No gripes with newspaper

There hasn't been much activity on my site for the past few months and for good/poor reasons. I've been going through what is called slow fuse but total burn-out. Working 10-14hrs a day with few off will apparently do that and yet I had few complaints.

Despite the bizarre work schedule and writing time-lines, I enjoyed it and come out with no regrets. I put so much time and effort into my articles that it was occasionally depriving me of sleep and sanity. It didn't drive me crazy, just made me wonder why I tried so hard if next week it was going to be in the recycling bin or buried online. Completely worth it though to find and break my limitations and find out what I didn't care for or really enjoyed about the business of writing.

Short list of non-good times:

Fire & collision scenes = Not excitement or drama, only cold, icy & scary to hope it wasn't someone I knew.
County meetings and local politics = more interesting than I'd think and straight out of Leacock's writing.
Local swim meets = splash zone and worse on a cold camera lens and CMOS sensor, but 200 kids -- track a dozen?
School/community fundraisers = nice philanthropic attempts, but came up disappointingly short sometimes.
Economic development committees and a conference or two = exceeded my expectations entirely, but still dry.

Worst part, interviews going hostile or confused, or not even happening for lack of call-back leaving me with half/no article to write on a subject that needed sources to fly.

Most unfun was sleepless nights, away from my lovely lady and close friends, finishing up articles for a few days before deadline. There was always one with notes from a source didn't make sense, or wouldn't be good to quote as questionable facts, even less fun to salvage.

The good parts? When I was told I made a difference in someone's life or non-profit cause, it made up for the rest of a long haul. I wrote about exciting local sports and fun hobbies, tournaments and charities drives. It was an intrinsic reward to hear that I got it right about little known subjects like fur trapping, medical sonar technician, or martial arts training.


Free local sports games and fun concerts, more than I could race between the arenas, pools and community halls on a weekend before Monday deadline. Meeting and interviewing intriguing people was amazing -- more than a few of them shy/humble, but really interesting once they uncorked their hidden passions.

It was half frustration in getting let go because I finally admitted I wasn't cut out for the long hours, short deadlines of a small weekly newspaper, and hard to get to that point. It felt like I had no life even though I was doing an amazing amount of work out in the community and adrenalin high. Yet if I went out for a beer, someone would frown on it.

If I said something controversial, ignored a lobbying interest, or wrote unpopular truth, I would hear about it loudly.

What I did learn the most and enjoy was when an interview turned into something more than the 15 minute special news spot and a feature worth profiling something out of the ordinary. Those were the best parts when I could pitch something to my editor that was more than basics. For the record, editors have a wry sense of humour, wealth of experience and seem to love still learning new subjects.

When what I was writing clicked and I got a rare great response. When what people were doing was out of the ordinary and they didn't realize it until they read the article and went wow, that was too kind of you to paint us in that light, but thank you.

After writing nearly 250 articles and three car oil changes over the last six months, I saw my share of action -- moments of disbelief that I was having so much fun, or there lack of. Going through articles for scrapbook and portfolio, I had grown as a writer. So I can only hope writing independently and freelance will be just as amazing a journey.

If I get another shot at a newspaper? Great.

But the best part? My own desk and a press badge. Mission complete.

Why am I in Whitecourt Alberta? Where is Whitecourt anyway?

Those two questions are still alluding me after living there for a week and then packing my bags for a road-tour of central Alberta. Don't get me wrong, I love getting out and exploring this 1/12th of Canada I'm living in and soaking in all the beauty on occasion.

Still, I like my home-cooking and home-comforts. And in a hotel room I have neither. At least I feel at home in a newspaper office. Didn't expect it so fast.

Should have been more specific when I was carelessly wishing for more excitement and road-tripping this summer. There was even a road-trip mapped out in the Alberta Motor Association magazine in the spring and I was like oh that looks gorgeous for a weekend! A 14hour round trip didn't sound as cool when I got to hour five and I was dying.

