Showing posts with label writing for newspapers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing for newspapers. Show all posts

Friday, December 6, 2013

Getting into the game

Years ago, I was covering a basketball game in Eastern North Carolina, and I'd never been to this high school before. I didn't have a press credential; my newspaper didn't issue press credentials. And I was having trouble talking my way into the game.

For some reason — maybe for this reason — I had taken a copy of my newspaper's sports section with me. I showed it to the young woman at the door, and she showed it to the principal. "He DOES write for the newspaper," she told him.

They let me in.

I think that was the only time I thought to do that.

Years later, I was trying to get to the credential office for a state championship football game in Raleigh, N.C., and, again, I didn't have a press credential (this was a different newspaper). I was getting desperate, and I told the woman at the gate that I had a North Carolina Press Association sticker on my windshield.

She saw it, and they let me in.

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ENTRIES FROM THE DOG BLOG

BLOG ENTRIES FROM THE AUTO RACING JOURNAL
(a book of great stories about the Intimidator)
(the book of great NASCAR stories)

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Loving to write (or not)

Years ago, my boss, a co-worker and I were having Cokes in the canteen at the newspaper office. I don't know what started it, but we began talking about writing.

"I don't like to write; I don't enjoy it," our young co-worker said. "I'm happier when I'm finished writing."

My boss was the best writer at the newspaper, and I was pretty good. We looked at each other and smiled broadly.

Neither of us said it, but we both felt sorry for our young friend. I enjoyed the process of writing, then got a kick out of editing it, making it better. I probably felt most alive when I was writing. Our boss wasn't big into self-editing, but you could see the joy while he was writing. It looked like he was conducting a symphony. Maybe he was.

I don't know what happened to our young friend. He wasn't a born journalist, just a fellow doing a job. My boss and me? We were born to do exactly what we were doing. He was a terrific writer. I was a good writer and a terrific editor.

Sadly, my former boss is no longer with us. He loved to write.

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ENTRIES FROM THE DOG BLOG

BLOG ENTRIES FROM THE AUTO RACING JOURNAL
(a book of great stories about the Intimidator)
(the book of great NASCAR stories)