Monday, November 20, 2006

Features #1: Observational Writing

Monday 20th November, 12:30pm: Westminster Uni Main Entrance Lifts

“Doors opening. Lift going up.”

Brown, tinged, institutional portal. Squeezing voices, sound that’s near and moves away, distant. “Doors closing.” Slam! Clug, clug, clug. “Second floor.”

“He did good den init. No no, you need to get seven. Seven is good. Man with hat is good. Oh my god, they are something man.” “Ya going up?”

“Lift going up, doors closing.” Bounce, wiggle, bounce. “Doors closing. Seventh floor.”

Yellowed, grey light falls on discarded paper. A slight hum of sound. Crossed legs in white trainers fill the dark tea stained air of the enclosed space. “Ground floor.”

“Aiya ya ya yai. Waz dis man. Ave you gotta problem with my hair cut you?” “Yeah.”

Slight hum sound. Click, whir, fizzle, wires. “Doors opening.”

View light, a window in the distance. Contrast and calm. Green, bright impact. A railway line, white houses. “Door’s closing.” Light fades. White trainers, slouching body.

Round black rubber disc floor. OTIS, brass metal, mess, muck, rail, dirtied walls. Graffiti tags. Cranking shaft.

“Ground floor.” Keys jangle. “Doors closing.” Ting, jang. Shuffling white trainers. Doors, light, slam. Whurrrr, whurrrr. whurrr, turning cogs working beneath and above.

“Mind the doors please.”

Red light, red numbers, flash and change. Red G. Fingers reach for button. Calling buttons, found and pressed. Arrows up, arrows down. LED changes. Ca-lick, ca-lick, ca-lick. Yellow triangle exclamation fights for attention on wall.

“Wha numba you going please.” Upbeat, polite voice speaks over the swish, wish, turn.

Large umbrella tap tap tap. Tap, clunk, giggle. Laughter fades. “Mind the doors please.”

“I do not know what room dis is. Last one, yeh dis is.” “I not done much, the guy goes, have you started – my project, easy man. What project’s about.”

“Mind the doors please.” Chug, whir, chug, whir.

Metallic catchings. Quietness. Lights hum. Strange capsule caught in silent time, speech trapped. “Doors opening.”

Corridor, sound passing, echoing, bouncing.

“I thought my dad was light. No reeeeally.” Three jolts. “Doors closing.” A girl in a pink woolly jumper, checks, ruffles and flattens hair. “Ground floor.”

Silence. Whir, whir, whir. Plastic, round, rubber, circles. Whistling in the distance. Wha wher wha, whistle fades.

Tongue clicking. “Third floor.” Laughter. Silence. “Everyone’s talking about it and it works out that all the DJs are gonna be there.” Bottle falls, the lid is lost.

“What did you do it today. I ain’t even looked, is the results up. I doan wanna look either man. You have to go to classroom.” “Second floor.” Hands move forward and knuckles touch, tapping - and again. “I’ll call ya”.

Silence. Sniff. “Third floor.” Sniff.

Press, press, press. “It going up.” Press, press, press.

Mirror check. Look close. “I’ve got so many flippin spots.” “Welcome to bloody orange world”.

Monday, November 13, 2006

The Power of the Pad

Having just about recovered from Friday night's drinking session with the other Westminster student journos (the hangovers last that long these days), I dragged myself out of bed on Sunday morning to set off on my first reporting assignment. Exciting stuff.

I've nominated Islington as my working 'beat' for the rest of the news course and my first story was to cover the dedication of a new war memorial at Islington Green that has been dividing local opinion. Small fry in the world of national news I know, but you have to start somewhere.

After patiently taking notes throughout the remembrance ceremony while also dodging the backs of other press photographers jumping in front of me, I started to notice that something odd was going on.

A lady standing next to me seemed to have become obsessed with my notepad. She kept looking at it to see what I was writing. What's more, she started telling me all of her thoughts about the day and then checking to see if I'd written them down.

Fortunately, she was a useful contact to have. I had no idea that the Labour MP for North Islington was at the ceremony, let alone the fact that he was not wearing a poppy and did not sing 'God save the Queen'. What luck to have landed next to a local fountain of knowledge I thought, perhaps the lady just likes to chat.

