Hi Sam. I started my writing career… by writing, and submitting my work until people would pay me for it.  

When I graduated from university (Media & Comms, University of Sydney) I knew I wanted to write. I also knew what I wanted to write about (gender, social issues, politics), and who I wanted to be writing for (major newspapers and glossy magazines). I also knew that jobs at said publications were few and far between, and that my chances of getting one were low.

BUT - through my work as an editor at Vibewire, I knew a few other young writers who were getting work at those publications. So I decided to follow their lead and just start submitting my stuff until someone would publish it.

They did - and quite quickly - but it took about a year to turn that into a remotely liveable income, and two years to turn that into actual employment. I later decided I preferred working for myself, and now I’ve been freelancing full time again for two years. I couldn’t be happier, but it’s definitely not for everyone.

Other ways I’ve seen people start careers as writers/journalists include:

- Work experience/interning. The main avenue through which most people I know in magazines and broadcast got hired.
- Cadetships. Common in newspapers and broadcast.
- Taking jobs at less glamorous publications (trade magazines, local papers, etc) and leveraging that experience to get their foot in the door at their dream gig.
- Starting a blog and turning it into a business.

None of them are easy (or foolproof!), but all have worked for someone. I hope that helps. :)

I think you know the answer to this already, but of course! Are feminist arguments about make-up and compulsory heterosexuality valid? Sure. It is absolutely true that we inhabit a culture that tells women that we are prettier and altogether better people if we wear make-up (or if we just look like we’re wearing it). It’s also true that we live in a society that makes it a hell of a lot easier to be heterosexual than, well, anything else.

But that doesn’t mean that putting on make-up or dressing yourself in a traditionally feminine way can’t be a positive and (dare I say it?) empowering experience. And there are certainly plenty of women out there who are heterosexual… because (shock, horror) they just like having sex with men. I definitely don’t buy the argument that heterosexuality is innately sexist or disempowering.

I’ll leave you with a quote from Tavi Gevinson: “girls … think that to be feminists they have to live up to being perfectly consistent in their beliefs, never being insecure, never having doubts, having all the answers… And this is not true. And actually recognising all the contradictions I was feeling became easier once I realised that feminism was not a rulebook but a discussion, a conversation, a process.”

She’s a smart cookie.

See also: We’re all bad feminists, really.

The short answer is that it depends on the person. Some people hook up with friends, some people hook up with people they’ve just met. Some people have sex with/make out with the same person on an ongoing basis, for others it’s a one-off thing when they’re drunk. Some people - quite a lot of them, actually - are entirely (or almost entirely) celibate when they’re not in a relationship, others pick up a new person almost every week. There are also a whole lot of people out there who are make-out happy, but who had sex with only a small portion of the people they’ve kissed.

But that’s probably not what you’re after, so I’ll give you a few examples of common patterns amongst people I’ve spoken to:

1)       Hooking up often, but with the same person/people. “Hook up culture is 100% true,” one of my recent interviewees told me, regaling me with tales of college parties “where everyone slept around.” I queried her on this, pointing to statistics that suggest that the average college student sleeps with four people over four years of university. Did she think those statistics were wrong, I asked her - or at least not in line with her experiences and observations? No, she said, they were right too. She explained: “You would have sex with the same person consistently for a season, and you would have sex with them casually. … [I]f the next weekend, if you slept with someone else, that would be a big drama. But it was still very casual sex. It wasn’t like you were doing it because you were in love and wanted to get married.”

2)       Sporadic, “seasonal” sex. Not as in “I only have sex in the spring”, but lots of the people I’ve interviewed go through phases. Maybe they slept with a bunch of people they met in bars (or on Adult Matchmaker) in their first year at university, but stopped having casual sex soon after. Maybe they’ll have a couple of one nighters in the aftermaths of a long-term relationship. Maybe they’re long term singles who have a two-week fling once or twice a week. I’ve also spoken with quite a few people (particularly on the younger end of my spectrum) whose only experiences with sex have been casual and sporadic – and often alcohol fuelled.

3)       Making out with lots of strangers, but not going further than groping on the dance floor.

4)       Not hooking up at all. Statistically, they’re a minority, but there are still more 20-something virgins out there than you think.

5)       Having sex in monogamous dating relationships, either primarily or only. According to data from the2008 National Longitudinal Study of Adolescent Health (USA), the most common sex and relationships pattern is not actually casual sex, but serial monogamy.

Related: The Hook-Up Myth
Help wanted: want to be in my book?

Hi Pam! I studied Media & Communications at university, with co-majors in Gender Studies and English, and the odd subject in Sociology, Psychology and Government.

I’m glad I did arts/humanities subjects in addition to the journalism stuff, because I think it taught me how to join analyse and join the dots, as well as giving me a whole bunch of subject matter to get passionate about (which I think is as important to “being a writer” as writing itself). I was also lucky to study at a university which had a rich and fantastic campus culture, which played a role in my intellectual and political development as well.

As for why I chose Tumblr… the easiest answer is that way back at the tail end of 2007, all the cool kids were doing it. It seemed like a good platform on which to connect with people as well as put my ideas out there – and I still think it is more social than Wordpress or Blogger. Although I agree that it isn’t the best fit for my wordy posts!

Years ago, I was at a pub with friends one night where this guy was making a game of slapping women on the ass with a novelty plastic hand. He’d already done it to one of my friends, so when I went downstairs to buy myself another drink, I was prepared.

I could feel him creeping up behind me, and just as he was poised to slapped and turned around and said, “No. Look, I know you probably don’t mean any harm, but as someone who has to put up with this on a daily basis, I find it really exhausting and offensive. You might think you’re being really funny, but it’s not just you – it’s a constant barrage of sexual harassment. How would you feel if someone did that to your mother?” Or something like that anyway. I was a bit on edge after a particularly upsetting catcall a few days before.

He was mortified and apologised immediately. Better yet, he came up to me again several times that night to check that I was okay. It was awesome: awesome because I stood up for myself, awesome because he got the message, and awesome because it all happened in a fairly calm and friendly way (if also a pretty damn earnest one). Nightclub feminist success!

But one of the reasons I share this story with you is because, to be honest, it’s one of the few successes I’ve had in that field. I’ve had a lot of friends with very different views on gender to my own, and most of the time, I find it easier to just banter it out with them than to try to convince them otherwise. I’m not sure there is a way you can “make them see how wrong it really was”… unless they’re open to seeing it to begin with.

Chances are, like the guy in the pub, your friends think that a bit of nightclub ass-groping is just a bit of flirty fun. And maybe, like my guy in the pub, it was meant flirtatiously: but it also suggests that the guy doing the grabbing felt like he had the right to put his hand to any bit of female flesh he pleased, disregarding the fact that, you know, there might be a person in there, with thoughts and feelings and her own free will. You could try talking to your friends about that, or you could ask them to explain why lifting a stranger’s skirt up in a nightclub is fine in their opinion, but presumably not on the street.

But if they’re not open to the gender arguments, your best bet may be appealing to their emotions. Explain how it made you feel, as well as why. They can argue with the whys, but most people don’t want their friends to feel bad. And if they are cool with you feeling bad, they’re not very good friends, are they? On this issue, at least.