From what I've been hearing over the last few weeks, there has never been a worse time to be a young, fledgling journalist. Great.
The dreaded Credit Crunch (cue Jaws music) is rearing it's ugly head again and along with the property and retail industries, the print industry is suffering. From what I can understand (which isn't a great deal - financial expert I am not), advertisers simply can't afford or don't see the point in advertising right now. As a result, there are major losses for local papers that rely on big advertisers - cue major cutbacks in journalism jobs. Bad times. To top that, from what I hear, a certain national paper is now in dire straits... So, all in all? Not looking good. Now more so than ever, if you want to succeed, you have to be the best. And to be the best... well, what does it take?
I'm quickly learning that to succeed in journalism, it's not enough to be able to write. It's not enough to want to write. Trust me, if you say that to anyone, the standard response is: "Then go and be a novelist." Which, to be honest, I wouldn't mind, but I'm not by any means ready for that yet (friends, feel free to disagree). Being a journalist, I'm learning, involves bags of determination and ruthlessness. And the word 'No' must be eradicated from your vocabulary, especially when you're starting out. People who hire journalists aren't looking for writers, they're looking for people who can find and tell stories - unique stories with unique angles, in the tightest possible way. With no frills. And to get to that point, you have to be on your toes all the time. Anyone hiring will be looking for the best, so somehow, you have to convince people that you are the best, even if you don't necessarily believe it. Clearly, there's no room for modesty in the news industry.
If I'm honest, it's pretty scary. And my skin still has to get a hell of a lot thicker before I can get there. I can take constructive criticism, but I need to learn to take NON-constructive criticism just as well ( I realised this today). I need to prepare myself for the fact that there are a lot of people out there that aren't going to like me, and aren't going to like what I write. For no other reason than the fact that they simply don't like what I do. But, I also need to hang on to the fact that for every ten, fifty, one hundred people who think what I do is crap, there might just be one person who thinks it's pretty good. There are a lot of authors and a lot of journalists that I love who a lot of people can't stand. There are people I like who others can't stand. That's not a reflection on me, or on them. It's just a matter of taste.
Take Dan Brown for example, simply because The Da Vinci Code came up in conversation in class the other day. About 80% of the class (including myself), expressed the opinion that book is pretty pants (but in not so pleasant terms). The remaining 20% LOVED it, adored it, were ready to defend it with violence (it almost got pretty ugly). It occurred to me then that Dan Brown doesn't care about the billions of people in the world who haven't bought or read the book, or the millions of people who have read it and think it's crap. He only cares about the 40 million or so who bought it and loved it.
I guess you can't please everyone. But actually, that's OK.
Saturday, 29 November 2008
Friday, 28 November 2008
Blargharghargh. It's What All The Ill Kids Are Saying.
Colds. The single most pointless and irritating things EVER.
I mean, come on, if you're determined, whoever you are, to take away three days of my life from me, can't you at least knock me out when you do it? Jeez. Meanwhile, everybody looks you up and down and thinks: It's just a cold. What is she, a total wuss? So, you're sitting there, or lying there, (depending on how paralysed it's rendered you), with your temperature going up and down like a yo-yo, being unable to laugh because it triggers a 20-minute coughing fit and coughing and spluttering every time you speak, so that the only thing that comes out is somewhere along the lines of blargharghargh. Which sums up your condition pretty well, seeing as there are often no words to describe just how crappy you feel. I'm fully expecting it to be a new entry in the next edition of the OED, thus:
Blargharghargh, adj.
I. The condition of feeling so unwell and discombobulated that there are no other words to describe it.
Generally used when one has the feeling that use of any other words may cause others to underestimate just how crappy one feels.
2008 A.REEVES: "How do I feel? I feel blargharghargh!"
So, for the last few days, I've been sufferring from this "just-a-cold" which has had me bed-ridden, and feeling ever so blargharghargh. I have also, in the eyes if many, been highly unproductive and have dedicated my rest-time to watching the entirety of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 7 in just under two days. (Personally, I think that it was an incredibly productive use of time. I now feel inspired to kick some evil ass.)
My problem is that when I'm well, I stress about most things. When I'm ill, I get stressed about being ill because it renders me incapable of doing all the other things that I've been stressing about. Stress, as we know boys and girls, is NOT conducive to a healthy immune system. Personally, my immune system is shot to shreds. Maybe it's because I've realised that I'm about six weeks away from finishing my last stint in education. Maybe it's this fact combined with the fact that I'm not really sure I have a clue what I'm doing. It is in times like this that I formulate a theory to help myself feel better. I tell myself that most successful people in this world don't actually have a clue what they're doing. I don't think Buffy really had any idea what she was doing, and she averted a mega-apocalypse. Seriously, I just watched her.
