Spending a year as editor of a student newspaper (yes, full-time and yes, paid) has left me with many great memories but little truly in the way of a job advantage now I'm trying to make it in the 'real world' of journalism.
Anyone who believes editing their student newspaper is a golden ticket to some sort of status in the professional industry, will be sadly disappointed. It won't matter how many section editors you managed, how dramatically you shook up the editorial or whether or not your readership was in the tens of thousands: when you fall out through the other side, you'll be back at the bottom with the rest.
I remember at the Courier the morning our year's best issue arrived: 'Leaking ceilings, broken fridges, dirty beds: A Courier investigation'. A report on a city centre letting agency who'd spent years moving students who didn't know any better into homes that were in disgusting states. It was a double-page spread complete with case studies, editorial comment and a grudging apology we'd extracted from the company: the result of months of work and worry, our symphony.
Watching students pick up their copies of the paper each week from the doorway of the union had long been the 'makes it all worthwhile' moment that buried memories of 3am Thursday night finishes, but this time was different. Instead of stuffing it in their bags or flicking through to the sport, people stood quietly and read. This letting agency — one of the biggest in the city — had long had its reputation for ripping people off. The student households in our case studies all had their problems resolved by the company within days.
It was a grand moment full of big lessons.
For the most part though, what the team and I learnt from our student journalism days was much more basic: the necessity of proof readers ('thousands of students decend for Freshers' Week' was my first strap-line); the no-no's of page design (perfect symmetry repels the eye); never interview anyone without doing a thorough Google search on them first ... pratfalls and errors played out before an audience of smart-alecs ever ready to complain.
Since leaving my post in Newcastle and moving to London to chase the dream, I've been making coffee, transcribing interviews, sorting archives, photocopying back issues and trying to strike that fine balance between seeming enthusiastic and irritating the hell out of everyone. It's a tricky act. And slowly but surely, the freelance work is starting, and I'm realising that having the right attitude will not go unrewarded, even in this market.
There is no doubt that although my student journalism has demonstrated commitment it has not guaranteed me a head start. What it has done, is show, that for me, the buzz outweighs the hassle, the modest praise justifies the abundant criticism, and ultimately that I know I can and want to stomach entering one of the toughest, competitive and poorly-paid industries going.
For however long it takes ploughing away writing for peanuts just to be associated with a known magazine or getting knocked back for junior positions, I know that it'll all be worth it when I can one day call myself an editor — and get that 'all worthwhile' feeling — once again.
