#adventurous

The frustrations of freelancing: “It’s really horrible”

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Paul, 41

My Life in a Nutshell

  • I’m a freelance journalist, who was born and raised in North Toronto
  • I try to stay “relentlessly positive”, but I can’t see where the journalism industry is going “other than down”
  • I have a Bachelor of Science and a Masters of Journalism, and my passion is science reporting
  • I want to inspire people to “appreciate how amazing and cool and intricate things are”
  • I wish people cared more about the English language, and not butchering it
  • one of my best experiences was working on my own science program in Moscow for three years
  • my childhood had “happy moments” but it was also “very turbulent” due to my father’s mental illness (schizophrenia)
  • I struggle with anxiety and depression, but have found rTMS treatment “life-altering”
  • I think people see me as nice and smart, but also as a bit of a pushover, and that’s something I’m always trying to work on
  • I would like people to see me as a kind and fair person
  • I work out nearly every day
  • I would like a baby in the future, which also requires making more money, which I am determined to be more “aggressive” about

Paul’s Story

When Paul greets me outside his North York condo building, the first thing I notice is his height.  At 6’4” tall, Paul is a giant of a man, with biceps and pectorals that strain the fine knit of his sweater.

“I warn you, my apartment is a bit messy,” he says.  Then he chuckles, and adds, “But I guess with three kids you (Anecdotist) are used to it.”

Paul’s apartment is slightly untidy, but not really messy, although a half-eaten pineapple and an opened tin of condensed milk sit on his kitchen counter, along with the makings of coffee.

He solicitously offers to make me a drink, but I decline because we are in a rush. Paul is a part-time personal trainer and needs to meet clients in a little over an hour.  Still, I learn very quickly that while exercise is important to him, the body is secondary to the mind in Paul’s world.

“I have a science degree, which is weird because I ended up going into journalism, but I wanted to be a science journalist.  And I was one for a long time.  And that was really amazing.”

However, he says, in the past five or six years, journalism has “really imploded” and work is sporadic, so he does what he needs to do to earn extra cash.  Hence, the personal training.

“I am working on a podcast, but that’s like a multi-hour a week commitment. And it is hard to balance that when, you know, there’s absolutely no guarantee of return.”

Paul says it’s unfortunate that the quality and breadth of journalism is deteriorating so rapidly, given there has never been a greater need for fact-based, unbiased reportage.

“In the last three to four years the amount of pseudo-scientific garbage that is pumped out onto every social media channel is just astonishing.  And I’m not just talking about dodgy stuff, like I’m talking about things that actually can harm our society, like anti-vaxxers, for example.”

Paul calls the spread of misinformation very concerning.

“The reason they are able to maintain this belief system is because there is always new shit coming out that supports whatever their viewpoint is.  So if you’re, you know, vulnerable and you’re hearing all of this fucking garbage constantly, it’s going to make total sense to you.”

Paul has a Bachelors of Science from the University of Toronto, where he was also the editor of the Varsity, the University’s official student newspaper since 1880.

In his last year, a friend went to London, England, to study art at Goldsmiths University. Her experiences piqued the fledgling journalist’s curiosity.

“I thought the school was really cool because it was a visual art school, mainly. And so they’re always crazy artists running around, you know, crazy sculptors running around and they’re getting drunk and having a good time.”

Paul was intrigued enough that he headed overseas to Goldsmiths himself for his Masters Degree in Journalism. While he was there, Paul did internships at several prestigious newspapers, like The Guardian.

“I really liked it because it was quite theoretical.  But I really didn’t like living in England, I found it very stuffy.”

And then, by chance, Paul spotted something else that captured his interest, something that would take him even farther from home. It was an ad for a new TV station being launched in Russia.  He applied for a position.  Six weeks later he was offered a job that paid $60,000 US, a princely sum for a new graduate in 2005.

“It was a shitload of money, and I had student loans I had to pay, so I was like, ‘Yeah!’”

Paul says it took about three months to complete all the paperwork.

“And then, one day, I packed all my stuff up and my friend drove me to the airport, and I was in Moscow.”

Paul didn’t speak the language, and had just mastered the alphabet when he touched down on Russian soil.

“My first night, I took the Metro, which is amazing, to Red Square. And I remember I was standing there and you know, St. Basil’s Cathedral is there and it’s just like, ‘Holy shit. What am I doing?’ I’ve just done this sort of on a whim, and like, this is actually real now. I’m here.”

Paul worked for “Russia Today” for three years.  While he calls it a “full-fledged Kremlin propaganda channel” now, he says 14 years ago the station was just launching, and its producers “really didn’t know what they were doing.”

