Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Fingers on Fire

I just finished my fourth story and I'm ready to give it a rest. We have a fairly serious ice storm coming in, which wreaks havoc around here, so everyone is preparing for that. Our publisher met with the entire staff this morning and stressed the importance of continuing to get the paper out even if the rest of the world comes to a we will do everything the old fashioned way if we lose power. Should be a good time.

Emily and I were discussing our silliness in the newsroom because it's been the subject of so many of my blogs. This happened after we were heading out to lunch today and I said "I'm gonna go home, make a sandwich, and come back and write about the dead girl." She laughed, I laughed...we agreed it wasn't at all funny but in our profession, like many others that deal with tragedy and bad things on a daily basis, you have a tendency to make a sordid joke out of everything horrible or lose your mind because it hurts so much. Or has the potential to hurt.

The thing about writers is that we are pretty sensitive people. One time I posted on my Facebook "Why are journalists always stereotyped in Hollywood as disheveled, chain smoking, whiskey drinking, truth-obsessed insomniacs? Because we ARE!" It's not an easy occupation. But it is a good one.

So, as professional as we are in our writing and (most of the time, unless we're out drinking together) in public, we are complete crazypeople in the newsroom. We sort of have to be. We write about tough things. We see a lot that we don't write about, because sometimes you have to use restraint in terrible situations. Thankfully, most of what we write is not tragic or disturbing...but there is enough of it on a regular basis to make us the way we are. Tender hearted with hard shells. And senses of humor that most people might consider completely twisted if they were ever privy to our newsroom banter.

We are only human.

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