Applications for the mentoring scheme have closed.
A mentor, according to The Oxford English Dictionary, is “an experienced or
trusted adviser”. The term is taken from Homer's Mentor, the wise counsellor
to Telemachus, son of Ulysses - and in these gloomy, recession-hit days, few
of us would turn down an offer of support and assistance.
It is easy to forget how often people are willing to help, be it clearing snow
from a neighbour's path or even stepping in to stop an argument. At work
many of us have been helped by older, wiser colleagues, who saw signs of
promise that we did not recognise or noticed that we lacked the confidence
to fulfil our dreams. They do not expect anything in return, only that you
might, in turn, help someone later.
That is why times2 approached five people at the top of their fields - in
theatre, business, education, fiction-writing and sport - and asked them to
help five readers to achieve their goals. Each is giving their time free,
for at least one hour a month for a year, to mentor one person in each
category.
Here, we introduce our mentors. If you would like to start up a business,
write a book, put on a play, change career or become a healthier person, and
would like to be supported, advised and encouraged by someone who has been
there and has the tools to help you, then all you need to do is apply
(scroll to the end of the article for instructions).
Theatre production: Kate Pakenham, 33, producer, The Old Vic
I fell in love with theatre at school, where Mick Fitzmaurice, my brilliant
drama teacher, helped me to write, direct and act in lots of plays. I was a
shy schoolgirl, but I always felt at home on and around the stage, where I
was able to disappear into the drama of other people's lives.
When I was very young I appeared as a flower girl in a Covent Garden opera
and, as a student, I spent a couple of months on the set of Braveheart.
Through my stepfather, the producer Guy East, I met actors such as Mel
Gibson and Patrick Swayze, but I was never an extrovert teenager.
At Cambridge, I studied English while directing and acting in student plays.
But I didn't enjoy the clique of the theatre scene. When I left, I knew that
I wanted to work in theatre but I was intimidated by the super-confidence of
my Cambridge contemporaries and didn't think that I could compete.
Instead, I went into television for four years. My opening into theatre was
pure chance. I saw a play produced by Sam Mendes at the Donmar Warehouse.
Afterwards I got chatting to Sally Greene, the chief executive of The Old
Vic, not knowing who she was, and said how much I would love to be a
producer. She ended up asking me to come and work for her for three months,
so I took a short sabbatical, which turned into an eight-year career.
I started at the Old Vic in 2001 and spearheaded a programme called New
Voices, to bring young fresh talent into the theatre. I was given incredible
freedom, on the basis that I raised any money needed. To start with, I just
opened up the space and got great people, such as Richard Eyre, to give
workshops. What I discovered was that most people who have “made it” are
happy to give something back.
A few years later, I also introduced the 24 Hour Plays - an idea taken from
the US, whereby a group of writers, actors and directors put on six
ten-minute plays in 24 hours - which has now become part of the brand of The
Old Vic and represents very much what we're about: big theatre events with
great actors.
I am now a producer at The Old Vic Theatre Company, alongside John Richardson.
We work with Kevin [Spacey], producing the main body of The Old Vic's work.
Why I want to help
Whether you're putting on a play or setting up a theatre company, it can be
terrifying and very lonely. Having someone to call when everything seems
impossible can be a huge relief. I've had a lot of mentors in my life, each
one fulfilling a different and crucial role.
What they have all shared is a belief in me that I often didn't have in
myself. For that I am immensely grateful. I would love to be able to help
someone in the way that my many mentors have helped me. While I hope that I
can be of practical help to someone with fundraising and producing advice, I
see the role of a mentor as being primarily that of listening.
When I was setting up The Old Vic New Voices, I had a huge amount of noise in
my head about what it should be. My mentors helped me to filter out that
noise and find direction. That's what I would hope to be able to give - to
be a sounding-board to help him or her to find the path, and an encouraging
hand to give them the confidence to follow it.
I am hoping to find a two-way relationship from which I too can learn and be
inspired.
Starting up a business: Jamie Murray-Wells, 25, CEO and founder of Glasses
Direct
I caught the bug for my own business as a student of English at the University
of the West of England. I was always looking for opportunities. Glasses was
my third idea. I'd researched a gambling model and property but, while ideas
kept coming, I knew that I couldn't afford to get too sentimental. So when
they didn't work, I ditched them. I stumbled over glasses by accident.
