As you may have noticed — and by “you” I mean no one in particular or, quite possibly, no one at all — there was no sound preview on Friday for tomorrow’s post. That’s because I was so busy posting video of my high school long jump attempt on Friday that I completely forgot to record my weekly soundbite! Considering that I, a 48-year-old firefighter, essentially landed a personal best that any third grader would be proud of, I probably should’ve posted my soundbite and forgotten the long jump.
The good news is, my doctor says I should make a full recovery. And so will most of the high school students who witnessed my long jump attempt — just as soon as they complete their group therapy session. Continue reading Please hear me out: Zoos are scary
There’s nothing quite like staring at a blank page, knowing that with a few strokes of the keyboard you will transform a landscape devoid of life into a living, breathing thing of your own creation. There’s also nothing quite like finishing that fourth cup of coffee only to find that same blank page staring back at you.
Sure, you may have typed several sentences — or maybe even the same sentence several times — in hopes of gaining some kind of momentum to carry you over that first hump, but the cursor repeatedly stalls out in the same spot, leaving you with the same blank page after riding the “delete” button back to the beginning.
Hey, that’s why it’s called a “cursor.”
I’ll be honest. I don’t necessarily subscribe to the notion of writer’s “block,” which suggests some kind of blockage — such as a cheese wedge or too many butter biscuits — restricting movement through a hypothetical colon of creativity. Although there are some books in print that offer evidence to support at least part of the colon theory, I prefer to think of the writing process as cells in a battery; when they are fully charged, things start easily. But if the alternator belt slips too much or the terminals get corroded, you end up without enough juice to turn the engine. Because we are writers and not mechanics, and because that last sentence exhausted the full extent of my automotive knowledge, I will sum up my analogy with this: When your battery is low, you get a jump, right?
While visiting Mapleton High School yesterday, it occured to me that it had been more than 30 years since I’d pulled a hamstring. Fortunately for me, the Mapleton track team was only a discus throw away — which I suddenly realized when someone yelled “HEADS UP!”
As it turned out, the Sailors were finishing an inner-team “mini meet.” Despite what it sounds like, it’s not actually speed dating for high school midgets. According to coach Johnny Sundstrom, it’s a four-event “meet” among the squad that helps set individual baseline measurement for athletes in the sprints, distance running, throws and jumps.
The team was on its last event, the long jump, when my natural competitive instincts — normally reserved for “donut day” in the newsroom — were triggered. After talking it over with the coach, and signing a medical release form, then briefly discussing (depending on how things went) the idea of the Ned Hickson Memorial Long Jump, I took my place at the end of the runway. Mapleton senior Katie Dearman volunteered to record this historical event. Or as she put it, “Acquire documentation that could keep the school out of court.”
Standing next to our journalistic Mecca and… HEY, is Ronald Reagan smelling my hair?!? We interrupt our month-long retrospect of The Door in our newsroom to bring you this breaking news: At this moment, a new piece of journalistic history is being added to our newsroom door with the kind of fanfare you’d expect when someone is using Scotch tape. That’s right, for only the 112th time in the 40-year history of our door (ask Brian Willaims, he was there), we are inducting a new exhibit piece to what Barbara Walters has called “A journawistic tweasure.”
For those who aren’t familiar with the historic relevancy of The Door, it is home to a collection of newspaper faux pas that have been pasted, glued, taped, licked-and-stuck, or otherwise adhered there by reporters at Siuslaw News since the 1970s. It is a shrine, of sorts, celebrating the kind of journalistic shame, blame and brilliance that can only arise through a well-timed typo, missplelledmispleled a word spelled wrong or, in some cases, chosen specifically for its double entendre.
That brings us to today’s historic addition to The Door, which I’m pretty sure was simply the result of unintentional double entendre thanks to poor word choice. Or possibly a drunken proof reader. Whatever the reason, we are thankful and happy to include it on The Door for posterity — which is especially fitting when you consider there is a commode on the other side. Continue reading This just in: New headline failure inducted on our newsroom door
(It’s my turn over at Long Awkward Pause today, which seemed like a good a time to thank to Clarence Birdseye for freezing foods that traumatized me as a child…)
It’s been more than 80 years since Clarence Birdseye, inspired by ancient food preservation methods used by Arctic Eskimos, made history by introducing the very first frozen food option: “Savory Caribou on a Stick.” Though his first selection was met with little enthusiasm, Birdseye persisted and eventually created a line of frozen vegetables that many of us are still gagging on today.
I, for one, am still unable to walk past lima beans in the frozen food section without getting the dry heaves. This reaction stems from my childhood, and a spoonful of lima beans I’ve been trying to swallow since 1973.
Unless you’ve been hermetically sealed and stuck in a freezer, you already know March is “National Frozen Food Month.” Coincidentally, I should mention this happens to fall in the same month as “National Ear Muff Day,” “Extraterrestrial Abduction Day” and “National Pig Day,” meaning that, for anyone whose pig happened to be wearing ear muffs at the time it was flash frozen by alien abductors, this is a big month for you. (More at Long Awkward Pause…)
That advice seems pretty straight forward. The kind of obvious straight forwardness that carries you with complete confidence toe-first into a brick. Like most advice we’re given, the wisdom behind it is simple; the problem comes in the execution.
