On that last point: El Salvador wants to become the only country in the world to completely forbid mining. Needless to say, Pacific Rim is not prepared to let them do that.
How can one little worm get through all the books? (Photo credit: lawrence_baulch on Flickr)
I’ve stared at this phrase for the last 10 minutes:
“Substantial and demonstrable knowledge of regional, national and international issues.”
I’m applying for a more permanent job at the CBC, and this requirement initially sent me into a bit of an epistemic tailspin.
I automatically read it this way:
“Substantial(in terms of importance? breadth? expertise? And by what metric? As compared to the average person or the seasoned journalist? ) and demonstrable(does this mean showing an awareness of topics selected at random? Being able to speak to any number of complex issues intelligently? Writing a multiple choice test?) knowledge(regurgitation of what I’ve read? analysis and criticism? facts and figures? All of it?) of regional, national and international issues(local blogs, front page news, foreign media — all of the above? All of the above on every story? What about cultural frameworks, privileged narratives, power relations?“
Grad school: I think you did this to me.
While completing my master’s degree, I started many sentences with: “what do you mean by … ?” and “what’s your definition of …?”
The weird thing is that I was always a somewhat reluctant academic. While sitting in the so-called ivory tower, I wondered if most people could appreciate the things that go on at that altitude. Too often it felt like the scholars were less interested in exchanging meaning and more interested in making audiences nod and say “aaah, brilliant.”
I was also very aware that the opposite of dumbing it down was the equally ridiculous act of puffing it up.
By Bill Watterson
But there’s no denying this: my worldview has been forever changed by all those lectures, books and mind-boggling debates. I developed more intellectual stamina, in spite of the pain of attention. I also learned to appreciate the value of being a self-critical and well-read reporter.
Mid-career journalists like Tim Porter warn that it’s too easy to fall into the daily grind, allowing journalism to simply be whatever journalists do. As he wrote in a 2003 post:
“I practiced journalism, but I knew almost nothing about it …while working in a role dedicated to informing the public, I had precious little information about my own profession, about its best practitioners (or greatest charlatans), about its history and role in the development and preservation of democracy, about its standards or even about the people I intended to inform – the community around me.”
Statements like these make me want to hold on to my Michael Schudson and Stephen Ward books — but at the same time I know that I can’t just name-drop media scholars if I want to do well on a day-to-day basis.
As a fresh graduate, I now face the world beyond academia and must imagine an audience that doesn’t consist of university students and professors. As I list hard skills on my resume — hint: deconstructing normative paradigms didn’t make the cut — I once again find myself searching for balance.
Where is the solid ground between contempt for the “ignorant masses” and contempt for the “snobby elites”? Between shallow generalization and pinpoint specialization? Between the strictly practical and the hopelessly philosophical?
It’s important to me that I do this thing both skillfully and thoughtfully. I’ve loaded this blog with questions: Is it crazy to choose journalism in the first place? How can I bring kindness and nuance to my work? How sensitive can a journalist be? How can we have conversations about ethics that don’t seem stuffy?
I still have too few answers, but maybe that’s okay.
Part of what drives me is my dissatisfaction with what I know and my genuine desire to always do better. For this reason, I’ve concluded that “substantial and demonstrable knowledge” must be a process, and never a pinnacle.
The best I can do is keep learning, and keep humble.
If you’ve ever made a joke about how much Clay Shirky looks like Tom Hanks, you’re not alone. It seems even he knows this much is true.
When I’m arranging to meet somewhere I can say: “I look like Tom Hanks with big ears and no hair.” -Clay Shirky, 2009.
Still, the uncanny resemblance between the actor and the journalism professor isn’t that easy to google. When I looked for a side-by-side in image search, I came up short.
So, bowing to the pressure of “pics or it didn’t happen” logic, I thought the Fab Files could do this simple service for the Internet. Voila:
“Tay Hanky” may not be as popular as Helen Hunt/Jodie Foster, or Katy Perry/Zooey Deschanel but if celebrities ever seek out their geeky academic dopplegangers, I can say my blog was part of the movement.
