then."  I created a Facebook page, organised a website and got my first client thanks to a Facebook share.  I'd also taken on a job making and serving pizzas in a local takeaway - scribbling ideas for my business on the back of old orders.   Business started to take off - just a little bit.  I was writing music reviews for an up-and-coming band.  I placed an advert with Facebook, which led to my very first web content client.   I joined LinkedIn.  I applied for every single writing job I could find, until I learned how to use LinkedIn properly.  Back then, I just threw the net as wide as I could and hoped for the best.   And the best did happen.  I was extremely fortunate to have several people give me a chance to get into the copywriting world.  After about a year, I learned exactly what kind of clients I wanted to attract and who I wanted to work for.  I learned to put my rates up.  I invested in this brand-new website and I started to get my ducks in a row, as they say. At the time, when my journalism career ended, it felt like I'd been dropped into a huge abyss.  Although I was calm, I was also uncertain.  I didn't know what to do or what path to follow.  I'm so glad I followed the copywriting path.  I'm fortunate to have received some amazing chances very early on and I have nothing but gratitude for the people who helped bring me to where I am now. Of course, there are two many to name - otherwise it'll sound like an OSCAR acceptance speech - but thanks obviously goes to my mother, Fred, Alex, Sonia, Jon, Clare, Claire, Emily, Dan and everyone else who has been part of my journey so far. When I was small and adults asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I didn't hesitate.  "A writer," I said.  (Occasionally, I might say "taller" or "older" and risk getting told off for being cheeky.)  But the answer in my head was always the same.  I wanted to be a writer. About the age of six, I knew we were struggling for money so I decided to write poems and stories, just like the mother did in The Railway Children.  I reasoned she had been able to earn enough to support herself and three children (with a little help from that kindly old gentleman on the train) so I figured I could support myself and my mum with little to no trouble.  After all, I never had any shortage of ideas for poems and stories.  Regretfully, nobody told me that, in order to make money, somebody actually had to want to buy your poems and stories.   I was probably about eight when I bought my typewriter from a jumble sale and began making my own "newspapers".  I would type until my fingertips were sore - and then type some more.  I created all kinds of newspapers, featuring myself as Editor, Chief Correspondent, Agony Aunt, Comic Strip Artist...  Eventually, I upgraded to an electric typewriter as a treat to my fingers. When I was nine, my mother decided to enroll me in a university course, alongside my schoolwork and I began to study writing properly.   About the age of eleven, we got our first computer.  I discovered Pinball, Hearts, Minesweeper and, more importantly, Word.  I would spend hours writing novels and I was absolutely certain I would be either a famous novelist or a journalist.   I was passing every module in my university course and submitting my fiction work to publishers (who would always send very kind rejections.)  This didn't worry me too much - I'd read somewhere writers should expect to receive enough rejections to be able to wallpaper their entire house.   At around sixteen, my stepdad was (strongly) encouraging me to get a job.  After a failed attempt to clean a holiday house, I decided to look for writing jobs.  I approached a local newspaper (who ignored me), but nothing really came of that.   A chance meeting in a coffee shop changed all that.  My mother struck up a conversation with a grey-haired man enjoying his lunch, who handed her his business card.  "He's an editor," she announced when she returned to our table.  She gave his business card to me and I studied it.  "Fred Silver, Editor."  He was based in Stornoway and ran a newspaper.   Everybody left the cafe, except me.  My heart was pounding but I knew what I had to do.  I slipped into the seat opposite the man. Dolly Parton wrote in her autobiography that she had said to someone "I want to work for you."  The person had said something along the lines of "You've got the job.  You're the only person who said they actually wanted to work."  (It's been many years since I read her autobiography, so forgive me if I've mangled the quote!)  However, that anecdote stuck with me and I always determined if I ever got the chance to work for anyone that I would use those exact words. So, without further introduction, I slithered into the seat opposite the Stornoway editor and said: "I want to work for you." After finishing his mouthful, Fred gave me my very first writing assignment.  Little did we know it was going to be the first in a long series of assignments.  