What do you do when there's no news?

Well, actually, I have personal news: I'm engaged! I'm very happy!

Unfortunately, I cannot devote next week's paper to my engagement. I don't think that many people here will care enough to read about it. So, there are lots of empty pages to be filled.

And what do you do when there's nothing happening? I know of nothing going on in the community this weekend. There's one council meeting, which is a start, but does not a paper make. It's a slow time of year, and that combined with Easter coming up, means I'm grasping at straws.

I've trolled Communications Nova Scotia releases, the Herald, the Daily News, the CBC, and the Hawk to look for ideas. I read the other local papers, who appear to just be using my ideas from previous weeks.

Still no luck.

And apparently, it is highly unethical to make news, i.e. starting fires, protests, etc. I have lots of stuff that should be happening mid-April, when the paper will be packed full of stories. So, I'm looking at no more than 3 lean weeks. But how do I cope? I'm trying to line up features, I've done one with a kid who competes in the motorcross circuit and have an interview set up with a soldier who's returned from Afghanistan.

But, beyond that, I'm at a loss. I normally don't have trouble coming up with story ideas. I'm still new here, and I feel kind of out of the loop sometimes. I'm doing all the normal things to look for story ideas--talking to people and trolling all sorts of newspapers and news sites, but to no avail. I fear the paper might be shorter next week, which makes me kind of feel like I'm failing.

So, I will continue trolling and grasping for any possible leads, and wait anxiously for something (hopefully nothing major, but something!) to happen.

Life in the G-town

I'm back. And boy, do I have a lot to write about. I don't even know where to start! But, I guess I'll begin where I left off on Thursday. So, the wardrobe issue. I still don't have a good answer. My mom suggests slacks and a blouse, which is great when I'm working in the city, but not quite everyday wear here. My current fix? Jeans and nice sweaters, and a presentable jacket (a fake leather motorcycle jacket, which in itself is pretty darn cool). It's still a problem, though, because some days I feel very young. Some days I look at myself and wonder if I was the one being interviewed, would I take this person seriously? At the same time, I'm a little resistant to changing my look. I like my jacket. I like my (new!) bright pink spring scarf/pashmina. And my pink brimmed hat. It's just scary, because I'm 21, $24,000 in debt, and all I have to make myself seem employable is my credibility and a few months writing experience. Luckily, Helen and Allan seem pretty happy with me, and I'm certainly keeping busy.

I had a great weekend in Halifax, and attempted to relax. I think I may have shopped more than lazed around, but that's theraputic in itself. I went to Starbucks and Orange Julius. I went out for supper with my boyfriend. I shopped at MicMac and Halifax. And I didn't get lost once. OK, well, once, coming back to Halifax from MicMac, but everyone does that. It hardly counts.

Sunday night was back to "the grind." It was kind of a slow news week when I left, which always means a little more work looking for stuff, so you can believe my surprise when I opened my email to find 232 email messages. Yikes. And, me being me, I decided to try to get them all handled that night--i.e. replies, editing, or trashing--so Monday would be easier. I gave up with 50-some left.

So, Monday morning I was exhausted. I stayed up far too late with those blasted emails, and then had trouble sleeping (a weekend in a double bed free of cellar bugs made my return to the single bed that has had a cellar bug on at least one occaision even harder). Plus, I bought the new Shopaholic book (Shopaholic and Baby, for those who care, is not as exciting as previous ones. Shopping for prams is far less satisfying than shopping for Manolo Blahnicks).

So, bright and early, armed with tea, I was back to work facing six blank pages providing that everything went swimmingly with my plans. Yikes.

So, first I was off to take a picture of a giant poinsettia. Now, when you're in j-school, you make fun of the people who gravitate towards animals, giant vegetables, or precocious children. They're generally fluff pieces and there's not always a whole lot to say. Once you've seen one giant pumpkin, or one terrier that knows how to dance, you're pretty much satisfied. But, my life has reached the point that I went looking for a giant plant. It's not cute, it's not edible. Luckily, luck was on my side that day, to be newsworthy things are generally cute or useful, or, my blessing, strange. This plant was massive. I mean like over four feet tall and just as wide massive. So I took some pictures, wrote a little piece about this enormous plant, and was off to the next thing.

