Archive for March, 2009

How

Tuesday, March 31st, 2009

The toughest awards to judge are always for newspaper, magazine or website of the year. Best reporter, feature writer, news story…it’s reasonably easy to set some basics on what raises an entry from also-ran to in the running. But the others? Much, much harder.
These musings are prompted by the postman staggering under the weight of judging for Press Gazette’s regional press awards. I had three classes to shortlist: young journalist, reporter and newspaper with under 20,000 circulation.
Getting the first two categories down to six finalists was fairly easy. Are there three strong entries? Off-diary stories or stuff passed on by a news editor? Has it landed in their laps, or required some digging? Amazing how short the list becomes with these simple filters.
Very few of those entering the young journo category offered anything more than news stories. Perhaps editors didn’t trust ‘em with features. And none put forward any just-for-web stories. Smell the roses, editors.
I hold less store on the actual writing at this stage. You assume it’s going to be all right, and you can never tell how heavily it’s been subbed. My experience has always been that when you ask a writer, he or she always says: “The subs hardly touched it.”
Ask subs, and they’ll retort: “Well, it needed a load of work.” But then, good subbing is doing it so the writer never notices.
But that newspaper of the year is always much tougher. You look carefully through three issues but you know they’ve chosen the best ones. Sometimes, you have to take an editor’s statement as the major factor. But they would highlight the good bits, pass over the plunging circulation figures, wouldn’t they?
But this year, I had a master idea. They all claimed to be doing lots on the web – so I checked. Twice. It was a revelation.
Some were just pasting up stories from the paper and doing no rewriting to cater for a different audience. Some claimed to update daily, and hadn’t done so for four days. Some just did one story.
It made my job easy.
No names, but if your newspaper online is getting scooped by the local council’s website, you can leave your dinner suit or cocktail dress in the wardrobe this year.

–>

The

Thursday, March 26th, 2009

I love PR. Get lots of stories from it. I’ve even done it myself. I know it’s customary for journos to make chundering noises when PR is mentioned, but I won’t hear a word against it.
Unless, that is, you are the sort of idiot who sends a press release like this.
Hello Classic Angling,
Tired of teeing off with the same white ball or does your competitive playing partner keep claiming your stellar shot? For those golfers looking to make a mark on their game Sharpie markers has produced the new Golfing Pack.
Whether you’re looking for a gift for Dad or just an excuse for personalising your golf balls the new Gold Pack
is the perfect for companion out on the course.
If you would like any further information or would like to arrange any competitions do please get in touch.
Kind Regards,
David Wall

Account Executive
McCann Erickson PR

I’ve left David’s name in, because he deserves the opprobrium.
Let’s forgive the fact that the third sentence appears to have a word missing. Let’s pass over the issue of what it’s called (Golfing Pack, Gold Pack or Golf Pack?) Let’s even excuse the absence of a comma on his computer.
Maybe the lad isn’t a sports person. Perhaps he doesn’t know a golf ball from a cricket ball. But a mite of commonsense should tell him that if my magazine is called Classic Angling, it probably doesn’t write a lot about golf.
In fact, the press release itself offers an even finer gem.
“Inspired by those golfers daring to be bold, the new Golf Pack comes complete with two Sharpie markers, golf tees, towel, golf balls, pitch repairer and ball marker – everything you need to ensure your balls stand out on the golf course.”

And you wonder why journalists are sometimes dismissive of a PR’s writing skills?
Time to get him on a course, methinks.

–>

Bright

Monday, March 16th, 2009

Phew! Another postgrad course over. Actually, don’t know why I’m wiping my brow. All I’ve delivered is a bit of tutoring, a spot of marking, a smattering of wise words.
The real sufferers have been main course tutor Roberta, who should be finding out around now if her husband still recognises her, and those who were our victims.
The 11 who signed up for the sausage machine (it was to be 12, but one dropped out just before the course started) have become different people.
Nine weeks on, you wouldn’t recognise the sleep-deprived, alcohol-reliant, lank-haired, junk-food scoffers to the bright-eyed things who sat down on the first day and related their journalism dreams.
Nobody really believes it when we say: “You have to put your life on hold for nine weeks.” Working Saturdays and Sundays, dreaming of Teeline, doing four things at the same time, rewriting a news story over a house-style infringement: for those straight out of university, it’s a horrible introduction to the real world. But then, the real world’s like that, isn’t it?
So where’s the good news? Well, two of the crop have jobs. Pretty good in today’s market. Now all we have to do is find another nine. But I’ve got hope.
Further cheer: one of our former postgrads, Dan Ilett, has some freelance for them. He’s set up his own company and wants some writers.
And at Friday’s graduation, Mark Allen (Wiltshire Life, 5 to 7 Educator, Practice Nursing, Recycling and Waste World) said his company’s figures are up on 2008.
So not every publisher, as the Guardian’s media website would have you believe, is looking up “euthanasia clinics” online.
My fishing magazine, Classic Angling, had its best year (though none of this year’s postgrads seem to know a Hardy Perfect from an Allcock Aerial, more’s the pity). My ad manager, Hayley, is still finding a few punters.
Yes, the light at the end of the tunnel may indeed be the light of an oncoming train (with apologies to Half Man, Half Biscuit, whom I went to see last week, to the total surprise of everyone who knows me).
But look on the bright side. There could be hundreds of bankers tied across the tracks who’ll get it before you do.

Bright sparks in a dark world

–>