Lisa Hrabluk

“There are no lines on the road.”

“What?” I ask.

Michael cocks his head and adjusts his hold on the bag of charcoal.

“There are no lines on the road. That’s what I’ve noticed since we got back.”

“There have never been lines on the road.”

“Yeah, but I just noticed it. There are lines on the road in Ontario.”

“There’s money in Ontario.”

“But how are people supposed to drive around here? There are literally no lines on the road. I just got off Campbell Drive and it’s an asphalt free-for-all. No lines.”

“There have never been lines.”

“Once there were lines.”

“Yeah, I suppose there were.”

“I don’t understand why there aren’t any lines.”

“That’s what poverty does. Personal poverty sends you to school without a new coat; provincial poverty can’t afford regular maintenance.”

“Yeah, I guess. We gotta move.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To a place with lines.”

“This is perfect,” said Alexandra.

“Hmmmm….” I responded, lazily glancing off at nothing in particular.

“Do you like squirrels?” she asked.

“Squirrels? Sure, I like squirrels.”

“I like bears more.”

“You do? Why do you like bears?”

“Well, because they are nice like baby bears.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Alexandra looks to the right and points into the woods behind our house.

“The bears are in there.”

“They are?”

“Yes, they are for you. Mommy and Daddy bears.”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh.”

She looks at me.

“C’mon. We should go find them.”

“Okay.”

She swings her legs out of the hammock and steps onto the plastic table that doubles as a step.

“We can go barefoot. You don’t need your shoes Mommy.”

I slip out of the hammock and follow her lead – on tip toe, back hunched, finger to lips in the universal symbol for ’shhhhhhhh’.

“Let’s ask the people if they know where the bears are,” she whispers over her shoulder.

“Okay,” I whisper back.

“Excuse me but can you tell me how to find the bears?”

We pause and listen to their answer.

“Thank you. C’mon Mommy, they said the bears are this way. To the left.”

We turn right and creep around the tent.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! A hawk! A hawk! Quick! Throw stuff at it and it will go away.”

We throw grass, dandelions and twigs.

“Whew. It’s gone. But it was a nice hawk.”

“It was?”

“Yes. It said to watch out for the crocodiles.”

The truth hurts, particularly first thing in the morning.

Why journalists deserve low pay, a longish piece in The Christian Science Monitor, gives it to us straight about the value of traditional journalism in a new media economy.

Oxford economist Robert Picard argues that journalists don’t deserve to get paid well because,

Wages are compensation for value creation. And journalists simply aren’t creating much value these days.

Ouch.

He makes the now-familiar argument that technology has ‘deskilled’ journalists because anyone with high speed Internet and average literarcy skills can source information and disseminate it to whoever they want in any number of ways.

From an economic standpoint, information, the traditional commodity that journalists and media organizations have sold, has been devalued because there is now so much of it and much is offered free of charge.

In other words, journalists have to get out of the commodities business and start selling special expertise and skills that can’t be underbid by freebie bloggers and social media dwellers.

Basically we’ve got to get out of the pulp business and start selling hand-crafted rocking chairs.

Most journalists share the same skills sets and the same approaches to stories, seek out the same sources, ask similar questions, and produce relatively similar stories.

That’s true. How many live blogs do we need out of the Oliphant inquiry?

This interchangeability is one reason why salaries for average journalists are relatively low and why columnists, cartoonists, and journalists with special expertise (such as finance reporters) get higher wages.

Across the news industry, processes and procedures for news gathering are guided by standardized news values, producing standardized stories in standardized formats that are presented in standardized styles. The result is extraordinary sameness and minimal differentiation.

Picard offers an economic solution: each major newspaper should specialize in a few topics that have national interest and sell that expertise to other media organizations.

He suggests the Boston Globe could become the national leader in education and health (because of all the universities and research hospitals in Boston)

Dallas Morning News – oil and energy (actually, the Houston Chronicle is better suited for that role being home to Exxon and other oil companies)

Des Moines Register – agriculture

Chicago Tribune – airline and aircraft (and building on that theme political graft)

This is where Picard and I part company.

I agree that news organizations need to rid themselves of wire copy that can be read just about anywhere and become providers of quality and unique content.

However I don’t think we should leave expertise in any one topic to one organization. His economic model doesn’t calculate the influences of personal bias, whether it belongs to the journalist, the editor or the owner.

Trust me on this one. I live in New Brunswick. We live and breathe media concentration in this province and it ain’t always pretty.

But neither is the demise of journalism.

If you’re interested in New Brunswick politics strangely fascinated by New Brunswick’s oddly old-fashioned political culture check out Jacques Poitras’ and Dan McHardie’s commentaries on the CBC New Brunswick political blog, Spinreduxit.

I know, weird name. It’s a play on the Province of New Brunswick’s motto, Spem Reduxit, Latin for ‘Hope Restored’.

They’ve been blogging for a couple of months now on the goings on in the Legislative Assembly and it is a fun little read. A couple of weeks ago they started what I think will be weekly audio podcasts.