While studying, I needed to buy a pair for reading. I visited an optician,
bought some with metal frames and came out £150 worse off. I couldn't
understand why they were so expensive, so I did some research. Manufacturers
were loath to give up their secrets but finally one revealed that the
average pair of glasses is made for just £7. They agreed to supply me and I
set up a website selling glasses from £15.
I set up the company with £1,100, the last instalment of my student loan. All
the cost went on the web design. I put a notice on the board at uni, paid a
guy £7 an hour to help to set up the business and persuaded the lab to hold
the stock. When the orders came in, I'd got the cash upfront and the lab
sent the glasses to the customer. The lab asked for money a month later, so
I had two months before handing it over.
I started up in a student house in Bristol, then moved to my parents' house in
Malmesbury. At one point we had eight people at home; we chucked my sister
out of her room and Mum and Dad were doing bacon rolls like a staff canteen.
The eureka moment came a fortnight after we'd started and the messages were
coming in on the answer machine faster than I could delete them. We'd done
no advertising, except to hand out leaflets at the local station. The
biggest risk is putting your money where your mouth is and so signing a
six-month lease on a converted barn, six weeks in, was terrifying.
In the first year, we had a turnover of £1 million and last year, it was £5
million. We are now selling one pair of glasses every three to four minutes,
or 450 pairs a day, 3,500 a week. We've grown 50 to 100 per cent
year-on-year and have probably saved the British public £50 million on
prescription glasses.
Why I want to help
One of the biggest hurdles facing a person setting up his or her own business,
is raising finance. In our case, we found that you don't get a £5 million
turnover with just £1,100. So by the summer of 2007 we found that we had to
raise £3 million from venture capitalists. These outfits invest only in
seven or eight companies a year, and positioning ourselves took a lot of
time and hard work. On the day that we completed, our money was running out.
It was terrifying. So in the morning we were preparing for the worst, and by
the evening we were celebrating with £3 million in the bank.
When I was starting up ten business angels invested in me. They offered
finance but also gave valuable advice. I'm keen to extend that ladder,
partly because I feel that, as a young entrepreneur, I could really add to
the experiences of others. I can talk about which investment or marketing
methods worked for me and give advice accordingly. Ideally, the person I
mentor would be interested in setting up a disruptive business, ie, one like
mine that will change the marketplace, rather than an hotel which is more of
the same. Starting out on your own is a big risk. He or she has to be
passionate about the project before them, be open to new ideas and be
prepared for the ups and downs.
Above all, it's got to be cracking idea - a category-killing idea.
www.glassesdirect.co.uk
Career switch: Andrew Gordon-Brown, 41, deputy headmaster of Stonyhurst
College
I had made up my mind that I needed a career change after three years of
working with J.P.Morgan's media team in 2003. We'd all been headhunted by
Credit Suisse, but while I was talking openly about moving there, I was also
discussing teaching economics with the warden of Radley College in
Oxfordshire.
I was born in Cape Town, went to school and University in South Africa, and in
1992 came to the UK to do a postgraduate MSC in agricultural economics at
Oxford University, where I met my wife, Harriet. I returned to South Africa
and came back to the UK to work as an equity analyst at UBS about 12 years
ago.
It can be really difficult looking for a new career, and not falling straight
into something else because it's there. And in this economic climate, when
many are being made redundant, I expect more people than usual will be
contemplating a change.
I stumbled across my second profession, teaching, by accident. I was looking
for a job that allowed me to live out my beliefs and values, as I had
realised that working in the City didn't do so.
I looked at other options for about 18 months, but nothing really grabbed me,
and then one morning, I woke up and thought “I want to be a teacher”.
That said, I had written lists of what was important to me. I knew, for
example, that I wanted to work in a business where the head knew everyone.
And when I went back to my list, teacher matched very closely what I was
looking for.
As an analyst I'd had to be at my desk at 7am and not leave before 8pm, Monday
to Friday. My daughter, Charlotte, had just been born, so I was leaving home
before everyone was up and coming back when she had gone to bed, and it was
killing me.
