Instead of jumping right into work today, the people who make up the copy desk sat down and watched a "webinar" podcast created by Poynter Institute and News University. First of all, I had no idea that "webinar" was a word now. When will we stop making up words? How long until the entire English language is nothing but a monstrous conglomeration of compounded words?
Not that it isn't already, I mean. I suppose it's just the natural course of a language: Rise, fall, flounder, renaissance. At least, it's probably something like that. A girl in my International Communication class was complaining today about the French, and how American students are taught French, but it really isn't French, since we're taught to say "Je suis" but they actually say "[shwie]"......
It was a lovely rant, and I just want to point out, it had nothing to do with the topic of the degeneration of language, because, as other French-speakers might want to point out, "[shwie]" is pretty much like saying "I'm" in place of "I am".
Back to the webinar. Poynter did a study on people's reading habits and the most interesting piece of information was that people read more text online as opposed to in print. I think it has something to do with speed, like it takes longer to read something in print, especially if the story involves a jump. I know that is one of the reasons I stopped reading print things, at least, it's why I stopped reading the longer stories. I hated searching for the correct page to continue the article. Once I do find the page, the story is never in a similar place.
Does that make sense? If the story has to jump to a separate page, isn't it just common courtesy to start the story again on a similar area of the page? Maybe it just has to do with whoever did the designing. I know that so far, at the Tribune, I don't really see a rhyme, or even a logical rule of syllable counts, to which copy editor does which page. It's more like, "Who wants this one?" "I do." "OK."
This probably means I'm missing something. I'm sure people have their regular pages to edit.
The more I see of newspapers, the more I realize how much DOESN'T get into the paper. I've edited a lot that doesn't appear for a while, or that doesn't appear at all. Maybe they're just testing my editing style. I don't know. But papers are really quite small, in spite of the enormous amount of information that's out there to read. And then when I start thinking about how many different ways there are to spread that information, I'm amazed.
Just think about all of the different front pages that were created for Obama's inauguration. The Courier-Journal in Louisville, Kentucky put together a page of historic front pages from around the world. It's a strange feeling to remember that day, it was my first day working here, and I placed a couple of the pictures that made up the Tribune's front page. And now it's on page A7 of the Courier-Journal, under The Washington Post, and next to Le Journal de Montreal and The Jerusalem Post.
I worked on that page, even if it really was only adjusting a couple photo boundaries and using Google to find some clearer images. But still.....it's there. It's permanent. People will look up front pages from January 2009 and find something that I touched with my fingertips before anyone else did.
03 February 2009
27 January 2009
Day....3? Yes. Three.
I'm pretty sure I've only been working at the Tribune a total of three days. Well, I mean, if you only count the days that I've driven up here and sat in front of a desk and experienced all the wonders of dictionary.reference.com.
I love reference.com. Its thesaurus, not even joking, has saved my lame-lexiconed behind so many times that now I just leave a tab open on the browser whenever I'm writing or reading something. I'm hoping to increase my vocabulary dramatically while I'm working. I'd like to say that I want to do this so that I understand everything better and faster, and so that I have to use the thesaurus and stylebook less. But I suppose I have to admit that I also just love being pretentious and using long or strange words.
Some of my friends have been asking me lately what I actually do when I come to work (and it IS work, thankyouverymuch). So here is a quick rundown of my Tuesdays and Thursdays:
1. Classes in Boulder until some point between 3 p.m. and 3:18 p.m.
2. Special speed walking practice from the time my class gets out to the time I get to the bus stop, generally just in time to watch the bus I want pull away from the stop.
3. After that, I try to get out of town as quickly as humanly possible, and I drive to Greeley while singing loudly to myself and pretending to dance. The singing is fun; the dancing is difficult. Seat belts don't allow for very much movement.
4. 5 p.m.ish: Arrive at the Greeley Tribune and walk to the front door while earnestly praying that the front doors are still open. I don't know why I fear ringing the doorbell by the employee's entrance, but I do. Maybe it's haunted, or booby trapped. Who knows? It could be the last button I ever push...
5. From then on, I sit at a desk and am given different things to color on. Ok, so the "coloring" is actually "editing". And the things I edit range from mocked-up pages to simple, plain pages of text.
So, you see, the job description is not too exciting. But the atmosphere...oh, the atmosphere.
I'd always pictured newsrooms as loud, with people yelling, editors screaming, reporters banging on keyboards with fantastic dedication...
Even when I was here in the middle of the afternoon, things were quiet. One guy who's stationed at the island of desks to my left was sitting on a exercise ball, you know, one of those almost-translucent things yoga-crazy women keep in their houses by the TV? Black signs with white lettering hang above each division of the room. Most all of the keyboards are the white Apple boards, but the majority of the monitors are black Dells. I'm not really sure how that happened, but ok. Sure. I'll go with it.
