Then the rest of the story comes.
I just sent off a completed script on my next story for A Gulf Coast Journal, a program on Tampa's PBS affiliate. This one is about the semi-pro football team called the Sarasota Millionaires.
(Previously written about Here and again later here.)
What a relief to get that load off my shoulders.
The load lightened considerably once I got the opening sequence figured out. That's when the affair starts. I don't need to like the topic or the subjects to love the story. I just have to figure out how it's going to start and where it's going to go from there. Then I'm hooked. After that the story sometimes comes in bits and pieces that I have to fit together and sometimes rearrange later but it always comes.
Often I have to do my best writing to cover holes in my interviewing. The story will lead me to a logical point where I can't go because I failed to ask someone about it. It's sometimes a good idea to try to write a story before doing the interviews. If the final script is provides answers, trying to write it will show me the questions.
The danger with this "writing on spec," when I'm able to do it, is becoming too enamored with what I've written. Sometimes the facts get in the way of my well-turned phrases and I have to force myself to dump them.
That wasn't a problem with the previous story about dulcimer players. I didn't know enough about the subject to even guess at how the story would go. That one aired last month and the station has put it online. It's the second story, about 8-and-a-half minutes into the show.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Royal Bastards
Next time someone calls me a royal bastard*, I may be slower than usual to take umbrage.
PBS is showing a program called "Lost Royals" which consists of a British woman named Jennie Bond traveling the world with camera crew in tow knocking on doors to inform people that they're descendants of illegitimate children sired by members of the British royal family.
(King John was a prolific sire, having fathered about 20 children out of wedlock, according to the show.)
As soon as she springs the surprise on someone, after we see their shocked faces, the show cuts to a "Certificate of Bastard Descent" with a sound effect of a stamp banging down on it.
She has no compunction about calling them "royal bastards" to their faces. And they don't seem to mind. In San Francisco she found a society of royal bastards, led by a man who proudly called himself the "bastard-in-chief."
What fascinated me was how elegant Ms. Bond made calling someone a bastard sound. English accents make everything sound flattering.
*Usually I don't get the "royal" added to the appellation. "Complete" is more common.
PBS is showing a program called "Lost Royals" which consists of a British woman named Jennie Bond traveling the world with camera crew in tow knocking on doors to inform people that they're descendants of illegitimate children sired by members of the British royal family.
(King John was a prolific sire, having fathered about 20 children out of wedlock, according to the show.)
As soon as she springs the surprise on someone, after we see their shocked faces, the show cuts to a "Certificate of Bastard Descent" with a sound effect of a stamp banging down on it.
She has no compunction about calling them "royal bastards" to their faces. And they don't seem to mind. In San Francisco she found a society of royal bastards, led by a man who proudly called himself the "bastard-in-chief."
What fascinated me was how elegant Ms. Bond made calling someone a bastard sound. English accents make everything sound flattering.
*Usually I don't get the "royal" added to the appellation. "Complete" is more common.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Your Government Inaction
The tragedy of Hurricane Katrina continues. CNN reports that FEMA stored $85 million worth of supplies meant for Katrina victims for two years, declared them surplus and then gave them away.
(Read the full story here)
A highlight: Mississippi's surplus agency spokeswoman Kym Wiggins said, "There may be a need, but we were not notified that there was a great need for this particular property." Who was supposed to notify you, Kym? How were they supposed to know you had this stuff?
Just a classic government clusterbomb.
It reminded me of the frustrating two weeks I spent in Louisiana two months after the storm hit in 2005. I was producing stories for a FEMA-operated TV network called the Recovery Channel, whose supposed purpose was to keep the evacuees scattered around the country apprised of the recovery progress. But stories became entangled in a great morass of government self-servitude because the bureaucrat supervising us wanted certain officials "featured."
It wasn't about serving the victims at all. It was about junior bureaucrats perverting a noble idea to make superiors happy.
FEMA had converted a former Baton Rouge shopping mall into its Louisiana operations base. Three thousand bureaucrats pushing paper around all day, most that I encountered had the same attitude of our supervisor who once said to me, "Just because I spend my time in meetings all day doesn't mean I'm not working." Actually, if you mean getting any work done, it does mean that. But as long as she could account for her time, she didn't have to be accountable for anything.
It boils my blood again just thinking about it. God, that was the saddest thing I've ever seen. I tried to keep a journal of the experience but was frequently too exhausted both from seeing such universal devastation* and from beating my head against a wall of bureaucracy to properly articulate my observations.
