Photo by Jie Jenny Zou
Halloween is all about theatrics and what kind of journalist doesn’t enjoy a solid drama?
The past few weeks have largely been a matter of political theater when it comes to covering my beat. Neverending meetings, neverending FOIA requests, and changes on top of changes back at homebase.
In the course of a single week, the newsroom switched to a new print layout to match a new publishing software, and for good measure, hunks of plastic vaguely operating some form of Windows were swapped for brand new, full-functioning computers (to be clear, I’m not complaining about the last bit at all and do not miss my old Dell, at all).
And so, I gave my desk and filing cabinets a simultaneous update in the hopes it would give my brain a fresh new coat of perspective paint as well.
Ever feel stuck in a journalistic rut? When the more ambitious stories you hoped to get off the ground just seem to lag longer than anticipated and they begin gathering dust?
It’s too easy to get discouraged by projects that don’t come along the way you’d hoped. And then there are the projects that just seem to completely stall or come to a dead end.
One of my biggest difficulties in the past, and most likely for the rest of my life, has been figuring out when to let go. I’d like to account this do-or-die attitude to the optimistic streak in me, but something tells me it stems more from stubbornness and unwillingness to fail more than anything else.
But I know everything has an expiration date affixed to it and that some stories are just beyond resuscitation.
I haven’t quite found my rhythm just yet, or figured out when to let go, but I do know one thing for sure–I, for one, prefer my stories dust free.