Also, while we’re on the topic of look-alikes, here is Clay as canine:
Clay Shirky's doggleganger
That’s right — the Internet can do anything … even match you up with a dog from New Zealand. The doggleganger app was developed by the Pedigree Adoption Drive and NEC, and its purpose is to creatively connect dogs that need homes to humans that have them.
So, how ’bout it Clay? Could you swing by Auckland for a new best friend?
Just make sure you get there before Tom Hanks does.
While you ponder that, I leave you with a topical clip:
2011 Joan Donaldson scholarship recipients. From left to right: Adam Avrashi, Najat Abdalhadi, Giselle Dookhie, Sol Israel, Alana Bergstrom, Lily Boisson, Fabiola Carletti, Sachin Seth
Okay, we’re not technically interns. We’re Joan Donaldson scholarship recipients on contract for the summer – but who has time to say all that?
Either way: I’m freshly-graduated, and I have a lot riding on this summer stint. Who knows – maybe I’ll find my own nook in this cross-country, bilingual, multimedia institution.
For now, I’m routinely getting lost in the CBC’s Toronto headquarters – a 10 story, 160,000 square metre behemoth.
If you’re curious about what it’s actually like in Willy Wonka’s media factory, I’ll start you off with a fun list of observations in no particular order.
(Disclaimer: I’m not saying these are the most important things about the inner-workings of the Ceeb, but they are things that rookies write home about)
1) You have to become an expert at the elevator colour scheme
Staff orient themselves by referring to elevator colours. (Ex: “Visual Resources is now on the 8th floor, blue elevators.”) Seems simple enough, right?
Well, sometimes they’re talking about the colour of the elevator doors and sometimes the walls by the elevator. Some elevators don’t go to certain floors, and they’re not all primary colours. God help you if you confuse the red and burgundy elevators. There’s also a gigantic lift affectionately known as “the big green monster.” The largest elevators can hold entire movie sets and enormous animals. (I’m going somewhere with that last one …)
2) When reporters share a building with entertainment media, things can get a little wild.
Our internship coordinator told us some pretty unbelievable stories while showing us around. He pointed out the heavy-duty red elevators and explained that they’ve lifted, among other things, a lion on its way up to the 10th floor television studios. (Or was it a tiger?)
Anyway, the doors opened prematurely on the 4th floor (which is where the news team works) and the lion/tiger escaped from its handler. Story goes that the beast jumped on top of an unlucky journalist’s desk and proceeded to urinate all over everything.
How’s that for a piss off?
3) You may bump into a mail delivery robot
Okay, the robot doesn’t have a face or an endearing personality, but it does make its own way through the labyrinthine corridors of the building – which is more than I can do. The droid makes a soft beeping sound and apparently knows where to go because of an invisible path sprayed on the carpets. I heard it stops if you get in its way, but I won’t risk my neck testing that theory.
Here’s video evidence from someone as easily excited:
4) The jokers have made their mark
Pay attention and you’ll see evidence of the staff’s sense of humour. Sure, there are the goofy blog posts, funny signs (“No Coffee, No Workee”) and random stickers (the Smoke’s Poutinerie face is everywhere!) … but there are also some craftier jesters among the masses.
On the fourth floor blue elevators, you may notice a shot of Peter Mansbridge looking out into the crowd (See picture below, left side).
Upon closer inspection, you’ll see my favourite guy ever.
Left: wideshot of the Mansbridge elevator. Right: not just another face in the crowd
Whoever inserted this into the crowd took the time to figure out the proportions and go black and white to blend in. I don’t even know how I spotted him!
Some other interns and I were guessing who this guy might be. Perhaps he’s a former employee who vowed to keep an eye on the news team? A CTV reporter who snuck into the building? Peter’s estranged son?
(If you recognize this man, seriously, help me out here.)
We also joked about adding Mansbridge himself into the audience. How meta would that be?
