Guessing the News

So much of what we try to do at CFP, I try to do here, and journalists try to do everywhere can be called guessing the news.

In our latest issue at CFP, I wrote about College Station. I talked about the money that went into the new district, and I tried to talk to the people involved. Both, behind the scenes, and on the street.

In a story-idea meeting, we decided this was something ordinary people living in Springfield might care about. We were guessing.

The steps in guessing the news are pretty straightforward.

1. Take an inventory of what's going on.
2. Prioritize.

Often the process is influenced by what the gatekeepers-- those who set and change priorities like editors and publishers-- think their readership, their followers, their customers, even their advertisers, want to see in the final product. In fact, I said "often," but I can't think of a time when this isn't the case.

For example, this post came about after a follower of this blog sent me an e-mail asking about my own process for deciding what I write about, and what hits the cutting room floor-- a sort of early evaluation of my first couple of months as a blogger.

My first instinct was to resist this idea. I'm not sure I've been doing this long enough to matter, and (2) I'm not sure anyone other than Robert Stephens cares.

An aside: I'm flattered to have a Councilman reading my blog, but also, a little unnerved. As a journalist, and I believe Mr. Stephens knows this, I feel there needs to be a wall separating public servants and the press if the press is to truly serve the public. That means no buddy-buddies. We've had a friendly banter, and he's a nice guy, as a member of the public and follower of this blog I respect his input, but I hope he realizes I'm never going to have coffee with him.

Anyhoo, so, what do the unwashed masses want in a blog after all? And how do I decide? I asked myself, and I thought about it. I thought about my own process. My own audience. I thought about the sad sacks who might read this blog, the questionable flim-flams and lilly-livers who land here and stick, the pirates and voyeurs quietly watching beyond the screen, and I decided that more about the process was in order.

For me, I write about the types of things I want to see on the Internet. I imagine that the people reading this are both local and tired of the same old stuff. By same old stuff I mean the blogs that never seem to say anything, bland old diddies (spelling?) about the fam or a recent vacation. Well, I wrote about my vacation too, but more as a heads up-- 'hey, check this place out' (city museum).

I also write Thunderfire, which is similar to, but more awesome than, poetry. By posting it, I'm hoping to give you, the reader of ill-repute, something that is thought-provoking and unsucky. Often, poetry is so pretentious and caught up in admiring itself that only other poets can stand it.

In editorials or blogumns, I try to tap into my more serious side. The part of me that is, dare I say, interested in local politics and news coverage. Here is where I think we have a gaping hole, locally. I want to write columns that are, forgive me Fox, "fair and balanced." Springfield, in case you haven't noticed, doesn't have a columnist. Not a real one in any traditional sense. The News-Leader has a "from the left" and "from the right," but no Overstreet, and no middle-of-the-road, either. Which I think is a shame for a city of this size.

Oh sure, CFP has Bob Mace and Mert Seaton, who each, in their own way, are brilliant. But neither of them is the type of columnist I became impressed by in school. No NYT Sunday morning op-eds. No 3,000 + word novellas on elephant behavior after spending months in Africa. No real research or interviews. "No reporting" as Dr. Andrew Cline might say.

And myself, I have mostly failed at this in my short time as a blogger. Time constraints have stymied my efforts. As has a reluctance to try and interview others as a local blogger. Without the credibility or dedication of a Life of Jason, or the standing in the community of a daily paper backing my efforts, I admit to feeling sheepishly shy. Had I my own Web site with its own revenue, I tell myself, I would conquer the world with my ambition. An ambition, which I hope, is aiming to say something true about our human experience.

And that brings me back on topic-- how do I decide what I think you want to hear. How do I decide what you filthy delinquents, you dirty no-good gorillas, you depraved minnigans (minnies/hooligans) want to hear?

I look in the mirror, and I pick my spots. What else could I do?