I don't know how you do it...

I've heard this phrase quite a bit as I've got older. It used to be when I was pulling in an average of 28hrs of overtime each week on top of my full time wage as a postlady back in the 90s! Youth was on my side... Simple as that!

In more recent years, its been said quite frequently when I've told people I'm a secondary school teacher!

But these days, most people are referring to my role as a celebrant, particularly of funerals.

'I don't know how you do it...' the words I heard over the photocopier this week!

When people ask how I do it... It's this:

I have a range of strategies that I use and I thought I'd share them with you in case you too, have similar battles to face.

Firstly, I don't shy away from the tears. A huge part of the reasoning behind becoming a celebrant is that I too, have suffered losses and I know how it feels. Each situation is unique - I know- and my experience will bear similarities, but empathy is there from the start. Therefore, if my clients are upset, I feel their pain in a very real way and sometimes it's not just their tears that escape.

Secondly, I gird my loins! I know very well what I am likely to be faced with: I will have spoken to my client over the phone before we've met for the first time and it will have given me a good idea about the emotional position that they are in. I'm proud to be the person that they choose to share their memories and stories with, and I have to say... a meeting is not always a sad event: in fact, it's quite the opposite as the quirks and foibles are recalled with wry grins.

And of course, I am a massive fan of a notebook: I sit with my families and we just talk. I listen and take notes from the moment I've sat down and I just let memories flow. I'm not focusing on the timelines, I'm focusing on understanding the relationship and the person for whom I am preparing the service for.

I cannot emphasise enough, how much I appreciate the privilege of being the person that gets to hear the tumbling thoughts and recollections before arranging them into a service that my client can connect to.

Turning my notes into a service is best part and I am most likely to start writing immediately upon my return home, or after a cup of tea to scan back over them and gather my thoughts and remember/note any final additions.

My method is remarkably unremarkable: I cannot -and will not- sit with clients on my laptop. I will share a cup of tea with them, and I'll scribble dates, names and places in what looks like unorganised chaos all over the pages in my notebook. Then, as I begin, I take out my favourite highlighters and highlight whatever I managing to transfer onto my laptop. I aim to have all my notes lit up by those little pink pens!

Immediacy, is key and I'll spend around 3hrs getting the majority of my thoughts, from the notebook to the laptop. I won't stop until I can confidently assure myself that the next time I work on it, I will be able to complete it and my self-set timings are to be able to return a draft within 36-48hrs. If pushed, I'd estimate that a service will take approximately 6hrs to write. Sometimes longer, but rarely less!

Quite often, it's a simple hook that gets the text flowing: a lovely story that can evoke the era of the moment.

I don't use AI to generate it for me. I feel that the story I am writing is human and as I was there, sat on an armchair with my clients, seeing facial expressions and hearing thier intonations as a fresh thoughts came to mind... well, AI just isn't an option for me.

And that, dear reader... is simply how I do the job that others tell me they couldn't. I love doing what I do, I love the authenticity of it and as I've already said, it is quite simply, a huge honour to be the one person in the whole entire world, who gets to hear and craft the last words and memorial service of some incredible people.