Harry Potter and the Art of Writing Like a Billionaire

 

I studied English at university. As you can probably imagine, that involved reading and analysing a decent amount of books.

Also, being an academic institution, there was a fair bit of snobbery and condescension from the staff towards books that weren’t deemed ‘literary’ enough.

In particular, I remember one professor proudly proclaiming that she had never read any of the Harry Potter books, and never intended to do so. Her reason was that they simply weren’t real literature, and the writing style was technically terrible.

That seemed a little odd to me, as I vividly remembered reading Harry Potter as a child and teenager, and really enjoying it. Was I wrong to have done that? Should I have been way more critical of the writing style and plot development?

Looking back, I realise I was completely right to enjoy those books. J. K. Rowling might not be the most stylistically perfect writer out there, but she can tell a good story.

There’s a reason those books sold untold millions of copies while more ‘polished’ prose collects dust on bookshop shelves. It’s because people like reading them.

And that’s important for any writer to keep in mind. Ultimately, your readers don’t give a shit how stylistically correct your writing is, they care about how they feel when they’re reading it.

12-year-old me didn’t really care that the characters weren’t subtle or nuanced enough for some Creative Writing professor. He didn’t care that the plot was considered predictable, or the vocabulary too limited, or whatever else people say.

There are a million ways to define ‘good writing’, but the only definition that really matters is that of your readers. J.K. Rowling probably doesn’t lose any sleep over a few haughty lecturers denouncing her work, because she has a devoted fanbase of millions. And they all pay her. Her writing achieved its purpose.

It’s the same in any area of writing — copy, content, road signs…

If your writing does what you wanted it to do, it’s good writing.

So don’t get too hung up on following all the rules and recommendations and style guides (but definitely don’t ignore them, either).

If the right people (your audience) enjoy reading it, if they share it, if they keep coming back for more, and if they pay you money as a result of it? It’s good writing.

Why it’s *Sometimes* OK to Work for Free

We’ve all been there. Anyone who works under the wonderful umbrella we call ‘freelancers’, anyway.

You get approached out of the blue by some seemingly nice people offering you some work. Great! That’s always welcome. Maybe you’ll be able to buy that new laptop you’ve been eyeing up.

So you get down to business. Discuss the project, the scope, the goals. And then, of course, the price.

“Well, we were hoping you’d take this job on in a voluntary capacity. It’d be a great way for you to gain exposure.”

Uh oh. ‘Exposure’. The word every freelance professional has learned to passionately despise.

I’m not exactly making a groundbreaking point here. This topic has been covered ad infinitum by a million different bloggers and writers. (“haha, they must think ‘freelancer’ means we work for ‘free’!!” etc.)

Being asked to work for no pay sucks. We get it. Everyone knows that.

I’m here to make a slightly different point, though — that working for free might not always be a terrible thing.

“What!?” I hear you exclaim. “He must be a madman! A stark raving imbecile! He must hate money!”

And you might just be right. But, hear me out.

You see, working for free has helped me quite a bit in my time. I think it can be a really great way to get your foot in the door of certain industries, pick up experience when you’re a beginner, and make lasting connections.

Working for free can work, but there’s one caveat: it has to be on your terms.

A while back, when I was a new writer trying to cut my teeth while teaching English in the freezing heart of Europe, I reached out to some companies and offered to work for free.

It was mainly startups I contacted, small operations without a real marketing budget. They needed someone to help them write their content, and I needed a platform. I needed some real projects under my belt.

So I got in touch with a few of them and wrote their websites and a few blog posts for free.

Actually — that’s a lie. I just lied to you and you should hate me for it.

Because I didn’t work for free at all. I got paid — handsomely — in experience, a bigger network, and real samples of work I could share with future prospects.

Even now if a huge company with, like, fifteen figures in front of its dollar sign came to me and asked me to work with them for no pay, you bet I’d consider it.

Sometimes, working for free can be a genuinely valuable opportunity to pick up experience, skills, and contacts that will net you far more money in the long term.

And even with existing clients, I regularly throw in freebies like extra proofreading jobs now and then. They love it, and it’s on my terms.

Still, there are a few points to remember. Don’t get stuck in free work forever — make sure you use it as a stepping stone to get paid gigs as soon as possible.

