It’s nearly the end of my first week at the Press Association (and my first week properly living in London), and there’s just enough time to take a deep breath and reflect a little.
I guess I can sum it up like this: every day I’m feeling more like a proper journalist, and less like a functioning human who has time to eat and sleep properly.
But, as we all know, eating and sleeping are overrated anyway (along with personal space on trains and affordable pints of beer) and I want to postpone the “this is so intense!!!” blogs until further down the line. For now I’m just happy to be here, learning a lot about how this profession actually works.
This week we’ve been focusing on gathering and writing news and I’ve had to accept a few harsh home truths - not least that I need to get to the point more quickly in my writing. I have a natural tendency to use more words than are strictly necessary (I mean, just look at this sentence). It’s not easy though, especially when you’re trying to do justice to a (true) story about a woman setting fire to her husband for eating her chocolate Easter bunny in just 50 words.
Word limit woes aside, I’m feeling positive for the time being. The nicest surprise has been that the stuff I was most anxious about - approaching strangers with random questions - has been fine so far. It turns out that most people are actually quite nice, even in London! The memory of one interview in particular has kept me smiling all week, so hopefully I’ll get to write something about that later.
For now though, it’s time to get some sleep.
I haven’t got to grips with gifs yet, so instead here is a little self-portrait of me arguing with my lying word processor (how can three short lines equal 81 words!)…