At university I had taken up rowing (in 1992, I represented South Africa at
the Olympics) and, as a result, when I began looking at teaching, I
approached schools with a rowing background. I finally hit on a part-time
appointment teaching economics and rowing at Radley. I never looked back. I
stayed there for four years, until my wife saw this post at Stonyhurst.
It's a pretty broad remit - economics makes up about a quarter of my timetable
and there's no rowing. My main role is to oversee the heads of academic
departments, the development of the curriculum, deliver the termly calendar
and school events, as well as the campus school of technology.
I probably work longer hours than I did in the City, but I live in a school
house so it's not difficult to pop home at bath or bedtime. I also get 18 or
19 weeks' holiday a year. My salary cut was starkest when I was considering
the Credit Suisse offer and teaching part-time. We're talking an 80-90 per
cent pay cut.
Now I'm earning about a quarter of my overall salary, including a bonus, in
cash. But when you factor in the house, holidays and staff discount on fees,
the pay is really just spending money.
At the same time, the old adage is true that your spending expands to fit your
income and when I left the City we realised that we didn't need that much
money to live reasonably comfortably. Having said that, we do watch our
pennies, and we can't just take the whole family off skiing if we feel like
it.
Why I want to help
Changing careers can be very daunting - especially if your parents and
relations don't believe that you're making the right decision. But,
nowadays, the nature of the job market is such that people can and do have
multiple careers and most people, I think, do accept that the career needs
of a 36-year-old family man are different from those of a 25-year-old
bachelor.
What I'd like to share is how I've used the experience that I've gathered
along the way to do my present job. And although I approached my new career
quite methodically, I'd like to help someone else to navigate their way
through their qualms and risks, and tell them, as I tell the pupils, that
when you sit in front of a future employer and are able to present yourself
as someone with flexible, transferable skills and bags of initiative, you
can pretty much do anything. The person that I mentor does not have to be
considering teaching, but I am probably best placed to help someone who is
moving from a corporate atmosphere to one that is a more vocational role.
Fitness and wellbeing, Sharron Davies, 46, former British Olympic swimmer
Like many other children, I joined the swimming club aged 4 or 5. By the time
I was 8, everything else was dropped; by 10 I was swimming for the county;
by 11, I was selected to swim for Britain and by 13, I was competing in the
Montreal Olympics.
Dad was in the Navy, so he was away a lot at first but, from 11, he took over
my coaching. He would find the most reputable coaches in the world and we
would go to their training camp for two months a year. He was very blinkered
because he believed that you could be a jack of all trades but master of
only one, so was single-minded.
When I fell out of a tree and broke my leg, I had to carry on. When I pulled a
ligament in my knee, he just tied my legs together. I swam six hours a day,
six days a week. It became a family commitment: Mum had to make do without a
new washing machine; my brothers had to go without holidays. My brothers
understood that I didn't have much choice in it, but I'm not sure that they
have ever forgiven Dad.
I was pushed very hard. And although I'm against pushy parents, I do think a
child has to want to win at all costs to be a winner. Dad coached me, but he
wasn't a mentor, because with a mentor you have a choice. My biggest allies
were the friends I was training with, because we were all making sacrifices
together.
I left swimming at 18, after winning a silver medal at the Moscow Olympics. I
wanted a break. In those days, you just couldn't take three months off. I
was meant to go to Berkeley College in the US on a swimming scholarship. But
I was going to have to train six hours a day and Dad had left Mum, so after
three months I moved back to London to be closer to her.
I shared a flat with a friend and moved into TV and writing. It was a time
when the media were encouraging athletes to do things. None of it was
planned, but it was quite hard. Before I retired, I ate like a horse because
I was training. But when I left swimming, I carried on eating: I just cooked
and ate and didn't have the wisdom not to. I put on three and a half stone,
more than when I became pregnant with each of my three children. I was my
heaviest ever.
I have no regrets, except perhaps that I retired too early. But my experiences
have taught me perseverance, dedication and a feeling that I will get there.
Obviously there are times when things haven't gone my own way - such as two
divorces - but perfect situations don't exist.
Why I want to help
People imagine that because I was once an Olympic athlete - and they see me
only on TV or in public - that I've never had a problem with weight or being
unfit. But when I gave up sport, it was tough. I can empathise with people
who have been on silly diets, then put it all back on. I did all of them:
the grapefruit diet, the soup diet, the lot. It was only when I went back to
swim for Britain in 1989, that I lost weight. And I know how hard it is as a
mother, doing a job and running round, to fit in exercise.