5) Radio people seldom look like they sound, and television personalities are often shorter than they seem.
These are generalizations I can get behind. Take for instance “the voice” that introduces The Current with Anna Maria Tremonti. He’s an extremely tall Gothic guy with long hair. (He sounded like a stubby older man in suspenders to me!)
“The talent” (on-air radio and television personalities) are everywhere, and they’re easier to spot thanks to flashy in-house marketing. You know you’ve made it at the CBC when they’ve blown you up and put you on the walls, pillars, and — of course — the elevators.
It’s always slightly bewildering to see larger-than-life figures in, well, real life.
So far David Suzuki has walked by me in a huff; I almost collided with Jian Ghomeshi as he powered past me on his cell phone; and I’ve directly experienced Strombo’s “your boyfriend George” smile. I’ve also been in the bathroom with Spark’s Nora Young and in the coffee lineup behind Metro Morning’s Matt Galloway.
It may be lame, but I always get a little giddy about these encounters.
One intern described seeing Peter Mansbridge’s image on an elevator, which then split to reveal the real Peter Mansbridge.
Just another day at the CBC, I suppose!
TWITTER FEEDBACK
Awesome! But lion or elephant? RT @FierceFab: BLOG| An intern's-eye-view of CBC headquarters: http://t.co/fvq17DA Five fun observations.— Adam Avrashi (@avrashi) June 12, 2011
@avrashi It was a lion or a tiger. The elephant was too heavy for the floor beams, remember? Whole new meaning to media circus!— Fabiola Carletti (@FierceFab) June 12, 2011
@FierceFab This is hilarious. "One intern saw Peter Mansbridge’s image on an elevator split to reveal the actual Peter Mansbridge."— Nicholas Maronese (@nickmaronese) June 12, 2011
@nickmaronese Haha, yeah, that killed me. When I saw Jian power-walking by, it was right after seeing him looking relaxed on a nearby wall.— Fabiola Carletti (@FierceFab) June 12, 2011
Sometimes awful things trend on twitter, and I swear that I will quit the Internet – but then something awesome happens and I’m hooked once again.
The best trending topic of late is #lessinterestingbooks (which has apparently trended before and still has some life in it now).
Out of respect for my followers, I decided to stop re-tweeting every single entry that made me chuckle and instead compiled them here for those that missed the meme.
(I’ve also googled many that I thought I came up with … only to find that they were already out there. Some exceptions: “A Mid-Summer Night’s Nap”, “Alice’s Adventures in Portland,” “The Little Engine that Gave Up” and “Tuck Temporarily”)
If you think of any others, please feel free to share them in the comments section here, or tweet them to me @fiercefab. Enjoy!
Today I allowed myself to recover from a cold and shirk my responsibilities, if only for a short while. An event lured me in with the following description:
“Join second-year MFA in Creative Writing students Emily Davidson, Natalie Thompson, and Sigal Samuel, and first-year MFA Michelle Turner, in an evening of selected readings. Green College’s resident writers will present a variety of original poetry and prose, and will discuss what goes into constructing a creative work inside the confines of an academic institution. This is your chance to see what writers get up to, and hear pieces from the outgoing Greenies’ thesis manuscripts. Be there, or be a dangling modifier.”
Four talented women, who I am lucky to call friends, shared their works with an engrossed audience. This sniffling journalist sat among the onlookers, pining for the multisyllabic words and creative license that writers of fiction enjoy.
At the risk of romanticizing a difficult craft, I must say I was amazed by how effortless it seemed. These writers carved beauty out of the blocks of everyday experience. It was rejuvenating and not the least bit pretentious.
The event was to last an hour — a block of time that I deemed reasonably brief — but of course it ran longer, and is still running inside me, even now, as I sit in my pajama pants at home.
My sinuses have cleared and I feel like my cold has finally subsided.
I do believe the aesthetic experience expedited my recovery.
These words, however clumsy, are a mild-mannered ode to writers with more colour on their palettes and more time before their deadlines.