So, I now prepare put my head down, work my arse off, try to remember a million things that until September I knew absolutely nothing about (the education system at it's best) and then, hopefully, and with much, much difficulty, turn these skills into a job. Or rather, a career. Career. Scary word. Maybe I had better work out what I'm doing pretty soon... Does anyone know an easy way to learn politics? Or even better... a FUN way to learn politics?
Didn't think so.
I mean, come on, if you're determined, whoever you are, to take away three days of my life from me, can't you at least knock me out when you do it? Jeez. Meanwhile, everybody looks you up and down and thinks: It's just a cold. What is she, a total wuss? So, you're sitting there, or lying there, (depending on how paralysed it's rendered you), with your temperature going up and down like a yo-yo, being unable to laugh because it triggers a 20-minute coughing fit and coughing and spluttering every time you speak, so that the only thing that comes out is somewhere along the lines of blargharghargh. Which sums up your condition pretty well, seeing as there are often no words to describe just how crappy you feel. I'm fully expecting it to be a new entry in the next edition of the OED, thus:
Blargharghargh, adj.
I. The condition of feeling so unwell and discombobulated that there are no other words to describe it.
Generally used when one has the feeling that use of any other words may cause others to underestimate just how crappy one feels.
2008 A.REEVES: "How do I feel? I feel blargharghargh!"
So, for the last few days, I've been sufferring from this "just-a-cold" which has had me bed-ridden, and feeling ever so blargharghargh. I have also, in the eyes if many, been highly unproductive and have dedicated my rest-time to watching the entirety of Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 7 in just under two days. (Personally, I think that it was an incredibly productive use of time. I now feel inspired to kick some evil ass.)
My problem is that when I'm well, I stress about most things. When I'm ill, I get stressed about being ill because it renders me incapable of doing all the other things that I've been stressing about. Stress, as we know boys and girls, is NOT conducive to a healthy immune system. Personally, my immune system is shot to shreds. Maybe it's because I've realised that I'm about six weeks away from finishing my last stint in education. Maybe it's this fact combined with the fact that I'm not really sure I have a clue what I'm doing. It is in times like this that I formulate a theory to help myself feel better. I tell myself that most successful people in this world don't actually have a clue what they're doing. I don't think Buffy really had any idea what she was doing, and she averted a mega-apocalypse. Seriously, I just watched her.
So, I now prepare put my head down, work my arse off, try to remember a million things that until September I knew absolutely nothing about (the education system at it's best) and then, hopefully, and with much, much difficulty, turn these skills into a job. Or rather, a career. Career. Scary word. Maybe I had better work out what I'm doing pretty soon... Does anyone know an easy way to learn politics? Or even better... a FUN way to learn politics?
Didn't think so.
Monday, 3 November 2008
I went outside the bubble... and now I've gone back in again
Ok, so last week I ventured properly outside the student bubble for the first time. I did my first stint as a trainee journalist at the local paper. Was it the most wonderful experience ever, cementing my lifelong ambition to tell people's stories to the world from the comfort of my news desk?
Not exactly. Being a reporter is HARD. Yes, of course I already knew this - I'm not TOTALLY deluded (some may argue...). But it was hard in ways that I never thought it would be. I was looked after a little more than the other reporters, being such a newbie and all, but most of the time I was left to my own devices. This I expected.
The hardest thing I found was trying not to ask too many questions. For the last sixteen years I've been in an environment where I've been constantly learning by questioning: "How does that work Miss?", "What does that mean Miss?", "Is this good enough?", "What can I do to improve?", "Am I allowed to write about this?", "Do you think this is a good idea?" You get the point.
In a news room NOBODY CARES. Nobody wants you under their feet, nobody wants you asking them the best way of doing things. They want you to sit down, shut up and get on with it. They want the finished product, no questions asked along the way. And if I'm honest, I didn't have the confidence to do that last week. Now... I think I just might be good for next time. But the adjustment from education to the real world is definitely proving far harder than I thought it would.
