Want to teach journalism at Laurier Brantford?

The journalism program at Wilfrid Laurier University’s Brantford campus, where I teach, just released its postings for the 2013-14 academic year. We’re looking for part-time instructors for the following courses, some of which are skills-focused while others are more theoretical in nature:

  • JN201: Reporting and Writing II
  • JN208: Researching for News
  • JN212: Journalism and Social Change
  • JN214: Journalism and Social Order
  • JN252: Technical Skills: New Media Journalism
  • JN318: Newsroom I
  • JN327: Social Documentary
  • JN423: Journalism Project
  • MX202: Reading Media

You can find the full postings with all the relevant details here. (Click on the link for Laurier Brantford postings and then scroll through for the journalism listings.)

Editing an essay anthology: Part 1

As you may recall, I’m working on a new essay anthology for TouchWood Editions about LGBT relationships and families. With the winter teaching semester over, I’m now turning my attention toward the book in order to have a manuscript ready to send to the publisher in the fall.

People often ask me how these books come together, so I thought I’d try to document the process this time around. While most readers have a sense of how a novel comes together (a writer holes up in his or her favourite coffee shop with a laptop and emerges a few months later, looking weary and rumpled with a first draft in hand), they have a more difficult time figuring out what goes into creating an edited essay anthology. I suspect the process is a bit different for each editor and each book, but here’s how it works for my books.

First, it’s important to realize that essay anthologies meant for a general readership, like mine, are different from those meant for an academic audience. Many academic anthologies are collections of articles that have already been published in journals and conference proceedings and the like. The academic editor’s job, then, is to track down articles around a particular theme, clear the permissions to republish them and write an introduction. The idea behind an academic anthology is to collect all of the current thinking about a given issue in one place, instead of having to search through hundreds of different journals for it.

Conceptually, the type of anthology I edit is quite different. Instead of being a textbook filled with scholarly research and thinking, it’s meant to be an engaging, accessible collection of essays about people’s lives that is meant for a general (i.e., non-academic) reader. It’s the type of book you’d pick up for pleasure reading, as opposed to a textbook. As such, this type of anthology is meant to feature entirely original material, not reprints of pieces that have already been published. So, a big part of my job as editor is to find the 20 to 25 original essays that will make up the book. If you think that sounds like a big, intimidating job, you’re right!

For my current project about LGBT relationships and families, I went about gathering stories in two ways. First, I commissioned original essays from writers I knew would have interesting stories to share. Some of these were writers I knew and had worked with in the past, while others were people whose work I’d admired over the years but never actually worked with or met.

At the same time, I wrote up a call for submissions explaining the project and the type of essays I was looking for. I then posted that call on my website, shared it on Facebook and Twitter and emailed it to every writer and writers’ organization I could think of. And then, I waited.

One of best aspects of editing a book like this is sending a call for submissions out into the world and seeing what sort of great, unexpected material comes back. But it’s also more than a little terrifying. During the submissions period, I lose a lot of sleep worrying that no one will send in an essay. But in the end, I had lots of submissions, many more than I could possibly publish, which lead to the unenviable task of having to decline some of them.

In most cases, I end up declining submissions because they don’t fit the mix I’m looking for. By mix, I mean the variety of topics, approaches and points of view. In a book like this one, every essay can’t be about lesbians looking for sperm donors or gay men looking for surrogates. The idea behind this book is to showcase as wide a range of experiences as possible, so a big part of my job as editor is to find the right balance of engaging, interesting stories without their becoming repetitive.

My deadline for submissions was January 2013. At that point, I started to read through all of the essays I had received in order to figure out which I could accept and which I’d have to decline. By mid-February, I was able to send out acceptance and rejection notes to everyone who submitted an essay.

These days, I’m editing the pieces I was able to accept. This is the bulk of the work involved in editing an essay anthology, as you might imagine, and I expect it will take me most of the summer. But I love it: getting to work with smart, talented writers to make their good writing even better is the best part of my job. Speaking of which, I should get back to it. In my next post, I’ll write about the editing process.