Former "snowballs" - anonymously submitted student questions, thrown to the front of the lecture hall. As you can see, some students kept it very general.
I have to confess right away: this post will not thoroughly answer the headline’s question — yet.
Actually, I was hoping to borrow your collective brainpower. Quick background: I’m the TA for the UBC School of Journalism’s undergraduate New Media course, and many of the students are interested in getting into journalism.
Today we had the students throw “snowballs” (anonymous crumpled up questions) to the front of the lecture hall. It turns out many of them are interested in how new journalists are making their way into the field.
More specifically, they want suggestions on who to watch – emerging journalists that they can see as mentors. (You know, “most likely to succeed” high school yearbook style.)
I have a few names in mind, but I’m really hoping to get peer input on this one. I’d love a good cross-section from various backgrounds and J-schools (although, more than formally studying journalism, it’s important that they excel at practicing it). I’m also hoping to include many approaches to the craft, and I’m open to suggestions outside of Canada.
If you have anyone in mind, I’d love if you could fire off any/all of the following, where applicable:
Name
J-school
Current/Past employers
Publications in which their work has appeared
Platforms they work in
Blog/twitter feed/website
Link to a good sample of their work <–very important!
The only requirements are that they are new to the industry – which may or may not mean they’re twenty-somethings – and that you really think they show great potential. I’ll be sure to post the list I come up with, with priority to those that send me cross-platform samples I can show the students.
Please comment below or email me at ef (dot) carletti (at) gmail (dot) com
Thank you immensely everyone! And congrats to those already recommended by their peers!
-Fab
—————————————————————
JOURNALISTS SUGGESTED SO FAR
So far I’ve including all the names suggested to me by people who have read the criteria above. I’ll include more details about the journalists I highlight in my follow-up blog post, but for now, you can:
(Warning: this blog post is unusually self-referential and includes high levels of enthusiasm. We’ll be back to regular programming next time.)
"Wake up, Fabiola! A little bit more of the world is watching!" -- Image by bobaliciouslondon on Flickr
On Thursday morning, I zombie-walked down the stairs and headed for the bathroom.
After washing my face with cold water — which did nothing to perk me up — I stuck my toothbrush in my mouth and left the room. (See, I have this weird habit: I like to walk around brushing for a while – usually stretching, looking out windows, or just wandering through rooms.) Yesterday, I decided to check my email.
My toothbrush almost fell out of my mouth when I saw my inbox:
“Wha ah eell?” I said in garbled English. Now, I was awake. I dashed back to the bathroom to rinse, and then ran back to the computer, all the while wondering if I’d posted some inflammatory slur in my sleep.
Turns out, WordPress had featured me on their homepage, and I was simply experiencing the bump in traffic that goes along with the distinction.
Bottom-right corner: that's me! (Well, that's my dog, but I wrote the blog post.)
And, at time of writing, my stats have shot up like a hockey coach’s blood pressure in third period. My previous record (in orange) was obliterated!
Freshly (im)pressed!
Then, came the subscriptions. Now, this is the important bit. The following people have freshly committed to checking this blog out on the regular. In a world of inbox overload, they’ve said “Sure, I’d be okay with hearing from the Fab Files again.”
So, I’d like to say “Hello!” “Thank you!” and “Welcome!” to fellow bloggers who’ve just subscribed:
Hello, as well, to the new readers without public blogs!
I’ve hyperlinked the names above because I’m committed to going through and reading their stuff more carefully, and I invite anyone else visiting the Fab Files to do likewise.
To me, the increased ability to connect is one of the most incredible things about this new media landscape.
Journalists have, for a very long time, had a one-way and top-down relationship with their readers. Bloggers, however, have been much more likely to connect with one another in a more peer-to-peer fashion. Since I am a journalist and a blogger, I’m very interested in navigating the space between — or, the “green lines,” as Clay Shirky puts it. (This will only make sense if you watch the following TED talk.)
