When I look back at the past two months as the Writer in Residence at Toronto Public Library, with a focus on journalism, I can’t help but Joker smile like a silly silly man. Meeting with writers and running weekly programming has been so incredibly fulfilling and nourishing, it feels surreal. Like, did I just meet with 30 writers to advise them on their careers? Did I run six seminars, workshops and panels without any major issues? Yes, yes I did.
And I’m incredibly proud of what I believe I accomplished: Helping writers get a head start in their journalism career, or level up their standing as a freelance journalist.
I’ve been doing this ad hoc as a writing coach for the past six years but to be thrust into a two-month intensive program for consultations and evening events…it was a different story. And one that I enjoy telling myself over and over again. Giving writers the opportunity to learn from my experience is exactly why I became a coach in the first place.
I want to let you know what I learned about myself in the past two months and then I’ll share what I learned about ambitious and inquisitive writers.
The more you share, the more you grow
There was a moment in the middle of consultation session with a young journalist when it dawned on me: I was maturing as both an educator and coach with this residency. Writers are asking me questions that I don’t often get with my lesson plans, such as how to write a book proposal for non-fiction, and by researching the answers to these questions prior to our meetings, I’m developing new skills, too.
Maybe one day that research into book proposals will come in handy when I get writing a book of my own (it’s on the bucket list, folks!).
When I was hosting a panel discussion on my final night of programming, I grew as a journalist. To hear editors from the Globe, the Star and Toronto Life share candidly what they look for in a pitch, that was invaluable to me, and the audience, I later found out. While I curated this event for attendees, I also learned several lessons on how to pitch successfully, proving once again you can never be too experienced to stop professionally developing.
There are no stupid questions
What I admired about the writers who wanted to consult with me was their openness. I was worried they would be shy or unsure of themselves. Maybe they’d bury a question among a lengthy bio on what they do for a living, or why they just got into writing. But everyone was candid and down-to-earth, displaying an eager appetite to gobble up whatever I served.
To extend the food metaphor, I was happy to give folks a menu of answers that they could select. If someone asked me how to get started as a journalist, I had to ask them a few things first. What is motivating them to work in media? Is it for the revenue, the craft, the hobbyism of it all? Does feature reporting interest them or wold they prefer to write Op-Eds?
Once I saw how these writers recognize how there are no stupid questions, I began to reflect on how I have been quiet in writer conferences and staged events where other raised hands extended high above inquiring heads. I can get like that, an extroverted introvert here, I like to say, so sometimes I have to find the courage to be confident about my own curiosity into the trade I know and love.
If you ever wondered if you should apply for a writig residency, let me reply with a resounding YES! It’s the kind of work that gives back the more you put into it.
And you can’t go wrong with being around books all day.