 

 

A moment of pride

There’s no better feeling as a journalism instructor than to watch your students get published, particularly when it’s an assignment for one of your classes. So, it was especially gratifying to read the Facts & Arguments essay in today’s Globe and Mail, as it was written by Mary-Katherine Boss, a student in my JN408: The Freelance Journalist course.

It was a great piece when she workshopped it in my class a couple of months ago, and I’m thrilled to see that the Globe editors agreed. Here’s a peek:

At 19, I was an average Canadian girl. I would sit through all my university classes (all right, most of my university classes), walk my dog, go to the gym, go dancing on weekends and sleep over at my friends’ houses.

But at 20, I found myself with such severe back pain that these activities became agonizing.

I used to think of back pain as something only my parents or grandparents suffered from, an unfortunate by-product of aging. Granted, some days I feel like I’m bordering on 100. But here I am at 20, considering orthopedic mattresses.

People always ask how it started. I would like to tell them I pulled a muscle playing sports or that I put my back out lifting a heavy box. But I have no such story.

It started the first week of last October, for no apparent reason. At first, I figured I had slept funny or overworked some muscles at the gym. When the pain didn’t go away, but got progressively worse, I started to worry.

You can read the whole essay here.

‘When my mamas fight, they go on long car rides…”

As you might recall, I’m working on an anthology of personal essays about LGBT families and relationships for TouchWood Editions. Part of that work includes keeping an eye out for any new research or work on this topic, as it might lead me to a new writer to enlist in this project or inform the collection in some way.

That’s how I came across this video yesterday. It’s a spoken-word performance by Noah St. John called “The Last Mile,” and it’s about his two mothers. Simply put, it’s a beautiful piece, and I defy you to watch it without getting a lump in your throat.

 

What my magazine writing students will read this semester

It’s been a couple of years since I last taught my magazine and feature writing course at Laurier Brantford, so I took some time over the holidays to update my reading list to incorporate some of the great new pieces I’ve discovered since then. Many of them are available for free online, so I thought I’d share them in case anyone else is looking for some new material.

Bauer, Gabrielle.  (2002). “Gender Bender.” Saturday Night.

Curtis, Andrea. (2005). “Small Mercies.” Toronto Life. Available online.

David, Dan. (1997). “All My Relations.” This Magazine.

Dunphy, Catherine. (1993). “Immoral Support.” Chatelaine.

Jones, Chris. (2012). “Animals.” Esquire. Available online.

McClelland, Mac. (2012). “I Was a Warehouse Wage Slave.” Mother Jones. Available online.

McLaughlin, Paul. (1995). “ET: The Extraterrestrial Therapist.” Saturday Night.

McPhee, John. (2009). “Checkpoints.” The New Yorker.

Mead, Rebecca. (2011). “Better, Faster, Stronger.” The New Yorker. Available online.

Pollan, Michael. (2002). “Power Steer.” The New York Times Magazine. Available online.

Orlean, Susan. (2002). “The American Man, Age Ten.” The Bullfighter Checks Her Makeup. New York: Random House.

Paterniti, Michael. (1997). “Driving Mr. Albert.” Harper’s Magazine.

Randolph, Mike. (2006). “In Search of the Giant Eel.” In Little, J. (Ed.), Way Out There: The Best of explore. Vancouver: Greystone Books.

Sacks, Danielle. (2010). “Alex Bogusky Tells All: He left the world’s hottest ad agency to find his soul.” Fast Company. Available online.

Saslow, Eli. (2012). “Life of a Salesman: Selling success, when optimism is downsized.” The Washington Post. Available online.

Update (01/07/13): I neglected to mention that these are the stories my students will read in addition to the ones included in Ivor Shapiro’s excellent textbook The Bigger Picture: Elements of Feature Writing.

