There are plenty of reasons I could never make it as a journalist.
Speed, for instance. As my mum always said, I have two speeds; slow, and stop. I’m as likely to take notice of a deadline as I am of the “drink responsibly” warning on the second bottle of whisky. I’d never get my copy in on time.
Then there’s seriousness. I have been diagnosed with an advanced and untreatable seriousness deficiency disorder. It’s genetic. I know sniggering is not big and it’s not clever, but if I’m faced with a terribly earnest performance artist who flounces around like he’s on day release from the local 24 hour mental health institution (watch this, it’ll become clear) then sniggering is my default position.
And sensitivity too. I actually do not care. Don’t expect me to emote and share, it just makes me irritable. If your cat is stuck up a tree or your kids are abusing the emergency services phone number then don’t count on me to be balanced, objective, and sensitive. I’m doing this for me and I’d never let the facts get in the way of a good sentence.
Anyway, I was thinking these things after a visit to Leeds Trinity Centre for Journalism the other day. We were invited by Richard Horsman (@LeedsJourno). Emma and I got the full tour, Emma even got on the telly (though she has pleaded with me not to post the link … it’s not hard to find if you are interested.) It’s an impressive place with some amazing staff and promising students. I saw them put the TV program together – and you can’t imaging how fraught it is until you actually see it happening live – and then sat through the debrief session after. It’s such hard work, it really is.
I was quite glad we don’t have that kind of pressure here at Culture Vultures. I wouldn’t cope. I know I call myself editor – though really I’m just in charge of grammar repair and punctuation polishing – and I don’t want us to get the reputation for being the site for slackers, comedians, curmudgeons, misfits, halfwits, and malcontents, but it does seem that we are doing something different to journalism. And that’s a good thing. I don’t want that kind of stress.
With luck some of the journalism students will write the odd post for us. Richard asked about the site’s tone of voice, our house style, saying the students were trained to write in the official style of wherever they were employed. This didn’t make too much sense to me as our house style is, well, be yourself . . . which is tricky to imitate or conform to, I’d agree. I have though just drafted a kind of style guide for the site – email me if you want a look, comments, critiques, contributions all welcome – and, obviously, we have some tacit rules and regulations we all abide by. But then I came across a passage in a book I’m just reading, The New Kings of non-fiction, By Ira Glass, and it’s so beautiful and perfect and spot on that I can’t resist a massive quote . . . get the book! It sums up what I think we are trying to do on Culture Vultures much better than I could . . .
While this if the golden age for this kind of reporting and writing, it’s also the golden age of crap journalism. And for some of the most amazing technological advances for stuffing it down your throat. A lot of daily reporting and news “commentary” just reinforces everything we already think about the world. It lacks the sense of discovery, the curiosity, the uncorny human-size drama that’s part of all these stories. A lot of daily reporting makes the world seem smaller and stupider.
In that light, these stories are a kind of beacon. By making stories full of empathy and amusement and the sheer pleasure of discovering the world, these writers reassert the fact that we live in a world where joy and empathy and pleasure are all around us, there for the noticing. They make the world seem like an exciting place to live. I come out of them feeling like a better person – more aware and more awake and more appreciative of the world around me. That’s a hard thing for any kind of writing to accomplish. In times when the media can seem so clueless and beside the point, that’s a great comfort in itself.
Empathy, amusement, sheer pleasure, discovery . . . words that should be above any Culture Vulture contributors desk.
Right, I’m dashing off to Leeds Art Bistro then Leeds Gallery. Report tomorrow.
On occasion, I come across a discarded tabloid on the train, or a take a break in the doctor’s waiting room, and I utter a little internal votive of gratitude for the internet, and for blogging and for passionate, articulate people. Non trained people, non house-styles people. Just considered and thoughtful writers. Heaven.
“just considered and thoughtful writers”. This! There’s also the thrill of never quite knowing what you’ll get when something new appears.