When I started looking for journalism internships for summer 2008, managing a web site was not what I had in mind. I envisioned running through the middle of a newsroom – phones ringing, e-mails pinging, faxes buzzing, and editors screaming – trying to get one last interview in before deadline. I pictured going home to a cramped apartment in some vague but eclectic city, seeing shows on the weekends, becoming a newsstand regular – pen and pad in hand and cell phone pressed to my oh-so-important ear as I scrambled through crowded streets to be the only intern who actually scooped someone else.
Luckily, I got to experience all of that this summer at the Charlotte Observer. In 2008, it didn’t turn out that way.
Whoever said that 18 is independence, and 21 is full-fledged adulthood never met my parents. Father Steele had his own ideas about my summer employment. He had just sold his half of a family-owned insurance agency to my uncle, and was starting up a smaller more small-business-oriented office in my hometown of Chester, Virginia. He planned for this new venture of his to include only one other employee besides himself: me. And I couldn’t very well refuse to work for him and live at home since the bills for my Washington and Lee education have his name on them. In this way, my dreams of morphing into the intrepid summer journalist intern fell into musings about the best way to sell term life insurance policies.
Needless to say, when my J-school advisor approached me about the position of web manager for onpoverty.org, the Poverty on Journalism class’ new website, I jumped at the chance. It may not have included all the trappings of a big city newsroom, but it gave me an excuse to continue to cultivate some of the journalism skills I had learned over the course of the year. And it was a job I could do anytime or anywhere, so long as I had my laptop and a wireless Internet connection. The job involved finding stories on poverty issues written by journalists across the country, synthesizing them into two to three sentence web blurbs, rewriting their headlines, and posting them onto the onpoverty.org website, as well as managing an interactive blog where readers could respond to the selected stories.
I am no web guru and I was new to the website, so before I left for the summer I met with my professors and our J-school technology whiz who had managed onpoverty during the school year, for training sessions. They taught me what kinds of stories to look for and what to avoid: we wanted well-written, interesting journalistic pieces on new poverty trends and situations, and we overlooked the hundreds of stories that came across the feed each day with headlines like “Homeless man kills other homeless man.” They stressed that it was important for me to keep in mind that I was providing the website for a primarily professional audience. Onpoverty.org was by journalists for journalists, and the intent was for the site to act as a sounding board for the journalism community. It was to be a place where other reporters across the nation could read and respond to what others were covering in regards to poverty issues. So often in news, journalists look to the big guys – government, institutions, corporations – for stories, and onpoverty was a way to draw attention to those who usually were swept under the rug.
But in order to pursue this vision, I had to become proficient at Adobe Dreamweaver, the program we used to create and maintain the site. I worked daily with Net NewsWire, Adobe Photoshop, and Adobe Dreamweaver. NewsWire was an RSS feed that, thanks to the poverty folders that the previous web manager had set set up, tagged over 300 stories written about poverty topics each day by netting stories with key words like “subprime mortgage” or “homeless” or “Medicare.” Each week, I would sift through these stories, automatically disregarding ones whose headlines were not onpoverty.org-worthy, and eventually choose six stories to feature on the site. The top two headlines I put on the page were the “bigger,” more complex stories, and they, along with the feature story at the bottom of the home page, had pictures to go along with them. Now, if I got lucky, I could use the pictures already with the original news story and credit the organization underneath. I learned how to re-format the original pictures in Photoshop so they would adhere to our website page style. If I wasn’t so lucky, and one of the bigger stories didn’t come with a visual element, I would have to search the web or AP photo cache for something that would work well enough beside my headline and blurb. It may not seem that difficult, but searching for the right stories and then trying to find adequate pictures to go along with them was time-consuming. Picture searching and formatting was my least favorite part of the internship.
For the six stories I found each week, I wrote web blurbs for the home page of onpoverty.org. These web blurbs synthesized what I judged to the most important aspect of the stories. It was sometimes hard to keep in mind that I was writing for professional journalists – people who probably had much more experience than I did, and who were most likely already covering poverty issues. In school, I had learned to be vigilant about transforming complicated information into comprehensible grafs for an everyday audience. Now, I had to learn how to simplify and synthesize without seeming like I was talking down to people who were more often than not going to be more knowledgeable than I was. At first, I tended to ere on the side of including too much information. I would e-mail my blurbs to my professor for proofing each week, and they would come back to me with sentences slashed out and instructions to write “tighter.”
I also was abominable about adhering to AP style. It was a lot easier to pay attention to the nitty-gritty grammar details when you were in class at school, and professors were ready to mark an ‘F’ on your paper for the slightest sloppiness or inaccuracy. At home, in the summer, sitting in a coffee house in between freelancing for the local weekly paper and selling life policies to senior citizens, it was easy to forget when a comma was needed and when to capitalize a street name. And it was easy to be lazy about it, too. Luckily, my professor was there to nag me about my stylistic issues, and in the third week of summer I bought the AP stylebook and had little trouble with it afterwards.
My experience with onpoverty not have been my dream job, but it was an internship that afforded me the opportunity to learn and brush up on skills that served me well during my BigO internship in a “real” newsroom.
Creators of News?
Ahh, online journalism ethics.
Yesterday, my conversation with the managing editor of the Athens Banner Herald sputtered to a stop of “ums, ahs, yes, that’s a conundrum…” when she presented me with one of those headache-worthy questions about online journalism:
“With all those user comments, how do you keep from becoming a creator of news rather than just a reporter of news?”
She’s been dealing with this question since the Banner-Herald published an online story about a girl (they didn’t name her) who said she was sexually assaulted. The girl wanted to press charges. The story collected many user comments – people had a lot of opinions and questions about the potential case.
By the end of the day, the girl had dropped the charges.
The Banner-Herald managing editor said her stomach turned as she thought about the possibility that this girl had read all those user comments, realized how difficult defending her sexual history might be and decided not to pursue the case.
Hence the question: “With all those user comments, how do you keep from becoming a creator of news rather than just a reporter of news?”
And the next: Does it matter?
The girl might not have seen the Banner-Herald story. The story and its darned user comments might have had nothing to do with her decision to drop charges. But what if did? Does it matter?
Most reporters are ambiguous about user comments. Yes, it’s a rush to click on your story link and see a string of thirty comments beneath the tagline. It’s the “you like me! you really like me!” feeling.
Ok, maybe it’s more “you read me! You really read me!” But I digress.
It’s also frustrating to see your story pecked at by anonymous people – these so-called “citizen journalists” who aren’t held to the standards you were when you wrote the story.
As encouraging as it is to see the community engaged and reading the news, comments often devolve into tangential bickering between the users. Sometimes, the arguments have absolutely nothing to do with story. Other times, user comments become a place for personal pontification as users pass judgments about people, things and ideas in the story.
I can imagine what those comments might’ve been on the Banner-Herald story. As a woman, I can imagine how I would’ve felt to see my actions and my accusations put under the community spotlight even before the police investigated.
Was that decision to drop all charges a result of the Banner-Herald story’s user comments? Did the Banner-Herald create the news?
Most papers have developed guidelines for what can and cannot be said in user comments. At the Charlotte Observer, any profanity or “abusive” speech is prohibited. Such comments were deleted and replaced by the notice “User123′s comments are abusive and have been removed.”
But are there stories where user comments shouldn’t be allowed at all?
And if there are, how to determine which ones get the user comment reprieve?
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Tagged as Athens Banner Herald, ethics, online journalism ethics, online media, reporting, The Charlotte Observer, user comments