The Red Road (36 page)

“Have you thought of perhaps
studying engineering or something like law?” Mr Finn suggested.

“I don’t think I’ve got the
patience for something like law,” I said. “I’m not fond of
writing essays, and I imagine that it’s a bit like that when you
have to argue cases and everything. Engineering ... It’s not
something that I’m particularly interested in. I like gadgets and
that, but I wouldn’t be able to build or design one.”

“Well okay, don’t wait too
long to come to a decision. It will be important at the end of the
day that you choose the appropriate A-Levels, to steer you in the
right direction.”

I nodded in understanding. It was
the way things went at the end of the day – GCSEs to determine your
A-Levels, A-Levels to determine your university degree, your degree
to more or less determine your career choice.

“If you’re keen on studying
maths and economics, then another career choice could be
accountancy,” Mr Finn said. “But if you’re still unsure, then
there are career talks that the sixth formers are encouraged to
attend. Third years are permitted from time to time, if there is
space. If you hear of one happening that you think might be of
interest, then do go along.”

“Good point,” I said. “I will
do.”

“Now, how is your revision going?
We both already know that your geography classes have ended. Is that
the same for all your other classes?”

“Yes, we’re either revising and
doing tests in class, or we’re finishing off our coursework.”

“Have you finished all yours?”

“I have. Ages ago,” I smiled,
feeling satisfied that I was able to tell him that.

“Excellent,” Mr Finn said,
looking suitably impressed. “That means that all you need to do now
is pass your exams,” he chuckled.

“Yes, that’s all!” I chuckled
along with him.

“Have you been revising off past
papers at all?” Mr Finn asked. “Or are you just using your
notes?”

“Mainly just my notes for the
moment,” I said. “Some of the teachers won’t let us keep the
past papers, such as science, because the questions hardly ever
change.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. Past papers
are good for revising from. Still, at least if you know that it
doesn’t change, and you did okay in your mocks, so you should be
fine on the actual day.” He then picked his satchel up off the
floor and began to rummage around inside, producing a booklet which
he handed to me. “That’s the geography paper that you were given
for your mocks,” he said. “If you base your revision around that,
it will probably help you with your final exam.”

“Oh, thank you, sir.”

“No problem, Joe,” Mr Finn said
with another smile. “Is there anything else you want to talk
about?”

I thought for a moment, then shook
my head.

“Very well. In that case I think
we’re all done here. I like these sessions with you, Joe, they’re
always very easy and straightforward.”

“No worries,” I said, and took
the paper back to my dormitory.

~ ~ ~

“What work have you got to do
tonight?” I asked Baz one evening, as we walked along together.

It
was a pleasant night, warm and light, and so we had decided to go for
a walk around the grounds together following dinner, rather than go
straight back to Butcher. With classes having ended, I knew I should
start drawing up a revision timetable. Most of the others in my year
seemed to be dithering somewhat, exploiting the free time we all had.
I was attempting to remain focused and not procrastinate too much,
even though creating a revision timetable was exactly that.

“No work left to do,” Baz said
happily.

“Going to revise?”

“Nah,” he said. “We’ve got
ages until the exams start.”

“Well, no, we’ve got about six
weeks.”

“That’s ages,” Baz said. “I
think I’m just going to watch TV on my Game Gear, during prep.”

“I forgot you had one of those. Is
the reception any good?”

“Most days. Sometimes I can’t
get anything on it at all, though. Shhhh,” he then added, as he saw
two teachers walking along together ahead of us.

One was Mr Rod, the
housemaster of Martin. The other I couldn’t quite place. I had seen
the man before though, I was sure. Perhaps he was a sixth form tutor.
While video game machines were permitted by the school, as long as
they didn’t interfere with our studies, televisions of any sort
were banned. Baz would have his Game Gear permanently confiscated if
it was discovered that it doubled as one. The teachers had ears for
talk of the sort of illegal equipment that Baz possessed.

The man I thought I recognised then
turned around. “Oh, hello again,” he said.

