A decade of memories in the journalism field
Celebrating being a journalist for just longer than a decade recently has brought a lot of memories and given me a chance to relive a lot of experiences.
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It has changed me, and yet I am the same person I was when I asked former editor Nico Prinsloo to be considered for the position as journalist many years ago. Curious, forever wanting to know what is going on everywhere and why. Loving the job because not one day is the same than the previous or the next day, with something new waiting to happen just round the corner, always.
I still remember the very first story I submitted about a hair stylist who is a collector of antiques. He is still around and so am I. Through the years there are many stories that are still my favourites, people who have become firm and trusted friends over the years, people with whom I have walked many miles, so to speak.
I have done, as is required at a community paper, all kinds of news: schools, sports, hard news, community news, crime stories, profiles of people, well-known and not so well-known. I’ve gotten to meet so many interesting people and I’ve seen so many faces. My daughter had once told me she did not want to do shopping with me, as there were always a lot of people greeting me and wanting to talk to me.
One of the benefits of being in the field for such a long period is all that knowledge and background info one tends to gather through the years, making it easier in a way to write an in-depth article, referring to or linking issues to incidents that happened in the past, incidents people were involved in years ago, repeating itself…or coming back to haunt them.
More interesting, perhaps, are the stories one knew to be the truth, but could not tell, because of lack of hard evidence or ways to double or triple check it, or because maybe somebody else could lose his or her job because of being a whistle-blower or exposing some issues. Stories of incidents having been swept under the mat because it could do harm to many people.
Human interest stories are so gratifying to do, for once again faith in mankind gets restored by the generosity of the community giving their time, effort or money. Stories of human tragedy that touches hearts of other people, make them understand some people better, have a heart for other people in difficult situations. Stories about achievers in the community, stories about everyday people making a difference because they care, so many stories, So many stories.
Then there are the human errors – of which all journalists are guilty of at one stage or another. Writing hard news means to write very, very carefully, choosing each word with care, sometimes, when writing your story, as even omitting a comma could change the meaning of a sentence and land you in trouble.
Most errors are not deliberate or done purposefully, but errors occurring in the heat of the deadline – like calling a spokesperson by a wrong name in the haste to finalise an article and making a mistake…which is not accepted kindly, most of the times.
Ouch, had they but known that it hurts me more than them… Losing a whole busy weekend’s photos because of a setting on your camera which somehow was changed, those things happen, believe me!
I don’t even want to go into the way some people sometimes treat journalists. Like making you sit at a “media table” for a four-hour gala dinner function where everybody got served a four-course dinner and you sit without even a drop of water supplied to you… not having had time to grab a bite as you had to go directly from the office to the function. Or wanting to have a concert covered and a write-up of the auction at the end of the evening – but not supplying you with a chair to sit upon the whole evening.
And then there are the darlings who treat you like royalty, who are kind and considerate, realising it is a win-win situation: you need news, they want coverage of their event. Those who treat you as a journalist like an honoured guest. We love you, and respect you and appreciate it. And we will go the extra mile for you.
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