“America is not a place where the small gesture goes noticed. We’re not a country like France, where charm, something light or effervescent, can survive. We want everything you have and we want it as fast as you can turn it out. I read an interview with Frank Sinatra in which he said about Judy Garland, ‘Every time she sings, she dies a little.’ That’s how much she gave. That’s true for writers, too, who hope to create something lasting: they die a little getting it right. And then the book comes out and there’s a dinner and maybe they give you a prize. And then comes the inevitable and very American question: what’s next? But the next thing can be so hard because now you know what it demands.”
— Harper Lee (as played by Sandra Bullock), “Infamous”

Does it ever get to be less weird to read your writing spliced into another’s story?

I mean, I understand the “localize this” and see the point. But as I’ve discussed before, it’s weird and interesting to see your words intermingle with someone else.

Case in point, some story about the new eStadium project at Jeff High School from eSchool News Online.

It’s a cool project and a great opportunity for local kids. I wrote about it a few weeks ago. In fact, several paragraphs from my article are in that eSchool story. (I’m guessing that’s the ‘wire’ part of the “From eSchool News staff and wire service reports.”) It’s just weird to me how the story is framed and what is used and not used, especially as it appears they did do a bit of original reporting (or at least calling my sources for additional/different quotes).

An interesting read my managing editor pointed out to me last week, but which I forgot to post: To Save Themselves, US Newspapers Put Readers to Work

It’s a look at all the (insert city) mom’s, paws, etc. sites and the user generated comments, photo galleries and blogs proliferating the world of newspaper.coms right now.

I don’t think this is a bad trend at all. In fact, we’re planning to launch a site [crosses fingers] hopefully this week [/fingers crossed] where we do this at the high school level for one of our local schools using content about the school produced by, well, the kids who know it best.

Also, the local editor here is awesome at writing the call outs we feature prominently in our paper and in a prime position on our site when we’re working on stories where we’d like to, to use the “it word,” crowdsource our readers. (So awesome in fact that it’s kind of intimidating when one of us lowly reporters has to do this ourselves. My tactic has pretty much just been to emulate his style when I write them.) Our uses range from the worst intersections for feedback as we write about the county releasing its most dangerous list, to first day of school photos and anecdotes, to personal opinions on college rankings. Sometimes the call outs hit and the story chat takes off, and sometimes the response is lukewarm at best. But, our visitors can plainly see the most important aspect of the endeavor: We want to include them. Their opinions and experiences are not only important but valuable to us in telling the story.

Other than that, we have the salary and property tax databases, and we run photo galleries like there’s no tomorrow. Not to mention the phrase “Get me something for online” is so common place that even when it’s not verbalized, most of the reporters have it ingrained in their head.

I’m kind of at an advantage. I came in just after all the reorganization/while everything was still shaking out. So for me, I’m not encumbered by the way it’s always been or how it used to be. But I will say this, I don’t think most of my co-workers are either, including those who’ve been here for a long, long time. It seems like we’re all trying to do whatever we can to best tell the story of our community. And I can dig that.

Anyway, the article is an interesting look at what Gannett is up to and what could be up its sleeve next.

So, I probably shouldn’t perpetuate links to stories from my past that are less than stellar, but oh well. I will do so for the sake of showing those just starting out that everybody starts somewhere. And for myself, to remind me how far I actually have come.

Someone hit this blog by searching for “Meranda Watling” on Google. (I am still always curious about why random people search for me, but it’s one of those things I’ve come to accept.)

I’ve mentioned before what comes up on this search, but it’s been awhile since I Googled myself, so I clicked on the link in my counter to see if anything new or cool popped up. No such luck.

After the expected top hits — MerandaWrites, my LinkedIn profile, my ClaimID — comes the Stater stuff. Mainly, a list of my articles (though, not all of them as we switched hosts and systems half-way through my sophomore year and never moved the archives).

Now, let me start by saying, seven months into my first real job I have grown a lot, but I still have much, much, much more growing to do as a person and a reporter. I realize that, and anyone at this level of the game who doesn’t think they have much to learn is delusional.

I think, actually, that’s what makes reading my old Stater stories so humbling.

Even as I wince at my blunders in these, some of my first stories ever, the practical experience I now have keeps my brain thinking, “If I did this story today, I would …” And I think that’s great. It’s a sign I’m learning. I wonder what I’ll think three years from now of the way I covered the budgets this fall, my first time covering them, or next fall how I’ll feel about the round of first day of school stories I just did as I search desperately for more new angles.

Some of these stories are pretty horrible. Allow me to introduce the lead/first-five-graphs (the holy grail of whether a story flies or flops at the J&C) of one of the articles I wrote during RPA about the fire chief being a finalist for another job:

Kent Fire Chief Jim Williams has been named one of 10 finalists for the fire chief position in Delaware.

