An UnConventional Life

Saturday, 8:14am: I realise I have arrived at Manly early - far too early compared to my usual routine. I woke up at 6am so I could get here on time and it seems that for once the train and bus managed to bear me to my destination without problem. I buy a cup of coffee from the lovely girl at Zali's outside the Manly Pacific Hotel and sit watching the morning unfold. The sounds are the most interesting part of this life - the surf, the excited beachgoers, loose groups of walkers, the blunt rhythm of joggers and the occasional huffs and puffs from canines labouring down the path.

The 10th Annual Freelance Journalism Convention begins.

It's a lively affair, the speakers are knowledgeable about their respective fields and most of them are far too entertaining to be confined in a room of journalists when the sun is blazing down on Manly Beach as it is this weekend. Ironically, however, the convention become beset by technological problems as the panellists try to discuss the virutes of technology, gadgets and the internet. In some instances I feel as if I know more about how search engines work than the bunch up the front.

The real surprise is my ability to talk to other freelancers. I could name them all now - Hilary who writes dance reviews for The Age, Roy the photographer from Stradbroke island, Kathryn who edits AdBrief News, Zoe, Michael, Susan, Silvia, Clare, Tim. Most of them are pretty cool and I find myself exchanging experiences on a level that only other freelancers can understand. We talk about pitching and word rate, lead times and pay lags. We all speak the same dialect of journalese.

The 10th Annual Freelance Journalism Convention ends.

It was great. I recommend it. What next? More writing, I hope. And perhaps a network of freelancers to keep the conviviality going as we wend our way through the maze of publications that beckon and reject our words on a whim.

Sunday, 5:50pm: Beq and I meet for a drink at the Bavarian Bier Cafe on Manly Wharf. It's sunset and there are still poseurs about but neither of us care because we have a stein in our hands and a smile on our faces. Beq's on night shift - not only is she managing the Emergency Ward, it is also a full moon, which generally spells tragedy for everyone in the medical field.

For me, it's the end of a full weekend and the beginning of a full week, a concept that tires me before I can drain the dregs of my Spaten. Thank god for beer, eh? Not long after out quaff we're waiting for laksa and wonton at the local Malaysian outlet. It gets dark. The moon rises. I go home, exhausted.