Silly Season Stories are emanating from “a time of year, usually in midsummer or during a holiday period, characterized by exaggerated news stories, frivolous entertainments, outlandish publicity stunts, etc.,” according to the dictionary. reference Website.
Silly Season Stories usually occurred in August. This was a time when there was a discernable “News Hole” in newsworthy stories.
However, the autumn of 2009 certainly sets a new record for innumerable silly Season Stories. Witness: Michael Jackson’s glove selling for $350,000; public enemy number one John Dillinger’s blood-stained dollar bill, the last in his wallet when the was gunned down, selling for nearly $20,000 at a public auction; and finally the sports icon Tiger Woods unraveling publically and hanging up his golf clubs in order restore his marriage after innumerable “transgressions” (a.k.a. “infidelities.”)
These are but a few of Silly Season Stories. I won’t even touch the political arena, where we have vaudeville-style performers like Sarah Palin’s runaway bestseller, Going Rogue, topping the charts.
Sixty years ago it was Flying Saucers invading the skies. Today our Silly Season Stories have branched out to new levels of banality.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Quips about Clips
According to the inimitable Encyclopedia Britannica, “The learning of an art, craft, or trade under the tutelage of a master is called apprenticeship.” Most journalism and communications organizations still respect those who have undergone apprenticeships. After all, they reveal skills that were learned on the job, from the proverbial ground up.
Covering town meetings, school board conferences, and local community activities, I learned how to distill seemingly meaningless events and, via the alchemical employment of words, turn these happenings into something readable and important.
This takes endurance, perseverance, imagination, and attention to details. But it’s worth the time, the effort, and the below-subsistence-level remunerations.
As I have mention in my on campus classes, all my journalism-related jobs at daily and weekly newspapers, magazines, corporations, advertising and PR agancies were gained by perusal of my clips.
Sure, the academic credentials were important. But in all instances my BA in English, my MA in Journalism, and my 30 doctoral credits in Communications Studies were secondary to those evaluating my potential value as a writer.
The moral? It’s in the clips.
Covering town meetings, school board conferences, and local community activities, I learned how to distill seemingly meaningless events and, via the alchemical employment of words, turn these happenings into something readable and important.
This takes endurance, perseverance, imagination, and attention to details. But it’s worth the time, the effort, and the below-subsistence-level remunerations.
As I have mention in my on campus classes, all my journalism-related jobs at daily and weekly newspapers, magazines, corporations, advertising and PR agancies were gained by perusal of my clips.
Sure, the academic credentials were important. But in all instances my BA in English, my MA in Journalism, and my 30 doctoral credits in Communications Studies were secondary to those evaluating my potential value as a writer.
The moral? It’s in the clips.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Questions
“With the arrival of electronic technology, man extended, or set outside himself, a live model of the central nervous system itself,” wrote Marshall McLuhan in Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man.
Have we, with the advent of new forms of electronic gadgetry, fallen into a technological coma, neglecting, mistrusting, and even despising what physiatrist Carl Jung called “Man’s greatest instrument, his psyche”?
McLuhan warns that “we have to numb our central nervous system when it is extended and exposed, or we will die.”
Have social networking sites, texting, Twittering, and bogging bogged us down and, like Narcissus, caused us to fall in love by irresistibly gazing into our own static reflections?
Have we, with the advent of new forms of electronic gadgetry, fallen into a technological coma, neglecting, mistrusting, and even despising what physiatrist Carl Jung called “Man’s greatest instrument, his psyche”?
McLuhan warns that “we have to numb our central nervous system when it is extended and exposed, or we will die.”
Have social networking sites, texting, Twittering, and bogging bogged us down and, like Narcissus, caused us to fall in love by irresistibly gazing into our own static reflections?
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Tips from Thoreau and Wilde
I don’t use Facebook or MySpace or Twitter. I agree with Henry David Thoreau’s century and a half old assertion that most media deal with gossip. Like Blogs, these sites are primarily self-serving. As journalists we need to be aware of them. However, caveat emptor.