Don’t allow clients to take advantage of the extreme kindness you’ve shown by offering to work for free.

Don’t work for free AT ALL if you aren’t getting anything back for it.

And next time some tiny company pops up in your inbox asking you to write for their 54 followers in return for ‘exposure’? Just delete and get on with your day.

The Questions Every Business Should Ask Before Hiring a Content Writer

So, you think you need a content writer. And, to be fair, you probably do. A good, reliable content writer who understands the importance of effective content is a valuable weapon for your business, and could put serious money in your pocket over time.

Yeah, I know. Of course I’m going to say that, it’s my job to convince you that you need a content writer. You got me.

But don’t just take my word for it. On average, content marketing costs 62% less than outbound marketing and generates three times as many leads. And small businesses with blogs get 126% more lead growth than those without.

Those are real stats, baby. They have links and everything.

Once you’ve decided you need a content marketer, you need to do a bit of soul searching. You could just jump on UpWork or eLance, or hit up your friend whose nephew is studying creative writing.

But if you want real results, and content that actually delivers, you’re going to need to ask a few questions first.

So let’s run through the conversation you need to have with yourself before sinking money into a writer.

Do they have experience in your niche?

If you run a company selling motorbikes, you might not want to hire a writer who’s been working for ten years in the florist niche (unless they love bikes on the side, or something).

You want someone who understands your audience, who can relate to that group of people and get on their wavelength. A writer who has clocked some decent mileage in your industry is almost always going to be a better choice than someone who hasn’t.

That doesn’t mean you should just turn away writers who can’t provide samples of work in your niche, by the way.

More important is that they understand what you’re about, and understand what your audience expects. A new-ish writer on your wavelength is better than a more experienced writer with no idea about what your business does.

Are they just a ‘writer’?

Lots of writers will try to impress you with flowery words and how they just love writing poetry in their spare time.

That’s awesome, but you aren’t trying to hire Wilfried Owen. You want a writer with an understanding of what your content is aiming to achieve. Which, by the way, probably boils down to ‘more money’.

Also ask yourself: do they get the basics of SEO? Can they define inbound marketing? Will they upload content to a platform like WordPress and handle things like images and formatting? Can you rely on them to suggest ideas of their own? Who’s going to edit and proofread the work?

A writer who understands the bigger picture and can offer more than just words on a page is a valuable thing. Hold tight and don’t let go.

Can I do it myself?

Yeah, really. Sometimes you really can just write your own content. In fact, sometimes it’s BETTER to write your own content (edited by a professional) than have someone else do it from scratch.

(Think personal bio pages, certain parts of email outreach.)

The thing is, most content you absolutely won’t be able to do yourself. If you’re a decent writer you can probably churn out a couple of blog posts a month, maybe handle some social media posting.

But if you really want your business to grow, you’ll need to invest in some professional writers who can put out the right volume of work, optimized for your business.

Most of the time, these guys know what they’re doing. Trust them, and let them do it.

 

A skilled content writer, or a team of them, is a really great tool for any business. Too many people hire talented and hardworking writers and end up disappointed because they didn’t ask the right questions beforehand.

The most important thing is to make sure you and your writer are on the same page from the start. Communicate clearly and set your expectations, and you’re off. A long-term relationship with a good writer can be a huge weight off your shoulders.

The Real Number of Books You Need to Read before you Start Copywriting

“What books do I need to read before I start copywriting?”

“How many courses should I take before I look for jobs?”

“I’ve read 364 books about copywriting and taken $24,568 worth of courses over the last fifteen years. Am I ready to take on my first job?”

I see (some variation of) these questions every single day on social media sites and writing platforms. Every day.

So many people seem to think it’s necessary to read a shit ton of books and sink thousands of dollars into all manner of weird and wonderful courses, before even THINKING ABOUT putting pen to paper.

It isn’t.

I mean, I get it. I did it, for a while. I read a bunch of the best-selling books, all the ‘required reading’ from the greats like Gary Halbert, Dan Kennedy, Bob Bly. I took a few courses, scrolled through advice on forums, hand copied a few ads from the 1960s.

It helped, sure (well, some of it did). But it doesn’t even compare to the learning that happened when I got stuck into some actual paid work.

