My day job as a reporter often requires me to deal with irate people.
Sometimes they're upset with me, although not very often.
Usually, they're upset about some perceived injustice done upon them or someone they know. Sometimes the injustice is a real one, other times it's been exaggerated by the caller.
In the latter case, I'm understanding. Who hasn't been in a situation where a problem arises and it seems worse than it actually is.
Every now and then, however, I'm required to deal with someone's rant.
So how do I separate the story from the fact I can't take this person seriously? Or the fact that I find what they're saying offensive?
It's a dilemma I don't have to deal with very often, but it does come up from time to time.
When it does, I suppose the toughest thing to remember is that I'm not engaging this person in a debate or an argument. I'm simply listening, writing down what they're saying and throwing out a question now and then for clarification (and to let them know I'm still listening.)
But when it comes time to write a story based on such an interview, it becomes difficult. It's like separating the wheat from the chaff. I have to pick out the ideas that follow the story and put them together into something coherent.
Beyond that, I also have to worry about the possibility of a lawsuit. I mean, I can't just print something because I want to. It has to be true.
So I have to listen to people who tell me someone is conspiring against them, nod politely, and keep thinking to myself that I'll get myself a coffee as a reward for suffering through the insanity.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Fulfill the dream
Author's note: This is based on a personal dream involving my favourite hockey team, the Toronto Maple Leafs. I decided against using the actual name of the team in case I ever turn this into something more.
Chris couldn't explain why he was an Aces fan. Friends asked him all the time, and all he could say was that he'd never known anything else.
What made his choice of teams unusual was the fact they were atrocious, had been so since long before Chris was born, and looked as though they would be for the foreseeable future.
"Why did you pick such a crappy team?" was the question he had to answer at least once a week.
His response was often something like "My grandfather's been a fan all his life and he got me interested."
Always because of Grampy, who actually remembered the last time the team won the championship.
But Chris really had different thoughts when it came to his favourite team.
Some day I'm going to own that team. Someday I'm going to give this city a winner.
Chris was nothing if not a dreamer. He'd had this notion in his head since he was a little boy. He would run that team.
He'd hear people say they could run the team better than the clowns in charge, but they were usually just blowing off steam following another loss by the sad-sack group.
Chris would be the first to admit he was as guilty of the bellyaching as the next fan, but he was the only armchair coach/owner who had a plan to actually run the team.
Luck would certainly play a part in his plan, but then, when doesn't it?
But this would require something more. It would need ambition, hard work and the willingness to give up other things in order to achieve the goal.
Despite the complexity of achieving it, his goal was simple.
Chris was going to become the owner of the Aces, and bring a championship banner to his beloved team, the first in nearly half a century.
He kept it to himself to avoid the ridicule that was sure to accompany such a bold statement. But he knew he could do it. He knew he could bring an end to the ineptitude that had plagued his favourite team for so long.
He just needed to work out how.
Chris couldn't explain why he was an Aces fan. Friends asked him all the time, and all he could say was that he'd never known anything else.
What made his choice of teams unusual was the fact they were atrocious, had been so since long before Chris was born, and looked as though they would be for the foreseeable future.
"Why did you pick such a crappy team?" was the question he had to answer at least once a week.
His response was often something like "My grandfather's been a fan all his life and he got me interested."
Always because of Grampy, who actually remembered the last time the team won the championship.
But Chris really had different thoughts when it came to his favourite team.
Some day I'm going to own that team. Someday I'm going to give this city a winner.
Chris was nothing if not a dreamer. He'd had this notion in his head since he was a little boy. He would run that team.
He'd hear people say they could run the team better than the clowns in charge, but they were usually just blowing off steam following another loss by the sad-sack group.
Chris would be the first to admit he was as guilty of the bellyaching as the next fan, but he was the only armchair coach/owner who had a plan to actually run the team.
Luck would certainly play a part in his plan, but then, when doesn't it?
But this would require something more. It would need ambition, hard work and the willingness to give up other things in order to achieve the goal.
Despite the complexity of achieving it, his goal was simple.
Chris was going to become the owner of the Aces, and bring a championship banner to his beloved team, the first in nearly half a century.
He kept it to himself to avoid the ridicule that was sure to accompany such a bold statement. But he knew he could do it. He knew he could bring an end to the ineptitude that had plagued his favourite team for so long.
He just needed to work out how.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Choke: A Hockey Story
I have witnessed one of the worst choke-jobs in sports history. The Canadian team at the 2011 World Junior Championships blew a 3-0 lead after two periods and lost 5-3 in the gold medal game to Russia.
Now, obviously receiving a medal at an event like this is an extraordinary accomplishment. And Canada does it year after year.
But this team LOST the gold medal. I refuse to celebrate a second-place finish in a team sport. Silver in team sports means you lost the final. End of story.
This team dominated 40 minutes of play, then got cocky, sat back, and the Russians made them pay dearly. The winning team took nothing for granted.
