What with A-level results coming back today, I thought I’d summarise my experiences since I started those “all important” courses at age 17.
When I started my A-levels, I wanted to be a vet. I liked animals, and I was good at science (ish). I was encouraged by my teachers to go for both biology and chemistry at A-level due to me being one of the most “naturally gifted” students they’d seen. If only back then I’d realised they were doing it to get their quotas up from a troubled classroom. My other two subjects, history and geography, were subjects I was good at too, but in my mind were easy grades. I could get a B or A in them without much effort.
It didn’t take long for science at A-level to make me its metaphorical bitch. To cut a long story short I failed chemistry A-level and then only managed a D and an E in biology at AS and then A-level. My other grades got me into an archaeology course at Nottingham University.
Three years of archaeology. Did I want to be an archaeologist? Not really. A masters in ancient history followed, and a very short flirt with the idea of doing a PhD.
I went through five or six different career choices throughout my life but my passion for writing never left me. I’ve been doing it since I could string a half-decent grammatically sentence together and I can type while daydreaming about what I’m going to be writing later on that day.
So here I sit, age 22 and trying to make my way into a career in journalism, editing or publishing. I’m staring into the deep abyss of job applications, rejections, expensive interviews and… More rejections.
It’s odd how many things can change over 5 or 6 years but some things remain the same!