What follows are a few tips for writers courtesy of Henry David Thoreau:
"A writer who does not speak out of a full experience uses torpid words, wooden or lifeless words… which have a paralysis in their tails." (from the Journal July 14, 1852)
"Perfect sincerity and transparency make a great part of beauty, as in dewdrops, lakes, and diamonds." (from the Journal June 20, 1840)
"Say what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth is better than make-believe."
(from the "Conclusion" to Walden)
"If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them." (from the "Conclusion" to Walden)
Here’s what Oscar Wilde had to say about journalists and journalism:
“Bad manners make a journalist.”
“Journalists record only what happens. What does it matter what happens? It is only the abiding things that are interesting, not the horrid incidents of everyday life.”
“There is much to be said in favor of modern journalism. By giving us the opinions of the uneducated, it keeps us in touch with the ignorance of the community.”
“Spies are of no use nowadays…The newspapers do their work instead.”
What follows are a few tips for writers courtesy of Henry David Thoreau:
"A writer who does not speak out of a full experience uses torpid words, wooden or lifeless words… which have a paralysis in their tails." (from the Journal July 14, 1852)
"Perfect sincerity and transparency make a great part of beauty, as in dewdrops, lakes, and diamonds." (from the Journal June 20, 1840)
"Say what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth is better than make-believe."
(from the "Conclusion" to Walden)
"If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them." (from the "Conclusion" to Walden)
Here’s what Oscar Wilde had to say about journalists and journalism:
“Bad manners make a journalist.”
“Journalists record only what happens. What does it matter what happens? It is only the abiding things that are interesting, not the horrid incidents of everyday life.”
“There is much to be said in favor of modern journalism. By giving us the opinions of the uneducated, it keeps us in touch with the ignorance of the community.”
“Spies are of no use nowadays…The newspapers do their work instead.”
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Understanding Journalism
First there was Journalism. Then came New Journalism. Raging against New Journalism came Gonzo Journalism. With the Internet came Citizen Journalism. Now, journaism schools are advocating Convergence Journalism.
Why are all these adjectives prefacing the word Journalism? Each one reveals a different aspect and perspective of a profession that is radically altered by each change in technology.
In his book We the Media: Grassroots Journalism by the People, for the People Dan Gillmor contends that “the collision of journalism and technology is having major consequences for three constituencies: journalists, newsmakers, and the audience.”
He believes that “Blogs and other modern media are feedback systems. They work in something close to real time and capture—in the best sense of the word—the multitude of ideas and realities each of us can offer.”
While the Internet has transformed journalism and the media, it has also placed demands on its practitioners. A new form of journalism, dubbed Convergence Journalism, has been born. Now, editors expect journalists to be proficient in writing, Web layout, digital photography, and broadcasting.
“In short, the traditional lines separating newspapers, broadcast stations and Web sites are blurring at a rapid rate,” wrote Thom Lieb in All the News: Writing and Reporting for Convergent Media. “Media convergence—the blending of media—has become a fact of life in the 21st century, and journalism will never be the same.”
Even though we are all journalists, only the well equipped (i.e., those who are familiar with and comfortable using all media) will survive.
There is one caveat however. “The new media and technologies by which we can amplify and extend ourselves constitute huge collective surgery carried out on the social body with complete disregard for antiseptics,” wrote Marshall McLuhan in his 1964 classic Understanding Media. “If the operations are needed, the inevitability of infecting the whole system during the operation has to be considered."
Why are all these adjectives prefacing the word Journalism? Each one reveals a different aspect and perspective of a profession that is radically altered by each change in technology.
In his book We the Media: Grassroots Journalism by the People, for the People Dan Gillmor contends that “the collision of journalism and technology is having major consequences for three constituencies: journalists, newsmakers, and the audience.”
He believes that “Blogs and other modern media are feedback systems. They work in something close to real time and capture—in the best sense of the word—the multitude of ideas and realities each of us can offer.”
