By Anica Wong
Yes, I have a pocket-sized digital camera.
Yes, I have a digital SLR camera with a removable lens.
No, I don’t consider myself a photojournalist.
But with more and more reporters being asked to add digital skills to their resumes, I think I could file photos if necessary.
“There is not room for the single-skilled journalist,” said Kenny Irby, Poynter's visual journalism group leader and director of diversity. “You have to be able to tell stories in at least two media dimensions.”
If every reporter—or common citizen, for that matter—carries around a digital camera and shoots semi-decent photographs of events, what does that mean for photojournalists like Irby?
He explained that citizens want photos almost a minute after something happens. They are satisfied with a photo taken by a camera phone if it portrays the basic information. He added, though, that they then expect to see high quality photos from professionals; if it is a big enough story, they want to see multiple stages of photos.
“There is a continuum of updating,” Irby said. “Just like we update blogs and we update websites, that kind of progression is what we are trying to expose people to and try and develop strategies for executing.”
I think it is exciting that I will be expected to not only report and write stories, but also take photographs that are visually pleasing and compelling. I’m no Robert Capa or Dorothea Lange, both famous photojournalists. But I hope that my work would be good enough to satisfy readers/consumers for a while¬—at least until a professional gets there.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Keep it complex
By Anna Kim
Keith Woods spent ten years as a sports writer. And throughout those 10 years, he said he was interested in being the anti-sports writer.
Woods said he was never interested in stats. Instead, his interest was the human element and the lessons that need to be learned to reach one’s potential as a reporter or writer.
The first lesson, he said, is that humans, whether athletes or not, are neither saints nor sinners. Elements of both reside in everyone. So, said Woods, reporters must fight against the tug of the preconceived narrative and instead be aware of the complexities that exist in every story. The more simple a story seems, Woods said, the less true it is. And the more complex a story is, the more interesting it is.
The best we can do, he said, is strive for the most thorough and aggressively fair reporting possible. Then we must get out of the way and let the readers reach their own conclusions.
His lesson reminded me of a quote I once read in a New York Times interview with sports writer Gary Smith. “I really want to understand stuff, go on a journey,” Smith said. “Bringing a judgment to the subject, there’s no journey.”
Keith Woods spent ten years as a sports writer. And throughout those 10 years, he said he was interested in being the anti-sports writer.
Woods said he was never interested in stats. Instead, his interest was the human element and the lessons that need to be learned to reach one’s potential as a reporter or writer.
The first lesson, he said, is that humans, whether athletes or not, are neither saints nor sinners. Elements of both reside in everyone. So, said Woods, reporters must fight against the tug of the preconceived narrative and instead be aware of the complexities that exist in every story. The more simple a story seems, Woods said, the less true it is. And the more complex a story is, the more interesting it is.
The best we can do, he said, is strive for the most thorough and aggressively fair reporting possible. Then we must get out of the way and let the readers reach their own conclusions.
His lesson reminded me of a quote I once read in a New York Times interview with sports writer Gary Smith. “I really want to understand stuff, go on a journey,” Smith said. “Bringing a judgment to the subject, there’s no journey.”
Take care of yourself
By Nate Taylor
As a young journalist, I am thankful for Shannon J. Owens of the Orlando Sentinel for speaking to us on Monday.
I got a lot of useful tips from her. She is an SJI alum. She is older than us, but is still dealing with some of the types of issue that we as young journalists are facing in the newspaper industry. She knows exactly what we are going through as young journalists.
It was great a session and I really enjoyed a lot of what she said. What caught me off guard was Owens saying that sports reporters need to prepare when it comes to covering a story.
She then went further, saying sports reporters need to take care of their bodies. Owens said many times sports reporters are just like performers, especially when it comes to writing a game story or feature on deadline. Just as the athletes we cover needs to be prepared and fully rested, so does a journalist.
