Last week I packed 52 file folders into a box and stored them away at the Journal office. Each folder contains the raw material for the 52 issues of The Journal that I have edited since February 2016, and as I packed them up I found myself reflecting on my first year at the paper’s helm.
There is quite a lot in those files, each of which contains sheets of paper that I have printed off in relation to various stories. Many of the sheets are covered in handwriting, from where I have interviewed people, and the main thing that strikes me about those ink-covered pages is “I used to win awards for penmanship when I was in school.” Sometimes, now, I find myself scribbling so fast that my notes look less like handwriting and more like a chicken has stepped in an ink bottle and then scuttled across the page.
I have also developed a highly individual shorthand, which makes sense to me but would baffle others. In an interview for a recent article, for example, I scribbled “rep fr. select standing comm on fin made recs to MoFin, 4 of top 5 spec rel to srs care”, which translates to “Representatives from the select standing committee on finance made recommendations to the minister of finance; four of the top five recommendations were specifically related to seniors care.”
Other reflections? While most people are happy to be interviewed, some are more comfortable with the process than others. I can completely understand this in the case of community members who are unused to being interviewed, but it can be frustrating when I am phoning someone listed at the bottom of a press release as “media contact”, only to find that the person on the other end of the line rations their words as if they’ll one day be charged a fee for using them, or is almost woefully uninformed about the subject of the press release. Really, if a media contact knows no more about the subject than I do after reading the release, it would be easier to pass my call to someone higher up the food chain (which they usually do, eventually).
I won’t name the worst interviewee, but the best one I’ve spoken with so far is seniors advocate Isobel Mackenzie, who is smart, incredibly well-informed, not afraid to pull punches, and an eloquent speaker.
Things I’ve learned? There is almost always a local angle to a bigger story, if you dig deep enough, figure out who to call, and ask enough questions. Get used to playing telephone tag. News does not work to a convenient deadline. If someone offers to send photos, always say yes.
Biggest myth out there? That there’s nothing to do in our small towns. Anyone who says this and believes it to be true probably really means “There’s nothing to do that appeals to me,” which is a very different thing altogether. The plethora of events—which includes sports, theatre, art, dance, exercise, festivals, concerts, bingo, lunches, and much more—available to people of all ages in our communities is staggering, and even the most cursory or casual reading of The Journal shows this to be true. And when you consider that many of these events are run by volunteers, it’s even more amazing.
Here’s to the second year, then. I’m glad to have you all along for the ride!