While the Internet has transformed journalism and the media, it has also placed demands on its practitioners. A new form of journalism, dubbed Convergence Journalism, has been born. Now, editors expect journalists to be proficient in writing, Web layout, digital photography, and broadcasting.
“In short, the traditional lines separating newspapers, broadcast stations and Web sites are blurring at a rapid rate,” wrote Thom Lieb in All the News: Writing and Reporting for Convergent Media. “Media convergence—the blending of media—has become a fact of life in the 21st century, and journalism will never be the same.”
Even though we are all journalists, only the well equipped (i.e., those who are familiar with and comfortable using all media) will survive.
There is one caveat however. “The new media and technologies by which we can amplify and extend ourselves constitute huge collective surgery carried out on the social body with complete disregard for antiseptics,” wrote Marshall McLuhan in his 1964 classic Understanding Media. “If the operations are needed, the inevitability of infecting the whole system during the operation has to be considered."
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Journalism is not at a Dead-end
However, there are two considerations that need to be kept in mind.
First, new technologies don’t necessarily replace media that have been around for a while. Older media might adapt, become more technologically sophisticated, change content, and possibly shrink in size and importance. However, even though there is more fanfare and embellishments with newer media, all media will peacefully coexist.
Second, journalists must be adaptable to the changes in media, particularly the changes that media manufacture. “All media are active metaphors in their power to translate experience into new forms,” wrote Marshall McLuhan in his groundbreaking work Understanding Media.
Once we as journalists understand the above quote, we will be able to navigate around and even confidently control the media that is translating our lives today and, more importantly, tomorrow.
To understand metaphors, all that’s needed is a thorough reading of Sylvia Plath’s wonderfully illustrative poem "Metaphors."
First, new technologies don’t necessarily replace media that have been around for a while. Older media might adapt, become more technologically sophisticated, change content, and possibly shrink in size and importance. However, even though there is more fanfare and embellishments with newer media, all media will peacefully coexist.
Second, journalists must be adaptable to the changes in media, particularly the changes that media manufacture. “All media are active metaphors in their power to translate experience into new forms,” wrote Marshall McLuhan in his groundbreaking work Understanding Media.
Once we as journalists understand the above quote, we will be able to navigate around and even confidently control the media that is translating our lives today and, more importantly, tomorrow.
To understand metaphors, all that’s needed is a thorough reading of Sylvia Plath’s wonderfully illustrative poem "Metaphors."
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Missing the Boat
What promised to be a prize assignment became a lasting lesson in punctuality simply because I missed the proverbial, and literal, boat.
“This is a reporter’s dream,” my editor Marty, a wizened, chain smoking, black coffee drinker said as he handed me a press pass and a packet containing information about the maiden voyage, for reporters only, of a lighthouse ship designed to replace its land bound counterpart off the coast of the Jersey shore.
It was late summer, a few weeks after the infamous Newark riots of 1967. I had completed my initiation period as a cub reporter for The Journal, a daily still publishing in Jersey City, New Jersey. I had paid my dues by working as a rewrite copywriter, then obituary editor, and, finally, a substitute reporter covering routine municipal meetings and second-string general assignments. Now I was being handed a plum that even the most hard boiled of seasoned reporters would envy.
“We’ve already got the publicity photos,” Marty said. “So all you’ve got to do is write your impressions of the trip. You know: what is looks like, how it feels to be bobbing around the ocean in the thing. It’s going to run on the front page with your byline, of course.”
Thrilled and terrified, I imagined myself suavely hobnobbing with reporters from The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and several other big league newspapers.
The ship was slated to depart from Manhattan’s Battery Park. A brief ceremony was to be followed by a three-hour cruise. However, driving in from New Jersey, I misjudged the time, got stuck in early morning downtown traffic, and compounded my woes by taking a series of wrong turns. As a result, when I was finally pulling into the parking lot reserved for the press, I could see the ship moving full steam ahead across the Hudson River.
