Being Breaking News
I love breaking news.
When I worked at the weekly paper last year I focused on health and education and whatever else was thrown my way. However, breaking news was really not one emphasized, since I worked at a paper only published once a week news didn’t really break with us.
Most news was old news.
Well, since starting at the daily I was the night cops/breaking news reporter and now I’ve become the day reporter for cops/breaking news/whatever comes my way.
Most breaking news though is not as exciting as it sounds. It’s mostly me going out to car accidents and taking pictures, or asking fire departments to send me pictures of fires they responded to that I didn’t hear about until the fire was out.
Well Thursday this was not one of those days.
We got a tip that dozens of police cars were zooming into a nearby trail. I was on it calling every source I had and found out that two hikers had gotten stranded during a flash flood and were holding to a tree with water rushing by.
This, I knew, was what my job was all about.
Sadly, the scene was about an hour from the newsroom, so the photographer and I were off hoping the best for the stranded guys but also hoping in the back of our minds that maybe they could hold off on rescuing them until we got there — we’re terrible, I know.
We get there and find out the guys have already been rescued but there still around, we can still talk to them, get a photo and some video. Yes!
It turned out to be a great story full of intense moments, thoughts of dying and a heroic rescue. It was definitely worth the two-hour drive there and back.
Breaking news, it beats everything every time.
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Helping in Haiti
I want to go to Haiti. I want to help make the orphans feel better, help give out food and supplies and show love to the people of Haiti.
I, however, can’t take off until after August as part of my companies policy.And when I told my parents about wanting to go they said I would be another mouth to feed and what’s needed is military personnel. I know they’re right, and my way of helping is donating money not being over there in the thick of it — darn it.
But I get to do the next best thing to being there, I get to talk to people who have been there and helped. People who are eagerly looking forward to going back to help.
Today, I got the opportunity to Hurlburt Field, one of two Special Operations Units in the nation. Aircraft units from Hurlburt were some of the first to touch ground in Haiti with medical supplies, food water and physicians.
I was told yesterday they were setting it up so journalist could talk with not only people who are in contact with military personnel in Haiti, but also some who have been deployed and are back.
I was expecting to hear about devastation, about heartache and about the pain in Haiti. But those in Haiti were still over there. I and the five other journalist there were able to speak with maintenance crews and some physicians who went over and spent only a few hours at the airport.
The crews dropped off supplies and picked up survivors back to America.
It wasn’t what I was expecting, but I heard about how grateful the people were for the help of not only America, but of all the countries that have come together.
Men, women and children transported didn’t speak about what they had seen, but slept, talked about football or played around — just grateful to get away from the pain and see hope for a less painful surrounding upon landing.
After we left, the public affairs officers told us when someone was available who had been on the ground we would get to talk with them.
I don’t know what to expect, but keeping this issue afloat is something I feel is very important and getting to talk with some of the heroes that dedicate their life is an added bonus.
To read the story: check out nwfdailynews.com.
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Similar to that of the boy scouts, I believe in always being prepared.
Sitting in my trunk is a pair of rain boots, an umbrella and a warm rain coat. I also keep a bag of Craisins in my purse, pocket knife and word find in my purse, first aid kit in my trunk and a bag with emergency makeup and every tool I can think I’d ever need.
By every tool, I range from Tylenol to a nail file with antibacterial hand gel and a tooth brush mixed in.
As you can see, I’m prepared. Being a journalist, preparedness is probably one of the most important things to be.
Extra pens, plenty of paper, voice recorder, camera and video camera should always be at the ready. Also being the cops reporter you need to be prepared for the elements.
Starting with the outfit. Layering is key, the office is always chilly and typically living in Florida is warm. Sweater, nice shirt, cropped pants and you’re there.
Layering prepares the journalist for any weather change.
I also keep my rain resistant things handy since I live in one of the rainiest states in the country.
So now I sound cocky and ready for anything — yeah right.
Today I reported on the Martin Luther King Jr. parade and had the brilliant idea to walk the parade route. Only I decided this a half hour before the parade began.
Today was around 45 degrees this morning, to any Floridian that’s cold.
So I park my car wearing my shirt, sweater, cropped pants, dress shoes and grab my adorable houndstooth heavy coat feeling good and looking nice.
I parked where the parade would end and hitched a ride to the beginning of the parade interviewing on the commute thinking I am about the smartest reporter ever.
I decided to start trekking ahead of the parade stopping to interview people as I walk. It was a great plan, I got great quotes and I got a nice feel for the parade.
Then the weather got warmer, the route kept going and my feet started blistering.
I was only half-way through and over it.
Lesson for everyone, keep some tennis shoes in your car, don’t walk parade routes and keep the cockiness down. You’re never going to be as prepared as you’d like, but each time you screw up prepare for that and you’re unpreparedness level will drop.
