Journalism junkies unite

For those friends and family who feel I'm ignoring them or can't understand why I'm not making co-ed ultimate frisbee games, Buck and Does, get togethers for great-grandmothers and other extracurricular fun a priority anymore, it doesn't mean I don't love you. It just means I'm busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kickin' contest these days. It's hard to articulate what it takes to produce a one-hour daily talk show for a spankin' new national news network, with the added pressure to daily increase ratings and disprove critics' assertions you don't belong in the rat race that is media, but here's a brilliant snippet from a veteran that knows it very well:

These stories will appear on the 6 o’clock segment of the show. But that’s only part of it. I also have to prepare 30-second voice-overs for both these stories, for the 5 o’clock segment of the show.

I swallow hard, glance at the clock (it’s already 2:30pm—two and a half hours to airtime.) I’m hungry, and my bladder is sending out worrying signals. But I’ll eat and piss later. There’s work to do.

I take a quick look at the last item on my agenda ( the third story.) No big deal. It’s a story that will be fed in from CHEK-TV in Victoria by 5:15pm for a quick turnaround into our 5:30 show. It’s labeled “Hot Dog”, about a police dog left in an SUV for three hours. One of the “shocking treatment of animals” stories. It sounds straightforward. I have a 17-minute window to make sure the story is in our computer, and to write the intro for it, and to insert the proper "super" information. No problem. (I can hear you laughing. Haha. Maybe you know what’s coming.)

The next two hours are a blur. I work my way furiously through seven voice-overs while the other writers, editors, producers and reporters enjoy lunch and toilet breaks. By 5 o’clock, I stretch, take a much-needed visit to the urinal and congratulate myself. I tell myself I’ve done pretty well for the new kid on the block. Just need to wrap up one more voice-over, then tackle the “Hot Dog” story, and my workday will be done. Another $230 in the bank, and I’d proven something to myself.

So yeah. I'm doing well to take time to pee these days too. Friends and family, gimme your grace along the way. At the end of the day, but mostly on the weekends when I have a second to breathe, I still remember what matters most in life. It's Saturday, my work Blackberry keeps flashing more incoming, but I'm heading out to my deck with a good book on a great summer day.

Gimme that old time journalism

I've gone from producing a weekly half-hour newsmagazine to producing a one-hour daily in a matter of a few days with my new hire as senior producer for The Source with Ezra Levant on Sun News Network. It's been a massive learning curve, but a thrill filled with new challenges at every sharp turn.

At the end of my first week, I tweeted that I somehow managed to survive without any major meltdowns. I didn't cry. I didn't yell. I didn't throw a fit. Sure, there were many times I wanted to pass out from sheer exhaustion, or throw up from the fear of failing, but it seems I was born to thrive in this sort of intense deadline-driven environment, and I was quite proud I made it through without a breakdown.

A new colleague and the Senior Associate Editor at The Toronto Sun, replied to my tweet and reassured me that meltdowns aren't a sign of weakness. Rather, from his thread below, you can see a sort of romanticized version of the newsroom tweak-out.

While I'm grateful for the new opportunities provided for women in media (The New York Times recently hired its first female editor), I have a feeling I work in less interesting times when it comes to my field.

What I wouldn't give to have a larger than life, movie-version experience of old-school journalism. The age of No. 2 pencils, typewriters and phonebooks, polyester pants and male chauvinism. Ahhh...

@sunlorrieLorrie Goldstein

@rikkiratliff @sunnewsnetwork Meltdowns are permitted if limited to 5 minutes and any flying objects avoid nearby heads. Always aim low.

@sunlorrieLorrie Goldstein

@rikkiratliff Actually, I missed the "Bono threatens to destroy his crashing computer with a chair" incident of the 1980s.

("Bono" is the senior editorial writer for Sun Media. He's been with them since the 70's and has a gaudy gold ring to prove it.)

@sunlorrieLorrie Goldstein

@rikkiratliff But I was there for the famous "Blatchford's flying stapler" episode that kicked off the new millenium.

("Blatchford" is one of Canada's greatest when it comes to print journalism. In fact, I consider her a hero in my field.)

@sunlorrieLorrie Goldstein

@rikkiratliff Then there was the time no one warned me in advance we were endorsing the Grits in the '87 Ontario election. I didn't aim low.

(Americans, the "Grits" are the Liberals in this country. So you can understand the gravity of the situation.)

@sunlorrieLorrie Goldstein

@rikkiratliff We had a city editor who jumped on his desk and shouted: "C'MON, YOU BASTARDS, WRITE!" at us. Gave him a whip when he retired.

'Nuff said.