“They were still building the studio while they were trying to launch the channel.  So we would sit there and write copy and then hand it over to somebody who was literally in a closet that they had put a green curtain in.  I saw them building this thing from the ground up and it was fascinating.”

Because the station was so new, it also meant a lot of opportunity.  Within months, Paul ended up hosting his own science program.

“One day I just pitched them and was like, ‘Listen, why don’t you do a show about science and technology in Russia?’  And they were like, ‘Okay.’  And literally, the next day I had my own show.”

He says while doing the show came naturally and it was one of the “best things” he’s ever done in his life, Paul says he eventually came to believe he couldn’t stay in Russia.

“I’m gay.  And it’s not a tolerant culture.  And I was harassed.  And I had to make a decision.”  

Paul says had he been straight he probably would have stayed in Moscow a few more years.  However, one horrifying experience with his boyfriend cemented his decision to leave. 

“We were going to a gay club, and we were arrested by a cop with a machine gun.  They pushed us into the car, and they drove around and threatened to throw us in jail.  They scared the shit out of us because they were driving around, we didn’t know where we were, we were entirely at their mercy.  There was a guy in the back with us with a Kalashnikov, you know?  And we were terrified.”

He says while he tried to brush off the experience, it soured him on the country.  

“I just sort of thought, you know, ‘Canada’s a nice place.  I have the experience. Now I don’t need to do this.’”

So Paul came back to Toronto, and quickly got a job working for a national broadcaster.  

“I read the news on the hour on radio One.”

He worked there for two years, but then he lost his job.

“My mental health really wasn’t that good, because I had lived abroad and I wasn’t getting the treatment that I needed.  And I sort of felt a little bit entitled.  I was like, ‘I want to be doing science stuff, because that’s what I do.’ And I would pressure them a lot.  And you know, I would come in late, and I think they just got tired of me.”

He cites that as one of his biggest regrets.

“They were just, like, ‘Leave,’” he says.  “If I had been more professional, and I’d stuck with it, you know, I’d probably still be doing that.  Or something similar.”

Paul is candid about his struggles with mental health.  He takes four different medications for clinical depression and anxiety disorder, which he has struggled with since he was in his early twenties.

“When I was at my most depressed, I was nonfunctional.  I couldn’t get out of bed.  The anxiety was bad enough that I would have trouble breathing.  I was completely inert.”

However, he says four years ago he started a treatment that literally saved his life.

“It was like a switch was flipped.”

He says rTMS — or repetitive transcranial magnetic stimulation — uses magnets to target and stimulate certain areas of the brain in patients with depression and anxiety.  

“They put this magnet next to your head.  It’s an electromagnet, it looks like a fat ping-pong paddle and it’s got wires coming out of it,” he says.

“So basically what’s happening is it’s firing pulses of magnetic energy into your brain.  And that either inhibits or activates certain nerve cells.”

He says the treatment takes ten minutes a day, with the typical course being 30 days. The treatment works for about a year before he needs to do a “tune-up” or preventative cycle.

“It’s been life-altering.  I’m like an evangelist about it.”

Paul says the fact he developed mental illness isn’t surprising, given “that sort of thing typically runs in families.”

He says he recently found out his father was schizophrenic. 

“My dad, unfortunately, was quite mentally ill, and that manifests itself in a number of different ways. He wasn’t violent toward me.  He was occasionally violent toward my mother, which is what precipitated their divorce.  That happened when I was five.”

Paul had very little contact with his father growing up, and didn’t see him again until he was sixteen.  

“I suddenly had a desire to see him, so there was a reunion arranged.  It was really weird.  He wanted me to keep seeing him.  I did keep seeing him, you know, over a period of years, but more out of a sense of obligation than anything else, because he still didn’t seem particularly interested in what I was saying or doing.”

Still, despite a strained relationship with his father, Paul says his mother, a school psychologist, did a “fantastic job” raising him.

“It was, I think, what a childhood should be. You know? Lots of opportunity to explore and play and all that sort of stuff.”

He says, however, despite the fact his mother was able to help so many people, she couldn’t help his father.

“And I think she feels badly about that to some extent.  But I also think, you know, there’s not much she can do.  Schizophrenia is pretty tough to try to crack.”

Paul speaks of his mother with respect and affection, saying he learned so many important life skills from her.

“A lot of people, as I’m sure you know, really have poor skills when it comes to communicating how they’re feeling and stuff like that. So it’s a good thing to have. And as a journalist, you know, it’s been a good skill, to sort of build empathy.  Because that really helps you connect with other people, and then they tell you things.”