Now don’t get me wrong – I love reading. Love it. Fiction, non-fiction, articles, tweets, mouthwash instructions, I can’t get enough of it. And I learned a hell of a lot reading through all those tomes of information in my early days as a writer.

But the reality is, you’re going to learn more from one shitty, exploitative, $25 UpWork gig than you are from any book that exists.

Books and courses can teach you a lot, but the experience of finding a client, reaching out, negotiating a price, and doing the work? There’s only one way to get that.

So, the real answer to how many books you need to read is… zero.

That doesn’t mean you should read zero books, or take zero courses. Read and study as much as you can.

But it’s possible to get started as a writer without any formal education.

The best way to learn is to go out there and actually do it.

So do it.

 

Why Cryptocurrency Companies Need Good Copy

Every business needs copy. I mean, that might seem like exactly the kind of thing I would say, given that it’s my job to write copy – but it’s true, I promise.

Good copy and content can make the difference between a company that’s barely struggling to keep its head above water, and one that pulls in seven plus figures a year.

It helps build a company’s credibility and trust, win over readers with valuable content, persuade email subscribers or website visitors to spend their cash, and clearly communicate the brand’s message.

But although everyone can benefit from strong copy, some industries stand to gain more than others – and cryptocurrency is one of them.

Anyone who’s followed the news recently will most likely be aware of the recent buzz around Bitcoin, Ethereum, blockchain and other big crypto stories.

There are scare stories too; talk of bursting bubbles and crippling regulations, but the overall trend seems to be a positive one for cryptocurrency and the technology behind it.

It’s a growing industry, though, and it needs a helping hand. Here’s why:

It’s misunderstood.

Cryptocurrency hasn’t had the best press up to now. While memories of it bursting onto the mainstream scene might be fresh in the minds of some, many others will remember all too clearly the stories about its links to corruption.

Or its affiliation with the sinister goings-on of the dark net.

Or its framing as an anti-government movement.

I could go on, but the point is cryptocurrency has acquired something of a bad reputation in the eyes of the public. People who might otherwise be intrigued by the promise of a digital currency, operating outside of traditional fiat money institutions, are instead turned off by years of scaremongering and smears.

So how can good copy help?

Well, good copy is about persuasion. It’s using the facts and evidence at your disposal, along with a dash of emotion, to convince your audience that they should definitely do what you’re suggesting (which usually involves parting with their hard-earned cash).

Through well-researched, engaging copy and content, you can show people that cryptocurrency isn’t necessarily the force for evil that it’s been painted out to be.

Using quality blog posts, e-books, emails and newsletters, good copywriters can educate their audience on the good side of crypto, helping to re-frame it as the highly promising industry that it always has been.

That isn’t the only issue, of course. Even if potential crypto users are willing to trust the industry, that’s still just the first step.

The next step is understanding it.

And cryptocurrency is COMPLICATED.

From the mysterious mining process to the blockchain technology that underlies crypto and makes it so powerful, the whole topic is mired in baffling technical concepts and cutting-edge processes.

For a long time Bitcoin and its cousins were the sole domain of technical wizards, and as a result the whole space has taken on a bit of an exclusive vibe.

Nowadays, people can jump on the crypto train without knowing how to code in eight different languages or access the dark net. But even though it’s become much more accessible, crypto’s reputation as a bubble of supergeeks and genius hackers has been tough to shake off.

And there IS truth to it. Plenty of crypto concepts are difficult to translate into layman’s’ terms – mining, ICOs, the workings of blockchain technology – these are just a few ideas that non-tech people find it hard to wrap their heads around.

The solution, of course, lies in clear educational content. E-books, email courses and white papers are just a few of the mediums that crypto companies can use to inform their potential customers about what they’re getting into.

A good copywriter can take these bewildering subjects and present them in a way anyone can understand. They can remove much of the fear and uncertainty that goes with buying cryptocurrency, and help convince prospects that it isn’t such a terrifying notion.

But this fear and uncertainty isn’t restricted to the technical side of things.

That’s because cryptocurrency is risky.

Oh, yes. We’ve all heard the prophecies. Bitcoin is a bubble, it’s destined to burst, probably sooner rather than later. Woe betide those who sink money into such a precarious scheme.

With China’s ban on ICOs and exchanges last year, and  constant whispers of further regulation all over the world, the world of cryptocurrency began to feel a little more uncertain.