The other thing I found hard was the fact that things were totally out of my control. I have the kind of personality where if something isn't done properly, I want to shout and scream until it's done right, or take the reins and do it myself. Ha. Not gonna work in a news room. Again, its a case of put up and shut up... like I had to when they missed the police statement out of one of my stories rendering it (or so I felt) pointless; or when they put someone else's name on an article I'D worked my arse off on; or when they uploaded my article to the website but left half of it off, again, rendering it rather pointless (as a total stranger rather unpleasantly commented).
If I'm honest with you, I didn't put up and shut up. In the privacy of my own bedroom I cried, I screamed, I shouted, I kicked things in frustration... and then I went shopping. Which made it much better.
Then I realised I was being pretty stupid. In the grand scheme of things, it was three articles on a local rag that I may or may not go back to in the future. The way the newspaper industry is going at the moment, I guess I should just be grateful they let me in for the week. And it was a learning experience - it was certainly an eye-opener if nothing else.
I realised in the course of a week that I am going to have to do the following:
1. Develop a MUCH thicker skin
2. Accept that even if I feel I could do something better, I should keep it to myself
3. Have the confidence just to get on with things, rather than seeking constant reassurance
4. Take criticism to my head making it useful, rather than to my heart making it upsetting
So, it was with much relief that I stepped firmly back into the student bubble today when I returned to college. Although I know it'll be a matter of days before I want to put myself through emotional hell again by heading straight back to a news desk. Is that emotional masochism? Maybe, but maybe I need to prove to myself that I CAN rise to the challenge. That I can identify my own mistakes, overcome them and not make them again. I need to prove to myself that I can be tough and not let things get to me anymore. Cos I ain't gonna survive out there unless I can...
"I'm a SURVIVOR, I'm not gonna GIVE UP tra la la la la..."
Not exactly. Being a reporter is HARD. Yes, of course I already knew this - I'm not TOTALLY deluded (some may argue...). But it was hard in ways that I never thought it would be. I was looked after a little more than the other reporters, being such a newbie and all, but most of the time I was left to my own devices. This I expected.
The hardest thing I found was trying not to ask too many questions. For the last sixteen years I've been in an environment where I've been constantly learning by questioning: "How does that work Miss?", "What does that mean Miss?", "Is this good enough?", "What can I do to improve?", "Am I allowed to write about this?", "Do you think this is a good idea?" You get the point.
In a news room NOBODY CARES. Nobody wants you under their feet, nobody wants you asking them the best way of doing things. They want you to sit down, shut up and get on with it. They want the finished product, no questions asked along the way. And if I'm honest, I didn't have the confidence to do that last week. Now... I think I just might be good for next time. But the adjustment from education to the real world is definitely proving far harder than I thought it would.
The other thing I found hard was the fact that things were totally out of my control. I have the kind of personality where if something isn't done properly, I want to shout and scream until it's done right, or take the reins and do it myself. Ha. Not gonna work in a news room. Again, its a case of put up and shut up... like I had to when they missed the police statement out of one of my stories rendering it (or so I felt) pointless; or when they put someone else's name on an article I'D worked my arse off on; or when they uploaded my article to the website but left half of it off, again, rendering it rather pointless (as a total stranger rather unpleasantly commented).
If I'm honest with you, I didn't put up and shut up. In the privacy of my own bedroom I cried, I screamed, I shouted, I kicked things in frustration... and then I went shopping. Which made it much better.
Then I realised I was being pretty stupid. In the grand scheme of things, it was three articles on a local rag that I may or may not go back to in the future. The way the newspaper industry is going at the moment, I guess I should just be grateful they let me in for the week. And it was a learning experience - it was certainly an eye-opener if nothing else.
I realised in the course of a week that I am going to have to do the following:
1. Develop a MUCH thicker skin
2. Accept that even if I feel I could do something better, I should keep it to myself
3. Have the confidence just to get on with things, rather than seeking constant reassurance
4. Take criticism to my head making it useful, rather than to my heart making it upsetting
So, it was with much relief that I stepped firmly back into the student bubble today when I returned to college. Although I know it'll be a matter of days before I want to put myself through emotional hell again by heading straight back to a news desk. Is that emotional masochism? Maybe, but maybe I need to prove to myself that I CAN rise to the challenge. That I can identify my own mistakes, overcome them and not make them again. I need to prove to myself that I can be tough and not let things get to me anymore. Cos I ain't gonna survive out there unless I can...
"I'm a SURVIVOR, I'm not gonna GIVE UP tra la la la la..."
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