Nieman 2009

The three-day 2009 Nieman Conference on Narrative Journalism ended yesterday. One of the most invigortaing three days.

I had no idea what I was in for when I signed up to volunteer. But to say that "it blew me away," would be an understatement.

From the moment Connie Schultz, Pulitzer-prize winning columnist began speaking at the keynote address, I knew I was in the right place. The Grand Ballroom at The Sheraton in Boston was filled with journalists and writers from The Chicago Tribune, The New York Times, Columbia University and The Poynter Institute. It would be hard to find a larger gathering of like-minded people who made a living from telling stories.

In the next 72 hours, I was swept away with Schultz speaking candidly about her family and how her personal ties affect her writing career. It was lively and upbeat, an uplifting talk. I heard Mara Schiavocampo, digital correspondent for NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams, talk about telling a story through video while making it sound so simple. And I heard Amy O'Leary, multimedia producer for The New York Times talk about doing the same through audio.

There was a "networking" lunch on Saturday afternoon where I munched on a turkey sandwich while in conversation with a travel writer for The Chicago Tribune. Did I mention that lunch was delicious, that came packed in a pretty cardboard box, complete with pasta salad and brownie? The writer was super nice too.

I had a chance to meet health editor for The Times of India, Kalpana Jain, who is a 2009 Nieman Fellow and such a lovely person.

I listened with wide-eyed fascination, wrote feverishly until the white pages of my notebook were covered in black squiggles and then sat back and smiled, partially happy about the fantastic event and partially to digest the four varieties of cheese and strawberries I had eaten during refreshments.

I can't wait until Nieman is back again next year.

On another note, Ying and I went running yesterday despite the temperature being all of 1 degree celcius, according to Indian standards. Bundled in sweatshirts and tracks, we pounded away at the pavement before we ready to call it a night. We headed back to my place, shared a dinner of palak paneer and naan (yeah, yeah, who's counting the calories anyway?) and then kicked back with ice-cream sandwiches to watch the latest episode of Desperate Housewives. Sigh...the simple joys of life.

On an entirely different note, I also made it all the way out to Gardner, Mass. and back all on my own today. That would be the equivalent of going between Bangalore and Mysore and returning. Sure, it's no major feat, but when the whole thing is planned on google maps using public transport, I think it accounts for something. Reason for going out to the industrial town was to interview the president of a federal credit union who was extremely warm and coopertative. Since we had to cut short the interview because of a "webinar" (I love that word) which she had to tend to, there's a possibility I may be Skyping with her in the future. Yes, I may succeed in convincing the president of a federal credit union to Skype with me to finish the interview.

I love the creative freedom(s) journalism allows.

A teacher's story

The student-teacher relationship has long been an interesting one and which is percieved differently among world cultures. Some are taught to fear their teachers, adulate them like gods, bow down in ultimate obedience. You get the drift. And in others it's quite the opposite, where the establishing of an equal relationship is encouraged. To share ideas and learn from each other.

But what possibly doesn't change is that all teachers have lives outside school, just like their students. which often isn't given much thought. Every morning, when we walk into class, there's the professor, waiting to begin another class, surrounded by all the symbols that give them that status - pens, notes, slides. Ever thought what they ate for breakfast? Who's their best friend? Where did they go on their last holiday? The characteristics that make them people, not just teachers.

Recently, I've been discovering the backgrounds of my professors based on what they share in class and their work which is available online. So many of them have fascinating existences beyond the premises of 640 Commonwealth Avenue.

As mentioned in some of my previous posts, one has Parkinson's and fights the disease everyday with a beautiful, undying sprit. Another had a rough childhood, rougher marriage and emerged from both, stronger and sparkling. And some share lifetimes with the same person, cherishing their spouse whom they're glad to have by their side as their teenaged children head off to college. I feel like Matilda in Roald Dahl's book by the same name, who learns of Ms. Jenny's life outside school.

The next time you're in class, let your mind wander just this once. Try seeing your teacher as a person rather than a professor, for just a couple of moments. You may gain an education rather than a lesson.

Countries and Comfort in Class

I had been feeling slightly overwhelmed these past few days. With a full 16-credit course load, assignments pouring in with no indication of slowing down and an internship to balance, I felt like I was standing on upright bone china crockery while trying to pull a bunny out of a top hat. It was as though the winter break had never existed.

But today I went into my first class with Prof. Mills and for the first time in a week I felt so much at ease. That's because besides 80 percent of the class being international students, he uttered the words that every student journalist is aching to hear: Journalism is hard. If you don't find it hard, you're proabably not doing it right.

So I wasn't completely losing it. Phew!

That said, I'm excited about learing with people from so many different countries. We are from England, Egypt, Turkey, Pakistan, Norway, Taiwan, Greece and of course India! It's hilarious to note that there is only one boy in a class of about 15. Poor guy, I sure wouldn't want to be him. But most boys in the journalism program must be used to the phenomenon by now.

Point to note: The joys of curling up in bed, propped comfortably against a large pillow, wearing fleecy pyjamas and eating a bag of Doritos and cream cheese while watching TV...sigh. Every girl should have a guilty pleasure. Now you know mine.