The recent dip in Bitcoin’s value has much to do with the anxiety of investors, who are selling their currency in fears of a crash.

What’s more, the volatility of the markets isn’t the only concern for buyers – hackers lurk in the murky depths of the web.

Not too long ago a cyber security firm released a video neatly outlining how a hacker could get control of someone’s cryptocurrency wallet by intercepting their SMS authentication details.

Just to prove they weren’t kidding, the group simulated a theft of $4000 worth of Bitcoin.

For these reasons, and many others, buying cryptocurrency involves much weighing up of the pros and cons. Is the potential reward worth the not insignificant risk?

Only the buyer can decide that – but good copy can help. Many of the risks of crypto are overstated, and for several years the market has been consistently growing.

Anyone who bought a substantial amount of Bitcoin ten years ago would be extremely rich today. There’s the story, a legend in the world of digital currency, of the programmer who bought two pizzas for 10,000 Bitcoin back in 2010.

The amount he spent? Today it’s worth about $100 million.

There’s no denying that cryptocurrency is a risky field, and it’s important to note that it would be pretty irresponsible for copywriters to gloss over these risks in trying to promote products.

However, it’s important again to counteract the fear mongering with facts and allow customers to decide for themselves if the risk is worth the reward.

Even when all the natural objections to cryptocurrency have been dealt with, however, there’s still a big obstacle to overcome.

Cryptocurrency is a competitive industry

There are some 4 million crypto wallets estimated to exist. That’s a lot of customers, but when you assume some of them own multiple wallets it isn’t an INSANELY huge market (not yet, anyway).

It seems smaller still when you consider that there are upwards of 1000 cryptocurrencies out there. This means there’s a high level of competition between currencies for a relatively small buyer base.

Of course, many of these currencies are small, weak, and destined for failure. Big names like Bitcoin and Ethereum account for most of the market, with up and coming currencies fighting for the crumbs.

As crypto grows, though, opportunities may arise for smaller companies to gain investors. After all, investing in a new cryptocurrency today could yield enormous results if it blows up. Investing in Bitcoin would be a much slower (if more reliable) route to riches.

And if one of the crypto giants happens to implode, the potential for smaller competitors suddenly becomes huge.

With all this competition, good marketing is absolutely crucial. It’s vital to stand out from all the other companies out there offering seemingly identical services, highlight how you’re a better choice, and show buyers what you can bring to the table.

An effective landing page, focused email campaigns, sales copy that totally gets the target demographic – any of these, if done even slightly well, could give a new company an enormous boost.

The cryptocurrency industry is brimming with potential; it really could transform the world.

5 Ways Technology is Changing the Way We Do Education

Technology has rapidly changed the way we live over the past few years, and one often overlooked area where technology is becoming more and more important is in the world of education.

The EdTech industry is booming at the moment, and there seems to be no shortage of startups and software developers determined to drag education into the digital age.

From language learning apps like Duolinguo, through to sprawling online course providers such as the Khan Academy and Udemy – tech-driven learning is on the rise.

And it’s not just free online programs. Tech can be applied even to more traditional settings like high school classrooms. When I started school in the 90s (insert wistful sigh) we had a single rickety PC in each classroom, and an ‘I.T. room’ that seemed as bewildering to the teachers as it did the pupils.

Today, technology is infiltrating the learning process in all kinds of ways, and it’s having a major impact.

Here are just a few of the ways it’s changing how we learn:

It allows distance learning

While teaching English abroad, I was struck by all the opportunities to teach via Skype that were springing up. Many of these were Chinese companies, happy to shell out a far higher hourly rate than most brick-and-mortar language schools, and promising ‘as much work as you want’.

I had a few Skype students myself, and while I preferred face-to-face teaching it was impossible to deny that this stuff was the wave of the future. It’s not hard to see why – it offers students the chance to learn English from a native speaker anywhere in the world, without leaving their home.

It’s not just language learning where this is an advantage. Distance learning is nothing new, but thanks to the internet and improvements in global communication it’s getting easier every day. Now students in developing countries can access first-world education resources without having to relocate thousands of miles.

At the same time, people with demanding commitments and responsibilities can complete a course in their free time, without having to worry about getting to campus on time. Which brings us neatly to the next point:

It’s flexible

In the past, if you had a full-time job and/or kids to take care of, education was pretty much off the table. Even evening classes are tough when you have competing responsibilities, and making every appointment on time is just a ridiculous notion.

