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Five reasons why TV journalism is harder than print

After being a practice TV reporter for the first time at Operation Shooting Star, I realized a few things about the differences between TV and print journalism. I'd like to share the thoughts that I took away from this experience.

1. When interviewing for TV, you have to be on the ball. Unlike print, where you're likely writing down your reponses to questions and have that "sorry I'm just writing this all down" grace period before you ask the next question, TV interviews are usually done with a mic in hand (therefore less room to roam with a pad and paper) and a camera in your face. There are no grace periods or room to process information from the last response. You have to know your next question by the time the interviewees lips stop moving.
2. TV requires you to visit a lot more places before your story can be edited. Not only do you have to have the content, you have to have the footage too.
3. Many people freeze when interviewed on camera. It's no longer you and them chatting one on one, it's them chatting to (in their minds) thousands of people. This can make for a weaker interview, because interviewees can blank on the info they know due to nervousness. This causes you to spend more time getting answers.
4. You have to be confident with your story as you're creating it, because you can't go back to the news studio to edit the footage until you have your conclusion. The conclusion in a print story has a bit more time to be sorted out.
5. Even though print and TV journalism can have the same deadline, TV requires the journalist to get more stuff done (interviews AND footage) and there is no room to forget something, unlike print. If you forget something, your shooter...and you likely need more footage. Print, on the other hand, requires a quick google search or phone call and a few extra words.

But you know what they say: "Practice makes perfect." And I remember once thinking an interview for a print story was the most difficult thing on the planet, because god forbid you forget something. In the end it's all about narrowing down your own formula and becoming confident that you know what you're doing.

Questioning the ethics of door-to-door journalism

When I was a kid, I remember feeling comforted and special to get to live in a community where it was okay to pop-in to a neighbour’s house. My favourite place to visit was Mr. Bouvier’s. He was this old, old man (the oldest one I knew at least) who had the smoothest driveway on the block. I loved riding my bike onto his driveway (which was only about two car lengths long, so you’d have to do it over and over again) just to hear the transitioning sound of the crunchy street to the smooth whistle of the asphalt – it had the same mesmerizing effect every time. Mr. Bouvier would always come outside and greet me with his square glasses, raspy voice and his over-powering B.O smell. Meanwhile, my mom was home knowing I was in safe hands.

But it just doesn’t seem the same anymore.

Today I spent two and a half hours walking around St. Boniface attempting to interview people for an election profile my journalism class is working on for CBC – I felt very uncomfortable. So uncomfortable with the idea of going door-to-door that I got to thinking: Is it ethical for a journalist to just pop-in to someone’s home – into their private space on a matter of business? Is it me? Or was it the vibe I was getting after knocking on so many doors that didn’t answer that got me thinking it wasn’t okay? Think about it: I was there two and a half hours and, after half an hour of pep-talking myself into actually knocking, I was knocking on every two or three doors (I didn’t want to seem desperate by knocking on all of them) and only three or four people actually answered. How frustrating.

I became so self-conscious – do I have an uninviting knock? Do I sound dangerous? Or do I knock too quietly? Are everyone’s doorbells broken? Should I ring and knock? Or is that too pushy? And how long do I stay after knocking and ringing before I give up?

And then there were the homes with signs asking me to use the backdoor. Well what if I don’t know them? Do they still want me to open their back gate and enter their private outdoor living room? The backdoor seemed too personal. Also, what about the houses with front porches that had a door to the porch and then a front door inside the porch? Which one is technically the front door? If I choose the outside one they probably won’t hear me knocking, but if I go inside they might yell at me for invading their space.

Aah, so here I am wandering through this, otherwise cozy and friendly, neighbourhood feeling like a telemarketer, only worse because I was forcing myself into their private life, debating whether or not I had chosen the right method of getting my interviews and reminiscing about the good old days when people would leave their screen doors open and you’d walk right into their home. That’s the other thing: people have porch doors, then a screen door before the real front door – talk about closed off!

And now I’m home. I’m frustrated my job isn’t done. Curious to know how many people were really home when I knocked. And confused as to whether or not I was out of line knocking on people’s doors.

It just feels like people don’t trust other people like they used to. Like my mom would trust that I could ride my bike around the neighbourhood and visit other people alone. Like Mr. Bouvier would trust I would stick to the driveway and not ride into his marigold flowers. Like I would trust that when I did knock on someone’s door the other side would be safe.

Maybe that’s what people are worried about: what could be on the other side.

What the heck is journalism?

I thought journalism was well positioned words arranged into a sentence -- sometimes it makes sense, sometimes it doesn't, always it follows a set of rules invented by some grammarian who nobody knows (why does he/she get to tell us the rules?). And whether or not your words can be received depends on whether or not the sentence makes sense, after all what is a word after a word after a word anyway? Who really knows what words mean.

I thought journalism was supposed to deliver messsages, urgent news that could affect the rest of your life. When does anybody even care? Who even cares? And when?

What the heck is journalism other than a J followed by an O followed by a U an R-N-A-L-I-S-M? What the heck is a J? Aren't i supposed to find out? I'm the journalist.

I thought journalism was supposed to answer questions.

I thought journalism was a job, a career, a mode of employment -- how many words does our language need to describe one thing? Why do we describe, explain, reiterate what we're talking about? Don't we already know what we're talking about?

I thought journalism was a word, a series of letters connected together, a symbol.

I thought journalism was an action, a series of doings to make something happen, the researching, the asking, the writing, the delivering of a message.

I thought journalism was a sound, a series of tongue clicks-clacks-smacks against the teeth and ruby pink gums.

I thought journalism was a way to explore, an excuse to find out lifes secrets, a reason to probe and gossip, the revealing of the ugly hidden truth, a way to bring light to issues that've been shunned, pushed aside, ignored, trampled on, the love and passion of a writer who is only trying to put those little symbols from the alphabet together so you the reader/listener/viewer can get the message.

I thought journalism was an offering of trust amongst readers/listeners/viewers that you, the person in control, know what you're talking about and have prepared yourself well. The only question left is: who is listening?

I thought journalists were supposed to provide facts, so then what is this?

(Photo from getreligion.org)