And while there are countless books out there offering tips on everything from how to get inspired and avoid writer’s block to the kinds of foods that promote creative thinking (which, judging from what I read, you will be doing mostly while on the commode), all of those books essentially come down to one universal truth:
Nothing promotes and stimulates writing better than…
You guessed it:
Excessive drinking.
But let’s suppose you don’t want to become an alcoholic? Does that mean you’re not truly committed to being a writer? Could it jeopardize your dream of becoming a novelist, columnist, short story writer or inner city tagger? Continue reading Forget that image of Bruce Jenner and start writing!
I know I said the month-long retrospective of The Door in our newsroom was only going to last through February, but the PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN! Plus, the people sent donuts. And one threat of bodily harm if I didn’t keep The Door open for a other month. You know who you are. (But in case you don’t, it was Paul, Judy, Susan, John, Gibber and about dozen others who made it clear they wanted The Door to remain open for a while longer.) Who am I to argue? At least until I finish these delicious donuts…
The Door: Guardian of historic journalism; protector of commode privacy…
It appears Keith Morrison has given up pursuing an exclusive on The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) here in our newsroom. There were no creepy messages from him on my voicemail this morning and, after throwing his back out lifting a water jug, he is no longer posing as an Arrowhead Springs water delivery guy in order to gain access. In addition, we’ve stopped jumping whenever the fax machine goes off now that Morley Safer has stopped sending booty faxes with the warning You Will Crack! written on them.
Yes, things are quiet here; the calm before the storm.
I say that because today’s post will likely put me in the crosshairs of one of the most powerful men this country has ever purposely been made to forget about. In fact, his systematic disappearance after leaving the White House was so complete that I can’t even remember where I was going with this…
Wait! I remember, thanks to this newspaper clipping, which illustrates the importance of The Door, and why journalistic icon Geraldo Rivera has called it “The Al Capone’s Vault of journalistic treasures. No really, I MEAN it this time!” and why rearviewed… oops, I mean revered… journalist Anderson Cooper has referred to The Door as “A revealing look at journalism, depending on who comes out of the commode.” Continue reading That time Dick Cheney wanted to blow up our newsroom door
As some of you may remember, I made a New Year’s resolution to quit drinking coffee back in January. Though I gave what I feel was a strong effort, my love of coffee eventually won out following the most challenging four hours of my life. So instead of denying myself the pleasure I decided to fully embrace my coffee!
Unless I’m driving.
In fact, I wanted to take it a step further by expanding my caffeinated horizons and exploring what the world of coffee has to offer!
A while back, I talked about three of the most important tools a writer wields when it comes to establishing their “voice.” Does anyone remember what they were?
For the sake of time, let’s just assume all of you remember what those tools were and, in a series of uncontrollable outbursts, begin shouting out:
TIMING!
TRUTHFULNESS!
and…
CUERVO!
No, the third tool is RELATIVITY — not Cuervo. Even though I think we can all agree Cuervo does have a way of making even the most abstract things seem relevant.
In this case, however, Relativity means ensuring the reader can relate to what we’re writing about. This is especially true when it comes to personal experience and family anecdotes. For example, that hilarious story about how Aunt Frida got mad and stomped through the garden won’t be nearly as entertaining to readers as it is to you unless, like you, they already know Aunt Frida was a mule. I realize that’s an overstatement, but unless you take time to lay the foundation of your story in a way that involves the reader, they will likely sit down and refuse to follow. Continue reading Writing tools for thought (or food for your tool box?)
The Door, sentinel of journalistic history since the 1970s; preserver of privacy to the restroom. For the time being, it seems major news outlets like ABC, CBS, NBC and The 700 Club have backed off in their pursuit of an exclusive on The Door (of Shame Blame and Brilliance) here in our newsroom. It’s been more than a week since Barbara Walters has called and threatened to “DESTWOY your CAWEERS!” And thanks to a case of hemorrhoids, Morley Safer has stopped faxing us images of his rear, which were starting to resemble a topographical map of civil war battle sites.
We’ve also heard nothing from Anderson Cooper, who seemed to lose interest in what he called “Possibly the most important piece of journalistic history since Chris Cuomo” once he discovered the other side of The Door had a commode instead of a closet.
So let us continue on as we do each Tuesday, and highlight an example of journalistic shame, blame or brilliance from The Door, which reporters have been contributing to for nearly 40 years in an effort to preserve history and, thanks to four decades of glue and tape, keep The Door from collapsing in on itself. Continue reading That time Barbara Walters couldn’t get a handle on our newsroom door
As you may have noticed — and by “you” I mean no one in particular or, quite possibly, no one at all — there was no sound preview on Friday for tomorrow’s post. That’s because I was so busy posting video of my high school long jump attempt on Friday that I completely forgot to record my weekly soundbite! Considering that I, a 48-year-old firefighter, essentially landed a personal best that any third grader would be proud of, I probably should’ve posted my soundbite and forgotten the long jump. 
Ned's Blog 