As I was struggling to find content (despite a rash of robberies and Ronnie Chisholm's run-in with the media) I heard a fire truck go by. That's right, I was reduced to chasing a fire truck. Worse yet, I was using the paper's truck (which drives a lot differently than my civic!) and almost backed into a fence. With people watching. AND the fire didn't amount to anything even photo-worthy.

Then Canso Council. Always an exciting event (though cookies could help. My mother has accused me of going to meetings just for the food. There's nothing wrong with a cup of tea and a cookie during a long meeting!).

As my stories in this week's paper explain, it was exciting. Discussion ranged from the civic centre (see previous postings on that whole controversy) to the end of Canso as a town to blowing up the Seafreez fish plant. Well, no one said they'd do it, an audience member just said the town might be better off if it happened.

During a break while they were in camera, someone told me they'd read my blog. It still feels strange to have people reading my stuff. I mean, I know I have readers, but it's different to have it interact with my life. Plus, sometimes I feel embarassed about what people who don't know me must think of me from reading my blog. Am I flighty? Crazy? Smart? I have no idea how I come across. And I guess, that's kind of the point.

Another sleepless night, and then into production today. I managed to fill up the paper, but it was a long battle. I wrote my first editorial, so it was a landmark production day. And I'm tired. But, no rest for this weary reporter. It's time to start working on the next one. I think I may sleep all day Saturday, unless a good Easter-related photo opportunity comes my way.

Lessons learned so far this week? Check my email over the weekend. Chasing fire trucks is embarassing, especially when it turns out to be nothing. Trucks do not drive like Honda Civics. I still have a lousy sense of direction, even though I've lived here for a month. Giant plants can be impressive. And going home can sometimes make you miss that special someone even more.

Looking for answers to the age old question

What do I wear? This may not sound like a serious journalistic query, but it is truly a problem. In the span of a day I can be at the rink, a press conference, and a public meeting. And I never know what I'll be doing in the day until I'm safely curled up at night in my bed in my pjs.

Now, I know, clothes are supposed to matter. But they do. I can't show up to cover a press conference in a band t-shirt, and I don't really want to go to the rink in a suit. So how do you strike that balance? I'm young enough that I worry about people taking me seriously--especially considering my propensity towards mittens on a string and singing along with cds in my car. But, I also don't want to be overdressed, that can make people uncomfortable too. So where's the balance? I'll go to a school board meeting in a denim skirt and sweater, to find all the other media wearing jeans and t-shirts. So, the next time, I'll wear jeans and a sweater and sneakers, and every one will be in suits. Also, as media, I don't want to stand out too much, but I want people to know I'm a reporter.

My current uniform consists of pants, either jeans or khakis, plain t-shirts, and sweaters. And on my feet? Sneakers or boots, depending on the weather. But, I know that it doesn't always work, and apparently I can't always predict when that will be. However, I do know enough not to wear my pink hat during interviews--unless I'm outside:)

And, on another note, we got a very sweet card thanking us for our coverage of provincials and for honouring the Myatts. It made me feel really touched:)

The Civic Centre

The last two nights I've gone to meetings about the proposed civic centre for Guysborough. It's actually a really neat facility, with an NHL ice surface, with turf for the summer, a walking track, a library, meeting halls, and such. Pretty cool, and it sounds like the municipality can afford it without having to raise taxes. But, people aren't all happy with it. The first meeting was little more than a screaming match about why it couldn't work--not enough people--and it's affect on the Canso rink--kill it. It's actually part of a plan to bring people to Guysborough as these projects like Keltic, Maple, Melford, and apparently a few others that can't be discussed because of non-disclosure agreements come nearby. The idea is that having a state of the art rec facility, in conjunction with the school (which is really nice) and a new performance centre (which should be done in a few weeks), would help persuade people to move to the area. Last night, the meeting was much more positive, under the general premise that people want things to do. It may not be an ideal proposal--it's not going to create jobs--but, it was nice to see people at least consider the plan at hand.

The first meeting was really hard to write about. It's always difficult to paint people in an unflattering light, even when it's only through their direct quotes. I know I always have said, "Just quote them and let them hang themselves with their words" but this meeting was horrifying. Adults screaming, interupting each other, and not even remotely interested in the presentation, but rather just hollering. This is not an effective way to convey a message or concerns. As a result, when the story was done, I was concerned. I tried to explain their views and worries in the story while giving a sense of tension and anger, but they came off, for the most part, as just angry people and I couldn't elaborate on the concerns or the answers because no one elaborated, or let anyone else finish what they were saying. Essentially, it was a disaster, and as the paper is coming out today, I'm worried about what the people involved will think when they see it. It's a small place, and I told the truth, but I think they'll be upset by the fact that their concerns were overshadowed by their bad behaviour. I worry about the phone calls I'm going to get, while at the same time telling myself that I shouldn't be worried--it's my job to report accurately, and I did that.