I said nothing, unsure if it was me
that had been spoken to, while trying to work out why the man’s
face looked so familiar.

“It’s Adrian Willis,” the man
said as I continued to look blankly at him. “We met in church, oh,
sometime last term?”

“Ah, Adrian,” I said, now
remembering the man. “Good to see you again.” Though he had
recognised me, Adrian still had a searching expression on his face as
he shook my hand. “It’s Joe,” I said.

“
That’s
it,” Adrian
said. “I knew it started with a J. Terribly sorry. It takes me a
couple of occasions to remember names these days. I never used to
have the problem until recently. That’s what happens when you spend
all your days working at home on your own, I guess. Are you boys off
to prep?”

“I am, yes. Just got to get a
revision timetable and all that sorted out. I’ve got my GCSEs
coming up in about six weeks or so. Are you helping out with
something to do with the church? Evening service?” I asked. I
wasn’t sure if one actually happened.

“No,” Adrian said. “I’m
actually here to give a career talk this evening. Are third years
still allowed to come to the career talks?” he asked, looking at Mr
Rod.

“Sometimes,” the
housemaster said. “It depends on how much work they have to do and
how much room there is. It’s mostly for the sixth formers.”

“We don’t have any coursework
left to do,” I said.

Adrian looked back at Mr Rod, who
considered it for a moment, before okaying our attendance.

“If
there’s space,” Mr Rod reiterated. “Otherwise, you’re to go back
to your dorms for prep as normal.”

“Interested in a career as a
freelance journalist?” Adrian smiled at Baz and I.

I hadn’t considered it at all if I
were being honest with myself. Since talking to Mr Finn and weighing
everything up, I now had my heart set on becoming a multimillionaire
trader, with a big house, two Ferraris in the garage, and some
ex-model for a wife. But Mr Finn did raise a good point – a back-up
plan wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Sure,” I said. “No harm is
there? Want to come?” I asked Baz.

“I’m crap at English,” Baz
said.

“So are a lot of the people who
work in journalism,” Adrian chuckled.

Baz mulled it over for a moment and
then agreed to join me. The four of us made our way to the classroom
block.

~ ~ ~

“There’s room,” Mr Rod said as
Baz and I waited in the corridor. “Come in, but sit at the back.”

We walked into the classroom, quite
surprised to see just how few had bothered to turn up to Adrian’s
talk. Only seven sixth formers occupied desks at the front. One was
Wayland Hutchings, from my athletics sessions. I had learned his name
over subsequent meetings, but still didn’t know much about him.
Fantasy and comic book obsessed, the teachers had suggested he would
end up being a drifter for the rest of his life, as he seemed to live
in a dream world.

“Are we all here?” Adrian asked
after a time.

“I think we’ve got everyone that
is going to show up,” Mr Rod said, with a trace of apology in his
voice.

“Not to worry,” Adrian said.
“I’ll start by introducing myself. My name is Adrian Willis. I
have worked as a freelance journalist for the past twelve years. I
was actually schooled here, up until the age of eighteen, when I
decided that I wanted to take control of my own future and be my own
boss.”

That wasn’t true, I knew. He had
been expelled for possessing and supply drugs. I said nothing and
continued to sit in silence as the man spoke.

“I chose to freelance, as there
are aspects of the job that appealed to me – being able to work
from home, choose when to work and how much to do, as well as get
involved in a number of different subjects. There is also a great
social aspect to the work, as it can involve meeting a lot of your
clients in person, most of which will happen over a pint. Or six,”
he chuckled, most of the classroom joining in.

“So, what can I tell you about
becoming a journalist?” Adrian continued. “Assuming that basic
spelling, grammar and punctuation are not difficult for you, then
you’re already on your way. The next thing to do is to read and
write a
lot
! That’s
probably one of the most, if not
the
most, important aspect of
making it. You need to read a lot of published works to find out how
to present a story, how they style content, and how they attribute
and research facts.

