Rage, rage against the dying of the light. A famous line from a famous poem by Dylan Thomas. A famous line only the media business could have possibly made so intimately relevant for me.
If I could steal time, I’d be a thief, there is no doubt. Like clockwork, every Sunday I work to meet my deadline and I never, ever do. It always takes longer to write these stories out than I think it will and I am either intellectually deficient, or suffer short-term memory loss. Perhaps both.
I’m not known as an especially fearful person, but at 4 a.m., and all alone in a quiet office, almost everything is spooky. Like the deer that stalk me down the sidewalk. If I step out of the shop for some fresh air, there’s a deer nearby. Sometimes, I just hear them rustling around like early-rising zombies hungry for breakfast. Other times, they walk down the sidewalk, like they own the town, and everything in it.
And yet, even as I crave dawn and its promise of eventual rest, I dread it all the same because sunrise signifies one thing – I have run out of time to finish this week’s edition of The Badger.
In addition to harbouring a secret fear of zombies, I’m a little bit of a geek. I once tried to learn the Star Trek language of Klingon. I still have a giant crush on Worf. Darth Vader was my first sex symbol. And I religiously read as many books as possible about news gathering, the state of the news industry and how the modern newspaper can fulfill its role of watchdog in a hyper-litigative, easily distracted, media-saturated society. (You can tell how much fun I’d be at a party, I’m sure.)
In the latest book, I have been advised to level with the readership by making it a regular habit to give a behind the scenes look at news gathering.
Let’s take today’s rottweiler story. I became aware of the story just before Christmas. On my radar screen, I started researching dog attack statistics, breeds in North America responsible for the most bites, the effectiveness of breed-specific legislation and the effect of media coverage of dog bites on municipal legislation.
Eventually, it comes time to write the story. Factor in a 30-minute interview with the dog owners. Add a nine-minute interview with the landlord. A 30-minute conversation with the mayor. Another five minute conversation with the dog owners. A 30-minute conversation (of which only 45 seconds was on-the-record) with the trailer park’s manager. Add another 5-minute conversation with the dog owners. Add 30 minutes to scan each page of the phone book in an attempt to talk to other tenants of the park. Add one minute of pulling out hair when you realize that not only does everyone in the world now have call display, but that the rumour of the story has already leaked because no one is answering their telephone. Add 25 minutes representing the few interviews of other tenants you were able to obtain and then another five minutes with the dog owners and another two minutes with the landlord.
What does that add up to? I’m almost scared to calculate. Two hours and seven minutes of phone conversations for the barebones of a story. Then, add four hours and 14 minutes to listen to the interviews as you write the story. And the sidebar of information discussing problem breeds and the problems breed-specific legislation? That was an hour, not including the research, but you didn’t end up with enough room to actually publish it. Add 90 seconds to look up at the ceiling and beg to be beamed up. Please Scotty, anytime now.
One story about two dogs therefore took pretty near a full day’s work to bring to life. It’s amazing how time flies when you’re having fun. And writing well-researched articles is fun – even if sleep deprivation is an unpleasant side effect.
And I think it is important for reporters to be transparent. It gives the readers a means with which to value the research and quality of information presented to them. And while in retrospect, I almost always think I could have done better, while I’m doing it, I’m always doing my best.
Tonight, at Maple Creek’s council meeting, the health region will be there, similarily in an effort to be accountable and honest. And the new town council will be carefully trying on a new balancing act between political correctness, a desire for meaningful information and the need to show residents they do mean business about the new hospital.And that’s a tough tutu to squeeze into.
I remember a meeting in those chambers not so long ago, filled to the brim with people concerned about the resignation of beloved Dr. le Roux. It was the start of a new urgent, movement by many in the Southwest to claim their stake in the future of their own healthcare. Near two years later, it’d make a tired reporter’s night to see a bunch more show up. Because if you care – regardless of your position – you ought to be there. Watchdogs can only sound the alarm. Someone has to be listening.
P.S.
If anyone shows up in a Darth Vader mask, carrying a long, red lightsaber, I might just skip out a little early.
And also…
Thank you for so many letters to the editor! There are so many, we moved some of our regular columns onto page 12. It’s a wonderful compliment to see such participation from our readers. Thanks also for all the news tips when the Kindersley Arena started to burn. Your quick thinking allowed us to be on the scene within an hour. Thank you.