Then there’s Ali, a fellow showbiz writer. She never stops either. Shops, bars, even doctors’ surgeries all have their closing times. Ali, however, doesn’t follow such specific hours. Her worklife is always ongoing, a 24-hour rollercoaster. It’s exactly that which led to her break-up from a boy she’d been with for four years. He just couldn’t stand the pace. Since the entertainment capital of the world, Los Angeles, is eight hours behind London time, there’s simply no other way to cover a lot of breaking news than to pull an all-nighter. Four years of sharing your bed with his girlfriend’s iPad was just all too much for him.
Then there’s me. I won’t go into detail as to what I was doing when I got the call, late one Thursday night in June 2009, that Michael Jackson was dead, but let’s just say that jumping out of bed, throwing on some clothes and running out of the door swearing loudly isn’t exactly conducive to passion. Especially when you can’t even remember whose flat you’re in. Not my classiest moment, but if I’m called in to do a shift, I’m called in to do a shift. As I sat forlornly in the back of the cab that Thursday night, trying to smooth my barnet into something that didn’t look so obviously like ‘sex hair’, I could already imagine Drew Barrymore signing on for my biopic.
The media is littered with examples of what happens when work takes over. Stunning women, ladies who surely would be deemed ‘a catch’ by a multitude of men, are leading single lives well into their forties – not through choice, but through lifestyle. Sometimes, though, my colleagues just can’t meet a guy because they simply don’t have the time or the opportunity. Certainly, there are plenty of careers where the hours are long and erratic, but in the media – especially in showbiz – there’s one extra challenge for women: you’re on-call 24/7, in a work environment packed with more gay men than a Girls Aloud gig … Hell, even Katie Price would struggle to date with those odds.
Indeed, only my friend Danny has a serious relationship he can boast about, although not with another media-bod. Danny’s partner has learnt to deal with Danny’s career by simply not getting involved. His own career – a job in the City that Danny understands about as much as I do nuclear physics – is so far removed from Danny’s job in radio that they keep things fresh by blissful ignorance. Both know their lives require them to do certain things the other would never comprehend, and they just accept that. For some people, your partner not showing an interest in your professional life might sound odd but after several years of trial and error, believe me when I say Danny’s shown us all how it’s done. His home life isn’t constant chats about music or finance. It’s about other stuff that has no link to work. That’s got to be the healthiest way to keep alive a relationship two people so want to last.
Sadly, others find themselves on different paths. My friend Olivia was an events girl through and through, always seemingly at the end of her tether as she put together another showbiz bash or fended off another set of freeloaders looking for tickets to her latest party. She lived and breathed the job, albeit through a liver and lungs battered by regular intakes of gin and tobacco. Olivia would go home in the wee small hours, back to a flat with just QVC and a microwave meal to look forward to, despite having been working with glamorous stars and their publicists all day. That kind of contrast is one that seems even more painful when you reach middle age, as Olivia had. I think it’s this contrast that led to her breakdown. Burnt out and bored with being too sick to work, Olivia pretty soon felt that she had nothing to fight for any more. Within a few months it was all over. Her memorial service was a gathering of colleagues who not only missed their old friend, but were silently praying they didn’t end up like her. Sadly life doesn’t have the happy endings of a rom-com.
So when I find myself working late, slaving over a story about weight loss or a feature on fashion, I constantly give myself reality checks. Showbiz is a big industry and one that fascinates millions – but for most of the time, it’s just a bit of fun. Stressing over something that isn’t the end of the world is pointless. If you do, it could be the end of yours.
I worked for the magazine that first hired me for three years before I decided to spread my wings and go freelance. Since that day, I’ve worked for anyone who wants me. When my friends joke about me being ‘a media tart’ it’s only really their cheeky choice of words that I can argue with. As a freelance showbiz journalist you’ll do pretty much whatever is asked of you, as long as you’re going to get paid for it. We dream of the easy, one-off, big money job – like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman getting paid by Richard Gere to swan around Beverly Hills – but, ultimately, we’re more streetwalker than high-class escort.
Okay, I think I’ll stop the hooker analogy there.
I chose this life so I can’t complain. After a few years as ‘a staffer’ I’d met enough people in the industry to realise that I could make things more interesting by being my own boss. With the amount of time we spend talking to other journalists while we’re waiting around for stars to turn up at various events, it’s easy to keep up to speed on what’s happening employment-wise. I knew there was work out there, and my editor at the mag had promised to keep me on as a contributor. Plus, I’d already been offered work at another gossip mag. Working for two rival publications, however, isn’t exactly encouraged, so I created some pseudonyms which I’d use to cover my back (no, I can’t tell you what they are!) as so many freelancers do. Overall I couldn’t wait to go solo.
A typical day? It’s a lot less settled than it was when I was a staff writer. After getting up and scouring my favourite news sites – TMZ, MailOnline, Digital Spy – I’ll either get dressed and head out for an interview or meeting, or I’ll stay in my PJs and get writing. Resisting the charms of daytime TV is the real challenge. That said, on days when there’s not so much going on, though, it’s important to have a rest and spend time with family and friends. After all, you can’t rely on weekends to be free. Recently I’ve being doing some shifts at an agency that requires me to work through the night – it’s seriously tough. But knowing it’s only temporary makes it all a lot more bearable.
News agencies are a hugely important part of journalism, yet most people don’t even realise they exist. The fact is, so many things are happening in the world at any one time, no broadcaster or publication could possibly have enough reporters to cover them all. Instead, they subscribe to an agency service and use their material to fill in the gaps, material created by freelance journalists, like me. If an editor or producer has a space to fill in their newspaper or a 30-second hole in their radio news bulletin, a quick look at what the news agencies have sent over and their problems are often solved.
So it was that I came to have some of my interviews with celebrities used on TV, albeit with all signs of me totally erased. That’s the thing with working for an agency. You’re totally anonymous – a journalist with a one-size-fits-all style designed to appeal to any outlet that might want to use it. I actually liked the invisibility of, though. By the time I went freelance, my feelings about not wanting fame were solidified; I’d spent enough time around those who had it, to understand the restrictions it imposed on their lives. By now the last thing I wanted was to be one of those famous showbiz writers who splash pictures of themselves with celebrity ‘friends’ all over their articles. Working in the shadows, as I’d become accustomed to doing, you find that you still have a fair amount of influence, but none of the hassle. Sometimes becoming well known can be a career ruiner for a reporter. As soon as fame happens, interviewees become wary and put on more of a performance. Things get clouded.
Working as an anonymous writer for an agency also gives you a surprising amount of freedom. Now, at an interview, I can ask one type of question for one outlet and another type for a different outlet, knowing that I’ll get