Edna Staebler Award 2012: A Recap

I had the pleasure of hosting the Edna Staebler Award for Creative Non-Fiction Award presentation last week at Wilfrid Laurier University’s Waterloo campus. It was a great night, and I was glad finally to meet this year’s winner, Joshua Knelman, whose book Hot Art: Chasing Thieves and Detectives through the Secret World of Stolen Art I first read as a judge in the summer and the praises of which I’ve been singing to everyone I’ve met since then.

Instead of reading from the book, Knelman spoke about its origins — about how it grew out of a small, front-of-the-book article for The Walrus, where he was the chief of research at the time — and took questions from the audience. Notably, he spoke about the relationship he cultivated with Paul, the British art thief who features prominently in Hot Art and his reaction to reading the book for the first time. As you might well imagine, Knelman has lots of good stories about how the book came together, so I’m looking forward to his visiting my magazine writing class next semester at Laurier Brantford to share more of them with my students.

Everyone I spoke to at the reception remarked about how gracious Knelman was in receiving his award and how “Edna would have approved.” This was my first time meeting the many people who are known around Laurier as the Friends of Edna — those people who knew Edna and continue to work hard to support her legacy of encouraging new writers.

As I learned from some of her friends, Edna herself did not start writing professionally until she was in her late 50s or early 60s and was encouraged to keep at it after her first feature for Maclean’s, written for then-editor Pierre Berton, won a national award.

As I explained in my opening remarks, this was a side of Edna Staebler that I didn’t learn about until relatively recently, although I’d known about her for many years before that. Like many people, I first learned about her through her recipes. As a young university student, one of the things I missed most about living at home was my mother’s cooking, and one day I decided I’d try to make myself a pie.

The only trouble was that I didn’t own a rolling pin, so I called my mother to see if she could suggest an unfussy pastry recipe that didn’t require rolling. Almost immediately, she came up with Edna’s Speedy Pat-in Pastry from her Shmecks Appeal collection of Mennonite recipes. The recipe worked, and the pie was great, and to this day, it’s the only pastry recipe I use. As with all of Edna’s recipes, it was clear, it worked and the result was tasty.

It was only years later, when I started studying magazine writing, creative non-fiction and literary journalism, that I came across mentions of Edna Staebler the journalist and the award she had endowed at Laurier. I didn’t connect the dots at first: who would have thought that this famous cookbook author would be the same pioneer of creative non-fiction in Canada? But she was, of course, which speaks to the extraordinary woman that Edna was and the life she led.

You can read more about her life and legacy in To Experience Wonder, Edna Staebler: A Life, by Veronica Ross. And I’d encourage anyone interested in learning more about her to attend next year’s award presentation to hear more stories about her from the Friends of Edna directly. Their dedication to her legacy is remarkable and humbling.

 

My favourite news quiz question ever

In my first-year introduction to reporting and writing course, I set a weekly news quiz to encourage students to follow the news on a regular basis. Reading or watching the news every day is the best way to understand how a news cycle works and what is generally considered newsworthy.

Some weeks, it’s harder to come up with good questions than others, and by the end of the semester, I think we’re all a bit sick of the quizzes. But this week, I created what I think is my favourite news quiz question ever — or at least so far, given that I’m likely to be setting these quizzes until I’m old and gray (well, more gray).

My favourite quiz question

Laurier Brantford hiring a radio journalism instructor

Laurier Brantford is hiring an instructor to teach our first-year radio journalism course next semester. The application deadline is Friday, November 16, and you can find all of the details here. (It’s sometimes tricky to link directly to a specific job posting on the site, so you may have to click on a link for Laurier Brantford jobs to see the posting.)

