Reaquaintence

I never, ever thought I would say this. In my semester away, I tried not to think about reporting. I tried to pretend like the summer had never happened. I tried to do just about everything BUT be actively involved with journalism. Which is why it’s so shocking now. I missed it.

When I stepped into my seat as the convergence editor at the Missourian yesterday, it was like a comfortable, familiar weight settled in over my shoulders, reminiscent of a blanket. A tattered, weathered, raggedy old blanket. One that you always consider throwing out but you keep around for sentimental value because it’s been with you for so long. Things I thought forgotten came back in a rush. I know it was Hannah’s story, but I was resisting the urge to call sources, and sprint into the field every second I was in the chair. It was an incredible difficult story to cover, as well, which challenged us to make something, effectively, out of nothing. Unfortunately, we couldn’t think of a better story for the evening. Possibly fortunately, it gave Hannah a chance to be in that situation.

We called complete strangers, we ran around to different bars and restaurants to collect information and, later, audio. I gave her advice on how to build her story, she made it, and I tweaked it for her in the end. My radio editing skills rushed back into my ears and finger as I forced the program to do my bidding for the volume, which had been inexpertly recorded. And the deadline only helped to further the rush.

It was like taking a hit of something. It was a complete metaphysical exhilaration, which I’m not entirely sure how to describe. I don’t know if that means I genuinely enjoy what I’m training to do, or if I’m a masochist, but it gave me a lot of hope for my future. I also realized, in all the whirlwind that was our shift together, that I really enjoyed helping Hannah make her story. Not just the reporting aspect, but the editing and the guiding. I don’t know what that means, and I assume it’s something I’ll need to figure out, but for now, it’s enough of a subject for me to reflect on as I go to sleep at night.

I look forward to my next editing shift. I will try not to take such a large part in the reporting this time, give my reporter more of a chance to practice. But I am excited. Very, very excited.

Revelation

Over the summer, in 4804, I was always curious about what happened behind those closed doors in the meeting room. It was obvious that they deliberated on our stories, because we would wait impatiently for the return of the project managers to tell us if we had the green light or not. But phrases like “I fought for your story” or “They just really didn’t like the idea” always made me assume that the happenings in the room were dark and mysterious, and there was a kind of pitched battle between the students, their representatives (project managers), and the teachers.

I finally had the opportunity to attend one of these sessions. Admittedly, I shouldn’t have been there, it wasn’t my turn on the rotation and I had been confused about when I was actually supposed to come to class, so I just said to hell with sleep and came anyway, but I was there. It was nothing lie what I had led myself to assume it was. There was no shouting, there weren’t voices coming from all sides, there were no fist-fights. Calmly, the professors sought ways of making stories work. And they found them, for every team.

Now, this isn’t to say that things won’t get heated later in the semester, when reporting groups aren’t getting a free pass because it’s week one, but I was still a little shocked, and if I’m honest, a little disappointed. Everything was quite subdued, and the process moved like clockwork, which is ironic seeing as it took more time than the allotted hour to go over all the pitches.

And it makes me wonder if this is how its supposed to be. Is this how my life will be ruled for the next decade? Some people will calmly decide if my story is worth my effort to report? It might seem a little dramatic, but it’s a reasonable question. I don’t know which I would rather have, the screaming and fighting I had always imagined, or the orderly triage I saw. I assume this class is here to teach us not only how this process works, but how reporters are handled. I’m quickly seeing I don’t much want to be a reporter… editor seems much, much better.