Now, though, you can fit your learning around your schedule. Apps and computer programs don’t have set contact hours; students can access the materials at a time that works for them. This doesn’t only apply to adults – many younger people may find it easier to complete work in their own time without the restrictions of the classroom.

It’s allowing more personalised learning

Pushed by the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, among others, the idea of personalised learning is beginning to take off.

It’s basically a system of learning that focuses on the individual’s needs, on the basis that everyone has different learning styles and preferences and a one-size-fits-all approach just doesn’t cut it.

Technology is a big help here, as it allows for the creation of learner profiles, tracking of progress, and tailoring activities to a student’s strengths and weaknesses. Since machines miss nothing, they may be able to provide a clearer picture of a learner’s skillset and progress than teachers – who have often been too overwhelmed with work to pay attention to every student.

It’s making life easier for teachers

I spent some time working for a school that was built entirely on the premise of an iPad-based gamified learning system. Everything the students did was recorded in the app, all lessons were pre-planned, and all necessary materials were saved into the software.

This obviously saved a huge amount of time planning lessons, gathering resources like listening files and reading sources, and preparing materials. It also saves paper – which is great news from an environmental point of view.

With technology it’ll be possible to make a shift towards more student-driven, less passive forms of learning. But this isn’t just an excuse for teachers to be lazy – it’ll free up a lot of time spent doing administrative tasks, leaving more time to spend ensuring students are getting the best possible learning experience.

It’s more hands-on

Traditionally, classroom learning has often taken on a passive role. I’m sure most people can relate to the feeling of being chained to a desk while the teacher droned on about various mind-numbing theories that held no relevance for real life.

Nowadays, technology has made it possible for a far more active kind of learning to take place, using engaging software that allows learners to apply their knowledge in a more practical and fun way.

Lessons like maths and science have long been torture for people with more practical tendencies, but now the ubiquity of tablets and other personal devices has started to change the tide a little.

As we move toward a more digital classroom, more opportunities will begin to open up. It’s already happening, and in the coming years we’ll see more demand for people to develop learning programs, write engaging copy for users, and convert curricula into software to name but a few.

It’s an exciting time, and the possibilities are endless.

The Waterfront

It was the final night of our stay in Hong Kong. Six months had passed since I first stepped off the plane, in a haze of sleep deprivation and mild drunkenness exacerbated by prolonged altitude. And now, somehow, my stay here had reached its natural end.

At 5 in the evening, I was interrupted from the time-consuming task of staring at my still-unpacked bags by a group of friends who wanted to go and search for food. Why not, I told myself. It was the last night, and I could always get up early tomorrow and pack then. Our group of five headed to an unremarkable restaurant for some forgettable food; the focus of our attention was on each other, the friendships we had formed and the experiences we had shared, which were coming to an end all too soon.

On the way back, we paused at the entrance to our accommodation, our home of the last few months. It was ten o’clock, and we were due to fly early the following day, but when would we next get the chance to explore Hong Kong? So, on a whim, we turned around and headed back into the city. Eventually, we ended up on the waterfront, that iconic sprawl of skyscrapers, restaurants and banks. A patchwork of neon and fibreglass; vaguely yet perfectly mirrored in the wide and still expanse of water that lay between us.

At that moment, I somehow knew with absolute conviction that I would not be going back to the UK permanently. With utter certainty, the epiphany washed over me: something had changed within me during my time here. The heady mix of cultures, the narrow streets and towering buildings, the cramped nightclubs and bands of people drinking in the open air – it had pulled me in and held me so tightly that I hadn’t even been aware of it. But now, watching the myriad illuminated signs and uneven buildings across the bay, my brain began to realign itself, slotting my experiences into place like some kind of cerebral Rubix cube, cementing within me the knowledge that, to some extent, I would be travelling for the rest of my life.

There was never a more perfect metaphor for Hong Kong than that skyline. The eclectic combination of enormous and miniscule, tiny laundrettes squeezed in next to multinational banking giants, the flickering logos of various companies competing to outshine one another in the smallest of spaces. And all of this, arranged so haphazardly and illogically, in perfect contradiction to the peaceful and placid water beneath and the brooding mountains above.