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I was working on a story about getting a second Veterans Affairs Regional Office in Florida today.
The backlog has caused hundreds of thousands of disability claims to go untouched for months at a time. Some claims not touched until after the veteran passes away.
A story I felt was important. A story that needs to be written and an issue that needs to be heard. Then my supervisor got a call.
A local veterinarian recently adopted a new mascot for her animal clinic, a two-legged, border collie mix.
You’ll understand why I didn’t immediately jump to my feet, but being the bottom of the barrel and having the most flexible schedule I was given the duty of dog writing.
I sat in the car on the 30 minute ride over with a less than positive attitude thinking if I knew I would be writing about a dog named Scoots in college I would have laughed out loud.
Then I met Scoots.
Born with a genetic defect, she was forced to scoot around, sometimes getting tangled up by her own front legs. Then the vet decided the best chance Scoots had of being mobile was to remove her two front legs that were unusable.
Scoots was precious, I couldn’t resist petting her and speaking in a ridiculous voice, which is rare since I’m really not an animal person.
Then the vet told me about this amazing program she is funding completely on her own. She takes in disabled animals from Pensacola to Chipley, Fla. and gives them to families that will love them despite any flaws they have.
It taught me a valuable lesson. In everything you can find good. In the stories that seem silly and ridiculous, if you try and look hard, you can find the depth to each story.
Thanks Scoots for opening up my eyes.
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The Unplanned Job
My mom asked me the other day if I had a planned schedule. I thought about it, pictured the calendar lying on my desk and realized that most of the time, no, I don’t really have a schedule.
She was amazed. She is a planner through and through, which honestly I get from her. I’m annoyingly organized and never spontaneous, I like to have a plan. I even came up with a life plan, although God may not agree completely (engaged at 25, married at 26, kids at 28 — if you were curious.)
But at work I like the unplanned.
I went in today with nothing on my plate. The square for Monday on my calendar was a crisp white with no pen marks upon it. Then the day started. My immediate boss was out with a stomach virus, so I made morning calls immediately and things began to come.
A power outage in one county because the nice tropical state I live in has been freezing, a car accident because the idiot sitting in the passenger seat grabbed the steering wheel and ran the car into a tree, and a group of rescued sea turtles that just got stationed locally.
My day was set.
I posted what I could, headed to the Gulfarium, interviewed, made a video, wrote a story and then it was time to clock out. I like the unpredictability. I like that I start my day with no idea what will unfold. I like this part of my job.
So to other journalist not in the breaking news arena, sorry but my beat’s better. You can count on it.
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Why can’t i settle
I love my job.
It’s the first time I have truly been able to say I am completely happy with where I am. But for some reason, this feeling of unsteadiness has over taken me. I want a new job, a new town and a new start.
I love my parents, but living with them after living on your own is a whole other ball game. I’m living with them now because, honestly, it’s cheap. I just bought a car and I’m living on a journalist salary — which if you don’t know is small. I also love and adore my hometown. I go anywhere and I see someone I know. The small-town life is one I want for my children, but right now while I’m single and young and I want something else, something different.
Then there’s work. I love it. I get to write about things I enjoy, talk with amazing people and listen to fascinating stories for a living, for a living! But then comes in my feeling of restlessness, the feeling that tells me I want change, and now.
I talked with my friend Leslie about this, and while she was a Public Relations major she took some psych classes and feels pretty well versed on the subject. Leslie told me it’s our generation. We feel a constant need for change. Look at us, we have to have phones that can do everything, watch television with features that allow us to speed past the commercials and become bored quickly (well, at least that’s how I feel) with everything from to school to our love lives. Who knew being 23 could present so many challenges.
So here is my dilemma.
Do I start looking for a new job? Should I just get over myself and stick it out? If I quit, will future employers wonder at my lack of time at each workplace?
I’ve also felt that journalism would be something for now, just right now. I’ve never envisioned myself working my entire life as a reporter, and I would be far too board stuck behind a desk as an editor. So what will I do?
No clue.
For now, I write and enjoy my job. I’ve put some thoughts into the future, especially since my feelings of antsy-ness (it’s a word) have overtaken me. I’m looking for a new start, but I’m letting God direct me. So when, where, who and all the other questions floating around will have to wait.
So, here’s to waiting — Happy New Year!
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Day time here i come
So I finally began the day shift. It feels weird to come in on a Monday when for the last four months I’ve been working Tuesday through Saturdays, a schedule that didn’t mesh with anyone else.
So Monday I somehow was able to wake up, get going and start the day (DAY!) early. Then I got stuck in morning traffic, I forgot what it’s like to work the same hours of everyone else – I hate traffic.
So after being 15 minutes late to work I was ready to start the day (DAY!) and do what I love most, write. My new shift in hours has also changed my job duties.
