Sometimes, when you're thinking about the next step in your life, you find yourself looking back to see how you've gotten to where you are now. Here's how I became an online news producer, when five years ago I was dead set on being a starving artist.
My father had some good advice for me when I was flipping and flopping my college majors trying to figure out what exactly I wanted to be when I grew up.
He always said, "Do something that you love, because you're going to be doing it for a long time."
Ok. That's good enough advice.
So I wanted to be an artist. A potter in particular, because there's nothing on earth more fun than playing with clay and mixing chemical potions for glazing pots.
But, I figured, I'd make that my back-up plan because it's not that stable of an income source, and what kind of career path does an artist follow? Also, I'm not that good at making clay pots, they're always lop sided, or "musical" as my ceramics teacher called them.
Fast forward to TCNJ's orientation, where I'm forced to finally declare a major after getting away with "Liberal Arts" for the prior two years.
I was the last one in the group to leave the computer room where we were being counseled by our new advisers. I was chit chattering away to a very patient adviser who was listening to me pro and con graphic design, journalism, computer science, English special education, teaching (I don't even like kids, I could have just skipped that one) and advertising.
Somehow I chose journalism, envisioning this magical life where I'd make it as an art critic who'd be jettisoning across the country reviewing plays, fine art exhibits, concerts and really strange indie movies.
I Google-searched the journalism thing, and was faced with the reality that the industry was struggling and that writers weren't drawing pharmaceutical salespeople salaries.
Fast forward to my first journalism class at TCNJ. It was taught by a man who was legendary on campus, this brilliant ancient man who'd spent a lifetime in the industry. He had this booming voice and shock-white hair, he wore red suspenders, and shiny white sneakers.
"Newspapers are dying," he said, drawing out the word dying and letting it settle upon the classroom like a prophecy in a horror movie. No lie, first day of class.
But he then explained that there would always be a need for news and that the medium was just changing.
I still wanted to be a writer. Another piece of advice from Dad, "It doesn't matter what you do, if you do it well, the money will follow."
Fast forward to my first assignment for the Sun News in Myrtle Beach.
"The FDA has just approved this new diet drug called Alli," my editor says, "Why don't you write something up about it, maybe find some people who are taking it, talk to some drug store clerks, a dietitian, see if it's selling out and maybe take a photo or two."
So I did. And found out that the drug had some extremely graphic and disgusting side effects, all of which were described to me in detail by the desperate people taking it. They're too gross to recount.
A few more assignments later, I decided that I editing was the way to go. For some reason, I always got writer's block right before deadline and I started thinking that maybe I wasn't meant to be writer... So, I told my editor and she helped me get an internship in on the copy desk. I had a mentor named Tyna that I'll never forget.
I ran out of money and had to leave South Carolina.
But, armed with some experience and professional clips, I applied for a job with a local newspaper in New Jersey. I wrote this ridiculous cover letter begging for a job, that I'm embarrassed to even look at now. Here's an excerpt:
Right now, I also work at The Sun News as a freelance reporter where I write for a health and fitness section.
I believe this experience is so valuable as an editor, because you gain an appreciation for reporters’ hard work and effort. We call it “killing babies,” when we chop out pieces of an article, because reporters get so upset. No reporter likes to see their hard-worked stories chopped down to slivers, but when I do cut a story, I do so with sensitivity and I have an explanation ready for the reporter.
Somehow I got the job as a copy editor/paginator. It was the greatest job ever. I loved being a grammar nazi, designing news pages, proofing them and scouring the wire for interesting news. I also love making red pen marks.
It was election night, the craziest most hectic night of the year at a newspaper, and we're posting updates to the newspaper's Web site as the results come in, using a content management system.
You're really good at this. Maybe you should think about doing something with the online folks, a coworker tells me.
A few months later, I'm in a staff meeting, with a well-dressed important looking man who's telling us that our newspaper is being shut down.
"Nobody is losing their job," he assured us. The newspaper was going to be renamed, and instead of being issued daily, it would be issued weekly, and we'd either be transferred or given a new position. READ THE ARTICLE: The Observer ceases daily publication
Later, in my bosses office, he tells me: We think you'd be good on the digital desk at the Asbury Park Press. They've relaunched their Web site, and they need an online news producer. Do you think you'd be interested in that position?
Yes I was interested.
Even though I had no idea what an online news producer was, or what they did, or if it was even a good career move for me or not.. the title sounded so cool that I didn't even think twice.
And I lucked out.
It's the coolest job ever, and perfect for someone with rampant ADD like me.