 

Joshua Knelman wins the 2012 Edna Staebler Award

It’s my pleasure to announce that Joshua Knelman has won the 2012 Edna Staebler Award for Creative Non-Fiction for his fantastic book Hot Art: Chasing Thieves and Detectives Through the World of Stolen Art (Douglas & McIntyre). As one of the judges for this year’s awards, this is how I summed up our thoughts about the book:

In “Hot Art,” Knelman takes what seems like a rarefied topic — art theft — and produces an engrossing narrative that is as riveting as any best-selling mystery novel. Knelman spent four years immersed in the world of international art theft, traveling around the globe to Cairo, New York, London, Montreal and Los Angeles. He befriended a master thief, a lawyer and expert on crimes against art, and a hard-working detective. Even readers who aren’t mourning the loss of the family Monet will be drawn into Knelman’s portrait of calculating art thieves and the handful of dedicated investigators who track them around the globe, often for years at a time.

Knelman will receive his award at a dinner I’ll be emceeing at Wilfrid Laurier University’s Waterloo campus on Tuesday, November 4. The next day, Knelman will read from his book at Laurier Brantford. I’m looking forward to meeting him and introducing his book to a wider audience.

Millennials and the news

After spending a few minutes trying to figure out how to explain my reaction to Paula Poindexter’s research about the news consumption habits of the millennial generation in 140 characters or less (beyond my original reaction: “Yikes”), I decided to give up and blog about it instead.

First, some background. Jim Romenesko posted a news release earlier today about Poindexter’s new book, in which she reveals that “Millennials describe news as garbage, lies, one-sided, propaganda, repetitive and boring”; “Most millennials do not depend on news to help with their daily lives” and “The majority of millennials do not feel being informed is important.” Dispiriting news, to be sure, for those of us who work in or teach journalism. But surprising? Not really. As Poindexter says in the release, most millennials don’t feel like they’re represented in much of the news they see (they’re right: they aren’t) and they don’t feel it affects their daily lives a lot, which is also probably true to some degree.

But is this new? I don’t think so. Based on my own experiences as a journalist and a university journalism professor, I don’t think most young people pay much attention to the news apart from entertainment and sports. In this respect, I don’t think today’s millennials are any different from any other generation when they were in their late teens or early twenties. I don’t think it’s until we go away to college or university and start living on our own that news becomes interesting and relevant to most of us.

That was my experience, at least. As a teenager, I worked for my local weekly newspaper, so I had to be current on local politics and goings on around town, but I don’t think I knew much about national or provincial politics, much less the economy or international news. I wasn’t a very worldly 18 year old. And why would I be? I wasn’t old enough to vote, I didn’t have to work to support myself or anyone else and I was more concerned with my own life than anything happening on the other side of the country let alone the far side of the globe. It wasn’t until I went away to school and was forced to start reading, watching and listening to the news on a regular basis that I started to become more interested. But even then, a lot of what I read didn’t make much sense to me immediately; it took time and regular reading to get the bigger picture, and by the time I did, it had started to seem interesting and, yes, even relevant. I think that’s just part of growing up and having your view of the world expanded beyond your own day-to-day life.

I try to remember this every September when I teach my introduction to journalism course, as I’ll start doing again on Thursday. It would be great if all of these 17- and 18-year-old students showed up being voracious newshounds, on top of the latest geopolitical developments across the country and around the world and ready to report on them. But if they aren’t, that’s OK, too. We have to make room in journalism schools for students who haven’t quite been bitten by the news bug yet but who, with a little prodding and a little time, will get it. As I tell my students, I truly don’t mind if you’re coming into journalism school as someone who doesn’t read, watch or listen to the news on a daily basis — as long as you realize that now that you’re here, you have to start. What I do expect is that you’re someone who is curious about learning more about your community, your country and the world and interested in finding out more about what makes it all tick. I don’t expect you to be an expert on any of this — just someone who’s willing to do a bit of work to find out more. Sure, a lot of the news you read may not make much sense at first, but as long as you stick with it, it will start make sense, by which point it will probably start to seem interesting, too.

As such, I’m not too discouraged by Poindexter’s research, and I’m looking forward to reading more about her methods of how to engage young people in the news earlier.