The Hideous Duality of Britishness

I’ve been abroad for several weeks now, primarily among Americans, and this has resulted in the wrenching open of my eyes to the bizarre, unique paradox that is the British stereotype. ‘You’re so British!’ they’ll say as I correct them on a fine grammar point. ‘You’re so British!’ they’ll say, as I finish my eighth pint in six minutes.

There are two key British stereotypes, you see. There is the prim and proper, sensible and upstanding, tea-drinking Telegraph reader. The Kinks’ Well Respected Man, that person who complains in a restaurant when they aren’t quite satisfied with their meal. The embodiment of ‘Very British Problems’; a perennial wearer of Christmas jumpers who probably also harbours a secret yearning for the days when Africans were referred to as ‘barbarians’. The kind of person who keeps a Winston Churchill commemorative plate in their wardrobe for ‘special occasions’ and knows all of Prince George’s middle names.

This is, in the minds of so many unsuspecting Americans, the mold for all Britons, the standard to which we hold ourselves, the ultimate pinnacle of English social achievement. But those people are wrong, and they find this out, in a baptism of fire, when they encounter the second British stereotype. And this happens, for so many unfortunate victims of fate, when they cross paths for the first time with the quintessentially British horror show that is the stag party. Watch the look on the Bostonian tourist’s face change as the groom approaches, white Ralph Lauren shirt torn open and smeared with vomit, his carefully constructed comb-over strewn across his pallid face as he throws back his head and screams “THERE WERE TEN GERMAN BOMBERS IN THE AIR!’

Shock turns to panic on the American’s face, a hot mix of terror and disgust, made ever worse by the dawning realisation that they were wrong. British people aren’t like Basil Brush at all. They are monsters, twisted monsters. The stag party draws closer. The American stands there, dumbstruck in his quarter-length shorts and baseball cap, paralysed by confusion. His friend tries to drag him away; stragglers in the face of a swarm of undead. Targets. The horde draws closer, with the best man at the fore, one bottle of fosters in each hand, arms spread wide, spittle flying from his lips as he yells out, with the urgency and passion of a dying warrior:

“Mate, where’s the nearest kebab shop?”

The American comes to his senses. He jerks into action, stumbling to safety in the last remaining second, as the party sweeps by like the Wildebeest from The Lion King; all twelve of them engaged in a haunting chorus of ‘Rule Britannia’ as they pour into a McDonald’s and try to order beers. It’s 5PM.

Our American friend will live to see another day, but the illusion, for him, has been shattered forever. He has been down the Rabbit Hole; he has seen through the looking-glass, and his life will never again be the same.

Herein lies the complexity of stereotypical Britishness, the confounding paradox that eternally defines the Brit on the world stage, the source of endless shock and horror for those of other nationalities as their chosen presupposition is shattered before their eyes.

Be aware, naïve reader. You have been warned.

Take me to church

‘Want to come to church with me?’ Asked my housemate Joe from the bottom of the stairs. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d invited me – ever since finding out I was an avowed atheist he had been determined to drag me along to one of the services he helped out at, but until this point I’d refused, although I had expressed an interest in going along. This time, however, the church team was low on volunteers, and it would be a massive help if I came and served a few drinks for half an hour. Plus it was exam season and my only other plans for the evening involved sitting around the house and desperately avoiding work. ‘Alright then’ I said. ‘Fuck it, I’ll come, but you owe me a pint.’ And so began my adventure into the world of youth worship.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit curious. My only real experience of church was the old stuffy Catholic masses I was forced to attend as a kid, hours of mind-numbingly tedious religious dogma being regurgitated by an old man who’d picked a life without sex of his own free will. I won’t make a paedophile joke, I promise. I felt Joe’s youth-oriented church would be somewhat different, and I was intrigued as to what went into persuading a bunch of twenty-somethings to actually participate in organised worship. I wasn’t seeking out some kind of spiritual revelation that would shatter my atheist worldview (and I didn’t get one), I was simply interested.

Upon arriving at the church I was struck by how different the building seemed to other churches I’d been to. It reminded me more of the chapel my school had built about fifteen years ago than a cathedral or an abbey; a huge warehouse-esque space with a spacious stage, currently host to some band members fiddling around with their equipment, and several rows of seats. Against one wall stood a refreshments stand, and against the other was a bar, well-stocked with alcoholic drinks. A bar in a church, I thought. Praise be to god, indeed. ‘They should have called it “Holy Spirits,”’ is what I like to think I said, but if truth be told I’ve only just thought of that.