Here's hoping the rest of the semester moves smoothly and the lone boy feels at home soon.

Excuse me, I hate to point out you're missing a brain

My friend was at a cyber cafe a few days ago when he heard some guys dissing the media industry. He's a journalist too, as many of my friends are. It's ironic, but journalists tend to be an insular lot. Getting back to the point, he didn't take kindly to the derogatory remarks. Few do, especially when it's the fraternity they belong to in question. But it's a democratic society, and people have the right to freely express their opinion. So he had decided to leave the unintentional eavesdropping at that. Incidentally, the guys who made the remarks were aspirants of a national exam which applicants take to join governmental service.

A few moments later, the guys made the mistake of saying that a particular national daily was the final word in the country's journalism and that there was no hope for the newer, emerging models of journalism.

Journalists, have their faults, just like everyone else. The industry is flawed too, much like all others.

But that was it. My friend decided to let the journalist in him do the talking. He walked up to them and said it was a shame that they planned on joining national service when they couldn't even think for themselves. He was referring to their affinity for the particular national daily over all else only because it's the prescribed reading material during the time that they prepare to write this highly competitve test. He asked them how they intended to make decisions for the country when they couldn't decide what they liked to read for themselves. They were merely following the instructions of an archaic panel whom they wished to please and had no real opinion, or at least not one that they were comfortable to express openly.

I'm so proud of you, not for disrupting the peace in the cyber cafe, but for making a valid point that needed to be heard. Sure journalists have their faults and the industry is flawed. Heck, it's dying too, according to many. But it's moments like these make me proud to be one, to belong to the industry and reassure me that it's not possible that several others like me could have all made the same gross mistake.

It's not all black and white anymore...and there are more shades than gray

The whole world is screaming about how jorunalism is dying. Everyone is wondering just what the future of journalism really is. That with the advent of technology and more specifically, the Internet, print journlists may as well shut shop and head home. They're doomed without a doubt.

So why did I, like several others, choose to join journalism school, at the price of, as one classmate put it, "The equivalent of the GDP of a small country." Turns out, print journalists are still the majority compared to broadcast students. Could everyone have made the same mistake? Or is there a deeper trend that we seem to be missing?

It's true that the World Wide Web has drastically eaten into print sales, with newspapers being forced to reduce their circulation. Several magazines have abandoned their paper models and adopted a web-only format. So that's it then?

Fortuanately, not quite. I came across an interesting article the other day about how the Internet was inevitably taking over the print world. However, the trade off wasn't quite rewarding. The revelation came to light in connection with Conde Naste Publications which was reducing its web workforce, while leaving its print division untouched. It's argument was that it was essentially a magazine company and would not compromise on that. The new-age media pundits just couldn't understand it. But the logic lies in a Vogue or Harper's that could never expect to earn the same kind of revenue from a website as compared to its glossy pages that are eagerly awaited on the newsstands. The advertisers pay heavily to be featured in the prized space. In reality, if they were to adopt primarily or only an online existence, they would be exchanging pounds for pennies.

That got me thinking that it's unlikely any publication will continue to focus solely on a web-based format, especially when it is not economically viable over a longer period of time. It's the money that counts. If it's not coming in through a particular avenue, alternatives will be drafted. No company is interested in a losing venture, or at least one that is not bringing in the desired revenue.

The matter then rests on "convergence" - a word that a professor used the other day and there doesn't seem to be a better term. It seems as though the print industry is changing, not dying. And there is a mammoth change around the corner that is going to redefine the industry forever. All journalists are waiting to see what that is.

Several media that came earlier suggested that the newspaper was halfway to the grave. The radio. The television. The Internet is the latest monster. But just as radio journalism, broadcast journalism and new media were carved out, a hybrid being will be created to ensure that newspapers and magazines will not disappear forever.

Besides, the web and the all the tools that go with it are ultimately "delivery mecahnisms," not the news themselves. They're the new toys to play with and enjoy, the kinder suprise is hidden inside.

It's a tough time for journalists and the industry as everyone tries to stay afloat. But there is hope. So it seems as though, while we're not completely in the clear, we're not destined for doom either. For now, that's enough to get by with.

The Little Things that Matter

Good journalism lies in the details. I've been hearing that plenty the past month and a half.

Get what the people said, in exact quotes. Get what they were wearing, what they were doing at the time of the incident you are reporting, their reactions, facial expressions, neighbours' views, family and friends speak - anything that helps "breathe life" into the subject. Make him "come alive" in your writing.

At first, I though the advice was a bit over the top. But then I realized that journalism is all about the people it covers. Their stories, their lives, their experiences. Journalism is the tool that makes them heard to the rest of the world. Peoples' role is pivotal and therefore they need to be captured as accurately as possible in a story. And that's where the details make all the difference.

Now I realize that while details are the answer to superior journalism, it's also applicable to almost everything else. Excellence lies in the details. It's what makes the distinction between better and the best. It's the line that divides acceptable from perfect. It's the difference between almost there and far beyond.

So pay attention to the details. Don't forget to smile or eat a good breakfast. Get eight hours of sleep and donate to charity, in time/money. Love your job but love the people in your life more. And most importantly, love yourself enough to make the effort.

You never know when it will be the day that the little details count.