*As I wrote at the time: Here's the thing the pictures don't show: It's not that you see damage. It's that you don't see anywhere there is no damage.
(Read the full story here)
A highlight: Mississippi's surplus agency spokeswoman Kym Wiggins said, "There may be a need, but we were not notified that there was a great need for this particular property." Who was supposed to notify you, Kym? How were they supposed to know you had this stuff?
Just a classic government clusterbomb.
It reminded me of the frustrating two weeks I spent in Louisiana two months after the storm hit in 2005. I was producing stories for a FEMA-operated TV network called the Recovery Channel, whose supposed purpose was to keep the evacuees scattered around the country apprised of the recovery progress. But stories became entangled in a great morass of government self-servitude because the bureaucrat supervising us wanted certain officials "featured."
It wasn't about serving the victims at all. It was about junior bureaucrats perverting a noble idea to make superiors happy.
FEMA had converted a former Baton Rouge shopping mall into its Louisiana operations base. Three thousand bureaucrats pushing paper around all day, most that I encountered had the same attitude of our supervisor who once said to me, "Just because I spend my time in meetings all day doesn't mean I'm not working." Actually, if you mean getting any work done, it does mean that. But as long as she could account for her time, she didn't have to be accountable for anything.
It boils my blood again just thinking about it. God, that was the saddest thing I've ever seen. I tried to keep a journal of the experience but was frequently too exhausted both from seeing such universal devastation* and from beating my head against a wall of bureaucracy to properly articulate my observations.
*As I wrote at the time: Here's the thing the pictures don't show: It's not that you see damage. It's that you don't see anywhere there is no damage.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Just Tennis
NBC calls the final weekend of its coverage of Wimbledon "Breakfast at Wimbledon." Rain delays stretched the men's final almost to dinner time. The fact that the match went five dramatic sets before Rafael Nadal unseated the five-time defending champion Roger Federer helped too.
I watched most of it, though the weather breaks did not always correspond to my breaks for a nap and a trip to the gym.
During one of the stoppages, NBC replayed the women's doubles final yesterday won by Venus and Serena Williams. That match happened a few hours after Venus defeated Serena for the singles title. The two of them won a combined $2.5 million for their labors on the lawns at the All England Club.
It reminded me of watching yesterday's Williams vs. Williams match, which marked the seventh time the sisters had met in the finals of a Grand Slam tournament. Although the Williamses have combined to win 15 Grand Slam events, NBC commentator Mary Carillo criticized them for their lack of singular devotion to their sport. Steffi Graf, she pointed out, won 22 Slams by herself. Venus and Serena could have become "the Tiger Woods of tennis," she said, if only they didn't spend so much time on their interests outside of tennis.
"This is where they belong," Carillo said.
Why?
Really. Why? What difference does it make whether they total 15 major championships or 50? So what if they'd be known as the greatest tennis players ever? It's still just tennis. Whether Tiger Woods surpasses Jack Nicklaus as the greatest golfer ever, it's still just golf. Seems the Williams sisters have a wisdom about life that even the brightest observers of the game lack. If their greatest achievements on Earth happen on a tennis court, what a shame that will be.
As it is, they have won enough events to become icons of the game, won enough money to live comfortably for the rest of their lives and won enough attention to have a bully pulpit for any cause they want to champion. What more do they need?
This has less to do with their needs than those of people who invest too much of themselves watching them.
I realized this when I watched Justine Henin quit during the final of the 2006 Australian Open because of stomach pain. Afterward, reporters practically begged her to explain how she could give up in any circumstance short of death. "Doesn't it mean enough to you?" they asked. Implied in their voices was that it meant that much to them.
I watched most of it, though the weather breaks did not always correspond to my breaks for a nap and a trip to the gym.
During one of the stoppages, NBC replayed the women's doubles final yesterday won by Venus and Serena Williams. That match happened a few hours after Venus defeated Serena for the singles title. The two of them won a combined $2.5 million for their labors on the lawns at the All England Club.
It reminded me of watching yesterday's Williams vs. Williams match, which marked the seventh time the sisters had met in the finals of a Grand Slam tournament. Although the Williamses have combined to win 15 Grand Slam events, NBC commentator Mary Carillo criticized them for their lack of singular devotion to their sport. Steffi Graf, she pointed out, won 22 Slams by herself. Venus and Serena could have become "the Tiger Woods of tennis," she said, if only they didn't spend so much time on their interests outside of tennis.