I met the team of about seven volunteers with whom I would be working. They seemed like genuinely friendly people, introducing themselves to me one by one. ‘Try not to forget all our names!’ joked one. ‘I think I’ll manage,’ I laughed. I’d already forgotten about half of them.  The other volunteers were friendly, welcoming and surprisingly normal. I don’t know if I had been expecting a bunch of crazy zealots, screaming religious dogma at me and trying to banish my nonbelieving self from their place of worship by throwing holy water at me, but these guys were actually really laid back and down to earth, more the Jonas Brothers than the Westborough Baptist Church.

Before we got started, the group joined hands in a circle (myself included) and began to pray. For me, this was a hell of a weird experience. I couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that I was intruding on something highly personal and meaningful, and which I was absolutely removed from. On some level I felt slightly dishonest for even being part of this ritual. At one point, I thought we might go around the circle and each be expected to  contribute a prayer, and even now I’m unsure if I would have come out as an atheist and refused on principle, or just made one up.

Afterwards, we set up the refreshments area and began to pour drinks of orange juice and coffee for the congregation, who were now starting to trickle in. I chatted to some of the other volunteers, and they explained that a lot of the people who came here were quite lonely or had fallen on hard times, and simply wanted to see a friendly face and feel welcome. At one point, a man with shoulder length hair and a trench coat sidled over and explained to me in great detail his call of duty techniques over a plastic cup of orange squash.

A tall man, dressed casually, came over and introduced himself as some high ranking member of the church hierarchy. He didn’t look like a typical church official, more like a hip young headmaster or youth club volunteer, all topman jeans and adidas trainers. He asked me if I had been to church before and I told him yes, I went now and then as a kid but this was very different. I wondered what he’d say if I told him my concerns that organised religion was a powerful tool of mass oppression and manipulation that had set humanity back hundreds of years and did far more harm than good in the world. ‘It’s not really how I imagined it.’ I decided to say. We talked a bit more about everyday stuff, and as he bid farewell said he would like to see me here again, and I was welcome any time. ‘Yeah, sure!’ I smiled. He seemed so nice; I just didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

We met up with John, a friend of Joe’s who I knew pretty well, and who seemed very surprised to see me in a church, and I think perhaps hoped I was considering becoming a Christian. We stood around in the area before the stage, and the music began. It was a Christian rock band, so obviously the music was pretty terrible from the perspective of a rock music fan, but still preferable to an organ and a hymn book. I watched, intrigued, as the worshippers around me swayed to the rhythm of the music, eyes closed and arms outstretched, singing along with emotion and passion. I remembered my old school assemblies where all the kids would do their best to sing as little as possible, throwing darting glances around to make sure they weren’t accidentally being more enthusiastic than anyone else. This was very different; everyone was belting out the words, smiles etched across their faces, proud and liberated.

It reminded me a little of a live music event, a festival or a gig; everyone briefly joined together, bound by devotion to the same music and united by an elevated state of mind. The only difference was, these people were praising god, not forming mosh pits, and their collective high came from a sense of shared devotion to their faith rather than 12 cans of Strongbow and half a gram of street MDMA. Once again, I felt a little like an intruder, like I was an onlooker to something that I could never truly be part of; I watched people revel in a sense of deep connectedness to one another that I was not permitted to share. One guy, a tough-looking bloke with a shaved head and tattoos, kept running from one end of the church to the other and then back again, skipping high into the air, becoming increasingly fatigued but never stopping, wearing down the soles of his New Balance trainers in a reverie of spiritual devotion.

