You might wonder what I was doing, giving a talk about being an “underdog”. I am a white, British, educated woman with a strong passport and plenty of privilege- whether I like it or not, that is the situation I was born into. You might think that I couldn’t possibly know what it is like to be an underdog. But when I was asked what I thought about the title “underdog” I immediately thought about my personal battle, not a battle with society or those around me.
You see, I believe that the only thing that really holds us back in our lives is our attitude and the way we go about things. There is not much that we cannot overcome, if we really put our minds to it and some of the biggest battles we face, are actually within ourselves. So that is why I am here today, to talk to you about how I went from being a self-diagnosed UNDERDOG, to a self-determined TOPDOG, in the context of my work as a creative.
On paper, my childhood was idyllic. I grew up in a house in the country, surrounded by animals, nature, a lake, and not far from the sea. My mother encouraged me to be creative and from the age of 4 I played the violin, piano, and cello, painted, and read books. That’s what I did. But there was a darker side to what went on.
My father was violent and abusive and repeatedly told me that the reason he was like it, is because I was unplanned. This had a profound impact on me and I started to believe that I didn’t have a place in the world, and that when bad things happened, it was because I wasn’t planned.
I was around six or seven when he told me that for the first time.
When I was 17, I had enough of everything that went on. I packed my bags and moved to Bristol, a large city around 250km away. I enrolled in the local college funding my own way while working full time.
All the while. I was still plagued by this feeling of not fitting in. I did well at school but I wasn’t top, I had friends but I wasn’t popular. I felt the whole time like I was an imposter and I struggled to find my path. As I got older, this troubled me even more. I drank, partied, and neglected my studies, passing up many opportunities because I just didn’t think I was good enough, or capable enough to do them.
One of my main recurring memories for as long as I can remember is thinking what am I going to do with my life? Where will I be in 1 years, 5 year, or 10 years? While most of my peers had their lives mapped out, when I looked ahead, all I saw was a blank space. Looking back now, it seems something inconsequential, but at the time, not knowing who I was or where I was going, was a huge burden to carry.
I felt mediocre. Mediocre to look at, mediocre at work, and mediocre amongst my peers. I didn’t fit into any category and as a result I just stopped trying. Perhaps the darkness of this time cannot be communicated in words, but I cannot stress it enough. I genuinely thought I had no future and there were many times I just wanted to give up completely.
After I finished studying, I remember feeling even more confused. What should I do now? What was my path meant to be? So one day, needing some time to think and to try to find my way, I jumped on a plane to Malta, alone. I intended to spend just some weeks there, enjoying the sun, partying, and trying to figure out my next move. I ended up staying for 10 years.
Some time later, I got a job with a prestigious law firm, working in the marketing department. I couldn’t believe they had hired me, again I felt like an imposter and a fraud, someone that shouldn’t be there and was doomed to fail. I had a good few years, working my way up and gathering valuable experience. But after some time, depression began to descend upon me. I started missing work, missing deadlines, and becoming increasingly distracted. The standard of my work was slipping and I knew it. So preempting the inevitable, I quit and got a job in another firm, thinking that new surroundings would inject some confidence and motivation into me.
I started off well, but again after some time, the demons inside me- that I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t know if this was the path for me, and that I was destined to fail- crept back. But in the meantime, I had started something that I didn’t realise would shape probably the rest of my life.
Through my work with the firm, I had been ghostwriting legal articles for publication in the local newspaper. The editors of the paper had been impressed with the quality of writing and asked me if I wanted to submit an article in my own name. I was shocked. Why would someone care what I had to say? Why would they be interested? What on earth would I write about that could possibly have any impact on anything? Why me?
They twisted my arm and I submitted a couple of articles on women’s rights and migration over the following weeks. The articles were a hit and a couple of months later, the paper offered me my own column. At this point I came under the semi-supervision of a female journalist called Daphne Caruana Galizia. She had long been an idol of mine. An investigative reporter and political columnist she was sharp witted, clever, blunt and daring. She followed the stories that no one else would and she was the only person in the country really unearthing political scandals and holding people relentlessly to account.
I began to tackle more controversial and complex topics, ignoring the hatred and trolls that inevitably came with covering such ground. I looked at how she dealt with the flashback of being a prominent, controversial female voice, and I followed her lead. As I read more of her work, and published more of my own, my confidence grew. I was no longer scared to be judged or singled out and I began to feel like my words were having an impact. I realised that I wanted to be a journalist and a writer.
Meanwhile, at work, I was still suffering. I remember sitting on the bus on the way to work one autumn morning- it was raining, grey, and my shoes were full of water. I looked out of the window and thought with a heavy heart “is this what the rest of my life is going to be like?” Working in an office 9-5, making small talk with people I didn’t like over the coffee machine, fake smiling my way through company events, and dreading the alarm going off every single day. The thought of it filled me with dread and I couldn’t bear to consider that this was all the future held for me.