"This is where they belong," Carillo said.
Why?
Really. Why? What difference does it make whether they total 15 major championships or 50? So what if they'd be known as the greatest tennis players ever? It's still just tennis. Whether Tiger Woods surpasses Jack Nicklaus as the greatest golfer ever, it's still just golf. Seems the Williams sisters have a wisdom about life that even the brightest observers of the game lack. If their greatest achievements on Earth happen on a tennis court, what a shame that will be.
As it is, they have won enough events to become icons of the game, won enough money to live comfortably for the rest of their lives and won enough attention to have a bully pulpit for any cause they want to champion. What more do they need?
This has less to do with their needs than those of people who invest too much of themselves watching them.
I realized this when I watched Justine Henin quit during the final of the 2006 Australian Open because of stomach pain. Afterward, reporters practically begged her to explain how she could give up in any circumstance short of death. "Doesn't it mean enough to you?" they asked. Implied in their voices was that it meant that much to them.
Friday, July 04, 2008
Happy F'ing July Fourth
I like America and I'm proud to be one of its citizens. It's many of my fellow Americans with whom I'm not too enamored. Specifically the ones who are launching fireworks perilously close to my front door. My feline-American housemate chimes in that she doesn't appreciate the whistling thunder, either. The offenders appear to have a pick-up truck full of explosives so the mammoth-scale snap, crackle and pop will likely continue well into the weekend.
NPR had a story this morning (shortly after the Hawaii Spam sushi recipe story mentioned below) about how supply disruption from their source in China made fireworks harder to get and more expensive to buy. The difficulties were not nearly enough.
Does it surprise you to hear that these are the same nimrods who don't pick up after their dogs? Not that it's a home owners association rule or anything. Or a county ordinance. Oh, wait. It's both.
In other news I watched the U.S. Olympic swimming trials tonight. The broadcast mentioned that Dara Torres made the team as a 17-year-old in 1984. Why did her name come up? Because she qualified again this year by winning the 100-meter freestyle. And, yes, the 41-year-old mother of a two-year-old daughter is still hot.
On that subject, Amanda Beard, as well known for posing nude in Playboy as for her Olympic swimming medals, also made the team again. No one on NBC mentioned the Playboy spread in recounting her career achievements.
Now on the DVD player, courtesy of the Hillsborough County Public Library, is The Accidental Tourist that Yahoo! Movies defines as "Comedy, Drama and Romance." Roger Ebert called it "one of the best films of the year." The year being 1989. It looks so long ago. Kathleen Turner and William Hurt still look young and thin.
I don't know if the movie looks fun but it will help me pass the time until the explosions outside finally subside.
NPR had a story this morning (shortly after the Hawaii Spam sushi recipe story mentioned below) about how supply disruption from their source in China made fireworks harder to get and more expensive to buy. The difficulties were not nearly enough.
Does it surprise you to hear that these are the same nimrods who don't pick up after their dogs? Not that it's a home owners association rule or anything. Or a county ordinance. Oh, wait. It's both.
In other news I watched the U.S. Olympic swimming trials tonight. The broadcast mentioned that Dara Torres made the team as a 17-year-old in 1984. Why did her name come up? Because she qualified again this year by winning the 100-meter freestyle. And, yes, the 41-year-old mother of a two-year-old daughter is still hot.
On that subject, Amanda Beard, as well known for posing nude in Playboy as for her Olympic swimming medals, also made the team again. No one on NBC mentioned the Playboy spread in recounting her career achievements.
Now on the DVD player, courtesy of the Hillsborough County Public Library, is The Accidental Tourist that Yahoo! Movies defines as "Comedy, Drama and Romance." Roger Ebert called it "one of the best films of the year." The year being 1989. It looks so long ago. Kathleen Turner and William Hurt still look young and thin.
I don't know if the movie looks fun but it will help me pass the time until the explosions outside finally subside.
Conservative Liberal Media
I awoke to an NPR story reporting that Hawaiians buy more Spam per capita than people in any other of the United States. The story went on to describe a Spam sushi recipe.
No wonder it was two-and-a-half hours later before I wanted breakfast.
Later the news reader promoted a story by Robert Krulwich. What was novel -- to my ears, anyway -- was that rather than coming up later in Morning Edition, the story by one NPR's most well-known correspondents could be heard only on its web site.