After losing his job with the national broadcaster, Paul held another job at a competing network for five years.  He was unhappy there, and also found out he was being underpaid for the work he was doing.  When he complained, however, he says he was fired.

Since then, he has been freelancing.

“It’s horrible.  It’s really horrible,” he says.  “It sounds maybe a little indulgent, but like, I’m a 41-year-old with two degrees plus international experience at some of the world’s pre-eminent newspapers.  I would imagine it’s reasonable to make a salary that’s better than what I was doing ten years ago.  You know what I mean?  But that’s just not the reality of it anymore.”

He says, if not for his partner of nine years, it would be hard to keep going. 

“Honestly, I want to make some money. Because, you know, I’m 41. If I want to have a ‘gaby’, ideally I need some coin, right?”

I ask him what a gaby is.

“Gay baby.  Gay dad baby,” he says with a chuckle.

Paul’s partner is 35.  He sees a long-term future with him.  That, and a desire for a child, are motivating Paul to become more aggressive about making money. What that means is abandoning journalism, and doing more work as a public relations consultant for small companies.

“Which is a bit of a shame because it’s antithetical to how I was educated, but it’s a transition I need to make.”

Still, Paul claims he is happy, although he qualifies that by saying, “I think that I’m less happy than I could be, because being under constant financial stress is always going to impact your happiness level.” 

A life behind the lens: “Paul Bernardo was just a foot away from my camera”

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K.D., 61

My Life in a Nutshell:

  • I care more about friends as I get older
  • I wish people cared more about their health
  • A significant hardship I’ve endured is being away from family
  • I’m the fifth of nine children, but never had any children of my own
  • I have been a cameraman for nearly 40 years and have covered stories all around the world
  • My career has been important to me and I take pride in my work
  • It bothers me if I get a feeling my work or effort isn’t being appreciated
  • I sometimes wonder if I should ever have moved to Toronto
  • I wish people would look at me and think: “This guy has his shit together”
  • I am “half and half” on a happiness scale
  • I’m a sociable guy, but I don’t get out enough

K.D.’s story

When I walk into K.D.’s home, a handsomely decorated semi-detached near Casa Loma, dozens of pieces of state-of-the-art camera equipment are strewn across his living room.  The 61-year-old is a veteran news cameraman, but he’s a newly minted freelancer.

“I don’t really have to work, so I’m not nervous.  But it’s a learning curve, going from a $50,000 to an $11,000 camera — it’s a learning curve.  They’re finicky.”

For 37 years, K.D. worked at one of Canada’s leading broadcasters.  In a recent round of cutbacks, however, the senior shooter accepted a package he couldn’t refuse.  

“It was a perfect time to leave.”

It wasn’t, however, a perfect time to retire.

“I don’t like that word,” he says.  “I’ve had a decent life and there’s still lots left.  I don’t think of myself as old.  I don’t want to get into that mindset.”

So now K.D. is starting over, picking up equipment and jobs where he can.  

“You know, I did a shoot with a former colleague recently and got paid quite a bit of money, so I hired an editor to come to my house.  We had bagels and coffee.  It was stress-free.  It was fun, so it was a good experience.”

It is a stark juxtaposition to the way K.D. started out in the business. 

“My first year I was so nervous, and I was driving what looked, essentially, like an old police car, and I almost hit a hydrant.  I ended up scraping the side and the back accidentally, and I was so nervous about losing my job I took it to an auto body shop and paid to have it repaired,” he says with a laugh.

K.D. was just 26-years-old when he began working in Toronto, Canada’s largest city.

“It was tough, very tough.”  

In fact, he says, in some ways camera work was the last thing on his mind when he was a “greenhorn.”

“There’s a lot of things you have to learn about this job.  Where to park, dealing with people, going to shooting scenes, wondering if you’re going to get shot, pushing the envelope with the cops to get the shot.”

But the nerve-wracking first years aside, K.D. went on to have an illustrious career, covering major news stories both at home and abroad.

“Because of my ability, people loved to work with me.  It gave me a good feeling that people had confidence in me, so I excelled at my work.  Work was probably pretty important to me because I didn’t have a family.”

K.D. has seen plenty of danger.  He spent a month covering the Gulf War.

“We weren’t sleeping, alarms were going off.  We’d get up to work all day and we’d get up in the middle of the night because planes would take off, the hotel would shake.  Scuds would come by fairly close, so we’d try to get shots.”

He’s also met some of the most dangerous human beings on the planet.

“Paul Bernardo was just a foot away from my camera.  I couldn’t believe how close he was.  I could have slugged him,“ he says of the moment he shot the notorious serial killer.  