I guess I'm still having trouble finding that balance between being professional and being liked. Not enough to not write the story, but enough that it bothers me. I guess we'll see what types of phone messages and emails are waiting for me after my long weekend in Halifax.

My other problem with this story is that I can't help but support the idea of a civic centre. Life in Guysborough isn't exactly happening and James and I will probably end up living closer to Antigonish for that reason. I wake up in the morning to find myself missing weird things from life in Halifax, Toronto, Belleville, and Lunenburg. For example, a white chocolate mochiato from Starbucks, which I never got that regularly (I love the white hot chocolate and whipped cream, but the expresso makes me awfully wired) or Tim Hortons--not anything specific about it, just having the option of going to grab an ice cap, cookie, or croissant--even though the bakery is far superior. I miss SmartSet and Le Chateau and Kick Ass Shoes, for my stressful days when I need retail therapy. I don't need to buy anything, I just need to look and know that I could buy something if I wanted. It's a great distraction--and one the discount store doesn't quite accomplish. I miss the bars. I never went to them (unless one of my favourite bands was playing) but apparently I liked knowing I had the option of going out to see a show or go dancing. And, believe it or not, the 20-something crowd in Guysborough isn't exactly huge, or entertained.

I also love to skate, and can't justify the mileage (or the bumpy drive) to go to Canso just for an hour of public skating. If there was an arena in Guysborough, at least I could do that. And, they make it sound like it's part of a bigger plan to bring things like shopping here, which would be awfully nice.

I feel like it would be a positive thing to have things to do here--for myself as well as the community. And that sentiment combined with the horrible public meeting made me worried about writing the story. The concerns are valid--killing the Canso arena, not being able to support such a big facility, and what happens if these industrial deals fall through? But their concerns were overshadowed by the behaviour, and as a result, the concerns may not get presented in the way the concerned people were hoping for.

But luckily, I won't have much longer to worry about it. The paper is coming out this afternoon, and tomorrow afternoon I'm off to Halifax for the weekend--to shop, drink starbucks, go to restaurants, and see other 20-somethings wandering around doing much the same thing. It's also, more importantly, a chance to see my boyfriend, my bunny, and my friends while getting pre-graduation errands done. And, it's a place where I won't be attending angry public meetings. In fact, after the conference this afternoon (if the causeway opens), I don't have another meeting until Monday, which will give me a chance to relax and be calm--I find these angry situations very draining as someone who admits to sucking with confrontation. And maybe next time, I won't sit at the front, so all the anger won't be focused in my direction.

Letters to the editor

Letters to the editor seem to be an ever-present thorn in my side, or foot, or whatever would be the most awkward and painful. That's how I feel about them. An active letters section is supposed to indicate a healthy paper, but I think it may also explain why many male editors are bald and many female editors smoke. Political letters, personal letters, advertising letters, letters of criticism. They're all awkward. Firstly, how much do you correct them? Do you fix blatant typos? What about unclear sentences? And what happens when they same something completely outrageous and false?

I'm inclined to print them as is, with typos corrected. If they look like an idiot, it's their own words that hang them. And, if something is wrong, I hope against hope that someone will write in and correct it in time for the printing of the next issue. Of course, there's a line when there's something slanderous (or just incredibly stunned) in the letter. Then, you just don't print it.

But, all the rules change with political letters. First off, Helen and I have come up with a policy for what we're going to print. Nothing from the party press office or campaign members--they can pay for their own advertising. No form letters. But we'll print everything else (applying the no slander and no stunned letters rule from above) as long as it deals with local issues, and is from a local person.

The slander rule is also different for political letters. If someone writes something negative about a person in the community, we automatically reject it. But for people in politics, once the hat is thrown into the ring, there's little the candidate can do to protect themselves.

And this brings me to my latest thorn in my side--really at this point which feels more like it's in my eye, it's that bad--a letter by a lovely lady named Muriel. I received the letter yesterday (Friday) and wasn't sure what to do with it. So I typed it up and sent it to Helen to see what she had to say.

