Thursday, March 03, 2005

I'm not a brilliant person. I'm not really that smart at all. Brilliant people set themselves apart because they see the unseen. The world unfolds in their mind at an exponential rate. They hear the music before they play it. They see the entire building before they build it. They know every words of the sentence before they say it. They see every brushstroke of the painting before they paint it. And of course, they know where their post is going before they start it. I know I'm not a brilliant man. My mother has repeatedly tried to convince me that I could be, if it weren't for her home-diagnosed ADD that keeps my mind too cluttered. But if I had the heart to tell her about this blog, she could come see that somehow I manage, on nearly a daily basis, to sit down and clear my head enough put ideas into words.

I admitted to my journalism professor today that I don't want to be a journalist. He told me he knew. He could tell from my articles that I like writing and not reporting. I told him I was just too selfish. Too selfish to simply be the vessel for the facts and the quotes of other people. Too selfish to let the story run the show. Newspaper reporters are on the front lines dredging the river and panning for stories like they were gold. Reporters have to stand there in the murky waters wading and sifting through the shit to find the nuggets of gold. I'd rather be the guy in the shop with the kiln and the chisel. I'll turn those deformed gold nuggets into blingin' necklaces and rapper's teeth.

There's a girl in the class who is bound to make a name for herself as a reporter. She was standing just outside the door listening to the entire conversation. Probably taking notes cuz that's what reporters do. And afterwards we talked about it. She told me about civic responsibilities and how reporters control the stories by digging deep enough yadda yadda yadda. We went head to head. I told her I wanted to be a newsmaker, not a newstaker. And even though she was making some really good, points, all I could do was stare at the bleached spot on her front tooth and think about how her southern accent was completely disarming me. And I could go on. But I'm not a brilliant man. Not by a long shot.

4 Comments:

Blogger dbhayes said...

boom. kick ass. your mom'd be proud. but i know about not telling them too.

i was really thinking about journalism. you just talked me out of it thank god.

1:56 AM  
Blogger Mo said...

southern girls dont really like brillant men anyway.

11:24 AM  
Blogger eric said...

yo, tayden, thanks for visiting me. i thought i would return the favor.

it's interesting you talk about being disillusioned from journalism because of the divide between writing and reporting.

i'm a newspaper writer. i started out five years ago covering city governments and other such boring crap. i never enjoyed it. it was, kind of like you said, being a filter, or my like a transcriber.

however, i now write feature stories. that is the writing part of it. there is reporting, but instead of pumping people for information, you're trying to draw out what makes them human and share your interpretation of that.

it's incredibly rewarding.

just something to think about as you ponder your future as a writer ...

e+

10:30 PM  
Blogger Sylkk said...

southern girls do like a boy with smarts ~

9:52 PM  

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