Delaware, located in Central Ohio north of Columbus, is among the fastest growing communities not only in Ohio, but in the nation. According to the U.S. Census, Delaware County was listed as the 12th-fastest growing county in the country between April 2000 and July 2005.

In the 2000 U.S. Census, the city of Delaware’s population increased 24.7 percent. In the same period, Kent’s population declined 3.3 percent.

The growing nature of the area is exactly what attracted Williams to apply for the position, he said.

“It’s an opportunity in a growing community,” Williams said. “The department’s a little larger than ours … but it’s a pretty similar department.”

The fact that it was in Ohio also impacted his decision to apply because he said he’d like to stay in the pension system here.

I mean what?! It reads like a Wikipedia entry. I don’t get into the context — that the chief’s been in the job a decade and at the department for another 17 years beyond that — or anything else until I’ve already lost my readers to boredom and confusion (Delaware? They only have on chief for the whole state? huh? Oh, it’s a city in Ohio. Now I get you.) from which they never recover.

To be sure, not all of those stories were horrible. Although this one about a bridge being closed (as far as I know this bridge is STILL closed a year and a half later) and the impact it’s had on the area citizens could stand to be cut, I do like the lead:

Jim Wyle was excited recently when he saw railroad workers on the tracks near the Middlebury Road bridge. Thinking they were there to work on the bridge, he started a conversation.

But the workers were only working on the tracks. In fact, they complained to Wyle, who has lived near the bridge for 15 years, that they had to go all the way around because the bridge was closed.

Wyle’s response?

“How would you like to live here and do that every day?” he asked.

Nearly 80 Kent residents met yesterday afternoon at the Kent American Legion to discuss the problems and delays with the Middlebury bridge and the possible legal action they could take.

The Middlebury bridge, which links the residents to Cuyahoga Falls, Akron and the other side of the city, has been closed because of safety concerns since March 2003, said Gene Roberts, service director for the city of Kent.

OK, so I cheated, that was six graphs. But they weren’t as long and it flowed much smoother. The anecdote really got to the point of the story.

Ironically, I wrote both those stories within a week of each other. I guess that shows, it was hit or miss. In a lot of ways, it still is.

Even now, I have days where I really like the stories I write or interviews that go particularly well. Then, I have others where I feel that nothing I do is any good and I should just scrap it and start over or give up. Sometimes, I even feel that way about different stories running in the same issue. But ah las, I can’t do that.

The beauty of newspaper reporting is that every day you are essentially handed a blank canvas. It’s up to you to figure out how you’re going to paint and fill it that day. And sometimes, when you’re done, you are really happy with the outcome. And other times, when you’re done, you can’t wait for the next day to end so you can forget all about that canvas and start again fresh.

Not everything I produce is going to be great. Although it kills me, I have come to accept that sometimes I’ll miss the mark. Those are the days I hustle to leave before my story’s edited and when I hesitate to open the daily readme memo from our editors to see just how far off I was and whether they noticed.

But you know what? Those are the stories that teach me the most. They’re the ones I come back to as I grow and say, “OK, knowing what I know now, how would I approach this differently?” Then, the next time sometime like that comes along, I know better and my work is better. Give me a few years to get a few “could have been better” stories out of the way. I’ll be a more humble and effective reporter for it.

“Expecting the world to treat you fairly because you are good is like expecting the bull not to charge because you are a vegetarian.”
—Dennis Wholey

When I first started working at the Daily Kent Stater, I remember I was absolutely petrified talking to strangers.

It wasn’t that I was shy so much. I could get up in front of my classes and give presentations without a sweat, and I gave regular pep talks to my softball team. I could dance and cheer with the sports teams and get up on stage in drama club. I could stand before a room and put out my controversial opinion and even debate and defend it reasonably well. But I couldn’t ask the clerk at Borders to help me find a book.

My mom used to be so annoyed because I refused to walk up to clerks at stores or even call and order a pizza. The summer before college, I made HER spend hours on the phone with financial aid because I was so scared of calling strangers and sounding dumb. It was painful for me. I mean, painful to the point of tears. I remember her reminding me of this when I picked journalism as a major.

In fact, a large part of my choice of journalism was to overcome this, I guess the best term is, “shyness.” It took me a long time to be able to pick up the phone and just make the call. I still sometimes pick up a phone and hang it up two or three times before I follow through, confident I have done enough background to ask intelligent questions and not come across as a fool. (I’ve been told this is more common than you think among journalists.)

My first reporting job at the Stater was as a part of the print beat reporting course. We were each assigned a beat we would cover for the paper for the semester. We’d answer to student editors and our unedited work would be graded by the professor. One of the things we had to do was come up with story ideas and beat contacts each week. My beat — which I adored — was student finance. It was kind basically consumer reporting, but all of it aimed at college students needs and wants.