Desperate, I checked in with the Coast Guard and pleaded with them for a motorboat, a rowboat, anything that would get me onto that ship. Working my way up the chain of command, I received a series of sympathetic but firm denials. There were neither military nor private boats for hire. There wasn’t a thing around that I could hijack.
Then the sinking reality of my plight hit me. I had missed the boat. Even worse, I had become the living embodiment of a notorious cliché.
With tail wedged firmly between my quivering legs, I headed back to the newspaper office. I sat at my desk unable to function until Marty arrived. When he did, he gave me his customary good morning grunt, walked several steps past me, then, like a character in a film comedy, stopped dead and slowly retraced his steps backward to my desk.
“You missed the boat, didn’t you?” I nodded, while he, like a shaman nvoking a curse, muttered obscenities under his breath. “Well, get on the phone, get me some quotes, and write up that damn story anyway.” A longer string of stronger obscenities followed this.
I knocked together a story. It took me most of that day to complete what easily could have been crafted during the leisurely, prestigious cruise. It took all the rest of the week to live down the gibes of my colleagues.
When my story appeared, it was without a byline on one of the back pages. Instead of a multi-column, front-page special feature, it was merely an emasculated, five- paragraph news brief. As usual, I clipped it, but, unlike most other pieces I wrote for The Journal, I didn’t save it. I knew all along it’d be the one story, and the one story, I’d never forget.
“This is a reporter’s dream,” my editor Marty, a wizened, chain smoking, black coffee drinker said as he handed me a press pass and a packet containing information about the maiden voyage, for reporters only, of a lighthouse ship designed to replace its land bound counterpart off the coast of the Jersey shore.
It was late summer, a few weeks after the infamous Newark riots of 1967. I had completed my initiation period as a cub reporter for The Journal, a daily still publishing in Jersey City, New Jersey. I had paid my dues by working as a rewrite copywriter, then obituary editor, and, finally, a substitute reporter covering routine municipal meetings and second-string general assignments. Now I was being handed a plum that even the most hard boiled of seasoned reporters would envy.
“We’ve already got the publicity photos,” Marty said. “So all you’ve got to do is write your impressions of the trip. You know: what is looks like, how it feels to be bobbing around the ocean in the thing. It’s going to run on the front page with your byline, of course.”
Thrilled and terrified, I imagined myself suavely hobnobbing with reporters from The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and several other big league newspapers.
The ship was slated to depart from Manhattan’s Battery Park. A brief ceremony was to be followed by a three-hour cruise. However, driving in from New Jersey, I misjudged the time, got stuck in early morning downtown traffic, and compounded my woes by taking a series of wrong turns. As a result, when I was finally pulling into the parking lot reserved for the press, I could see the ship moving full steam ahead across the Hudson River.
Desperate, I checked in with the Coast Guard and pleaded with them for a motorboat, a rowboat, anything that would get me onto that ship. Working my way up the chain of command, I received a series of sympathetic but firm denials. There were neither military nor private boats for hire. There wasn’t a thing around that I could hijack.
Then the sinking reality of my plight hit me. I had missed the boat. Even worse, I had become the living embodiment of a notorious cliché.
With tail wedged firmly between my quivering legs, I headed back to the newspaper office. I sat at my desk unable to function until Marty arrived. When he did, he gave me his customary good morning grunt, walked several steps past me, then, like a character in a film comedy, stopped dead and slowly retraced his steps backward to my desk.
“You missed the boat, didn’t you?” I nodded, while he, like a shaman nvoking a curse, muttered obscenities under his breath. “Well, get on the phone, get me some quotes, and write up that damn story anyway.” A longer string of stronger obscenities followed this.
I knocked together a story. It took me most of that day to complete what easily could have been crafted during the leisurely, prestigious cruise. It took all the rest of the week to live down the gibes of my colleagues.
When my story appeared, it was without a byline on one of the back pages. Instead of a multi-column, front-page special feature, it was merely an emasculated, five- paragraph news brief. As usual, I clipped it, but, unlike most other pieces I wrote for The Journal, I didn’t save it. I knew all along it’d be the one story, and the one story, I’d never forget.
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