Part I
Before the Story
1
Planning Your Day
Figure 1.1 Credit: Matt Pearl
I begin the first chapter of this book about journalism with an example from a similarly hallowed field:
Golf.
(Donât worry if you donât know much about golf. Neither do I.)
I spent countless hours during my mid-20s trying to master the sport, usually spending my mid-week days off on the fairways of Buffaloâs finest courses. (In Buffalo, of course, âgolf seasonâ meant âmid-May to mid-Septemberâ, which may explain why I never became very good.) I did not learn much, but I did pick up one piece of advice that applies perfectly to solo video journalism:
In chaotic environments, try to eliminate as many variables as possible.
In golf, the chaos exists because of the perfection required to succeed. Each swing features numerous elements beyond oneâs control â and thus numerous opportunities to make mistakes. Think about all of the variables:
- The sun, or lack thereof
- Wind, rain, or any other type of weather
- Oneâs view, which is never the same except at the start of a hole
- The placement of the pin on the green
The swing itself creates even more anarchy, because once a golfer pulls back the club, he or she begins a continuous movement that will not stop until that club strikes the ball. If something feels a bit off â the speed of the backswing, the turn of the body, the height of the club at its apex â the golfer cannot stop mid-shot; he or she must decide how to adjust on the fly. This further unfolds the chaos and underscores what makes golf such an elusive game.
A wise golfer responds by establishing a pre-shot routine that seldom changes. When I played, I went through a mental checklist every time I approached the ball, inspecting everything from the width of my feet to the angle of my arms to the tightness of my grip. My mindset? Control everything I could before the shot, realizing how little I could control once it began.
I never developed into a great golfer, but I have used that philosophy to become a much stronger solo video journalist.
Anyone can benefit from the critical skill of preparation, but MMJs practically require it. A solo video journalist, in a very basic sense, consists of a single person filling two traditional jobs. This removes many of the luxuries reporters take for granted, such as:
- Looking up phone numbers and e-mail addresses while the photographer drives
- Posting to Twitter and Facebook while the photographer shoots extra footage
- Taking photos for social media with the phone while the photographer uses a camera
It also adds a seemingly dizzying number of responsibilities â tasks that, in theory, have more to do with housekeeping than reporting.
Consider the simple number of objects an MMJ must monitor. Start with the camera and everything that goes with it: batteries, lights, memory cards, lens cleaner, microphones, attachments, and, of course, the tripod. Now add all of the traditional accessories of a reporter: a laptop (with all of its cords and chargers), notepads, make-up, and additional clothing, such as a suit jacket or winter coat.
Oh, and MMJs in many newsrooms are assigned their own vehicles. Try keeping track, amidst your regular workload, of oil checks and emissions inspections.
This is why I believe so fervently in eliminating variables, and why I am using the opening chapter of this book to preach the dogma of time management. Journalism is chaotic enough, solo video journalism even more so. Make it slightly more manageable, and you stand a much better chance of telling the stories you and your viewers desire.
I learned how by watching one of my most impressive colleagues.
***
The first time I spoke with Jon Shirek, I had no idea I would, eight months later, become his co-worker.
In 2008 I was nearing the end of my third year at WGRZ-TV in Buffalo; Jon was closing in on 30 years at WXIA-TV in Atlanta. Our stations shared a mutual owner, Gannett, which also held more than 90 daily newspapers. With a presidential election looming in November, Gannettâs leaders wanted to bolster their coverage of the preceding political conventions, so they selected two multimedia journalists from their TV stations â one for each convention â to work exclusively for their newspapers, providing video stories and sound bites for the publicationsâ web sites.
Thatâs how Jon wound up traveling to the Republican National Convention to cover the nomination of Senator John McCain â and how I found myself on a plane to Denver for the Democratic convention and the nomination of the eventual president, Barack Obama.
It stands, to this day, among the most memorable assignments of my career ⌠and the most grueling. I worked more than 60 hours over the four-day convention, producing maybe a dozen stories and hauling at least 40 pounds of gear every day from my rental car to my workspace. By the time the whole thing ended, I was exhausted.
The DNC wrapped up three days before the RNC began, and Shirek reached out to pick my brain about how everything had gone. He asked about the smoothness of the operation, the expectations from Gannett, and the workflow during such a crowded environment. He touched on all of the topics I would expect from a seasoned, esteemed reporter, and I remember leaving the conversation thinking, âThis guy knows his stuff.â
Only recently did I learn one other detail about my convention compatriot: when Shirek flew to Minneapolis for his assignment, he had only worked as an MMJ for one month.
âI donât know why or how or what was behind all that,â Shirek told me about receiving that particular mission. âBut for whatever reason they wanted a one-man band to go and help out, so I said, âIâm game. Iâll go.â â
But, Shirek said, âI felt like, âIâm not sure I can do this.â â
Like most aspiring reporters, Shirek began his local TV news career as a solo video journalist. He just did it 40 years ago. A college student at the University of Florida, he picked up a part-time job on the weekend and would roam the streets of Jacksonville, listening to police scanners in his car and shooting a handful of videos â one of which he would track as a reporter package â during a 16-hour workday.