A police scanner rattles off events from a desk somewhere behind my own. The sports guys are always yelling at one another and at the TVs they stare at; the carpet is the dull, boring, probably-filthily-dirty brown that I'm pretty sure was also in my high school's cafeteria.
Today I introduced myself to a sports intern from UNC named Megan (Meghan? Maegan?), and I think that when I first walked in I saw a girl from Boulder. I'll need to double-check that. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one learning things here.
I also got to do my first stint of headline writing tonight, for a small series of briefs. Nothing too exciting, but I did have the same problems I did when I first wrote headlines for my Newsediting class a couple semesters ago. Note to self: DON'T LET THE VERBS GET AHEAD OF THE STORY.
Oops. You mean, the headline can't hint that something already happened, when it doesn't take place for a week? Ohhhhhhhhh....Gotcha (cue a little nearly-nervous laughter).
New word of the day:
"predeceased": to die before (another person, the occurrence of an event, etc.)
I knew that you could be deceased, and even "preceded in death". But "predeceased"? I had no idea that people actually said that. Or maybe funeral home directors were getting tired of the typical "Jane Doe was preceded in death by...." and decided to come up with a new, more snazzy word.
I love reference.com. Its thesaurus, not even joking, has saved my lame-lexiconed behind so many times that now I just leave a tab open on the browser whenever I'm writing or reading something. I'm hoping to increase my vocabulary dramatically while I'm working. I'd like to say that I want to do this so that I understand everything better and faster, and so that I have to use the thesaurus and stylebook less. But I suppose I have to admit that I also just love being pretentious and using long or strange words.
Some of my friends have been asking me lately what I actually do when I come to work (and it IS work, thankyouverymuch). So here is a quick rundown of my Tuesdays and Thursdays:
1. Classes in Boulder until some point between 3 p.m. and 3:18 p.m.
2. Special speed walking practice from the time my class gets out to the time I get to the bus stop, generally just in time to watch the bus I want pull away from the stop.
3. After that, I try to get out of town as quickly as humanly possible, and I drive to Greeley while singing loudly to myself and pretending to dance. The singing is fun; the dancing is difficult. Seat belts don't allow for very much movement.
4. 5 p.m.ish: Arrive at the Greeley Tribune and walk to the front door while earnestly praying that the front doors are still open. I don't know why I fear ringing the doorbell by the employee's entrance, but I do. Maybe it's haunted, or booby trapped. Who knows? It could be the last button I ever push...
5. From then on, I sit at a desk and am given different things to color on. Ok, so the "coloring" is actually "editing". And the things I edit range from mocked-up pages to simple, plain pages of text.
So, you see, the job description is not too exciting. But the atmosphere...oh, the atmosphere.
I'd always pictured newsrooms as loud, with people yelling, editors screaming, reporters banging on keyboards with fantastic dedication...
Even when I was here in the middle of the afternoon, things were quiet. One guy who's stationed at the island of desks to my left was sitting on a exercise ball, you know, one of those almost-translucent things yoga-crazy women keep in their houses by the TV? Black signs with white lettering hang above each division of the room. Most all of the keyboards are the white Apple boards, but the majority of the monitors are black Dells. I'm not really sure how that happened, but ok. Sure. I'll go with it.
A police scanner rattles off events from a desk somewhere behind my own. The sports guys are always yelling at one another and at the TVs they stare at; the carpet is the dull, boring, probably-filthily-dirty brown that I'm pretty sure was also in my high school's cafeteria.
Today I introduced myself to a sports intern from UNC named Megan (Meghan? Maegan?), and I think that when I first walked in I saw a girl from Boulder. I'll need to double-check that. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one learning things here.
I also got to do my first stint of headline writing tonight, for a small series of briefs. Nothing too exciting, but I did have the same problems I did when I first wrote headlines for my Newsediting class a couple semesters ago. Note to self: DON'T LET THE VERBS GET AHEAD OF THE STORY.
Oops. You mean, the headline can't hint that something already happened, when it doesn't take place for a week? Ohhhhhhhhh....Gotcha (cue a little nearly-nervous laughter).
New word of the day:
"predeceased": to die before (another person, the occurrence of an event, etc.)
I knew that you could be deceased, and even "preceded in death". But "predeceased"? I had no idea that people actually said that. Or maybe funeral home directors were getting tired of the typical "Jane Doe was preceded in death by...." and decided to come up with a new, more snazzy word.
24 January 2009
New things
I officially have a little too much to do every week. I was supposed to use yesterday to do some major homework reading, but a friend called in the middle of the evening, and, well, there went the rest of the night.
