My OperaBack On The Bike V
Sunday, August 7, 2011 5:24:16 PM
Prior post
I have been working today. Yeah, I know it is Sunday, and I am not supposed to be working, but it is not real work, like building something or digging holes. It was just a little writing. Not worth mentioning, really.
Only seven pages, 3197 words, based on three interviews. First one was 45 minutes, next one was 35 minutes, both via telephone. The last one was personal, face to face, on location, 2 hours and 56 minutes. A total of 256 minutes. Plus the hours I spent writing today, from around 8.00 this morning to 5.00 in the afternoon, minus 90 minutes lunch break (smoke breaks not included).
So, job's done, and I sent the whole thing to the chief editor just half an hour ago. I promised him that he would have it 'on desk' Monday morning. He is supposed to read it, erase half of it and tell me to rewrite the rest. I am prepared for that. We have five weeks to adjust and complete before they start the press.
I am quite satisfied. Not the best piece I have done ever, but acceptable, given the fact that I have not written actual journalism for almost seven years. I have been writing and also publishing but not in the area of journalism.
It feels good. I actually expected my inner drama queen to jump up today, after having finished, but that did not happen. I am talking about the feeling of not having done your best, being the worst ever, a useless and stupid person and complaining and whining and making life miserable for everyone around. I have been there before.
Not this time, though.
The actual Danish title doesn't really translate, but it goes something like 'The Engine That Couldn't'. It's a quote from the interview with Lars, and it sums up what most stress patients experience. I might change it to 'Divorcing Your Job' to emphasize that it is about burning out on the job, in a world where you are supposed to be in love with working and have a perverted sort of addictive relationsship with your job.
It'll make you sick, you know. Seriously.
Not this engine, though. Not this time anyway.
I have been working today. Yeah, I know it is Sunday, and I am not supposed to be working, but it is not real work, like building something or digging holes. It was just a little writing. Not worth mentioning, really.
Only seven pages, 3197 words, based on three interviews. First one was 45 minutes, next one was 35 minutes, both via telephone. The last one was personal, face to face, on location, 2 hours and 56 minutes. A total of 256 minutes. Plus the hours I spent writing today, from around 8.00 this morning to 5.00 in the afternoon, minus 90 minutes lunch break (smoke breaks not included).
So, job's done, and I sent the whole thing to the chief editor just half an hour ago. I promised him that he would have it 'on desk' Monday morning. He is supposed to read it, erase half of it and tell me to rewrite the rest. I am prepared for that. We have five weeks to adjust and complete before they start the press.
I am quite satisfied. Not the best piece I have done ever, but acceptable, given the fact that I have not written actual journalism for almost seven years. I have been writing and also publishing but not in the area of journalism.
It feels good. I actually expected my inner drama queen to jump up today, after having finished, but that did not happen. I am talking about the feeling of not having done your best, being the worst ever, a useless and stupid person and complaining and whining and making life miserable for everyone around. I have been there before.
Not this time, though.
The actual Danish title doesn't really translate, but it goes something like 'The Engine That Couldn't'. It's a quote from the interview with Lars, and it sums up what most stress patients experience. I might change it to 'Divorcing Your Job' to emphasize that it is about burning out on the job, in a world where you are supposed to be in love with working and have a perverted sort of addictive relationsship with your job.
It'll make you sick, you know. Seriously.
Not this engine, though. Not this time anyway.
Aidialigan0510 # Sunday, August 7, 2011 5:58:51 PM
Dark FurieFurie # Monday, August 8, 2011 6:55:41 AM
Martin K™Aqualion # Monday, August 8, 2011 8:55:21 AM
@Mik
It's the same concept I'm contemplating, because there is more to the subject, way more. In my research I have made several contacts, some of them with important stories. There's a group of women with ME/CFS diagnosis - fatigue diseases - who get treated like mental patients to the limit of assault. That might be my next asignment. If I can convince my editor.
PS: To the phonies: sorry about the gigantic label. It's not that big on the PC screen.
KittyliciousZaphira # Monday, August 8, 2011 2:34:27 PM
Good luck on the project.
Edward Piercyedwardpiercy # Monday, August 8, 2011 2:59:12 PM
Not this time, though."
Sometimes there's no energy for drama; or no interest left once it has all been accomplished.
As for titles, don't ask and anthropologist or archaeologist about titles. They have some of the longest titles I've run into, usually of the form giving some "cute" prelude followed by a very long technical description of the article. Such as "Cold Noses: A Look at the Relationship of Kinship to Sexual Practices of the Inuit in Northern Alaska, 1900-1927."
Martin K™Aqualion # Monday, August 8, 2011 9:17:23 PM
I have been working on this story for a couple of months now. Not every day, of course, but on and off. Research. And as it always is with research, I only used about 30 % of the material I have been through. It's basically an interview, quite traditional if you want the truth. Supplied with statements from the experts, I have consultet. So, jobs done and I have spent whatever interest I might have had in the subject. I'm ready for new missions. It's like that. As you suggest.
As for the title, I guess it is really up to the editors. It's like that. Fortunately, this is a conventional magazine with oldschool journalists. I like that. No gong-ho new wave super-ego selfacclaimed prodigies here, only tough old disillusioned and worn out outsiders like myself.
We know the rules and therefore we also know they don't mean a thing.
Catch my drift?
Edward Piercyedwardpiercy # Monday, August 8, 2011 9:39:34 PM
Originally posted by Aqualion:
I'm not a journalist but -- more or less, yes, I do.
Martin K™Aqualion # Monday, August 8, 2011 9:51:05 PM
This also means we are untouchables. We can go for any bad guys and get away with it, because we have no soft spots, nothiung to lose.
This is one of the things that made an anonymous group of media guys nominate Outsideren for the Cavling Prize (Denmark's version of the Pulitzer Prize) last year and did it again this year. It is an outstanding position. Good journalists with all the time in the world, unchained by commercial interests or political issues and with nothing to lose.
And that is what they've been doing for the last ten years. They already 'retired' three corrupted Copenhagen psychiatrists and rattled the cobwebs of some City politicians too, and there's more to come.
I like that. It's what journalism is about.
Edward Piercyedwardpiercy # Tuesday, August 9, 2011 12:25:39 AM