But if you don’t have the time to see the video through, here’s the quotation that stood out to me. (Since it’s out of context, the “they” he refers to are members of the former audience.)
The point: I’m excited that you’re interested in me. I’m interested in you, too! And, since it’s such an incredible boost for any blogger, I encourage you to check out the “Five Ways to Get Featured on Freshly Pressed.” The following is an excerpt accompanied by their top five criteria. (See the original article for an explanation of each item.)
Happy blogging!
Each weekday, we select about ten new blog posts for the Freshly Pressed section of the WordPress.com homepage. These posts represent how WordPress can be used to entertain, enlighten, or inspire.
Getting promoted to Freshly Pressed is a major traffic win because WordPress.com receives a high volume of page views. And, we have a feed set up so people can subscribe to Freshly Pressed. Why do we do all this? It’s our way of saying we like you. We really like you.
So, by now you might be wondering how to get featured. It’s all about the content. Here are five bits o’ advice that will increase your chances of landing on the homepage:
Just in time for the holidays, here’s a catchy little carol for journalistic types. Sure, it’s cheesy, but that’s how I like many of my snacks this time of year.
And, hey — since my winter break productivity always comes wrapped in time-wasters, here’s a little ditty I just wrote:
Rudolph the Wayward Intern
Rudolph, the wayward intern had a thing for purple prose And if you ever read it, you could really call it gross
All of the other journos
used to laugh and call him lame.
They never let poor Rudolph
gaze upon his printed name.
Then one foggy Christmas Eve
An editor came to say: “Rudolph, with your prose so light, write a feel-good tale tonight.”
Then all the readers loved him
as they shouted out with glee,
Rudolph the wayward intern,
you’ll go down in history!
I’m referring to my first byline in the actual, tangible Nov. 16th, 2010 edition of the Globe and Mail!
Yep, if you go to the Globe British Columbia section (S) and flip to S2 you’ll see my name blazing out in BIG BLACK ALL CAPS for all the nation to see! (Well, if you still read PAPER-papers, that is.)
I wrote the story on my first day of a two week work/study practicum at the Globe and Mail’s B.C. bureau.
Interestingly, not everything we write for newspapers also ends up online, which may ding our “web cred.” See, if you tell your friends you got a byline in the Globe and they google it, you’re quickly relegated to liar-liar-pants-on-fire status if nothing comes up. (Or teased if all they see is that quick wind warning story you wrote in your first five minutes.)
So, courtesy of my iPhone and my shamelessness, here is my Google-friendly proof of publication:
Fabiola Carletti spotted in the Globe and Mail! My grandmother is proud of me at this very moment.
Sure, it’s blurry and illegible but the point is: It’s here. It’s (semi) clear. Accept it!
(I should re-name this blog post “More proof that I’m a dweeb.”)
…
Wait for it. Wait for it… GUILT.
There’s the guilt.
Okay, I shouldn’t be gloating so much without acknowledging that this is actually one of those grisly crime stories that we shouldn’t be desensitized to. My conscience (a.k.a. Debby Downer) says I’m a jerk.
Someone was found dead, and that’s no joke.
I’ll be following up on the story when the autopsy results are out. No gloating then. I promise.
TWITTER FEEDBACK
@fiercefab wtg! oh, and shamelessness is the new black.— s. elliott-buckley (@politicsREspun) November 17, 2010
@FierceFab gloat away … great job! And, you're right, "couple" is waaay awkward. #gg, copy eds.— gloria er-chua (@gerchua) November 17, 2010
Congrats! RT @FierceFab: BLOG| You can google it, therefore it's real! http://wp.me/psrtk-Gz My first print byline in the Globe and Mail— Mary Lynn Young (@marylynnyoung) November 17, 2010
@FierceFab Congrats! Too bad they don't put it on the web too.— Brandon Beasley (@bebeasley) November 17, 2010
UPDATE: I was right to feel guilty. The follow-up story is very sad. It was a difficult one to write. The victim was identified as 34-year-old Tara Lynn Westgarde, a mother of four.