No longer do I have to deal with updating the Web site, writing headlines, which I am horrible at, or work the late-night car accidents, random reportings or Saturday festivities that consist of me standing in the cold.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to miss getting to decide where things go on the Web site, working with the few who work the late-night shift and of course the ease of driving when everyone is not on the road.
Monday, my boss told me my day-time shift job is to produce, produce, produce. As the night cops beat, you come in and wait for something to happen. As the day cops reporter, you write – a lot. I wrote four print stories, six Web stories and conducted five interviews.
But I wasn’t overwhelmed, I just wasn’t board. On nights, I would sit at my desk, search our sister sites and find ways to bid my time including dusting mine and my fellow writers desks.
I think this time change will be a positive thing. I get to do feature writing, which is my strength, and I get to work more with the other reporters. I’m a young writer, the youngest at my paper. I not only want to work but I want to learn.
So here I come sun, I will be seeing you more as I sit in traffic and start a new phase of my life as a journalist.
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Why I got into journalism
In my short time as a reporter I have gotten to meet some truly amazing people.
I think that’s my favorite part about this job. I get to go places, see things and meet people I would have never been able to otherwise. This is true of my experience yesterday.
I was told earlier in the week that I would be covering a woman who was a guest speaker at a gala. Whoop-de-do, yet another thing to put on my long list of Saturday tasks.
How wrong I was.
Friday I did a little research to prepare me for the interview and as I read I became more and more amazed at the woman I was going to get to meet. Her story was not only horrific, it was inspiring.
She survived the Rwanda genocide, a story in itself, but after that she went on to forgive the unforgivable and become and inspiration to not only her country but all over the world.
After that, I got to go to the reopening of a park that had been remodeled. This park was just a park to me, but to the neighborhoods that fought for years to get it cleaned up and family friendly it was an answered prayer.
In a predominantly black neighborhood, the children were not the ones swinging in the park or laughing in the grass. No, drug deals were going on and crime scene tape had been put in place several times after people were murdered.
So while the hamburgers and hotdogs served Saturday were nice, the park meant hope and a future to the people living there. I asked one woman how she felt about the park and all she said, and all she needed to say was, “It means a lot.”
One little boy was asked the same question and as he looked at the huge park with newly planted grass and the shiniest play set he’d ever seen he described the beer bottles and the needles that used to be strewn about. Then he described the park he now saw. He said it was a mansion.
Wow.
I get to meet people and hear their stories, I get to see there faces during moments of joy. My job isn’t always easy, and sometimes I get down. But times like these make me realize how lucky I am to be doing what I do.
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The Incredible Edible Article
So I found the type of news that people just eat up.
I wrote an article about a woman claiming to be the ex-girlfriend of “balloon boys” father. She hadn’t dated the man in years, but she knew certain character traits he had possessed when they weren’t dating and called “hoax” before the charges were brought against him.
I wrote the article, my editor read over it and we published it.
The next day I got a call from Inside Edition, the place where Bill O’Reily of the O’Reily Factor got his start. They said they read the article and would like to talk with the woman I interviewed.
Then two days later I got an email from Entertainment Tonight asking for contact information after reading the article. I also was quoted on an article from Fox News.
Intriguing that I can write about a man coming out of a coma and pointing out the man who killed him, about a child conquering a deadly disease and about the former head of the FBI’s special disaster team’s reactions to Lockerbie’s terrorist being released. But this is what gets attention.
News today, huh.
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Oh the things I hear
So a part of my daily duties is long and tedious, but necessary.
Everyday I call every fire department and police department in the area. At first I was unsure what to say but after calling twice a day, five days a week I’ve gotten my stride and now the folks that answer the phone know me and are no longer shy with talking.
The purpose of my calls is to see if we missed anything on the scanner such as a fire, robbery or an unusual circumstance. Nine times out of 10 there’s absolutely nothing going on. But I guess with having a regimented calling schedule the firefighters are getting used to my calls and now I hear some of the greatest things ever.
So here’s my spiel:
“Hi, this is Angel with the Daily News. I was calling to see if there were any incidents in your area.”
Since I began this I have heard some of the funniest things.
One fire department told me an in-depth story about installing a fan in the bathroom and electrocuting the poor firefighter who was doing the installing. They thought it was print worthy, I had to sadly let them down.
Another answered my question, “Oh yeah. There were dead babies everywhere” and as soon as I start getting excited and writing profusely he goes, “Nah, I’m just kidding we haven’t done anything.”
A favorite of mine was, “Dear god Angel, the Florida State game is on.”
I’ve heard it all. One dispatcher had highlighted her hair and was unsure of if it looked good. Another dispatcher had some less kind encounters with the reporter that called, developed a crush on me and asked me out over the phone — I had never seen the man and politely declined.
I look forward to developing a relationship with the local first responders.
So here’s to more stories, more funny interactions and more fun in the public safety beat!
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