“I looked him in the eye — he was about the same height.  I wanted to see if I could see the evil in him.  And I couldn’t see anything.”

K.D. has also met some of the most famous A-Listers in the world.

“Nicole Kidman just left a good impression.  We got her coming into the Princess of Wales Theatre, but she was coming by during the commercial break.  But she stayed and waited and we did our live with her. It’s amazing how some stars are just so accommodating.”

The ever-stylish cameraman, who has a penchant for Hugo Boss, has come a long way from his roots.  Not only is he 170 kilometres from his hometown, but as the fifth child of nine, he wore nothing but hand-me-downs as a child.

“When I was a little guy we’d get new underwear and socks, but when it came to pants and shirts, we’d open up the big red box in the basement and reach in and find something that fit us,” he recalls.  “Most of the time, they didn’t fit.  One time I remember pulling out a pair of green bell bottoms and they didn’t fit, but I wore them anyway,” he says.

Still, he says, given his “old-fashioned” upbringing, fashion didn’t matter to him.  As a youngster, his priorities were quite different.

“Just going to the river fishing, swimming in the river, staying there all day.  Making go-karts, climbing trees, the skating rink in the backyard, always being active.  It was great growing up.”

K.D.’s father worked on trains for the Canadian National Railway.

“All he did was work and bring money home.  We didn’t have much money, but we never starved. Although, with nine kids, you didn’t eat as much,” he says.  “The big thing was Kentucky Fried chicken.  If we had a bucket — boy, that was a big thing.”

While his father was laid back, he says his mother was the disciplinarian.   

“You didn’t want to be caught doing something.  She’d drive around with a wooden spoon looking for me and I’d be hiding in a bush,” he laughs.

He says, over the years, he has often wondered if he made the right decision in moving to Toronto. 

“Because as you get older — both of my parents are dead, and I didn’t see them much in my latter years.  It would have been a different path.”

In fact, he says, the biggest hardship he’s had to endure is being away from family.

“I can’t call up my sisters.  If they were here, I could call them and say, ‘Hey, let’s go to a restaurant.’  I don’t have that luxury where I can call any of them and say, ‘Let’s go out tonight.’  I’m sure a lot of people live with it; but, you know, your life is much more full when you have family around.”

That being said, K.D. admits life in London, Ontario would not have suited him.  He’s used to the fast pace of a big city and its restaurants and culture.

“When I drive my motorcycle North, it takes forever to get out of Toronto.  And when I get out to the suburbs, I think to myself, ‘I couldn’t live there, because it’s so far from everything.’ I have a subway right near.  I can walk to Yorkville in 12 minutes.”

At this point in his life, K.D. says he is fairly happy and enthusiastic about life, although at points he struggles with loneliness. 

“I don’t do well by myself all the time.”

That is why friendship is increasingly important to him. 

“I care more about friends as I get older, and making an effort at staying in touch.  I lost touch with a lot of people over the years.”

K.D. has had long-term girlfriends, but none of his relationships have ever stood the test of time.  He has no children.

“Certainly, I want to be with somebody, but I’m not letting it eat at me.”

And while he’s never been lucky in love — he’s had a lot of luck with real estate. 

“I bought a condo, bought a house, and have a rental apartment.  I wish I’d bought more, years ago, but things have skyrocketed.  And it’s a good experience.”

With his substantial package and pension, along with income from his rental properties, K.D. is well-situated financially.  It makes the prospect of freelancing more appealing.

“Once you get off the treadmill of work, you realize — ‘Huh, I’m okay.  I could do what I want.’”

And while everyone has regrets, K.D says he tries not to dwell on them.

“I could analyze and rip my life apart as much as I want.  ‘Why didn’t I stay with that woman or have a kid?’  I certainly would have had a different life.  But honestly, sometimes I just thank God I’m by myself.  I try to keep a positive outlook.”

K.D will be going to Bali for a couple months over the winter, and does not rule out freelancing while he’s there.  He’s also expecting some friends to visit. 

“Just because I’m alone, I’m not really alone,” he says.  

“The point is, I want people to to think of me as a nice person, and that I’m smart and that I have my shit together.  I want them to think I I try to go the correct route, try to stay healthy, try to stay in touch with family, and that I’m not bad off.”