However, the urge for people to come and talk to me only increased after the service had finished. It was at this stage I realised that the 'power of the notepad' was in force. Stand around for long enough with a notepad and people will start telling you things - how fantastic!

Needless to say, with little more than a smile and a quick round of the square I'd spoken to ex-mayors, a councilor, the sculptor and many really interesting war veterans. For some strange reason, as soon as people saw my notepad they wanted to tell me things. This also increased exponentially, the more people I spoke to, the more people approached me. What a great introduction to the world of the roving reporter.

I can only hope the appeal of my trusty reporters pad will be as strong on future assignments. It really makes for an interesting morning hearing so many diverse views on a subject.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Strange Goings On....

We managed to skip class today (with the lecturer's permission) to attend a uni journalism networking event.

Networking and event are two words that can inspire apathy in the best of us, but I was pleasantly surprised at how well things were done.

When I was at uni first time round, the careers service's main point of advice was that we should hand write the cover letter that went with our CVs. I'm sure this scuppered the job hunting efforts of many a poor soul who was daft enough to listen.

I don't really think that anyone else can tell you how to get a job, but the advice given was useful and more importantly interesting.

The speakers were all engaging and had unique stories about following their own paths to end up in the type of journalistic job you would want to tell everyone about. (See Sarah's excellent write up for more info, the post's called 'It's not what you know...')

It's good to know that working for small publications can lead onto bigger things. It's also good to know that industry professionals are willing to give up an afternoon to come and talk to a load of students now and again.

There was only one major down point. None of us got to sample any of the many bottles of free wine on offer. I should add this was because I had a class to get back to, rather than new found powers of self restraint. However, the speakers must have wondered what on earth was going on - students passing up a freeby, something odd's going on there!


Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Shrinking Time

I've been suffering from a sensation that time is shrinking over the last few weeks. I often used to get this at work as my every increasing inbox bulged before my eyes.

There seems to be so much to do and so little time to do it in.

I'm learning new things all the time about what it means to think, act and live like a journalist with the result that my 'to do' list is always expanding. It now includes:

- read blogs
- write blogs
- practice shorthand (and not just the L X bits that are sort of fun - bad shortand joke)
- read all the books sitting in a big pile on my desk that have been friendless since they left the library
- try and find stories to get into uni newspaper
- keep eyes peeled for other stories in local area that may be of interest
- read all the papers
- listen to radio news/watch TV news
- generally eat and sleep
- occasionally say hello to friends and family who have patiently stuck by me despite the fact that they are very obviously at the bottom of this long list!

Life is busy, but in a very good way.

Could it be the case that learning to be a journalist is all about doing all these things at once while also absorbing tons of information about what's going on in the world around you. I think so and it's a skill I haven't quite mastered yet.

I saw an article somewhere on the web recently about shrinking time. Scientists think they may be able to expand our perception to increase the 'work to time' ratio. This sounds like scary business speak, but it proved to be a very interesting concept.

Our minds control how we perceive time - it's often said that time slows down when people are in great danger, this has been shown to be scientifically true. We do have the capacity to take in more information about what's going on around us in extreme situations.

I quite regularly find myself wishing for some of this slowed down time at the moment, let's hope they crack the theory soon. Until then however, it's time to move onto point three of the list!

Monday, November 06, 2006

Freedom of Extremist Speech

Some interesting points came up during Friday's lecture on the journalist's Code of Conduct.

I now know that malice and subterfuge are bad! I'll certainly be vigilant in keeping my eyes peeled for them and my journalistic pen free from contamination.

The Human Rights Act, which encorporates the European Convention of Human Rights into British law, also seems to have had quite an effect on journalistic practice over the last few years.

I've found it's hard to access unbiased info about the Act. The tabloids regularly hold it up as a shining example of the horrors that occur when liberalism and political correctness flourish.

I read Melanie Phillip's Londonistan in the summer which gives a similar viewpoint. It's an interesting read, although very far right of the middle ground and full of controversial views. The book links the rise of terror in the UK to our liberal stance in allowing extremists freedom of speech in the mid to late nineties, most obviously the Finsbury Park mosque era (very loose summary).

On the other side of the fence, liberals seem to use the Act as a badge of honour whenever they mount a soap box in defence of the next good cause.

