When I joined The Siren in September 2012, I fully intended to stay behind the scenes. Like many people who initially contact us, I was convinced that I would never have the confidence or ability to write regularly for a weblog that could be viewed by, well, anyone. Over the past year however, I’ve appeared on TV, bagged free entry into gigs, travelled to the NUS Wales Awards, and covered the madness of SUSU Election week…all in the name of journalism.


At the SU Student Union Awards with last year’s fab editor-in-chief, Roisin O’ Connor.

The brilliant thing about writing for The Siren is that we don’t like to take ourselves too seriously. Hell, we don’t even have an office. We’re just a small, eclectic gathering of writers and editors who like to don fake moustaches and go to poetry readings (well okay, that’s just me and Nat). But seriously, if you’ve got something different to say about Dylan Thomas’s “lovely, ugly town”, we want to hear from you. We want to hear all about the local bands you love to see, the weird campus trends that have you cringing, and the best places to go and eat this side of the SA1. Basically, we want to hear about anything and everything that you find funny and inspiring about living as a student in Swansea.


The Siren’s new co-editors at their usual height of maturity and sophistication. (Natalie to the left, me on the right).

You don’t have to be an English student to write for us, and you don’t have to be interested in pursuing a career in journalism after you finish uni. You don’t even have to be a regular feature writer; we can include your thoughts and experiences in our anonymous monthly “What I’m really thinking” section. My advice to anybody interested in joining us would be to just simply go for it. Both Natalie and I appreciate how daunting to start something new, particularly to when it comes to putting your writing out into the public eye for the first time.  We both also know how fun and fulfilling it is to see your ideas transformed into articles.

Contact us, and who knows where you could be this time next year?

By Zoe Alford