Cursed sweeps. Every time I build a cushion of soft news around me, another ratings period rolls around and rips me from my fluff-filled cocoon. Before I know it, I’m back on scene, dodging deadlines and hurling invectives as my erstwhile partner concocts another ninety second opera. Sound like I’m whining? You betcha, but it’s my blog after all - so settle down and pass the cheese, would ya? I’m just getting started.
It’s not that I disapprove of the daily chase, but general news is just that - general. Shattered bodies, charred foundations and half-cocked politicians…the first five minutes of your average newscast may be harmless enough from across the room, but stand too close to an open viewfinder and you’re sure to get burned out. Soon, you’ll start waking up before the sun does and watching all those flickering victims narrate their passion plays the still-dim abyss of your bedroom wall.
It happened to me. Somewhere around my 17th hundred cop car convention, I realized I’d bagged my limit. Strangely unable to raise my pulse over even the most salacious of subject matter, I learned how to step around the downtrodden with both eyes closed. As always, my one means of escape was my penchant for a good kicker and mastery of the slow dissolve. But news viewers can’t live on feel-good features alone and after an impressive run of show-ending set pieces, I somehow lost my full-time status as anchor package auteur.
Now I work both sides of the beast, crafting frothy filler one day and choking on crime scene live truck fumes the next. This, of course, makes me no different than any other news shooter but since I tend to vent out in the open like this, you get to hear about it. I’ll spare you the grisly details of a slow motion shift in news, but I hope you’ll consider what the cameraman thought the next time you lean into the set in disbelief. That way I’ll know someone’s watching with more than one eye and maybe all those squinted hours in the name of news won’t seem quite so soul-bleaching after all.
On second thought, it’ll still suck, but at least I know I’ll have something to blog about at the end of the day. And what could be more important than that?