It's hard to push through all this polarised opinion to an unbiased view of the Act's impact. In journalism, the Act seems to have had most affect on regulations surrounding privacy and freedom of speech.

An aside point about freedom of speech really got me thinking.
Under the legislation, individuals and political parties with extreme viewpoints are free to express these and should be given appropriate representation by the press. Apparently the BNP often claims that its politics are not given enough coverage in the British press.

However, am I right in thinking that the UK now also has legislation against inciting hatred?

If so, at what point does it become acceptable to stop someone with an extreme viewpoint from communicating this and who decides what's too extreme to be heard. Do journalists have a responsibility not to give air or paper time to viewpoints that may incite hatred.

(We could be veering back to Orwell terriority here.....)

It's a hard call and I imagine a bit of a grey area at the moment. I am personally undecided about the whole argument. I strongly agree with the principle of free speech for everyone, but perhaps when applying this to real life reporting - less idealism and more practical judgment will be needed.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Evolution of Print Dinosaurs

There's been a lot of thought, talk and controversy since I started studying journalism about the future of news, particularly newspapers.

No one seems quite sure what the future holds for newspapers and whether they can survive the internet news revolution we're experiencing at the moment.

This has led me to ask whether in joining the print arm of journalism, I have consigned myself to some sort of dinosaurs graveyard for fleet street hacks. However, always the optimist, I haven't spent too long beating myself up about this.

The reason I'm not too worried is that I think it's unlikely people will ever stop reading. If there are people reading about news and current affairs, then it follows that there will also be writers. Whether the writing hits paper or a computer screen seems less important.

I am obviously biased, I've chosen a career based on the idea that people will pay money to read what journalists have to say. But, a quick look at the world around us seems to back up the fact that reading is still a part of regular daily life.

People use email to communicate at work, write reports, buy books or magazines. It's easy to take a quick look at an online news site when the boss' head is turned. Whether it's for work or entertainment the written word is still very much alive among us. And if that's the case, then how can print journalism be dead?

Online news seems to be a medium well suited to those people who entered journalism because they want to write. And what's more, online news is exciting and fast moving, new stories are posted as soon as they break. You have all the benefits of broadcast platforms conveyed in written format.

The language of online news also has to be catchy, tight and concise or you've lost your reader/scanner to the next page. So the medium is also asking writers to innovate and consider how they use language - never a bad thing.

The possibility of overlapping mediums is also really exciting, video journalism is quickly becoming a part of most online news sites. Those months of agonising about whether to sudy print or broadcast journalism seem completely unnecessary in hindsight. Convergent media platforms now mean I'll probably get the chance to do both.

The media is generally improved by taking the best bits of different mediums and using them to compliment each other. Can we imagine journalism without photos or the latest pop song without a glitzy video.

So it seems that written online news definitely has a future. But there is a more specific question in the print debate about whether newspapers will survive?

This is a tricky one. Michael Kinsley makes an interesting point in Time magazine, in an article entitled 'Do Newspaper Have a Future?':

"The fact that people won't pay for news on the Internet isn't as devastating for the old medium as it seems. People don't pay for the news in traditional newspapers: they pay for the paper, which typically costs the company more than it charges for the finished product. So in theory, giving away the news without the paper looks like a good deal for newspapers, if they can keep the advertising."

The argument actually seems to revolve around where the advertising pound is spent and from there the format will follow. Journalism is after all a business at heart. So the future of newspapers may well depend on the decisions of advertising boardrooms over the next few years.

It is possible that newspapers will not survive for the indefinite future. This does not however mean that print journalism is finished. The written word lends itself equally well to other platforms and the opportunity to embrace new technology should always be an exciting one.

I don't really mind whether a story I write ends up on paper, the web or any where else, as long as I'm giving the chance to research and write that story in the first place. What's more if I'm offered training in video journalism or other multimedia platforms, you'll find me jumping at the chance. It all offers the opportunity to use different techniques to creatively express ideas.

It's understandable that journalists are evaluating the future of their industry at the moment. Any period of rapid change brings about questions and insecurity. However, the early 21st century seems like an exciting time to be entering the world of journalism. And if newspapers are eventually consigned to the annuls of history, at least we'll be able to say we were there for some of it.