I’ve been wanting to blog about this for about a month now, but I was worried that people might think I was complaining. I was worried they’d start to worry too much about me in ways they shouldn’t. So, I’ve been trying to think of how to explain this for the purposes of recording it as “part of the HPS experience.”
Here it goes.
About a month ago I had the opportunity to attend a national conference of editors and journalists. It was a great opportunity and best of all, for me and my employer, it was right in my back yard. No airfares or hotel fees. Yippee.
In some ways the conference was very exhilarating. There’s nothing like hearing about new ideas and new ways of doing things better to get you excited about your job again. In other ways it was incredibly depressing.
Essentially what I learned (which I already knew) is that, in general, no one respects reporters or editors. Management (in general) sees us as a cost center easily replaced by the next crop of college graduates who all still think journalism is sexy and are willing to work for even less than we, the “veterans” get paid. And that’s not much I’m here to tell you. No one appreciates what 10 years covering the same industry means – that you actually know the industry. No one puts a real value on that.
I’ve been thinking about leaving journalism on and off for a while. I really do love it is the problem – but I don’t feel like what I’m doing is the journalism I went to school to do. And I’m tired of making peanuts. Either I’ve got to make way less to qualify for some help on the medical front, or way more so I can actually afford to take my meds. and have a life too.
But to do anything else would require going back to school. I’d happily go back to school. I loved being a student – but with medical issues and transportation issues logistically, as well as financially, it’s a little easier said than done under present circumstances.
The added problem is that I don’t know what I would want to go back to school to do.
When I studied journalism as an undergrad I had a real passion about it. I had to fight like hell as a blind person in the beginning and the only way I was able to survive that is that I wanted it so badly.
Now, I’m not sure what I want. I feel worn out all the time. Well – what I really want is to work for the HPS Network full time, but that’s not really a possibility right now either.
So, I’m sitting in this meeting and it dawns on me – staying in journalism isn’t going to mean not going back to school. If I’m ever going to be competitive working anywhere else, I need to get my rather large backside moving and learn some new techie skills. I’m going to be outdated very soon. Don’t count on anyone else but me paying for that added expertise – and don’t think that by seeking out more education I’m going to get any recognition in my compensation package.
So, I’m sitting in this meeting and I’m starting to get really stressed out. As editors, our jobs have changed radically in the last decade. We do more than ever with fewer resources for less real world money. We work like dogs. The only way to really shine, to really do something special, is to do it on your own time for nothing.
My blood pressure started to go up. I’ve got to win some incredible prize. I’ve got to be better. I’ve got to go back to school…and if I’m going to spend the money to go back to school, should I really be doing something else? And if so, what? AAAHHHH…..
And then the next panel was a group of equally stressed out editors. They were supposed to be giving time management tips about how to do more with less. I kept waiting for the real tips – the stuff I hadn’t tried yet.
Then a woman on the panel took a deep breath (after several other stressed out editors had asked a number of questions for which no one had a real answer) – she paused and then she said, “You know, at the end of the day I just can’t get it all done. At the end of the day I just re-write my to-do list for the next day, head home, and tell myself – don’t worry, no babies are going to die because you didn’t get it all done today.”
I almost started crying.
That’s it – that’s the big advice? Actually, for journalism, it was good. She was right.
The problem is that’s not my reality.
I go home every night and start what has essentially become my second job. It’s the job I love and look forward to all day. But, when I start it my eyes are already tired. I’ve already worked eight to 12 hours, and then I start in on the most important things I do all day long.
And when I don’t get something done, I do have the sense that people are going to die – maybe not babies – but people who happen to be my friends. They aren’t going to die tomorrow, or even the next day. It isn’t like I’m a doctor.
But no one but those of us in this position understand the urgency of finding the cure. And finding the cure is like traveling the yellow brick road to Oz.
Each yellow brick we walk across puts us that much closer. Sometimes there are distractions along the way that hold us up on the journey, like the wicked witch of the west, but ultimately, if we aren’t traveling over each one of those little yellow bricks – every fundraiser, every outreach effort, every newsletter, every day on the listserv etc. – then we aren’t moving along the yellow brick road. And every day we’re not moving feels like another day that someday somewhere someone is going to pass away and pay the price for that.
It’s made even more frustrating when friends and family don’t get it. They act like I’ve joined a club that you can pick up or put down at your convenience.
It’s exciting that more people are coming along that can help in lots of different ways – but that doesn’t mean I can slack off. We need them to expand what we’re doing, not just replace it.