News outlets often refer people to their web sites for details and other features of a story that they couldn't fit into their broadcasts. But I had never heard one say, "We have this story but even though we're a radio network, we're not going to air it on the radio. You must go to our web site to hear it." That's how hard news organizations are trying to drive traffic to their web sites, hoping, I suspect, to get people in the habit of visiting their site when looking for news.
They can't be sure that's where their audience is going; they just know that's where their advertising (called "underwriting" in NPR's case) dollars are going and that they better work to get their piece of the online pie.
Times are indeed changing in media. A media-related blog in the St. Pete Times, probably not entirely without glee, reported that the owner of rival Tampa Tribune and WFLA-TV will be laying off more staffers. The ones left will be adding duties.
They don't know if how it will work; they just know it will cost less. And the people who survive will have to wear more hats. If photographers are shooting both video and still photographs, it can't be long before reporters go into a similar pool of people who can tell stories for television as well as text.
No wonder it was two-and-a-half hours later before I wanted breakfast.
Later the news reader promoted a story by Robert Krulwich. What was novel -- to my ears, anyway -- was that rather than coming up later in Morning Edition, the story by one NPR's most well-known correspondents could be heard only on its web site.
News outlets often refer people to their web sites for details and other features of a story that they couldn't fit into their broadcasts. But I had never heard one say, "We have this story but even though we're a radio network, we're not going to air it on the radio. You must go to our web site to hear it." That's how hard news organizations are trying to drive traffic to their web sites, hoping, I suspect, to get people in the habit of visiting their site when looking for news.
They can't be sure that's where their audience is going; they just know that's where their advertising (called "underwriting" in NPR's case) dollars are going and that they better work to get their piece of the online pie.
Times are indeed changing in media. A media-related blog in the St. Pete Times, probably not entirely without glee, reported that the owner of rival Tampa Tribune and WFLA-TV will be laying off more staffers. The ones left will be adding duties.
According to WFLA news director Don North, both the Tribune and WFLA will work to create a single pool of photographers who can shoot video and/or still images for television, online and print.
"In essence, we will be operating as a single entity," said North, who admitted managers hadn't yet quite figured out how it all would work. "There's still a lot of details we're talking about."
They don't know if how it will work; they just know it will cost less. And the people who survive will have to wear more hats. If photographers are shooting both video and still photographs, it can't be long before reporters go into a similar pool of people who can tell stories for television as well as text.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Prius Up a Mountainside
I mentioned that during my brother Jim and my trip out west that at one point we had to drive our Toyota Pious up a mountain. As Jim drove, I had my crappy, head-clogged little video camera rolling.
Again the disclaimer about the shooting: This does not represent what I can do with my real camera. On the upside, you don't have to listen to me play guitar this time. I did, however, add some commentary.
Again the disclaimer about the shooting: This does not represent what I can do with my real camera. On the upside, you don't have to listen to me play guitar this time. I did, however, add some commentary.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Lost a Day
Got a call from the photographer shooting the rest of my story on the Sarasota Millionaires.
"You and I are shooting tomorrow?" he asked.
"Thursday we're shooting," I said. "Is tomorrow Thursday?"
It is, he confirmed. Now I'm trying to figure out whether it was Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday that I missed.
I have to pay better attention.
"You and I are shooting tomorrow?" he asked.
"Thursday we're shooting," I said. "Is tomorrow Thursday?"
It is, he confirmed. Now I'm trying to figure out whether it was Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday that I missed.
I have to pay better attention.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Jim Drives The Strip
On our recent sojourn to the American West, I brought along a piece-of-crap, heads-always-clogged, little consumer video camera. I used it mostly as we were driving and most of the results, because of the clogged heads in the piece of crap despite numerous passes with the head-cleaning cassette, look terrible.
But I've loaded the video into my computer anyway and I'll see what I can salvage. This first clip is part of the drive from the airport down the Las Vegas strip for the first time. Yes, even the Walgreen's and McDonald's signs are tricked out in neon!
Note: This is not representative of my shooting and editing skills with my real camera. It is, however, representative of my guitar playing skills.
But I've loaded the video into my computer anyway and I'll see what I can salvage. This first clip is part of the drive from the airport down the Las Vegas strip for the first time. Yes, even the Walgreen's and McDonald's signs are tricked out in neon!
Note: This is not representative of my shooting and editing skills with my real camera. It is, however, representative of my guitar playing skills.
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