STOP THE PRESSES!
Haven't you ever wanted to get to yell "STOP THE PRESSES!" and have it actually be in the right context? Well, I got to do that just yesterday. Yes indeed: I stopped the production of a legitimate newspaper for breaking news. Sadly, this meant I had to skip some trashy television I was looking forward to.
The show "Next" on MTV is just a fun show. It's got all the trashiness I like from reality TV and doesn't have the problem of having to remember a previous episode's drama. It's complete trash, but I was looking forward to having it on while I proofread the Quiviran and maybe helped Mom with her work for her school's musical. (The Quiviran, for those not in the know, is the local newspaper for Lake Quivira, the town I grew up in: a few years ago my mother bought it up and she is now the editor in chief). Mom was in the computer room carefully laying out pages for January's paper and bemoaning the fact that there wasn't quite enough content to fill them all. And then I got a call from my father, a doctor who happens to be a volunteer at the local fire department. He told us there was a huge fire burning down a house.
Now in a good narrative I would have immediately shouted my wonderful line and frantically explained from there. Unfortunately, we don't live in a good narrative, so instead I explained the situation to my mom as best I could and we got everything together to go be good journalists and it was only while we were grabbing our coats that I thought to shout a stop to the presses. But it was a great moment anyway.
Not counting the trivial newspaper I put together when I was six (the headlines were the entire stories), this was my first experience as a journalist. Er, a photographer. We asked people a few questions, but it turned out that we got all the facts we'd get that night from the initial phone call. Instead, we got lots and lots of pictures. This house was clearly burning to the ground, there were firefighters from two towns pouring water over it...unfortunately, it was well after sunset, so many of the pictures were blurry to the point of unusability, but we still got more than enough excellent shots.
I'm amazed at how quickly my mind adapted to the needs of journalism. Get a splashy photo of the fire, complete with multiple fire trucks spraying away as best they can. Get a closeup on concerned onlookers. Show police and firemen doing their jobs, doing your best to get faces and/or vests identifying them as Quivira people.
Fortunately, no one was hurt (the house was empty). And it was quite an experience: getting shooed away by the police only to be allowed in once my press credentials were established, hearing what little the people did know, getting different (and hopefully exciting) angles and takes on the pictures, going out on a moment's notice to get The Story. I'll probably never be a legitimate journalist, but this little glimpse into the world was quite fun. And I got a photo credit for it, so go me.
The show "Next" on MTV is just a fun show. It's got all the trashiness I like from reality TV and doesn't have the problem of having to remember a previous episode's drama. It's complete trash, but I was looking forward to having it on while I proofread the Quiviran and maybe helped Mom with her work for her school's musical. (The Quiviran, for those not in the know, is the local newspaper for Lake Quivira, the town I grew up in: a few years ago my mother bought it up and she is now the editor in chief). Mom was in the computer room carefully laying out pages for January's paper and bemoaning the fact that there wasn't quite enough content to fill them all. And then I got a call from my father, a doctor who happens to be a volunteer at the local fire department. He told us there was a huge fire burning down a house.
Now in a good narrative I would have immediately shouted my wonderful line and frantically explained from there. Unfortunately, we don't live in a good narrative, so instead I explained the situation to my mom as best I could and we got everything together to go be good journalists and it was only while we were grabbing our coats that I thought to shout a stop to the presses. But it was a great moment anyway.
Not counting the trivial newspaper I put together when I was six (the headlines were the entire stories), this was my first experience as a journalist. Er, a photographer. We asked people a few questions, but it turned out that we got all the facts we'd get that night from the initial phone call. Instead, we got lots and lots of pictures. This house was clearly burning to the ground, there were firefighters from two towns pouring water over it...unfortunately, it was well after sunset, so many of the pictures were blurry to the point of unusability, but we still got more than enough excellent shots.
I'm amazed at how quickly my mind adapted to the needs of journalism. Get a splashy photo of the fire, complete with multiple fire trucks spraying away as best they can. Get a closeup on concerned onlookers. Show police and firemen doing their jobs, doing your best to get faces and/or vests identifying them as Quivira people.
Fortunately, no one was hurt (the house was empty). And it was quite an experience: getting shooed away by the police only to be allowed in once my press credentials were established, hearing what little the people did know, getting different (and hopefully exciting) angles and takes on the pictures, going out on a moment's notice to get The Story. I'll probably never be a legitimate journalist, but this little glimpse into the world was quite fun. And I got a photo credit for it, so go me.