I don't understand why I haven't kept up with my blog for the past two handfuls of months. You'd think that I'd be on here every second I had free. But no. I'm not. Rather, I'm here now on assignment. That's the sad part, this isn't even a pure form of writing on my own whim. As part of my journalism curriculum at school, I'm required to spend three credits of this semester in a class called "REPORTING 3" (dum, dum, duuuuum). This class is a rather refreshing step away from the first two classes of that same category. In this one, the entire class is thrown off of school property and forced to get internships in local print media.
I was one of the (few, I think) people to choose to get a copyediting internship, instead of a reporting internship. I made this choice for a couple of really good reasons, the first of which is that I'm honest to goodness absolutely definitely really super tired of reporting. Sure, I loved studying under Jim Sheeler of "Obit" fame, and it was fantastic to finally have a teacher who didn't insist that I write in a tiny sealed box of his or her own making. Yes, that was great. The problem I have with reporting is this: I have no innate curiousity.
There. I've admitted it in public. Now if only my journalism advisors and professors would believe me and listen to me when I say it. ha...ha....
I won't tell the story of how I got the internship, as it may put certain persons in not-so-favorable ultra-bright flourescent lights, and I'd rather avoid that sort of thing here. Suffice it to say that after a sufficient amount of freaking out and confusion on my part, I was given an internship at the Greeley Tribune in, of course, Greeley.
I've worked a total of two quite long days (long because my hours there have me in the newsroom until just after midnight), and so far have no complaints except for some of the keyboards there are a little more dirty than I'd like to notice.
I mean, really, people. It's a keyboard, and other people sometimes have to touch it. You could just clean it every once in a while, you know? Or every year? Once a year? Those little white keys next to the splotchy brown keys also used to be pearly and clean, did you know that? It's just so disgusting when I'm given a free desk, and I look down and start coming up with ways in my head to ask if I might be able to use a different desk in the room, for the sake of my fingertips. My hands actually hover over the keys, not from writer's block or not being able to decide which search engine to choose, but from a fear that some sort of fungus is in fact on those keys. You can't be too careful, you know.
So the next few months of blogging will almost completely be dedicated to this internship, and the little things that I learn about copyediting on the way. Every once in a while I'll probably post links to an interesting story or two. Well, you know, once I really begin reading things online that aren't in French. It wouldn't do much for me to post things from Le Monde, would it?
I don't understand why I haven't kept up with my blog for the past two handfuls of months. You'd think that I'd be on here every second I had free. But no. I'm not. Rather, I'm here now on assignment. That's the sad part, this isn't even a pure form of writing on my own whim. As part of my journalism curriculum at school, I'm required to spend three credits of this semester in a class called "REPORTING 3" (dum, dum, duuuuum). This class is a rather refreshing step away from the first two classes of that same category. In this one, the entire class is thrown off of school property and forced to get internships in local print media.
I was one of the (few, I think) people to choose to get a copyediting internship, instead of a reporting internship. I made this choice for a couple of really good reasons, the first of which is that I'm honest to goodness absolutely definitely really super tired of reporting. Sure, I loved studying under Jim Sheeler of "Obit" fame, and it was fantastic to finally have a teacher who didn't insist that I write in a tiny sealed box of his or her own making. Yes, that was great. The problem I have with reporting is this: I have no innate curiousity.
There. I've admitted it in public. Now if only my journalism advisors and professors would believe me and listen to me when I say it. ha...ha....
I won't tell the story of how I got the internship, as it may put certain persons in not-so-favorable ultra-bright flourescent lights, and I'd rather avoid that sort of thing here. Suffice it to say that after a sufficient amount of freaking out and confusion on my part, I was given an internship at the Greeley Tribune in, of course, Greeley.
I've worked a total of two quite long days (long because my hours there have me in the newsroom until just after midnight), and so far have no complaints except for some of the keyboards there are a little more dirty than I'd like to notice.
I mean, really, people. It's a keyboard, and other people sometimes have to touch it. You could just clean it every once in a while, you know? Or every year? Once a year? Those little white keys next to the splotchy brown keys also used to be pearly and clean, did you know that? It's just so disgusting when I'm given a free desk, and I look down and start coming up with ways in my head to ask if I might be able to use a different desk in the room, for the sake of my fingertips. My hands actually hover over the keys, not from writer's block or not being able to decide which search engine to choose, but from a fear that some sort of fungus is in fact on those keys. You can't be too careful, you know.
So the next few months of blogging will almost completely be dedicated to this internship, and the little things that I learn about copyediting on the way. Every once in a while I'll probably post links to an interesting story or two. Well, you know, once I really begin reading things online that aren't in French. It wouldn't do much for me to post things from Le Monde, would it?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)