I've never had a mentor but if I was helping someone, be it a mother or a
triathalon competitor, I'll be looking for him or her to make permanent life
changes, to want to learn how to balance exercise and healthy eating with
everyday life. I know it can be tough and lonely, but children learn from
their parents, so it's really important for the whole family to make those
changes.
Writing: Adele Parks, 40, author of ten bestselling novels
I had wanted to be a writer since I was 5. I remember it quite clearly. My
older sister wanted to be a teacher, which is just what she did. I used to
write about witches and fairies which, thinking about it, isn't far from
what I do now.
After I graduated from Leicester University with a degree in English, there
was no one waving a publishing contract at me (that doesn't happen in real
life) so I headed to Italy to teach English and find inspiration for a book.
I had a fabulous time, but eventually I decided that I needed a proper job
and came back to work in advertising.
I lived in Botswana for a while and then I worked inhouse for the consultancy
group, Accenture. I spent my life on airplanes. It sounds glamorous, and to
some extent it was, but at the end of each day I'd end up alone in my hotel
room, so I started writing.
It was tremendously hard work. I was working 12-hour days, and I then wrote
late at night and on airplanes, just to do something creative that was not
my job.
Because I was very goal-orientated, I followed the regime that my husband used
to train for marathons. He exercised three hours a day, three days a week
and five hours at the weekend. I took the same timetable to write and
devised a work plan: what I should read, how much I should write and the
structure of the book.
My plan was to drop off the first three chapters and a synopsis at an agent on
my 30th birthday. A friend who had been reading my first draft came across
an interview with Jonny Geller of Curtis Brown publishers, who said that he
liked ten-word pitches. So I dropped the work in to his office the day
before my birthday and with it I put a synopsis with the words: “Anna
Karenina meets Bridget Jones but heroine gets to live.”
When I came back from holiday, he'd left a message on my answering machine,
saying that he loved it and asking where the rest was. I cried. It was the
best birthday present ever. From there, I got a contract with Penguin that
May, I stayed at Accenture until September, and my first book was published
in January 2000.
In November 2001, I had Conrad, my son. And then, before he was a year old, I
split with my husband. It was incredibly difficult but I am organised and
there's always a story to tell. So I just carried on. I've written a novel a
year for nine years now. Only one book, The Other Woman's Shoes, was
autobiographical and it was the only one that I didn't plan or structure, as
it was a kind of therapy, helping me through my divorce. Occasionally, I
borrow characterisations from friends and people I meet.
Chick-lit is often marginalised, but I write contemporary women's fiction
about important, relevant issues. I'm proud of my work. In fact, my old
headmaster once described my work as “Evelyn Waugh for the 21st century,”
which I love
Why I want to help
I am constantly asked on my website (adeleparks.com) for tips, and I always
write back at once. Three of my readers so far have been published. The only
thing that I don't like, is when readers haven't written anything longer
than a shopping list or haven't read around their subject and got to know
the market.
Whether my chosen person is a wannabe author or already published, one of the
most critical things that I hope to offer is company. It's very lonely being
a writer. You're on your own and vulnerable to criticism.
So you have to be quite thick-skinned and robust, but also quite sensitive. I
can help with structure and discipline, act as a sounding board and offer an
opinion as to when an idea is good. Sometimes it's very difficult to move
from the dream to reality, and just as hard to find someone who has no
vested interest but yours.
I would expect a person I mentor to roll up their sleeves and be willing to
put in a lot of hard work, because writing is a slog and if it's too easy,
it's probably not very good.
How to apply
In no more than 300 words, explain what your project is, which mentor you
would like, and in what ways you hope he or she will help you. Then send
your e-mail to the relevant mentor. The selection process will take about a
month, at which stage the winning entrants will meet their mentors for the
first time. Your progess will be featured in a year-long series of follow-up
articles in times2. Applications for the mentoring scheme closed on March
1 2009.
Adele: mentor-adele@thetimes.co.uk
Andrew: mentor-andrew@thetimes.co.uk
James: mentor-james@thetimes.co.uk
Kate: mentor-kate@thetimes.co.uk
Sharron: mentor-sharron@thetimes.co.uk
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