I've learned a lot about myself during the process of writing this semester, perhaps too much. In my opinion, journalists are confronted with numerous challenges when developing an article: from the broadest, most common predicament to the journalist faces their specialty problems which seem tailor-made to inhibit their progress. As is my case.
The most humbling is accepting an assignment in which you do not yet see the significance. Another challenge is one that relates to personal standards: research the heck out of your story, don't ask obvious questions, don't take the easy angle. The last challenge that is often the most difficult for many writers is the process of editing. There is a certain amount of objectivity required to discern, out of the hundreds of facts you may have, which are truly interesting and relevant.
Organization is such an essential part of developing any written piece. After changing my major from English to journalism, I ran with the possibilities and options that this new creativity allowed. However, I might have gone a tad overboard in creative license and completely forgotten any sort of standard or restrictions in writing, leaving me wandering in the overwhelming clutter of my mind.
Writing for me is a necessity. I really couldn't imagine how insane I would go if I couldn't organize my thoughts on paper. I'm such a visual person, that anything auditory is just gibberish. It's almost a handicap, I swear. My friend had the same work schedule for years, but he'd never written it down, so I'd always ask him- "when do you work again?" Thankfully he's quite patient ( :
Almost three-quarters of the paperwork I have in my house consist of lists: To-do lists, To-call lists, Homework lists, To-buy, To-save for, etc. I suppose I need to get all my worries and nonsense out of my head in order to focus on more pertinent issues.
I never recognize the significance of my thoughts until they're in writing; it's like they don't exist. If you don't think I'm crazy yet, just wait. Most of the time, I'm incredibly busy. I get so caught up in everyday tasks and obligations that I don't have time to get lost in my thoughts, let alone write them down.
This unfortunately comes with its own little quirky consequences. If I haven't written for a while I start to think in narrative. That's right- I begin to NARRATE my own life, like I'm a character in a book. It's pretty weird, especially when I don't realize I'm doing it!
"She walked to her car, trying her best not to think about him. Focusing instead of the cold weather she shivered. 'It's FINALLY winter!' she sighed. Immediately she began a mental inventory of her closet. 'Ugh, I don't have any winter clothes,' she thought. Growing up in Southern California all she ever really needed was a coat to put over her summer clothes.
'Hmmm, I probably need to invest in some actual winter stuff. She watched a professor walk by wrapped in a cozy-looking scarf with chic boots that came up to her calf. 'Adults have winter clothes. Adults are organized and put together. I wonder if I'll every feel like an adult?' She shook her head and thought 'most adults probably ALSO have decent bank accounts to allow for such expenses.' Just a few more months and she'd be done with school. Maybe then, she’d leave the world as she knows it behind . . . and finally grow up."
If you've seen Stranger Than Fiction you could better understand my dilemma. To fix this problem, I force myself to keep writing tools with me at all times- to prevent a complete psychotic break institutionalization:
"Hey what's she in here for?"
"Oh her? She thinks she's living in a book, she only talks in third person."
"Oh that's terrible!"
"Yeah, if only she would've taken the time to write...."
Another important habit I've found useful (which I'm sure almost everyone has discovered before me and has been keeping it a secret) is simple goals. I have a tendency when writing, whether journaling or writing for assignment, to digress on a whim. Especially during journaling, which is usually completely without direction, I jump from subject to subject in more of a rant than anything.
On bad days, all I want to do is to spill my guts without inflicting harm on another human being. But in the future, when I go back and read my entries, it's as if another person had written it. In the chaos of pure passion my writing is reduced to a fifth grade level, with horrible grammar, misspellings, and the occasional profanity. If nothing, it's incredibly amusing. But it has also served another purpose in revealing to me the pitfalls of chaotic writing.
As an experiment, I begin to give myself "assignments" - focus for my scattered musings. The results blew me away. Most of my thoughts on the specified subject magically condensed, clarified, and flowed to create a coherent article.
Being such a disorganized wreck for so long, I finally discovered for myself the secret everyone had been keeping from me (or so I thought): FOCUS.
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