Serious Friday: The Media and Me
I have always consideredmyself a writer first.
It’s not that I have a problem with the term“journalist,” it’s just that I knew I could never be one. Even in all my yearsin magazines, I always referred to what I did as Lifestyles journalism. It wasthe fluff of the world – plan your next vacation, how to spruce up your moodwith color, what to plant when. Mostly, I was the queen of lists. If you neededa top (fill in number here), I was your girl. At last count, I believe I hadwritten over 100 top lists of some sort (not including my five or the moviesthat always make me cry). I preferred it that way.
I briefly considered real journalism. For awhile, Ithought I wanted to run the school newspaper, but Gabrielle Carteris’ ratherunflattering role as Andrea Zuckerman on BeverlyHills, 90210 made me question that dream. (Truthfully,I was not confident enough about my writing to think I could earn any place onany newspaper then.)
Even as my confidence and abilities grew,journalism still didn’t seem very viable. I’ve never liked interviewing people,and it’s something I’m not very good at. I always make a list of at least 10questions and then quickly decide that 8 of them are stupid while talking tosomeone over the phone or in person. I don’t like to probe (outside of myfriends’ personal lives and the world of celebrities, of course), and I tend tofeel bad when I write about people. And considering the number of people I’velistened to complain about the “puff” profiles in their lives, I don’t think Iwould have made it very long in any newsroom.
(As a very wise professor of mine once told me,“Everyone thinks they want to be written about. No one actually does.”)
A large part of the reason I picked creativenonfiction as the genre to pursue is that, mostly, the only person I riskoffending is me. I expose my own secrets, make my own revelations of self, andcan largely stay out of other people’s business. (My mother would disagree, butI’m sticking by that assertion.)
Still, for most of my career (until the lastlay-off, that is), I was considered a member of the media. Both liked(freebies) and feared (“Don’t say that! She’ll write it somewhere.”), it’s thegroup I was most associated with. I had colleagues who actually broke stories,people in my life who always knew what was happening before anyone else did andassociated with those who wrote in-depth about people, places and things.
So, despite my hesitance to call myself a“journalist,” I am a card-carrying (yes, the Association of ProfessionalJournalists does actually give out cards) member of the media.
This is one of only a number of reasons I find itso strange to be on the other side of a media spectrum as of late. As I’vewritten about before, my cousin passed away three years ago. What I don’tbelieve I’ve mentioned is that there is also a coroner’s inquest into herdeath. My cousin’s death was national news in Australia when she died, and theaforementioned inquest is also national news there.
In November, when the inquest began, there weredaily stories of the court procedures and testimony, many re-counting the finaldays, hours and minutes of my cousin’s life. (You think your life is prettynormal, and then you read a piece in The Australian detailing the swornstatements of a woman your cousins refer to as “Gigi.” (My cousins and I don’tshare a grandmother even though we have the same grandfather – which is anotherstory for another day -- so I just call her Margaret.) And there arepaparazzi-style photos of her leaving the building after the inquest adjournedfor the day.) And when the inquest picked up again in March, reporters were there again.
It’s not easy going, looking over the stories about your own family, and the reading (andre-reading, I think we all realize I can be a bit obsessive) is plenty painful. Out of respect for my family, I'll try not to re-hash too much of the graphic detail that is already available on the Internet. I only know that for me, the headline including "in agony" is hard to shake. I don’t know how my aunt sits through allof this – live and in open court. I only know she has to be one of the bravestpeople I know.
And to get back to where I was going with all this,I guess I have to say that despite the unsettling details of late, and seeingmy family’s tragedy played out on a national stage, my feelings about the mediaand being part of it remain the same.
I think it’s important to tell people’s stories. Ithink people need to know what happened to Lauren. I hope other families andindividuals make different choices because of what they read about her. I hopelaws change. I hope punishments are doled out. Does it hurt? Hell yes. Is itnecessary? Yes, too.
Injustice, corruption, greed and general suckiness(best word I've got right now) need to be exposed. As do the triumphs of the human race – relief efforts,rescues and those who live their lives with honesty, compassion andintegrity. We have to tell each other our stories so that we can begin to understand and relate to one another.
I also think that when it all comes down to it, all anyonewants to know is that they mattered, that they were heard. I think we all wantto know that when we leave this world, we leave a legacy, whether that’s afamily, a friend who misses us, a grand estate or a stranger who remembers thatwe were kind to them once. It’s why we create. It’s why we love. It’s why wepaint, sculpt, sing songs and write. It’s all so we matter. (Please forgive the cheese factor there.)
The media is a voice, and it plays its part in thequest to matter. Lauren would have mattered without a single news story; we alldo and would. But I do hope good comes of this media coverage that no one can evenimagine now.
But, while I respect the place of the media, I’dstill rather not be the one asking the really tough questions. Give me a top 10 list over the earthquakes and political scandals any day.