Reading

Professionals in paper hats

Professionals in paper hats

This week’s news out of The Oregonian ­ – aka Oregon Media Group (OMG!), aka Advance Central Services Oregon, aka Advance Publications, aka Who Can Keep Up – doesn’t mention layoffs. It just says it will be “saying goodbye to our longtime press employees.” Alt-weekly Willamette Week puts those who face that long goodbye at 100 to 200.

So what? Just one more tale of the legacy news industry being swamped by the digital tsunami. Pain on one front; progress on another. The march of time and technology. Horses to cars to rocketships and all that.

But this has me thinking about more than a few specialized jobs lost, or about a class of workers whose strong, gnarled, expert fingers might not be suited to the teensy keyboards on an iPhone. It also has me thinking about an essential part of the news operation that few outside our world think about, and even fewer see. And about what – and who – it has taken to do this work as well as it should be done.

So here’s an homage to the men (and yes, they were mostly that) who run the presses. They did – and do – far more than slap drums of paper onto massive rollers and make sure the stack-and-wrap machines didn’t jam. They never had a byline or asked for an award or even a thank-you. But they did their work in the communities they lived in. They cared about that work. They made my journalism better. They made me better.

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Stories for now and eternity

Stories for now and eternity

I’ve been too long absent from this place, waiting for the two things I tell my writing students never to wait for: Time and the Muse.

Time remains elusive. But the Muse visited today, demanding attention in the form of the wonderful Brain Pickings, which is one of the rare reasons to wade through the rest of the internet swamp (and yes, I subscribe). Today’s offering excerpted a lecture by Neil Gaiman. (And above quote is attributed to him.)

I am abashed to admit I wasn’t onto Gaiman until a few months ago. He’s a short fiction and graphic novel guy, and somehow escaped my notice. Now, true to the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon, aka selective attention, I stumble across him frequently. Thank the story gods for that.

I could pull countless snippets from Gaiman’s lecture, which he apparently spent more than two years writing. (If true, I’m grateful to him for that. Makes me feel less sluggy and stupid.) And Gaiman’s comments are, at heart, about fiction – the stories that come from our human hearts, emotions and imaginations.

But his wisdom applies just as well to my world of literary nonfiction.

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Dog-eared discoveries

My reverence for books does not keep me from underlining passages, scribbling margin notes or, gulp, dog-earing the page corners. Every time I think I need to clear out some of my overburdened bookshelves, I see those blunted page corners and realize there is yet another treasure trove I have stored but not mined.

So… as part of this BackStory journey, I’ve given myself a goal that is doable and delightfully distracting: Grab a book at random, open it to whatever page is scored, and share the find. Not sure what it will add up to, if anything. Maybe just a way for me to archive the gems, unbend the corners and, bigger gulp, pass on the books.

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