I knew it was do or die that semester, and I knew I’d have to talk to other students and strangers on a regular basis. So, to get over my fears and to build up a list of story ideas my peers actually cared about, I spent an afternoon walking up to every single person in Risman Plaza and the student center. My script was essentially, “Hi. My name is Meranda Watling, and I’m the new student finance reporter at the Stater. I wanted to talk to you about what you’d like to read about this semester.” The first few people were painful. I had to spend 10 minutes pacing around before having enough courage to approach each person. Gradually, it got easier. It got to the point where I could walk into the student center or cafeteria and know who would talk to me, where I didn’t even think twice about asking a stranger for a few minutes of their time and where I didn’t take it personally when people turned me down. My script was essentially the same except I’d sub in illegal downloading, identity theft, saving money, etc. My stories were always better for this. I ALWAYS found a way to get real people in and make them the central focus of my stories. That was something I really focused on with my reporters when I went on to editing.

Now it’s full circle and I’m the reporter again, and at times, I feel like the girl pacing around the student center. I sometimes get nervous approaching strangers, and it’s grown increasingly difficult to find the right strangers. (Man how I miss the days of knowing where the art students hung out and where to find business majors, where I could time residence hall kids and commuters to the time of day and the cafeteria of choice. It made finding the right sources so much easier.) Now, my community is bigger. But finding the right “real people” (as we call the impact sources) is just as important. And I still strive to include them in my stories.

This week I’ve been working on a story where I’ve struggled to find the people. It’s about an increase in subsidized housing and families moving down here and the impact it’s had on the schools in one community. I wrote the story without any of those families. And my editor gave it back. It needed those voices, he told me. I knew it, but I was scared of going out there to find them. Not scared of the people, but scared of their reaction, scared of tripping over my words or insulting them or saying the wrong thing or saying it in the wrong way. (I only half laughed when my editor cautioned “be careful” when I go and when one of the other reporters told me she knew where the complex was because the police just had a meeting about how to clean it up. That’s always reassuring.)

The first time I drove out there, nobody was out. I mean not a single soul in either of the complexes at the center of my story. There were bikes scattered from end to end, abandoned on sidewalks and near doors, but not a single adult or child visible. It was 98 degrees, no wonder. I was prepared to say, “I tried.” But my editor wouldn’t hear it. He held the story and sent me back. This time, knowing I couldn’t fail, I went at a different hour and waited until I saw a couple with a few kids in tow. I mustered up all the confidence I could and clouded out the misgivings of that girl pacing the student center plaza. I got out of my car and approached them. The woman, at first apprehensive, talked to me outside on her front stoop. She was exactly what I was looking for, had kids in the schools, had moved here recently from Chicago and so forth. It wasn’t so hard. I’d just built it up in my mind.

No matter how uncomfortable I am doing something, I didn’t become a reporter to be comfortable. In fact, as I said before, one of my motivations was to break out of my comfort zone, which is necessary to grow. I have. I do every day. Whether it’s going to court for the first time (which I did this week) or calling a parent who lost a child (which I almost cried over when I did the first time last summer), those are the new experiences that make journalism a thrill, that help make me more confident.

I’ve always said that I’ll stay in a job as long as I’m still learning. That’s always been my threshold for when I will know it’s time to leave. This week has only proven again to me how much I have to learn. And the truth is, that’s what keeps it exciting.

I haven’t had time to properly look through it, and I’m not quite sure when it officially launched as I haven’t been keeping up with my back-home reading, but The Beacon Journal got a make-over.

Thank you, Journalism gods.

It still retains some of the same feeling and colors it had before, but it’s much more clean and accessible. I wish I had a screen shot of the “before” to compare, but basically anyone who has ever seen the blah Knight-Ridder template that they all seemed to utilize knows what I’m talking about. Don’t remember: The Philadelphia Inquirer is still using it, although theirs seems a bit more organized than Ohio.com did before.

A few things I like:

• I’m a fan of the drop-down menu. I think this is probably the best way to get in a lot of links without cluttering your page or making me click through a few pages for what I want.

• I also appreciate that the content rules and the ads largely play second fiddle. (I’ve been growing increasingly annoyed by newspaper Web site ads of recent. Look for a diatribe about IndyStar.com soon.)
• The photo gallery template is simple, links back to the story and tells me how many photos I’m in for. That largely satisfies my preferances. Though, it would be nice to quickly see the whole group at once.
• Love the Most Read Stories box. I think every paper should do this, and hate that my paper doesn’t. We get an e-mail every day telling us the stories with the top hits, but we don’t pull them out online, even though I think readers would be as interested as we are.

