Archive for July, 2009

When

Monday, July 20th, 2009

Having to work harder in recession? Then spare a thought for the chap I helped on a course last week. As well as being the editor, he is also the designer, news reporter, feature-writer and sub.
You probably think he’s just turning out a 16-page A-fiver. Wrong. The publication is A4 and typically 100 pages.
Although he works from home, he confessed that he struggled to get the mag done, even when he beavered away every weekend. The poor guy thought it was his fault for working inefficiently.
The only holiday he’s had over the past year was a French trip, where he turned out two features (and pictures, of course). Phew! That’s filled 10 pages!
And instead of doing what most journos do on such trips (going out for decent meals paid for by the hosts, getting pissed at your hotel bar at least once during the week), he sat in every night with his laptop, working on pages for the next issue.
You might say he’s dumb to put up with it. But he loves the subject (I’ll spare his blushes by not telling you the title), and because he knows no better, assumes that’s the way it is elsewhere.
Not yet, maybe. But over the past year, I’ve seen plenty of titles that once supported six staff now brought out by two. Advertising’s gone through the floor and is down into the inner core.
Blame what you like (Gordon Brown, greedy bankers, global warming), but those heady days of walking out of one job and immediately finding another into another are gone, at least for the moment.
And more magazines and newspapers may soon have to face the day when one or two names fill the flannel panel.
There wasn’t a great deal I could do to help that harassed editor. Even consoling him with: “Look on the bright side: at least you’re not having to sell ads as well,” didn’t help.
“Don’t tell them that!” he said. “If they find out I once sold space, they’ll have me doing that as well!”

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A

Sunday, July 5th, 2009

Those expecting to see me perform the Elliott Dance (free demos on all PMA workshops with Keith Elliott as tutor) will be sorely disappointed over the next few weeks. No gymnastics, minor or otherwise for me. I’ve just torn some fibres in my Achilles tendon – fishing.
Stupidly, I made the mistake of admitting the true reason I’m hobbling around with a stick. Now, if I’d said it was playing a particularly arduous game of squash or badminton (the most common cause of such an injury), it would have evoked much sympathy. But when I say that a mackerel caused it, it provokes not compassion but chuckles.
I won’t go into the story (though I did catch the mackerel). However, it also means that my training workshops over the next few weeks will be rather sedate affairs.
I’m not very good at sitting still. Every few minutes, I tend to jump up to write on a flipchart, check on people’s progress, and even act out charades when encouraging a slightly slow group on headline ideas. No such pyrotechnis now.
Getting up from a chair has to be executed with extreme care. I’m walking like the figure on the weathervane at Lord’s. I’m going to need to rethink my training; maybe, try a more cerebral approach.
Our postgraduate course starts next week and though I no longer work as course tutor (Roberta Cohen’s much more diligent, caring and patient than I am), I like to get involved on the news and subbing parts of the course.
Except I can’t scoot off to an exhibition with the eager young things while I’m walking like Igor. The prospect of trudging round Earls Court or 02 to find stories is out of the question for several weeks.
Some wag suggested I phone up and arrange a mobility scooter. “Maybe you could even get one of those little baskets on the front to put the press releases in,” he said helpfully.
Doesn’t quite fit in with the image of a thrusting, hard-drinking hack asking incisive questions, does it?

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