Redundant old me

Well it has finally happened. The agency I work for is closing its doors at the end of the month and this old hack is heading back into the big wide world to compete with younger and lovelier writers for the scant amount of work that exists out there.

I'm not feeling sorry for myself really. People all over the country are losing their jobs and it looks like things are going to get worse. At least I don't have the worry of childcare costs and school fees like some of my colleagues. But eeeeh pet, it does make you think.

There are many positive thing about being older. Confidence for a start - by this I mean confidence in your own abilities at being able to grasp and embrace the complications of a brief and creating copy that hits the mark running. Every writer I know has encountered blank page syndrome. Those are the days when all you can do is to sit there, staring at your computer screen with jumble of words going around in your head and not one making any sense. As you get older, facing up to the blank page becomes part of the writing process - you know enough to get up, walk away and come back again. My trick is to go to the loo. the minute I'm sat there with my nicks around my ankles, ideas start to flood into my head. The trick is to get back to my desk asap before I forget - so down the office I march, muttering the words over and over, which inevitably leads to some kind colleague asking if I'm alright. At that point, every thought leaves me - so I try to keep my head down and my thoughts intact until my fingers are tapping the keyboard.

Perhaps now I'm being made redundant, and will be working from home for at least some of the time, I should just sit on the loo all day.

Here's a question for all you crones out there. Do I put my age on my cv or portfolio? Or should I just slap on an extra layer of polyfilla and smile bravely as I shake the hand of the creative director young enough to be my grandson or daughter? It's a dilemma!