That was until after a week and a bit of talking to the publisher and working out details, other than the fact to whether I was hired or not. When I got there for the second interview to meet the editor it was very much on the spot, welcome aboard, when can you start?

Wrote up my job resignation letter just like that a month ago now which seems like it flew by so fast. Started thinking about packing my bags, boxes and life up into a U-Haul and driving out on my lonesome to some town I had never heard of until now.

Nothing new about that part, I'm used to learning some random name of some random town or village in the prairies. I'll be talking to someone and they will rave it is their gorgeous hometown but they're glad they left that drunken dump.

Oh. Change of topic.

And suddenly I was faced with the prospect of not knowing what kind of adventure I was signing up for as an internship reporter. With a steady paycheque, good room-mates and friends, and lots of contacts and projects to do in Calgary, I wasn't exactly excited about pulling up roots initially.

Not just for the super huge amount of nesting I'd done, filling up the entire living room in the town-house I was renting in when all the boxes were packed. Also I'd miss the house's cats and my friends too.

At the same time, as the Marine in WWI famously said, 'Com'mon men, you wanna live forever?' I trained for this moment of 'going over the top.' I wasn't going to hide in the trenches and not get on the front-lines of newspaper. I felt like I really was going to jump out of a perfectly good airplane in my comfy little life in the city. There is no Good Earth Cafe in Whitecourt AB. No so sure I wanted to leave my favourite writing spot behind. Part of me wanted to wait it out hiding with a mug-full of good coffee and good atmosphere.

With all those thoughts of dam, I'm actually going to be shooting and writing and publishing people's stories, talk about living the dream.

It almost has sunk in as I'm into my second week of reporting, that by-line is in a real non-college newspaper and I'm getting paid to do it? Kinda cool feeling that I dreamt about since... since high-school when I decided I naively wanted to be a National Geographic reporter.

My ten year reunion came and went a few months ago and I was like screw this? It had hit that I had a one-year badge from Home Depot.... where's the ejection seat button? Not that I didn't like it there, it just wasn't what I signed up for after college finished.

Found out about the internship and wasn't sure what to think. Talking to friends, some said to pray about it, some said to get my crap together and some just were happy I was still working and volunteering at my church. Very well and good, but I felt like I was spinning my wheels in the mud, gunning the engine but not getting anywhere.

My beautiful Sharon is half done her degree in Nursing and I needed to get somewhere with my j-school certificate that says I can write, time to earn my keep. My honey was very supportive even if it meant I'd still be far off in the distance three hours drive away. At least it wasn't in another province. My parents were just as happy even though they had no idea where I was going either. So that gave me a bit of courage, especially when Sharon was like I told you so and she was thrilled.

So as I mauled over the offer over the weekend and snapped at it. Very first and only interview and offer and off I went. I had heard of the neighbouring small town of Mayerthorpe unfortunately as the Slain Four Mounties were on that stake-out in the farming community.

As I traced the google map up to Edmonton and northwest towards Grande Prairie on 43 hwy, six hours was starting to seem like a lot. I had rented a moving van, but now I was actually packing up my bags into it with help from a few good friends. It was surreal.

Having found most of my friends for coffee or a drink to celebrate moving to the boondocks to hang out with red-necks and farmers and write small-town newspaper, was I ready to go? I've only been there for not even two weeks and every stereotype has been refuted already. Everyone's been so welcoming but more of that soon enough.

Yes it's sunk in and I'll try to write more soon because the 7 hour drive alone was wild. It was definitely into God's country without barely a sign of civilization other than road signs and long haul truckers at rest stops. More on that tomorrow.

Seeing how I have to be up and pulling together layout for copy proofing, must post and pass out, living the dream and I'm glad the coffee wore off.

Even so, I think I might miss the cats more than they miss me as long as someone will give them a belly-rub, but how could I not miss those goofy fluffy rascals a bit? My other room-mates were happy for me too.
Goodnight and good-luck. More on Edward R. Murrow later....