Muriel's very upset because the Harper government hasn't revamped the Veteran's allowance as promised in their election campaign. That's fine. That I can print. But the problem comes with the following paragraph, where she asks:

"How in my electoral district (Cape Breton-Canso) did Alan Murphy of Antigonish (Peter MacKay’s long time personal assistant) manage to be declared candidate by acclamation—decided in Ottawa? Certainly the local riding association were not involved."

Now, Allan owns the paper, and is a lovely man. It's rather slanderous comment, but I know he's not going to sue the paper, and it is the kind of thing that comes with the territory. The other problem (besides her mispelling of Allan's name) is that it's totally false.

There was a public announcement of nominations being open. Allan just happened to be the only person who completed all the steps, i.e. completing documents, getting signatures, by the deadline. So, the riding association was most definitely involved and it wasn't decided in Ottawa.

And secondly, Peter MacKay has never had a personal assistant. He's had lots of help, but no personal assistant. Allan did work for him, a few years ago in Ottawa as Chief of Staff, and briefly last year as regional director.

So, that makes it more complicated. If I don't run it, the lovely Muriel will say that we didn't run it just because Allan owns the paper. If I cut it out, she'll say it's censorship, and same problem. And I don't know if I'd run it if it was someone else, it's just kind of mean. I also don't know how many other papers she sent this to, so if we ran a different copy of it than another paper, people would criticize us as a "tory rag."

And we can't have Allan, his campaign manager, or the riding association reply in this issue of the paper, because then it will look like we're trying to defend him.

So final decision? I guess we're going to run it, in its entirety, then hope that someone replies to correct it before the next issue.

Almost Friday...

This week, I'm dreaming of Friday. Normally, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday are days to be a little more relaxed and start working on stories for next week. This week, we had the business paper to put out (going to press on Monday, and if you're in the county pick up your free copy of the East Nova Business Report!). Initially, it didn't seem like it was going to be that much more work. But, after putting out this week's Journal, I had trouble keeping up my momentum. And now, I can almost taste Friday afternoon, where I'll probably do the same thing I'm doing now--hang out on the computer, talk to friends and catch up on work--but know that I'll be able to sleep through most of Saturday. Amazingly, there's nothing going on around here this weekend--yet. So, other than working on a few stories I'm off the hook.

Next week will feel like a huge relief! To celebrate almost hitting the one month mark, I'm going to take Friday off and head to Halifax to take care of some of this graduation stuff and see my boy and bunny. I'm very excited:)

Thanks to this week, we can add being lost in Sherbrooke to my list. Luckily, I'm soon going to have hit all the regular meetings, so I'll start only getting lost when new things are happening. It's very exciting. I may even wash my car in celebration--well, probably not.

I feel like maybe I'm starting to get the hang of all this--and so will offer my evaluation of the monthly meetings. Canso has the best entertainment value, Sherbrooke the best food with Guysborough coming in second. Mulgrave and Guysborough are tied for quickness and efficiency. And the schoolboard...well, we're just not going to go there. They don't even feed us poor media folks! And we do appreciate being fed. We're still talking about the cheesecake from the Strait luncheon (lemon and chocolate with melon on the side--it was fabulous!). Turns out we're an industry of eat on the go people with weird schedules, and there's no fastfood in Guysborough County. So, we're happy to take what we can get!

This was perhaps not my most intelligent analysis of my new job, but in the last two days my media counterparts and I have been discussing food rather than the Keltic decision, Melford, or any other big news stories. Obviously, I'm not the only one in a mid-week slump.

Life is busy in Guysborough County

I am exhausted. Like sit in my chair staring at the screen dozing off exhausted. Exhausted enough to rediscover naps. I have to admit, when I took this job, I was expecting to be busy, but not this busy--after all, Guysborough's supposed to be pretty sleepy! In the last week I've been to six meetings and a hockey tournament. I've been lost in St. Peter's, Port Hastings, Melford, and Mulgrave. In the last 24 hours, I've written a dozen stories, and am waiting on more interviews and tonight's council meeting.

When teachers said that cutting your teeth at a community newspaper was a good idea, we were always a little sceptical. Sure it looks great on a resume and you'll get to do quite a bit of writing, but the real lessons to be learned when you're covering elections for the Globe. Until then, we're just all biding our time.