Our magazine finally went to press, albeit a week late. We’re already late on the next one. I haven’t made a dent in my HPS duties for two weeks. I feel like if it’s not babies – it’s someone – I know people who are dying.
Here it goes.
About a month ago I had the opportunity to attend a national conference of editors and journalists. It was a great opportunity and best of all, for me and my employer, it was right in my back yard. No airfares or hotel fees. Yippee.
In some ways the conference was very exhilarating. There’s nothing like hearing about new ideas and new ways of doing things better to get you excited about your job again. In other ways it was incredibly depressing.
Essentially what I learned (which I already knew) is that, in general, no one respects reporters or editors. Management (in general) sees us as a cost center easily replaced by the next crop of college graduates who all still think journalism is sexy and are willing to work for even less than we, the “veterans” get paid. And that’s not much I’m here to tell you. No one appreciates what 10 years covering the same industry means – that you actually know the industry. No one puts a real value on that.
I’ve been thinking about leaving journalism on and off for a while. I really do love it is the problem – but I don’t feel like what I’m doing is the journalism I went to school to do. And I’m tired of making peanuts. Either I’ve got to make way less to qualify for some help on the medical front, or way more so I can actually afford to take my meds. and have a life too.
But to do anything else would require going back to school. I’d happily go back to school. I loved being a student – but with medical issues and transportation issues logistically, as well as financially, it’s a little easier said than done under present circumstances.
The added problem is that I don’t know what I would want to go back to school to do.
When I studied journalism as an undergrad I had a real passion about it. I had to fight like hell as a blind person in the beginning and the only way I was able to survive that is that I wanted it so badly.
Now, I’m not sure what I want. I feel worn out all the time. Well – what I really want is to work for the HPS Network full time, but that’s not really a possibility right now either.
So, I’m sitting in this meeting and it dawns on me – staying in journalism isn’t going to mean not going back to school. If I’m ever going to be competitive working anywhere else, I need to get my rather large backside moving and learn some new techie skills. I’m going to be outdated very soon. Don’t count on anyone else but me paying for that added expertise – and don’t think that by seeking out more education I’m going to get any recognition in my compensation package.
So, I’m sitting in this meeting and I’m starting to get really stressed out. As editors, our jobs have changed radically in the last decade. We do more than ever with fewer resources for less real world money. We work like dogs. The only way to really shine, to really do something special, is to do it on your own time for nothing.
My blood pressure started to go up. I’ve got to win some incredible prize. I’ve got to be better. I’ve got to go back to school…and if I’m going to spend the money to go back to school, should I really be doing something else? And if so, what? AAAHHHH…..
And then the next panel was a group of equally stressed out editors. They were supposed to be giving time management tips about how to do more with less. I kept waiting for the real tips – the stuff I hadn’t tried yet.
Then a woman on the panel took a deep breath (after several other stressed out editors had asked a number of questions for which no one had a real answer) – she paused and then she said, “You know, at the end of the day I just can’t get it all done. At the end of the day I just re-write my to-do list for the next day, head home, and tell myself – don’t worry, no babies are going to die because you didn’t get it all done today.”
I almost started crying.
That’s it – that’s the big advice? Actually, for journalism, it was good. She was right.
The problem is that’s not my reality.
I go home every night and start what has essentially become my second job. It’s the job I love and look forward to all day. But, when I start it my eyes are already tired. I’ve already worked eight to 12 hours, and then I start in on the most important things I do all day long.
And when I don’t get something done, I do have the sense that people are going to die – maybe not babies – but people who happen to be my friends. They aren’t going to die tomorrow, or even the next day. It isn’t like I’m a doctor.
But no one but those of us in this position understand the urgency of finding the cure. And finding the cure is like traveling the yellow brick road to Oz.
Each yellow brick we walk across puts us that much closer. Sometimes there are distractions along the way that hold us up on the journey, like the wicked witch of the west, but ultimately, if we aren’t traveling over each one of those little yellow bricks – every fundraiser, every outreach effort, every newsletter, every day on the listserv etc. – then we aren’t moving along the yellow brick road. And every day we’re not moving feels like another day that someday somewhere someone is going to pass away and pay the price for that.
It’s made even more frustrating when friends and family don’t get it. They act like I’ve joined a club that you can pick up or put down at your convenience.
It’s exciting that more people are coming along that can help in lots of different ways – but that doesn’t mean I can slack off. We need them to expand what we’re doing, not just replace it.
Our magazine finally went to press, albeit a week late. We’re already late on the next one. I haven’t made a dent in my HPS duties for two weeks. I feel like if it’s not babies – it’s someone – I know people who are dying.
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