After the singing was over we settled into our seats for the pastor’s sermon. Until this point, I had been impressed by how normal and down to earth everyone had been, how they had shown no sign of judgement nor attempted at any point to overtly shove their message down anybody’s throat (not bad considering that we were in a building constructed for that very purpose).  Things were, however, about to get a little weirder. The pastor’s talk was based around marriage, and Christian marriage specifically. I knew some controversy was inevitable, and, sure enough, about halfway through the speech came the assertion that gay Christians should really not marry. The bible, he explained, had a strict definition of what a Christian marriage involved, and gay Christians, he advised, ought to consider remaining celibate. Easy for you to say, I thought, happily married for decades because you were lucky enough to be born straight. I didn’t say it though; I didn’t want to be chased by a mob and burned at the stake with all the other faggot-lovers. But perhaps that’s a little harsh – I had been warned about this pastor’s tendency to be a bit contentious, and I also agreed with much of his message, such as his belief that married couples should view divorce as a last resort and not an easy option.

After the service I grabbed myself a bowl of free ice cream and the pint I had been promised by Joe, and hung out with a few of the church volunteers, who invited me to several weddings and the church Christmas party (a massive piss-up, apparently). As I left the church, I found myself forced to reconsider my opinion on organised religion. I’m still no closer to believing in any of it – it’ll take more than a few impressively organised church services to change my mind on that score – but I was moved to look more kindly on it all.

The people at Joe’s church weren’t trying to convert me, they didn’t preach a message of hate or spew out divisive and obnoxious dogma; they did provide a welcoming community for some of the most lonely and vulnerable people in society and a chance for young Christians to really belong to something. The general opinion on Christianity in this country is been that it is dwindling, around 50% of the UK now identify as agnostic or atheist, and many church congregations are ageing (and dying) rapidly. For the church to survive, it has to adapt, to be dragged into the 21^st century by the lapels of its ceremonial robes, and Trent Vineyard seem to be doing a pretty solid job of that. In a time where religion has become an easy target, where those who believe in God and go to worship are fair game for bullies from all sections of society, it is admirable to see that there are still places where young Christians can go and share in their faith with pride.

It’s just a shame you have to believe in God to get in.

Do you believe in life after uni?

The other day, while sat in a lecture, my eyes drifted from the riveting PowerPoint of discourse analysis terms, and I noticed a poster on the wall. It featured a man on a running track in the start position, with the caption: “Get the best possible start to your career”. I forget the name of the company; I think it was a consultancy or banking firm. But that’s irrelevant; these kinds of advertisements are increasingly common around Universities and similar institutions.

They perpetuate this idea that, after graduating, you HAVE to get a job, straight away, wait even a second and you’ll be unemployed forever, left to rot on the scrapheap of society, doomed to scrounge forever from the bank of mum and dad until you eventually die huddled in rags on a street corner.

You have to do this. And, of course, let’s not forget the indisputable fact that life after University is going to be horrible. No more partying, no more fun, you have to get a job you hate and work in a dull and uninspiring environment for the rest of your miserable life. Everybody knows that, right? After Uni, it’s basically a choice between unemployment and 60-hours a week of corporate hell. And the recruiters will tell you that, time and again, because it suits them to.

People sit at home and fret over internships and experience, terrified that if they don’t secure something within the remaining year of University they’ll never get a job. This idea of graduation as a fast approaching deadline is what leads to so many students pursuing careers they’ll ultimately hate, because they’re forced to go into any job, anything to avoid the terrible, looming spectre of unemployment.

But I don’t think that’s true. I’d like to go into a career that I enjoy, that inspires me, allows me to travel around and work on projects that get me genuinely excited – and something that allows me the free time to have a bit of fun, too. If I got a job like this straight after uni then great, no worries. But if I don’t, it isn’t the end of the world.

We live in a time where jobs are increasingly hard to come by, with an increasing number of people with degrees and a struggling economy. It’s easy to get down about this, and envy our parents the fruitful job market they had access to at our age. But, in many other ways, we have many fantastic opportunities now that previous generations never had.

With few responsibilities and no pressure to settle down any time soon, the world really is our oyster. Why not find employment abroad, teach English as a foreign language in Brazil or become a surf instructor in Australia? Coach football to kids in America or work on a ski resort in the Alps? These jobs don’t pay particularly well, and they aren’t exactly a long-term career option, but there’s no rush. Find a job in a call centre or retail store, until you’ve saved enough to go backpacking for a few months. Maybe you’ll meet a bartender in Spain who will offer you a job, and what’s to stop you taking it for a while?

So, instead of reaching the end of University without a job offer and falling into despair, instead consider that it could be the best thing that ever happened to you, and enjoy the freedom of not being tied into one soul-destroying career for fifty years.