I spoke to one of my ex-colleagues, an occupational therapist and something of a mentor to me. I told him of my fears, my depression, and the issues I was having. He told me, Alice find something you love doing and that you are good at, and then figure out how to make money from it.
So I did.
I quit my job, packed my desk, and left the office.
My colleagues and mother thought I was crazy. I was leaving a well paid job, with no savings or plan of action, to go at it alone as a freelancer. In fact, having always had a company laptop, I didn’t even have anything to write on, or that months rent for that matter.
I dug out my old iPad which had a cracked screen and I started hustling for work. I joined several freelancer websites and applied for hundreds of projects, I set up a website as an online portfolio for my writing, and I continued writing my column in the newspaper. I also emailed every single law firm and corporate services provider in the country, proposing myself as a freelance content writer/legal writer/ghostwriter. I included my fees and availability and invited them all for coffee.
At the end of that month after working day and night on my iPad with a cracked screen, not only did I pay my rent, but I paid my expenses like food and utilities, and I made enough to buy myself a new laptop.
But you know what the best feeling was? For the first time in my life, I felt like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. I was working hard for myself, on my time, for my money, and I stayed motivated by remembering that I never wanted to feel like I had that morning on the bus.
That was five years ago and since then I amassed clients in every corner of the world. My content, articles, news, and words have been republished in countless languages and read by people on almost all of the continents. Every month, I have managed to pay all my bills and provide a comfortable life for myself. And it’s all down to me. It is down to the hard work I put in, my perseverance, and a desire to be better and the best at what I do.
At this point, I decided to travel. Afterall, my office was wherever my laptop was and I had the freedom to travel and work, wherever and whenever I wanted. The next part of the story starts in Cyprus where I was living for a short time.
It was 16 October 2017 and my mobile buzzed so I reached over to read the message that had come in.
“They killed her”.
My muse, my inspiration and one of the reasons I worked so hard, Daphne Caruana Galizia had been assassinated after someone placed a bomb underneath her car. For some days, my world collapsed. I was scared, distraught, and lost. Being a journalist and one with quite a controversial reputation at that point, I feared for my family and myself.
We knew who was behind it- the government and businessmen linked to government scandals. A group of them came together, planned it, and got some small time crooks to place the bomb under the car. But of course, the government were going to make it as hard as possible for justice to be served as justice would mean many of them behind locked doors.
I had two choices at this point, stop being a journalist and focus on writing, or do my best to continue the work of Daphne, while campaigning for justice, media freedom, and against corruption, and doing additional writing on the site. It was a hard decision to make, and there are times I still question whether I made the right choice or not.
Yes, I decided to continue. While this decision was being made, I had found myself in Albania. A three day visit turned into three weeks and that turned into me booking a return ticket and coming back with all of my possessions and my cats.
By December 2017, I had solved two of the biggest problems that had plagued my life since I was 7 years old and my father told me I was unwanted.
I knew what my purpose was in life and I knew where I was meant to be.
I was meant to be a journalist and write about what I believe is right, and I was meant to be in Albania.
People often ask me “why Albania” and I hate that my answer sounds so cliche, but it’s true. The truth is that my entire life, I had been searching for the country, town, city, street, and house that would make me feel like I was home. I had been looking for a place where I could feel like myself and like I belonged. Finally, in this small Western Balkan country, full of beauty and burdens, I had found it. I don’t know why, but I had.
And at the same time I had found my purpose in life- writing with passion.
For some reason, I had the idea to start a blog about my adventures in this new country. I started the Balkanista with the intention of its main reader probably being my mother. But it went viral and after two years I have around 40,000 visitors a month. And I’m proud of that. My blog has taken me to the most wonderful places, to interview the most interesting people, and to xperience things that I never thought possible. Furthermore, it has given me a creative outlet through which I can wax lyrical about my home and why I love it dearly.
In 6 years, I managed to pull myself out of depression, demotivation, and despair and transport myself to a country that made me feel like the best version of myself. I managed to create a successful business focussed around people paying me for the words I write, and I became successful in campaigning and journalism as well. In those 6 years I have achieved more than in the previous 27 and more than that, I found happiness.
But what was the key to that success? Was it my privilege? My passport? My education? Maybe that had something to do with it, but the catalyst was a burning desire for change. I didn’t want to live that existence any more. I wanted to be happy and successful, I wanted to make money from something I loved doing and was good at, and I didn’t let anything stand in my way until I achieved it.
In today’s world, as a creative, you are no longer constrained by borders, nationality, or background. If you are good at something, someone, somewhere will pay you to do it. You don’t need to move to another country or learn another language, you can use the internet to promote yourself, be persistent and keep on pushing for more. No one in life is going to hand you your future on a plate, you need to decide what rock bottom is, set your sights on something more and then work towards it with every single ounce of your being.
I believe that everyone has this strength inside them- the strength to self-motivate and to define their own future. You just have to really want it. Because if you really want it, there is no such thing as an underdog, only a topdog.
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