But I completed it, then he asked me to create a story based on an interview.  Shortly afterwards, I went out to the Isle of Lewis for some work experience - and I worked for Fred until 2020.   In that time, I helped kickstart the Isle of Skye's first online news-site and ultimately became the editor and chief newsgatherer for it.  I also wrote for award-winning website, We Love Stornoway; helped create similar news-sites for the isles of Barra and Vatersay; photographed and wrote for The Heb Magazine and, latterly, became sub-editor of The Skye Magazine.  I got to interview Alexander McCall Smith, photograph Rod Stewart and Amy Macdonald when I reported on their concerts and interview TikTok stars.   When I got the letter saying I was being made redundant, I sat on my windowsill with the sun on my back and felt an eerie sense of calm.  I had loved this job and would have been happy to stay with the company all my life - suddenly Covid had changed everything, but I wasn't panicking.   It felt like being sixteen again.  I was Googling writing jobs.  My plan was to stay with journalism and see if any local newspapers would have me now.  But I kept seeing advertisements for something called "copywriting."  What on earth was that?  I hadn't heard of it.   When I Googled it, I discovered this definition: "copywriting[ˈkɒpɪrʌɪtɪŋ]NOUNthe activity or occupation of writing the text of advertisements or publicity material." "That's what I've been doing for years!" I thought.  "Well, that's what I'll do then."  I created a Facebook page, organised a website and got my first client thanks to a Facebook share.  I'd also taken on a job making and serving pizzas in a local takeaway - scribbling ideas for my business on the back of old orders.   Business started to take off - just a little bit.  I was writing music reviews for an up-and-coming band.  I placed an advert with Facebook, which led to my very first web content client.   I joined LinkedIn.  I applied for every single writing job I could find, until I learned how to use LinkedIn properly.  Back then, I just threw the net as wide as I could and hoped for the best.   And the best did happen.  I was extremely fortunate to have several people give me a chance to get into the copywriting world.  After about a year, I learned exactly what kind of clients I wanted to attract and who I wanted to work for.  I learned to put my rates up.  I invested in this brand-new website and I started to get my ducks in a row, as they say. At the time, when my journalism career ended, it felt like I'd been dropped into a huge abyss.  Although I was calm, I was also uncertain.  I didn't know what to do or what path to follow.  I'm so glad I followed the copywriting path.  I'm fortunate to have received some amazing chances very early on and I have nothing but gratitude for the people who helped bring me to where I am now. Of course, there are two many to name - otherwise it'll sound like an OSCAR acceptance speech - but thanks obviously goes to my mother, Fred, Alex, Sonia, Jon, Clare, Claire, Emily, Dan and everyone else who has been part of my journey so far.

I have over four bookcases, crammed to bursting with my favourite books.  Ever since I was little, I've collected, devoured and loved books.  Normally, I opt for fiction, but, after starting my freelance copywriting journey, I decided to do some research. The Copywriter's Handbook by Robert W. Bly Almost from the first day, I've had this book recommended to me.  I have the fourth edition, revised to include copywriting in the digital age.  It's a great starting point, covering a lot of helpful tips for just about any form of copywriting. A Self-Help Guide for Copywriters by Dan Nelken Dry, self-deprecating humour peppered with pithy observations makes this book a fun introduction to improving your copy.  I love the way this book challenged the way I think and encouraged me to push the bounds of my creativity - and I'll certainly be reading it more than once. Copywriting Is... by Andrew Boulton I haven't started this one yet, but I follow Andrew on LinkedIn and wanted to add his book to my collection.   A Woman In Your Own Right by Anne Dickson This amazing book was recommended to me by business mentor, Jon McCulloch.  I'd explained to him that my ability to communicate verbally wasn't the best, marked by a tendency to take everything literally, to react with Sheldon Cooper-like seriousness when confronted with sarcasm and generally fail to make my point if I wasn't allowed to write it down. Almost from the very first page, this book changed all that.  It taught me that it was perfectly acceptable to express how you feel and explained how to do so clearly and calmly.   It's a work in progress - it's simply easier for me to revert to old habits and say nothing - but I'm getting there. What's your favourite book?  Have you any recommendations?  I'd love to hear all about them.