By Dawn M. Sanders
At the bewitching hour, I’m scratching my head, filing my nails and sipping wine. Is it ‘really finished? Can I now, at long-fucking-last, put the damn thing to bed?
I’ve edited the thorn-in-my-side, countless times, tweeked and retweeked, spellchecked and respellchecked – oh, and lost endless nights of sleep on it, but what I REAEALLY need to do, is put the damn thing ‘out there’ let it go – like some balloon of sacrifice and release…
I’m talking of course, of my portfolio – my journalistic portfolio, which will possibly define my entry into the field of scumbags, whistle-blowers, average Jane/joes trying to make ends meet or just the die-hard, who has been at it so long – nothing shocks them and it’s all going-through-the-motions.
Whatever the description of various strains of journalists out there, I’m in!!!
One of the valuable things I’ve learned out of many in my last two-and-a-half years of a pain-staking yet rewarding master’s degree, is journos are no longer the pipers at the gates of dawn.
No longer, are we the gate-keepers of the truth or, what’s going on, because nowadays with amateurs, thinkers, or just people being good at capturing stuff on their mobile phone cameras, the truth is everywhere – which isn’t a bad thing.
It puts the ebasive polotitian under the glaring spotlight, it flags the position of the underdog and most importantly, is the ‘REAL DEMOCRACY’ – where people can take their power back via social media.
All that said, I sat in a lecture when all this about citizen journalism was being emphasised thinking, okay, so why are we here?
Well, as a journo, ya need attention to writing capacity, a code of ethics and, most importantly, the knowledge of law according to the media…
Yes, you can get your ass sued into a black whole in outer space, if you say something defamatory or derail the course of justice, in the name of getting a story out…
So no, I haven’t wasted my time and have worked my bones to the marrow, so won’t be going for mamby-pamby newsletters for do-gooder organisations – despite being a hard-left activist.
No, I want to get paid and, I want/expect ‘RESPECT’!
As a woman with a visual impairment on the cusp of fifty – I know I have triple the stigma: a regressive atmosphere of gender inequality; the cannot-do mentality deeply ingrained in British society for additional needs/challenges; oh, and I’m getting old…
Well, hell! It’s like going to a party with a goth look amongst a bunch of trendies; like being the proverbial hippy in a room full of conventional cooky-cutting housewives, but ‘oh well’ story of my life, will be the odd new kid in town…
Life’s too short to spell check:-/
I have legal issues to wade through, my son to liberate and a fragile but precious future to consider.