Toss-ups:

• I like the quick take blog links on the left side of every page. It’s a clean list even if it’s a bit long. I don’t like that I can’t see what’s been updated recently.

• I like that it seems they’ve finally resigned themselves to allowing comments on every story. But I happen to like how we do it at the J&C where you see the most recent comments on the page. I don’t think you should have to jump through another hoop to see or join the conversation. Also, as with most topix comments, the “Read all XX comments” isn’t obvious and blends into the box above. But they do get some bonus points for having in their abbreviated terms “Be polite.”
• The “Inside Ohio.com” box at the bottom of the pages is a good idea, but it comes off looking like a cheap knock off of the NYTimes menu.

Things I’m not digging so much:

• Why is the multimedia page so boring?! This should be the most exciting stuff. Where are the pictures? Where’s the fun? (Ditto on the local news page.)

• In fact, where the heck are the photos? I can’t find any on any stories I clicked on except the dominant one online.
• Speaking of that story and photos: Why is it sandwiched between two ads?! I completely overlooked it at first because I figured it was just an ad. I remember learning not to even let photos and ad stacks bump when I took news design. I know this isn’t as true of the Web, but surely stacking it in the middle isn’t an effective display.
• In that same story, they say “County Council is expected to act on the 40-page document Monday. (A copy of the plan is available at http://www.co. summit.oh.us/executive/pdfs/ DOD/Lakemore%20 Development%20Area%20(7-07).pdf.)” Two thoughts on this one: First, make it a link! Second, get a copy of the plan and pull it out in an impact box for easy dissection and so I know it’s there.

I haven’t had time to really look below the surface or get a feel for daily use and how I like it yet, but right now I’m going to say it’s a huge improvement. Good job, guys.

For more on the redesign, read the FAQ.

Yesterday was hard.

When I came back from my school board meeting Wednesday night I couldn’t concentrate. It had nothing to do with the story or meeting. It was because the courts reporter was there cleaning out his desk. He spent much of the day Thursday finishing the job. And then, after a short but touching reception, he walked out of the building where he has worked the past 21 years to launch a new career.

It was hard on me, so I can’t imagine how he felt this morning when he woke up and realized for the first time in more than two decades he no longer works for the J&C, or as a reporter, or in journalism at all. Considering that represents all but about a year of my life, I can’t even begin to imagine.

Besides the entire newsroom at his reception (literally, there was one copy editor still in the newsroom), as proof of what an institution and great reporter he is, the sheriff, police chief, judges, attorneys and former J&Cers all showed up to pay their respects. The police and sheriff’s dept. even gave him plaques. I forget the exact saying but the general gist was “Thanks for your relentless pursuit of the truth.”

I felt silly that I was as sad as I was when I have only known him six and a half months. But you know what? I learned more from Joe in those six months than probably anyone else. He was hands down one of my favorite people. I lucked out that his cubicle was beside mine, because he got to help me with a lot of my dumb questions as I was just starting. All I got to repay him with was a few good laughs and some tech support. He also knows everyone(!) and how to get everything, which I guess tends to happen when you’ve been doing it that long. So he was an invaluable source of advice and knowledge. Not to mention he’s a hell of a reporter and a genuine good man. And you know what, he was still learning new things and chasing a story right up until the clock hit 5 p.m. on his last day. That’s the type of person and reporter I want to be.

I was talking to him before he left about how long he had been there and what has changed and what’s still the same. And he said that in his time he’s seen a lot of reporters come and go and many he can see their face but can’t even remember the name. That makes sense. I mean, 21 years is a long time to be in any one place, especially in this business. There are names I can hardly recall from my internship last summer. But I know that no matter where I go, I’ll always remember him.

What struck me most was what an impact he made. I mean, man, I hope someday to have a job at a place I like enough to stay somewhere two decades. I hope I’m able to make an impact that’s worth so many important people coming out to celebrate my accomplishments and lament my choice to leave.

It’s going to be hard for me to walk into the office today and sit down at my cubicle and not have Joe beside me asking how to fix something or send something or do something on his computer, not to have him telling me about the dumb criminal of the day or asking if I caught the address they just said on the scanner. The only consolation I get that a lot of other J&Cers don’t have is I know I’ll see him again.

See, Joe’s not leaving journalism like many people these days. He’s not being laid off. He’s not being forced out. He’s not jaded to the point that he hates what he does. Instead, he’s starting a new career. And lucky for me (and for the seventh and eighth graders he’ll be teaching), it’s as an English teacher. I keep telling him he can be my deep throat at the school or that I’m going to do a trend story on first year teachers or people who are taking on teaching as a second career and he’s going to be my main source. I’m kidding of course, but I know every time I stop by the school, I’ll make a pit stop by Mr. Gerrety’s room. It’s hard for me to let him go, I can’t imagine how hard it was for him to let go of the J&C.