But it's not what I wanted to be when I grew up.
But I'm totally OK with that.
My father had some good advice for me when I was flipping and flopping my college majors trying to figure out what exactly I wanted to be when I grew up.
He always said, "Do something that you love, because you're going to be doing it for a long time."
Ok. That's good enough advice.
So I wanted to be an artist. A potter in particular, because there's nothing on earth more fun than playing with clay and mixing chemical potions for glazing pots.
But, I figured, I'd make that my back-up plan because it's not that stable of an income source, and what kind of career path does an artist follow? Also, I'm not that good at making clay pots, they're always lop sided, or "musical" as my ceramics teacher called them.
Fast forward to TCNJ's orientation, where I'm forced to finally declare a major after getting away with "Liberal Arts" for the prior two years.
I was the last one in the group to leave the computer room where we were being counseled by our new advisers. I was chit chattering away to a very patient adviser who was listening to me pro and con graphic design, journalism, computer science, English special education, teaching (I don't even like kids, I could have just skipped that one) and advertising.
Somehow I chose journalism, envisioning this magical life where I'd make it as an art critic who'd be jettisoning across the country reviewing plays, fine art exhibits, concerts and really strange indie movies.
I Google-searched the journalism thing, and was faced with the reality that the industry was struggling and that writers weren't drawing pharmaceutical salespeople salaries.
Fast forward to my first journalism class at TCNJ. It was taught by a man who was legendary on campus, this brilliant ancient man who'd spent a lifetime in the industry. He had this booming voice and shock-white hair, he wore red suspenders, and shiny white sneakers.
"Newspapers are dying," he said, drawing out the word dying and letting it settle upon the classroom like a prophecy in a horror movie. No lie, first day of class.
But he then explained that there would always be a need for news and that the medium was just changing.
I still wanted to be a writer. Another piece of advice from Dad, "It doesn't matter what you do, if you do it well, the money will follow."
Fast forward to my first assignment for the Sun News in Myrtle Beach.
"The FDA has just approved this new diet drug called Alli," my editor says, "Why don't you write something up about it, maybe find some people who are taking it, talk to some drug store clerks, a dietitian, see if it's selling out and maybe take a photo or two."
So I did. And found out that the drug had some extremely graphic and disgusting side effects, all of which were described to me in detail by the desperate people taking it. They're too gross to recount.
A few more assignments later, I decided that I editing was the way to go. For some reason, I always got writer's block right before deadline and I started thinking that maybe I wasn't meant to be writer... So, I told my editor and she helped me get an internship in on the copy desk. I had a mentor named Tyna that I'll never forget.
I ran out of money and had to leave South Carolina.
But, armed with some experience and professional clips, I applied for a job with a local newspaper in New Jersey. I wrote this ridiculous cover letter begging for a job, that I'm embarrassed to even look at now. Here's an excerpt:
Right now, I also work at The Sun News as a freelance reporter where I write for a health and fitness section.
I believe this experience is so valuable as an editor, because you gain an appreciation for reporters’ hard work and effort. We call it “killing babies,” when we chop out pieces of an article, because reporters get so upset. No reporter likes to see their hard-worked stories chopped down to slivers, but when I do cut a story, I do so with sensitivity and I have an explanation ready for the reporter.
Somehow I got the job as a copy editor/paginator. It was the greatest job ever. I loved being a grammar nazi, designing news pages, proofing them and scouring the wire for interesting news. I also love making red pen marks.
It was election night, the craziest most hectic night of the year at a newspaper, and we're posting updates to the newspaper's Web site as the results come in, using a content management system.
You're really good at this. Maybe you should think about doing something with the online folks, a coworker tells me.
A few months later, I'm in a staff meeting, with a well-dressed important looking man who's telling us that our newspaper is being shut down.
"Nobody is losing their job," he assured us. The newspaper was going to be renamed, and instead of being issued daily, it would be issued weekly, and we'd either be transferred or given a new position. READ THE ARTICLE: The Observer ceases daily publication
Later, in my bosses office, he tells me: We think you'd be good on the digital desk at the Asbury Park Press. They've relaunched their Web site, and they need an online news producer. Do you think you'd be interested in that position?
Yes I was interested.
Even though I had no idea what an online news producer was, or what they did, or if it was even a good career move for me or not.. the title sounded so cool that I didn't even think twice.
And I lucked out.
It's the coolest job ever, and perfect for someone with rampant ADD like me.
But it's not what I wanted to be when I grew up.
But I'm totally OK with that.