After hearing what she said, I thought about what I did to take care of my body when I interned at The Quad-City Times last summer. Let’s just say I didn’t get up early in the morning, and I certainly wasn’t watching my diet
Now I know I have to watch what I eat, get the right amount of sleep and make sure I get enough exercise during my internship at The Minneapolis Star Tribune this summer.
Common sense not so common
By David Ubben
Protecting our brand is something that’s more important today than ever, especially as young writers. All is takes is one lazy fact check to dent an otherwise exemplary career filled with awards and respect. (See: Mitch Albom)
I don’t have the most experience, but in my few years I’ve discovered that much of this business is just common sense. Sometimes we overlook the obvious and that can lead to unwanted consequences that could have been avoided by asking two questions:
1) What do you mean by that?
2) How do you know that?
Malcolm Moran came and spoke to our class today. Much of the discussion was him giving general tips of succeeding in the business, but it also branched off into a discussion about how to report on coaching searches, an event Moran referred to as “the demolition derby” of journalism. Specifically, coverage surrounding a prominent job opening in the Midwest last winter.
The mistakes that occurred during the coverage of that search probably could have been avoided if they had asked those questions. When someone calls you on the phone and says a man has taken a job, ask them how do they know that. When they tell you, dig deeper and get closer to the original source. If they can’t tell you how they know, then it’s not unreasonable to discount that information. If they know, but won’t tell you, it circles back to the idea that you should have earned the trust of that source to know that the person above them won’t hear their name. But if you’re able to dig deeper to the original source, even if you never reach it, you’ve got two, three, maybe four people corroborating your story.
Asking someone to clarify a statement provides clarity to your information. A simple concept, but too often people rely on surface-level information.
Sticking with the theme of coaching searches we spoke about this morning, when someone says, “All they have left to do before this guy is coach is dot the I’s and cross the t’s.” I doubt the contract has been drafted up but the author who conveniently saves their dots and crosses until after the document is finished. Follow it up. Ask, “Okay, what exactly has to happen before he takes the podium at an announcement press conference?”
Giving clarity to our information and providing more adequate sourcing of our information is just one of the ways to protect our brand as young journalists and prevent embarrassing ourselves. Sometimes doing that isn’t as hard as it might seem.
Protecting our brand is something that’s more important today than ever, especially as young writers. All is takes is one lazy fact check to dent an otherwise exemplary career filled with awards and respect. (See: Mitch Albom)
I don’t have the most experience, but in my few years I’ve discovered that much of this business is just common sense. Sometimes we overlook the obvious and that can lead to unwanted consequences that could have been avoided by asking two questions:
1) What do you mean by that?
2) How do you know that?
Malcolm Moran came and spoke to our class today. Much of the discussion was him giving general tips of succeeding in the business, but it also branched off into a discussion about how to report on coaching searches, an event Moran referred to as “the demolition derby” of journalism. Specifically, coverage surrounding a prominent job opening in the Midwest last winter.
The mistakes that occurred during the coverage of that search probably could have been avoided if they had asked those questions. When someone calls you on the phone and says a man has taken a job, ask them how do they know that. When they tell you, dig deeper and get closer to the original source. If they can’t tell you how they know, then it’s not unreasonable to discount that information. If they know, but won’t tell you, it circles back to the idea that you should have earned the trust of that source to know that the person above them won’t hear their name. But if you’re able to dig deeper to the original source, even if you never reach it, you’ve got two, three, maybe four people corroborating your story.
Asking someone to clarify a statement provides clarity to your information. A simple concept, but too often people rely on surface-level information.
Sticking with the theme of coaching searches we spoke about this morning, when someone says, “All they have left to do before this guy is coach is dot the I’s and cross the t’s.” I doubt the contract has been drafted up but the author who conveniently saves their dots and crosses until after the document is finished. Follow it up. Ask, “Okay, what exactly has to happen before he takes the podium at an announcement press conference?”
Giving clarity to our information and providing more adequate sourcing of our information is just one of the ways to protect our brand as young journalists and prevent embarrassing ourselves. Sometimes doing that isn’t as hard as it might seem.
