Over twenty years working in radio, surrounded by some beautiful open-minded creative people, (and some wankers) I have learned all sorts. For example, I know that there isn’t really a “lucky caller number nine.” The presenter just picked up the phone OK? You knew that, right?
More interestingly, I learned how to creatively brainstorm. It is a certain relaxed state of mind where you don’t mind looking a bit of a twat and whereby you learn to articulate exactly what is in your head and explain any tangents that come to mind in a way that presumes people are interested.
It takes confidence because you have to believe that those around you (in a place of work this may include your manager) aren’t going to judge or sack your arse for whatever cray cray thing it is you’re about to say. Confidence is forged from leaps of faith where there is a crash mat. I recall when I was in my early twenties, at all these radio stations, being put on the spot all the time to come up with an idea for a show… or a competition… a gag… or an opinion… and freezing, mouth open… but then forcing an idea out somehow. They were probably shite ideas. But the more practice you get the better you get at saying something and if you’re lucky the better the ideas get. Maybe you just care less. Whatever. They were cool places to work.
I can pull ideas and words out pretty easily now. They still might be crap but I suppose I am confident enough to have a mechanism where I can keep rattling ideas out until one goes ding. Ideas don’t scare me.
I’ve worked at home for seven years now and it certainly has benefits when you have babies and when children are small. No doubt about it.
But there’s no one to brainstorm with. Especially now the MA is over with. No one’s asking for an idea. I’m not prompted to respond to anything other than emails. Children are both in school now.
That’s why I’ve been looking at co-working space in Birmingham.
Nicky Tate 