I’m a journalism major. I chose this career path after being told by numerous teachers, friends and relatives that I was a great writer. English was my favorite subject in school. I could write papers during my lunch hour, hand them in and get an “A.” I could bullshit with the best of them. I scoffed at editing and multiple drafts and people who couldn’t spell or use proper punctuation.
Since I was obviously good at working against deadlines, didn’t need extensive editing work done on my writing, preferred writing shorter pieces to penning novels, wanted to make an actual salary, and didn’t want to be an English teacher, I decided to go into the one profession (at least, the one profession I was aware of) that met all these criteria - journalism. So, when college-application time came around, I applied to the University of King’s College, one of Canada’s finest journalism schools. And I got in! I was so happy. The program only accepted 40 students from across the country, after all. Plus, it was the only school I even applied to.
This is my second year in the program. I slept through the first year, which was just an overview and history of journalism (boring, boring, boring), with very little actual work. This year I have a class on reporting, so I have a lot more assignments, a lot more hands-on work, and a lot more chances to screw up. And I have screwed up. Why? Because I’m not a bad writer.
Stay with me here. Elinor told me the other day that “journalism is professional bad writing,” and I have to agree with her. Just look at this passage from the Canadian Press Stylebook (the journalist’s Bible):
“News reporting is meant to inform the public, not to score points with language purists. Some of the changes in the meaning of words may not be for the better, but if most readers are led to believe that presently means right now, rather than soon, there’s no point in using the word in a news story and risking misunderstanding.”
See? Things like that bug me. Dumbing your story down for the readers, not using “difficult” words (read: any word with more than three syllables), changing the meaning of a word just because it’s “easier” that way, repeating things ad nauseam... I hate doing that.
I’ve had a few assignments marked so far this year, and I seem to be making the same mistakes over and over in all of them. This could be simply because I’m careless and don’t catch the mistakes... but I prefer to think it’s because I’m not a bad enough writer to pull this whole journalism thing off.
Anyway. I present, for your enjoyment, a list of the things my professor thinks I need to learn:
Never start your story with a quote. This rule really bothers me, because whenever I read something that starts with a quote, it catches my attention and makes me want to keep reading. Some of the best things I’ve ever written have started with a quote, too. Unfortunately, my journalism professor claims that “quotes don’t usually sum up a story, so avoid using them as leads unless they are absolutely clear.”
Never include yourself in the story. Okay, I can understand not bothering to tell the reader that you’re sitting down with your subject and having lunch, and I can understand not telling them about how you’re feeling and what your first impression of your subject is and whether or not you’re having fun (although I must say I do enjoy it when the Rolling Stone and Entertainment Weekly writers do exactly that), but I think King’s goes a little too far with this rule. According to my journalism professor, we aren’t even allowed to say, “when asked about his latest project, so-and-so replied...” because that implies that there’s actually someone asking so-and-so a question. Oh, the horror! The shock! What would the readers think if they knew someone was out there, asking questions!? Damn.
The word “says” is your friend. Your only friend. Yes, that’s right. In journalism, you aren’t allowed to use words like “claims” or “asserts” or “maintains,” because if you do, it sounds like you don’t trust your subject and you think he’s lying. You can’t say “according to,” either, for the same reasons. No, pretty much the only word you can use is “says,” which means you end up with a terribly repetitive piece of work that contains the word “says” at least 20 times.
Commas are bad. “The comma is the weakest punctuation mark,” my professor says. “Only use them when you need to use them.” As a result of this “no comma” rule, journalists tend to write a lot of run-on sentences and even more short, staccato ones. I can understand not sticking commas in where they’re not needed, but really, what’s wrong with using them when it’s grammatically correct? I like commas. I’d rather pause in the middle of a sentence than stop it abruptly, and I hate run-ons. Guess that makes me a bad journalist.
You’re writing for idiots. Okay, my professor never actually said this, but it’s definitely implied. Why else would we have to make everything so damn clear? I’m not talking about explaining the facts of a story in a clear and concise manner, because I agree with that. I’m talking about backing up every single statement with a “so-and-so says.”
Take this excerpt from my latest (horrible) story, for example:
“However, each year some societies disappear for lack of interest, and some new ones appear... or an enterprising soul revives an old society,” he says. “Most societies that apply eventually get ratified.”
There are a few exceptions to the rule, however. “There have been a few weird societies around in the past,” Maheux says. “Generally if they're too ridiculous they just don't get ratified.” He cites the proposed Women’s Basketball Boosters Society, the Glee Club and the Blues, Jazz and Amplified Rock society as examples.
Okay, ignore all the “he says” and look at the line, “There are a few exceptions to the rule, however.” According to my professor, this line is wrong. Why? Because it needs (you guessed it) another “Maheux says.” The readers are too stupid to figure this out on their own. They need to have the information - Maheux says - shoved down their throats.
So those are my main points of contention. Sometimes those things really bug me, and at those times I feel like dropping out of journalism and getting an English degree, or a business degree, or joining the circus. But whenever I feel that way I tell myself that if I stick with it, next year I can take magazine and photojournalism classes. Those sound like more fun. And hopefully someday I can be a reviewer or a columnist, or an entertainment journalist, or at the very least a magazine writer who gets to do more informal feature stories.
Or maybe things will just turn out the way Andrew thinks they will. He says: “I'm sure once you get into the real world, they'll be like, ‘first thing, forget everything you learned in school,’ because I don't know any paper or magazine or anything that really writes that way.”