âYou didnât think it was simple,â Shirek says of the experience, despite managing much less equipment than he does today. âYou would think you had a tremendous responsibility not to miss anything. If something was going on and another crew got it ⌠you didnât want that to happen.â
In 1980, the long-time Floridian headed one state north to work for the NBC affiliate in Atlanta, where he has remained ever since. He was hired as a traditional reporter, getting to work with photographers âwho knew how to make every frame a Rembrandt,â he says. That remained the case for nearly three decades, until the trend of backpack journalism made its way to the eighth largest market in the country. WXIA had already hired two MMJs, and its managers began asking several long-time reporters to make the transition.
Shirek resisted but eventually accepted the move, as well as its potential impact on his performance.
âI didnât have enough confidence in myself to be able to master it,â he said. âI wasnât sure I could do the good work that I wanted to do.â
How did he cope? The same way he approached the RNC: by preparing himself.
âIt was just a matter of doing it and figuring out how to set up the workflow, so to speak â to try to make it as easy as possible and not let yourself get in the way of what you were trying to do.â
To watch Shirek operate today is to witness a composed professional amidst the newsroom commotion. He has adapted to the solo life in ways that suit his skills, and he has set up a routine and workspace that give him room to focus on his daily stories.
He also knows the best way to win the day is to start your routine long before you get your assignment.
Before You Start Your Workday
Here is the piece of advice that underlies virtually every element of time management:
Know yourself.
Know how much time you will need to complete certain tasks. Know the ins and outs of your workflow, and know the equipment you will require for each step. Know which tasks you will definitely remember while you are rushing out the door, and know which ones you may potentially forget.
Then, develop a pre-workday routine that accounts for all of it.
A solo video journalist is, in essence, following two routines: a reporterâs and a photographerâs. Both are crucial â and likely being done by your colleagues in more traditional positions.
On the reporting side, stay on top of the dayâs news and walk in the door with story ideas. This is sometimes an especially tough task for young journalists, especially those who are new to a market. The more quickly one can meet people and develop sources, and the more frequently one can check both traditional and social media for potential stories, the more prepared one will be for an assignment.
Figure 1.3 Jon Shirekâs famed reporter notebooks contain hundreds of ideas.
Few do this as well as Shirek. Admittedly, he starts with the advantage of experience, as both a journalist (40+ years) and an Atlantan (30+ years). But every time I watch him at a pitch meeting, I marvel at the number of compelling, well-researched stories he submits. General assignment reporters usually receive assignments based on the news of the day or, sometimes, other peopleâs pitches; they then must spend valuable time catching up on a story before working to advance it. Shirek, more times than not, gets to work on stories he developed himself, which gives him a valuable head start.
He does it with a strict routine.
âYou look at all the newspapers around the area,â Shirek says. âYou scan (your Twitter feed) to see what everybodyâs up to. You think of good follow-ups to stories you did that can be advanced. By the time you get to the meeting, you canât wait for your turn to come up.â
On the photography side, develop a system for your gear. Any journalist who has regularly operated a camera has, at some point, left for a shoot without a seemingly basic piece of equipment.
Forget a tape or memory card? You canât shoot your story.
Forget to charge your batteries? You canât shoot your story.
Forget your camera? You get the idea.
I learned this the hard way at my first job. I had secured an interview with an official at the University of South Dakota, a 30-minute drive from my station in Sioux City, Iowa. Somewhere around Minute 25 of that drive, I realized I had left the newsroom without a tape on which to record.
I will never forget the five stages of shame that followed.
First: Denial mixed with desperate hope. âDid I really forget a tape? Am I sure I didnât put one in the camera? I have to have another tape in this car somewhere, right?â
Second: Panic. âWhat am I going to do? Can I still get this story done? Do I actually have time to turn around, drive back to the station, pick up a tape (and hope no one notices my slunk-shouldered entrance and exit), and make this same trip all over again?â
Third: Calm realization. If you ask yourself the questions of Stage 2 and answer, âNo,â then you head back home, knowing you made a massive and easily avoidable mistake. If you answer, âYes,â as I did on this occasion, you breathe deeply and, for a moment, take comfort in the fact that you have not wasted your entire day ⌠just a large chunk of it.
Fourth: The embarrassing walk-through. You follow all of the steps from your earlier checklist of questions, all while notifying the bare minimum of people who need to be aware of your error. In this case, I informed the university official I would need to postpone our interview by an hour. I did not even try to invent a good excuse; I laid my humiliated head at his feet, and he thankfully gave me a pardon. Then I drove back to the station, got my new tape, and headed up to South Dakota a second time.
Fifth: Resolution. Perhaps you have heard the expression, âMaking mistakes is OK; just donât make them twice.â If so, you probably know what happened next. I got my act together and developed a system to ensure I would never experience this again. In this case I had dodged disaster, but I knew I would not always be so fortunate.
These days, I keep mo...