What makes that even more astounding is the fact Canada was considered an underdog entering this tournament. The USA was the pre-tournament favourite to defend their title. Canada beat them in the semifinals, but they blew it when it really mattered.
I'd rather play for a bronze, at least then you've won something. Team Canada gets a silver because they blew it. It's like awarding abject failure.
Maybe I've been too harsh because the loss is so fresh in my mind (I'm watching the medals being handed out as I write this), but this is still our game. And now it's two years running we've lost the gold.
I think another problem, at least from my perspective, is the memory of Sidney Crosby's golden goal in Vancouver is still very fresh in my mind. That was one of the greatest moments in Canadian sports history and it still brings a smile to face when I watch a replay. That team brought a country together.
This team just pissed off 30 million people because they choked.
This team became arrogant. And because of that, they missed an opportunity to bring home a gold medal.
Now, obviously receiving a medal at an event like this is an extraordinary accomplishment. And Canada does it year after year.
But this team LOST the gold medal. I refuse to celebrate a second-place finish in a team sport. Silver in team sports means you lost the final. End of story.
This team dominated 40 minutes of play, then got cocky, sat back, and the Russians made them pay dearly. The winning team took nothing for granted.
What makes that even more astounding is the fact Canada was considered an underdog entering this tournament. The USA was the pre-tournament favourite to defend their title. Canada beat them in the semifinals, but they blew it when it really mattered.
I'd rather play for a bronze, at least then you've won something. Team Canada gets a silver because they blew it. It's like awarding abject failure.
Maybe I've been too harsh because the loss is so fresh in my mind (I'm watching the medals being handed out as I write this), but this is still our game. And now it's two years running we've lost the gold.
I think another problem, at least from my perspective, is the memory of Sidney Crosby's golden goal in Vancouver is still very fresh in my mind. That was one of the greatest moments in Canadian sports history and it still brings a smile to face when I watch a replay. That team brought a country together.
This team just pissed off 30 million people because they choked.
This team became arrogant. And because of that, they missed an opportunity to bring home a gold medal.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
A knock and strange triangles
"What does this have to do with me?" I asked.
That's the question I find myself asking when these conspiracy theorists bring me there wild ideas about some lost artifact that they claim will change our world forever.
"This is what I get for opening the door," I thought.
It's a mistake I make all the time. Every time someone comes calling at my office door I can't resist. I can't take the chance that this time it might be something worthwhile.
But every time, I'm disappointed, and sometimes mildly irritated that these people waste my time with their ridiculous ideas.
Like the guy who came in a few months ago, claiming he had information that would lead to a secret energy source that would solve the problem of the world's dwindling oil reserves.
I looked at him and told him he was the third person in a week to come to me with that idea. I admit, I lied to him. He was actually the sixth, but I wanted to spare his feelings a little.
But this time, for the first time in months, I was intrigued, even if only slightly.
"Look, this could fundamentally change the way we look at our world," the visitor said.
"I'm sure it could, but you haven't answered my question. I still want to know what this has to do with me."
The visitor paused and looked at the paper he'd been explaining to me. It was worn and faded, but I could still make out the image of a stylized triangle.
I took a closer look at the faded image. There was something familiar about it.
"I'll be damned," I whispered. "That's impossible."
The visitor sat down across from me, smiling.
"I told you it would be worth your while."
He was right. When I looked at that image, I saw something I thought I'd never see outside my parents' notebooks. I thought it was just something they'd doodled over and over, the same way I drew little trees when I was lost in thought.
But this, this was different. As far as I knew, this design had been exclusive to my parents imaginations and their doodles.
"You need to tell me where you found this. Right now."
"Perhaps a drink is in order? We've got a lot to talk about," my visitor said.
For once, I was glad I'd answered the knock at my door.
That's the question I find myself asking when these conspiracy theorists bring me there wild ideas about some lost artifact that they claim will change our world forever.
"This is what I get for opening the door," I thought.
It's a mistake I make all the time. Every time someone comes calling at my office door I can't resist. I can't take the chance that this time it might be something worthwhile.
But every time, I'm disappointed, and sometimes mildly irritated that these people waste my time with their ridiculous ideas.
Like the guy who came in a few months ago, claiming he had information that would lead to a secret energy source that would solve the problem of the world's dwindling oil reserves.
I looked at him and told him he was the third person in a week to come to me with that idea. I admit, I lied to him. He was actually the sixth, but I wanted to spare his feelings a little.
But this time, for the first time in months, I was intrigued, even if only slightly.
"Look, this could fundamentally change the way we look at our world," the visitor said.
"I'm sure it could, but you haven't answered my question. I still want to know what this has to do with me."
The visitor paused and looked at the paper he'd been explaining to me. It was worn and faded, but I could still make out the image of a stylized triangle.
I took a closer look at the faded image. There was something familiar about it.
"I'll be damned," I whispered. "That's impossible."
The visitor sat down across from me, smiling.