Injuries drastically alter life of “mountain man”

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Ronald Piet, 62

My Life in a Nutshell

  • I care about high-quality music, audio and video productions
  • I wish others cared more about noise pollution
  • A significant hardship I’ve endured is dealing with the aftermath of a streetcar collision
  • I’ve been married and divorced twice
  • My greatest regret is not having children
  • Something I look back fondly on is living off-the-grid for two years
  • I think others view me as sensitive, intelligent and kind, and think I’m a great cook
  • I am generally happy
  • I would have liked to have travelled more to see other continents and their art and culture

Ronald’s Story

With the help of a walker that’s heavily laden down with bags and articles of clothing, Ronald Piet slowly makes his way into Toronto’s Forest Hill library. Pain is evident in his movements, his gait unsteady and faltering.

“What weighs me down is my injury,” he says. “Pain, physical pain in my legs, neck and back.”

The 62-year-old says he was in a streetcar collision eight years ago and suffered spinal damage, which causes chronic pain.

It is a difficult fate for a man who was an avid outdoorsman in the not-too-distant past.

“You might have called me a wilderness man.”

While Piet currently lives in a one-bedroom apartment in the Bathurst and Eglinton area, just ten years ago, home was a remote cabin on Manitoulin Island, with no running water or electricity.

“No one would know it by looking at me that I was practically a mountain man,” he says with a chuckle. “I went out hunting with a bear nearby, fishing, wildcrafting, gathering fruits, nuts.”

Piet says he lived off-the-land in this cabin for six years on a part-time basis, before he relocated there full-time for two years.

“I do enjoy being in nature and I also like challenges, and I also like doing new things that I never considered doing before.”

Still, in a life marked by contrasts, life in the North was a far cry from where Piet started out.

The retiree was born in Hamilton, Ontario, one of three sons of Dutch emigrates. He says his childhood was “not particularly good.”

Piet describes his parents, who remained together until their deaths, as “stingy and unkind.”

He says not only would they never acknowledge his excellent grades and other accomplishments, but “both of my parents hit me. Frequently.”

Piet says this is why solitary activities have always appealed to him.

“For example, at the age of ten, I created my own darkroom and started processing film. I was self-taught. I enjoyed it because it was a technical challenge, and it was something you could measure yourself against others with.”

It is this interest in photography that would eventually lead him into a career working with film.

Piet started his working life as a salesperson in a camera store in Dundas, Ontario, and eventually transitioned to processing colour prints and slides at a still photography lab. He is particularly proud of some of his professional photography.

“I did some really fine music concert photography, and MuchMusic bought some to decorate their halls with at one point.”

Eventually, however, Piet says he could not resist the call of the wild, abandoning his job in his forties, to move to Manitoulin Island.

He says his ingrained studiousness served him well. Piet says he learned to live off the land, in large part, by reading and studying, and through trial and error. For those considering making a similar move, Piet says a good place to start is by learning to fish and hunt small game, like rabbit.

“And then you go and spend time, patiently, pursuing those things because both of those activities require a long period of time when you’re not even talking.”

His German Shepherd “Freedom” kept him company, but the isolation would sometimes be hard to deal with.

“Well, books (were) very important, and I also had a good AM radio that I would listen to talk radio shows late at night when I had nothing else to do, and on intriguing subjects or whatever was going on that was important to other people in the world.”

But living off-the-land was not sustainable in the long-run. And when the money ran out, Piet left rural Ontario, for life in Canada’s largest city, after obtaining a job at Deluxe Labs, an Etobicoke picture and sound post-production house.

“You would run test strips, watch on a monitor as the film was coming through, and then you’d know if you had to do anything — adjust colour balance and density, and see whether any other flaws were showing up.”

“I immensely enjoyed that job. To me, it wasn’t even work.”

He says, however, in 2011 he lost his job due to the “whole digital revolution”, an experience that made him “heartsick.”

After six months on the job hunt, Piet decided to make a career change and train to become an RMT. He had just been accepted into a program when he had his accident.

Piet now lives on assistance from the Ontario Disability Support Program.

“It’s hard to make ends meet. It would be impossible if I lived alone,” he says. “But I have a roommate. It keeps loneliness at bay. We watch shows together, do crosswords, have conversations about various things.”

Piet was married twice, but neither relationship lasted. Still, the loss of his wives is not what he mourns most in life. He says apart from his injury, his greatest regret is that he never had children.

“I think about that often, especially as I get older. Like Thanksgiving is coming, every holiday is difficult. Christmas is a big one. It gets lonely.”

Nonetheless, Piet counts himself happy. He loves to cook, and the self-described audiophile enjoys “real high-quality music and audio and video productions. I’m very interested in film and music that is very well-produced.”

And while Piet knows the pain from his injuries is not likely to improve, he still has hope for the future.

“That I live out the rest of my life in reasonable comfort, access to groceries, with a pretty good kitchen and a good sound system and computer and monitor.”