Or, so we think. Until we step into that community newsroom and find ourselves flooded with community news, issues, press releases, advertising, complaints, letters, layout, photography and so much more. Files upon files of stories we've only heard of in passing but are of the utmost importance to the area. Places that don't make it on to any map I've owned up until now. And, the pressure of fostering meaningful and trusting relationships with sources. You, the journalist are an outsider and need to prove you deserve to be trusted. I never came across that with those smooth talking politicians while at the CBC. I learned so much during my internship, but every day here I feel like I'm doubling or tripling that knowledge. And, am constantly reminding myself to overcome bad habits like commas (oh, how I miss thee) and super short paragraphs (from my love of online journalism.)

And, who ever thought that there would be big scoops and important, life altering stories in small towns? Multimillion dollar deals and heartbreaking tragedies are covered in the same day, and I've had to teach myself to switch between and comprehend the two.

And now, I must move on to story 13. The people here are friendlier than in Toronto and Halifax, the roads a billion times worse, and the social life for a twenty-something pretty much non-existant, but one thing remains the same no matter where you're working in journalism--the deadlines.

Post-production week 2

This week was very exciting--my first paper that I worked on from start to finish! It was very full. I've been attending a lot of meetings, which has made me a negligent blogger--I'm sorry! Luckily, the long drives on country roads lead to a lot of thoughts about what I'm doing--and debating what to name my car. I first thought Carrie, but didn't want the Sex and the City reference. Cassie? I don't know. Aparently it is a girl.

The one thing that I've really picked up this week is the importance of meeting people and getting stories beyond the CNS. The best stories come from connections I've made in the community, and especially when you're new, it's important to touch base with everyone, introduce yourself, and encourage people to call you. I'm still meeting people, but it really helps to have story ideas coming to you!

I 'met' another journalist this week, at the Mulgrave meeting. I say 'met' because he did not acknowledge my presence! I'm used to other journalists saying hi, sharing nods, rolling eyes while listening to the reading of waste by-laws, but na da. This guy came in late, I nodded and smiled at him which he ignored, then proceeded to plunk himself down and slowly crack his knuckles, run his hands through his firmly gelled hair, and chew on his pen. It was a pleasure to make his acquaintence. After the meeting he ran up to talk to the Mayor, so I just listened to their interview, then after he left asked my own questions.

I'm also starting to get a better grasp of what matters to our readers, and how to edit submissions. We get columns of news from each community (they're cute--it's how I know who's going to Halifax, who's visiting, whose pets are sick...), letters to the editor, and other submissions, and I don't want to over edit them, but I also don't want to leave things vague. It feels like a very fine line.

Well, for now I'm off to the Pub to hear Peter MacKay's announcement. Next week we've got our business paper as well as the regular one going out, so I have got to set to work on the newest issue--the last one is just hitting newstands now.

And I will try to be a better blogger for the rest of the week. Also, if any one has suggestions for car names or a policy for printing political letters--leave a comment!

Week one--Where did it go?

I can't believe it's already Friday! I guess that's the great part about production day being Tuesday, you're so busy on Monday and Tuesday that they just fly by, and then you're halfway through the week and starting the next paper. I'm starting to get settled in a bit, I can now check my messages on my phone, and I think I'm starting to grasp what interests our readers.

School taught me to be a dabbler of news, consume a lot of it on all sorts of subjects and regions but not in much depth. Now, I've got to start going really in depth on regional issues that I must admit I know little to nothing about--and that sort of knowledge takes more than a week to accumulate. Though, I must say, I think I'm off to an OK start.

This week made me think a lot about bias and politics. The owners of the paper are Helen and Allan, and Allan is running federally in the next election for the Conservatives. He's only involved in the business and advertising aspects of the paper as a result, not the editorial decisions. Despite this, the paper still is considered by some a Tory rag. So, we go out of our way to cover other candidates and parties, to the point of downplaying Allan. He announced his candicacy just before I joined the paper. All the other papers did interviews, big photos, but we just put a tiny box announcing it. And, when the election comes, he'll probably receive less coverage than the other candidates from us.

I guess that's the problem with bias. Bias doesn't actually have to exist, it just has to be perceived. I never really considered it in this way, that in trying to avoid appearing biased the paper actually finds itself biased in the other direction.