How I became a coach

In 2012, The Sunday Times ended my contract. For years, the only thing I’d done for money was meet people, talk to them, and write a story about it, and suddenly I had no customers at all. After my daughter had gone to bed, I sat on the floor and bawled my eyes out. I’m not ashamed of that.

Luckily, I have a wonderful wife. Here’s a picture of us when we first got together – a bit blurry, taken with my grandfather’s camera from the 1940s, which had a timer that went wiiiirrrrrrr -tck!

A blurry photo, taken on a self-timer, of a young John-Paul Flintoff pointing at Harriet.

Me and Harriet

What I couldn’t see then, because I was scared, was that losing the contract would let me do things I’d always wanted to do but never dared commit to. Since then I’ve written books published in 16 languages, spoken to audiences of up to 5,000 people on four continents, run workshops for thousands of people over seven years at The School of Life, become an improviser and put on my own shows, designed ceramics and homeware that were sold in shops, and launched campaigns, both local and global.

Some of that might not have happened without a woman called Fenella, whom I met at a party for somebody’s book. She was training as a coach and asked if she could practise on me. I thought coaching sounded flaky, possibly ridiculous, and that I was doing her a favour. Then she asked a question that got a novel out of me.

So I trained as a coach myself. On the first day of the training, sent out to find somebody to practise on, I found a young man eating chips in a pub in Hatton Garden. Since then I’ve spent thousands of hours with hundreds of clients: writers, artists and performers, entrepreneurs, and quite a few people who wear suits. I have nothing against suits.

John-Paul Flintoff standing in a brown suit and canvas trainers, hands in pockets, in a white-walled room with a wooden floor.

Journalism turned out to be good training. A journalist’s job is to ask a question and then actually listen to the answer. The difference in coaching is that the answers are confidential: they’re mostly for the person who says them out loud.

Two clients, in their own words:

Hugh. “Every time I am stuck or need another perspective this is where I turn. What I love about John-Paul is that he is not solely a coach but someone who achieves so much in other pursuits and, having seen the enormous value of coaching, decided to become one as well. He brings a wealth of real world experience and his listening and questioning skills, perhaps as a result of years as a journalist, are of particular value. I cannot recommend him more highly.” – Hugh, entrepreneur

Chrissy. “JP is outstanding in his approach to coaching, and the outcomes we created through our conversations were breathtaking. I wholeheartedly recommend anyone to take the time and invest in the possibly of wonderful learning and life-changing outcomes. 100% brilliant and often entertaining too. Thanks JP!” – Chrissy, creative director and entrepreneur

I work from the top floor of my house – you’ll spot the sloping roof in the videos I share with clients.

The easiest way to start is a free half hour in my Unoffice Hours. There doesn’t have to be an agenda, but I don’t mind if there is one. And if you’d rather work alongside other people on a serious creative project, there’s The Wednesday Group.