"I told you it would be worth your while."
He was right. When I looked at that image, I saw something I thought I'd never see outside my parents' notebooks. I thought it was just something they'd doodled over and over, the same way I drew little trees when I was lost in thought.
But this, this was different. As far as I knew, this design had been exclusive to my parents imaginations and their doodles.
"You need to tell me where you found this. Right now."
"Perhaps a drink is in order? We've got a lot to talk about," my visitor said.
For once, I was glad I'd answered the knock at my door.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Legalized Insanity
Robin Williams has made a career of stream-of-consciousness comedy. He just picks up on an idea, starts riffing and an hour later ends somewhere totally different. Listen to his 1986 performance at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City, or his Live on Broadway performance in 2002.
Or this clip from his appearance on Inside the Actor's Studio.
He just starts with a simple thing and continues to riff throughout the interview. It's such a natural thing.
I'm a big fan of Williams and his comedy. I'm sure he works hard to put together his performances, but he also has a knack for improvisation, and the rapid-fire delivery has always amazed me.
I'm not on his level, and likely never will be. But it's an inspiration to me.
Tomorrow, I'm going to write something. I don't have any idea what it will be, but I'm just going to sit down and write for half an hour and see what I come up with.
Check back here to see what I come up with.
Or this clip from his appearance on Inside the Actor's Studio.
He just starts with a simple thing and continues to riff throughout the interview. It's such a natural thing.
I'm a big fan of Williams and his comedy. I'm sure he works hard to put together his performances, but he also has a knack for improvisation, and the rapid-fire delivery has always amazed me.
I'm not on his level, and likely never will be. But it's an inspiration to me.
Tomorrow, I'm going to write something. I don't have any idea what it will be, but I'm just going to sit down and write for half an hour and see what I come up with.
Check back here to see what I come up with.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The original
It's tough to come up with an original idea. I mean, hasn't everything been thought of already?
English author and journalist Christopher Booker wrote a book called The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories, which distilled everything ever written down to seven plots: overcoming the monster, rags to riches, the quest, voyage and return, comedy, tragedy and rebirth.
So how do I come up with something original if there's only those seven stories? Seems tough. Especially when you look around pop culture today and see nothing but remakes, sequels or adaptations. How does a writer come up with something original?
I've been exposed to a massive amount of pop culture in my life, almost 25 years. Everything from Sesame Street to Star Wars, all kinds of music and literature. Surely it's impacted my thinking and my imagination. Where do I come up with something new and different.
I guess it's a matter of taking one of those seven plots and adding my own twists to the idea. I've been reading some articles about free-writing; just sitting down and putting words on paper or on the computer screen. No self-editing or anything, just see what comes out. And I see the value in such an exercise. It's like brainstorming.
It's a matter of keeping a notepad or something with me at all times so I can write an idea down when it comes to me. I just need to do this.
I'm not fooling myself. I realize this is going to be tough, but it's something I need to do. I know I have some good ideas, I just need to get them from my head to the page.
English author and journalist Christopher Booker wrote a book called The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories, which distilled everything ever written down to seven plots: overcoming the monster, rags to riches, the quest, voyage and return, comedy, tragedy and rebirth.
So how do I come up with something original if there's only those seven stories? Seems tough. Especially when you look around pop culture today and see nothing but remakes, sequels or adaptations. How does a writer come up with something original?
I've been exposed to a massive amount of pop culture in my life, almost 25 years. Everything from Sesame Street to Star Wars, all kinds of music and literature. Surely it's impacted my thinking and my imagination. Where do I come up with something new and different.
I guess it's a matter of taking one of those seven plots and adding my own twists to the idea. I've been reading some articles about free-writing; just sitting down and putting words on paper or on the computer screen. No self-editing or anything, just see what comes out. And I see the value in such an exercise. It's like brainstorming.
It's a matter of keeping a notepad or something with me at all times so I can write an idea down when it comes to me. I just need to do this.
I'm not fooling myself. I realize this is going to be tough, but it's something I need to do. I know I have some good ideas, I just need to get them from my head to the page.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The first link
This blog has been sorely neglected. When I last posted, I was all gung-ho on trying to write a novel. That went nowhere fast, and the idea has basically fluttered away on the breeze.
I need to write more. I had a conversation with a friend recently. We talked about a lot of things, including my unhappiness with my current job. I was basically told I had to stop bitching and moaning about my problems and just do something about them.
I read something today about Jerry Seinfeld's key to productivity. You can read the article here if you want. Basically it's about doing something daily, whatever it is you're trying to improve or achieve. Build a chain.
I may not write a lot every day, but I have to write something. I still want to write something big, but now I'm not going to limit myself to a novel. Why not a screenplay? Why not a play? As my friend suggested, "Just write an instruction manual. Write something."
I've tried in the past, and always failed at it. I'm not going to. This year, I start and I don't stop. I'm taking control of my life.
-BT
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)