Brain drain
By Anna Kim
The casualties in the journalism industry happen daily, publicized or not.
One of our SJI class speakers talked with us about another casualty — one that deserves publicity and consideration, too.
Malcolm Moran, the Knight Chair in sports journalism and society at Penn State, spoke about the loss of institutional memory. As the industry loses veteran reporters and editors, the loss of institutional memory manifests itself in two ways: the loss of context and the loss of experience.
Moran cited an example of a editor who recently stepped down to become a senior writer. In losing that editor, the reporters in turn suffer from a loss of the veteran’s contacts and experience.
Reporters and editors who have been in the business for decades can offer a level of knowledge and contacts that new editors simply have not had time to develop. In terms of stories, there is a loss of context as well. There is no doubt that the media has a penchant to hail a game as the best Super Bowl ever or a superstar as the next Michael Jordan.
Moran provided last year’s men final at Wimbledon as an example. Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal staged a competition that was hailed by many as the greatest tennis match in history. Though it warrants discussion, what happens when voices don’t offer Jimmy Connors vs. Arthur Ashe, or John McEnroe and Bjorn Borg?
The numbers of layoffs are certainly daunting, but it is worth considering that not all losses are quantifiable. And it is hard to imagine how much those intangibles are worth—or how much the losses will hurt.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Leon "Sgt." Carter
By Larry Young Jr.
He walked into the newsroom of the Sports Journalism Institute and immediately commanded respect—sort of how he does at New York Daily News, everyday.
He shook hands with and hugged his fellow staffers. They caught up for a few moments. Then he took a seat.
He took a minute to check his blackberry. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out another. He and 1994 SJI alum Gregory Lee had been exchanging text messages all morning. And Lee had been telling the class, “Mr. Carter is coming.”
Now, he was here, and it was time to meet the man known as Sgt. Carter, a man who is allergic to Facebook. It was time to meet the man who refers to twitter as “glitter.” It was time to meet the man that refers to alcohol as “goo-goo.”
Most important, it was time to meet the man we heard so much about.
After the first three days with him, I learned he’s all about being the best at what he does. I learned he’s all about getting the scoop—not matter the time. And he’s all about out-hustling the competition.
To relay his message, Mr. Carter played “The Paper,” a movie chronicling the life of a New York editor juggling the pains of a stressful job and pregnant wife.
As Mr. Carter would say, that’s “adversity.”
Remembering what's important
By David Ubben
Engraved in the cement outside the entrance to the Poynter Institute are 45 words that allow us to do our jobs as journalists.
Those same 45 words crawl down the wall in the main lobby of The Oklahoman, where I’ll be working this summer. Most understand its basic principle, but few can recite further than the first four words:
Congress shall make no law.
It doesn’t take a genius to see why those four words begin the document that cemented the foundations of our country.
The First Amendment is bigger than journalism. It allows us to believe what we want, exercise those beliefs, and inform those in power why those beliefs matter, religious or otherwise, without fear of being bullied by our government.
I love that I have an opportunity to work inside a pair of places that recognize the importance of that privilege. Last spring I saw a documentary called “Burma VJ” about a group of video journalists who documented the September 2007 uprising against the Burmese government. To get their message to the public, they had to capture images of government brutality and suppression in secret, shot through their sleeves or plastic bags, and then either smuggle tapes out of the country or find a place where the government had not shut down Internet access to upload the images onto a global server. They knew that the government there could detain, with no warning, those seen as threats—and some are never seen again.
I love working in this field. If you asked me, I’d tell you I’m passionate about it. But if you placed the same conditions on me as those facing the journalists in Burma,
I am not sure I would continue doing this job. If I want to do a story, I find or call the necessary people, speak to them and write. For others, completing that process means risking their lives.
We live in a nation that believes open communication between those in power and those they represent is essential to a successful society. It’s great to walk into a pair of places every day that make sure we remember that not every country operates under that standard.
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