“To begin with, you need to write
a lot so you can hone your own skills. I’ll not lie to you, when
you first start out your writing will be of the most basic and
perhaps even substandard nature. I have retained articles that I
wrote many years ago that I find embarrassing to read today. Still,
it was a start, and my skills have improved considerably since. To
improve your writing, you should write every day, even if you do
nothing with it but throw it away. You should probably aim for around
two to three thousand words a day—”

Gasps from everyone in the room cut
Adrian off. That was a lot of words! I looked at Baz, who appeared
equally stunned. That was my GCSE R.E. essay that I had spent over a
month writing in one day! How was that possible?

“That’s a lot to write,” one
of the sixth formers echoed.

“It sounds like a lot, but it’s
not,” Adrian said. “You can write two thousand words in under two
hours once you’ve practised enough.”

“How?” another asked
incredulously.

“A computer helps,” Adrian
smiled. “I don’t write by hand a lot any more, as it’s simply
not fast enough. The computer can help with your spelling, and some
of the newer ones can even help sort out your grammar.”

“Really?
Grammar
?”
another sixth former said.

“It’s true,” Mr Rod said.
“Father John has got a computer that can do it. It came with lots
of desktop publishing software that he uses to write all the church
bulletins and orders of service.”

“How much did it cost?”

“At a guess, over two thousand
pounds.”

“Two thousand pounds?” another
of the six formers said. There were a lot of big numbers being thrown
about tonight.

“I can well imagine that it did,”
Adrian said. “But, no, the key to success is to keep reading and
writing.”

He went on to talk a lot more about his experiences,
examples of recent work he had undertaken, and the time that went
into the career of freelance journalism.

However, I was ashamed to say that
Adrian’s presentation had totally put me off the idea of becoming
one myself. It sounded as if you were always working, always looking
for leads and stories, and needing to be on the go twenty-four seven.
Sure, you could be control of your own time, but it sounded like
there was a great deal more to it than that. I didn’t want that
sort of life. I would prefer to go into an office, do the job, come
home and forget about it. The way Adrian had described his life
sounded like there was never any getting away from it, even on
weekends.

“Questions?” Adrian eventually
asked.

Wayland Hutchings raised his hand.
“I want to become a writer when I finish my A-Levels. Would it be
better for me to get a job in journalism, instead of going to
university?”

“Fiction or non-fiction?” Adrian
asked.

“Fiction. I want to write novels.”

I saw poorly concealed grins from
some of the other boys in the class. Evidently, Wayland was a source
of ridicule for some. He ignored them as best he could, focusing on
Adrian.

“I don’t know a lot about
writing novels,” Adrian said, “but I do have a couple of friends
who do it. They’re full-time writers now, after five or six years
of producing novels, and have managed to pack in the day job. From
what I gather, the same is true of novel writing as it is with
becoming a freelance journalist – read lots and write lots. Join
writers’ groups and attend conventions whenever you can. Networking
can play as big a part in your search for a book deal as your writing
skills do themselves.

“As for skipping university, I wouldn’t do
that. A degree is still a degree, and you can work on newspaper
projects and the like at university, to enable you to hone your
skills. Skipping higher education might allow you to gain an income
and professional experience sooner, but remember that you will be
going to job interviews with no qualifications and only your own
spare-time work to show. But as far as novel writing is concerned, do
read a lot of the authors that are selling well, study the market and
do what you can to emulate their style and approach.”

“A bit hard to read a lot when the
teachers keep confiscating my books,” Wayland muttered.

“I don’t know anything about
that matter,” Mr Rod said in response to a glance from Adrian. “But
if your housemaster thinks that the material is not appropriate or is
causing you to fall behind with your studies, then they have a right
to take it away from you.”

“Reading is still reading,
Edmund,” Adrian said, using Mr Rod’s first name. “It’s
subjective in nature, and you can’t please everyone. Some will
swear by literally fiction, refusing to read anything but
To Kill
a Mockingbird
,
The Catcher in the Rye
,
Animal Farm
,
1984
, and
The Lord of the Flies
, while others won’t
go anywhere near them and will prefer Tolkien, Iain Banks, Terry
Pratchett, Michael Crichton, and Patricia Cornwell.”