The blog along with the pair’s individual Twitter posts – here’s where you’ll find Jacques and Dan in the Twittersphere – and CBC NB’s twitter feed (maintained by Dan) have become my daily source of New Brunswick political news.

The guys have got a good thing started here. I hope the CBC continues to build on the talents of individual journalists by allowing more of them to stretch their wings online – including allowing them to offer an opinion or two.

I think if media organizations are going to make the jump from old to new media they are going to have to redefine the role of journalists. News gathering is the baseline these days and offering a glorified headline service won’t get an audience. That’s the old media model.

In the land of bloggers and tweeters, those who can offer strong analysis and context will be the ones to gather and hold an audience.

Just about anyone with an Internet connection can answer the first four W5 questions – who, what, when and where.

The real money – and influence – is in being able to answer ‘Why’.

Corb Lund and Joel Plaskett are not journalists.

I think we need to get that out on the table because sometimes it feels like our national media companies think they can make up for their lack of news coverage beyond the Montreal-Windsor corridor by featuring alt-country musicians in their programs.

Try as they might, I don’t think putting “I Wanna Be in the Calvary” in regular rotation will enhance our understanding of contemporary Prairie culture or politics.

Its the same old story set to a slightly different tune. Those big companies – CBC, CTV, Global and its print arm CanWest – have all recently argued that they have to scale back their operations because of economic pressures. In other words, centralize. Slough off all those expensive-to-operate regional stations, staff ‘em with a minimal number of journalists and direct the news out of Toronto and to a lesser extent, Ottawa.

They say they’ve made these tough choices – the Orwellian term for massive staff layoffs – because they are losing ad revenue because (a) major advertisers, such as car companies, have got their own cash-flow problems and (b) advertisers with money are following audiences online.

The clearest evidence of this switch can be found in corporate job postings. There’s a bunch of new job titles out there – content developer, content strategist, social media marketer – that suggests the money isn’t coming back to traditional media companies until they change the way they produce and deliver content.

Content, that’s a fancy word for news.

People want more content, or more specifically they want a wider selection of content that they can tailor to their own interests.

The response of Canadian media companies? Scale back and employ journalists in small packs in big cities and then send them all out to cover the same story with a bunch of different bylines.

The media equivalent of spraypainting the side of a rock with “I was here.”

I quite literally see it every day.

I use Twitter as my newsfeed and this week the Globe, the National Post and CBC have all posted updates on the Oliphant inquiry and Brian Mulroney’s testimony within minutes of each other.

Its even more pathetic when it comes to entertainment news because the blogs beat large media organizations every time – and usually by hours, not minutes.

I get that media organizations aren’t making as much money as they used to and so naturally they have to reduce operations.

I know traditional newsroom are going to get smaller, in fact I think some of them do need to shrink.

But in the rush to reduce costs, media organizations have forgotten one of the oldest guidelines of our craft: Show don’t tell.

The best stories are told by those who were there to witness it. Telephone (or email) journalism will never equal in quality or influence the stories told by those on the ground.

At the end of this month CBC brass will begin to lay off journalists across the country. Here in Saint John, NB, the number of journalists is being cut in half, taking the station down to less than 10 people. Its the same story in Moncton, Sydney, Sudbury and a bunch of other medium and small markets.

Meanwhile, CBC has announced plans to expand its online presence and CBC.ca was spared in the layoffs.

That’s a smart move – I get all of my CBC content online now.

What I don’t understand is why CBC brass aren’t tapping into the knowledge and skill set of its existing journalists to make that conversion.

The websites for the CBC national shows are great – I love Radio 2 and 3 in particular and the Radio 1 podcasts. The same can’t be said for the regional stations, which are little more than news aggregate sites that list the latest headlines.

Its pathetic that in 2010 I can’t get a podcast of any of the shows produced in New Brunswick.

CBC’s regional cuts will limit the amount of news being produced locally. The journalists who will remain won’t have the time to explore leads and develop interesting stories. Local news is going to become even more boring.

News organizations shouldn’t be centralizing their staff; they should be dispersing staff, employing small, well-run groups across this country and telling them to go out and find original stories that no one is telling.

CBC, CTV and Global have all made cuts to local coverage, actions that show us what stories they think are worth telling.

It’ll be up to you to decide if you still want to listen.

Just got back from a great chat with Maine sculptor Jesse Salisbury. He’s a large scale sculptor who a couple of years ago took an amazing idea and made it real.

The Schoodic International Sculpture Symposium.

The what where symposium?

Yeah, that’s what I asked too.

The Schoodic Peninsula is a granite shoreline located in what the locals call Down East Maine. Tourists would say its near Bar Harbor. Part of it snakes through Acadia National Park and it was here in the late summer of 2007 that a local group of residents, led by Jesse, brought six sculptors together to create incredible pieces of public art out of Schoodic granite.

The sculptors came from Poland, Germany, Sweden, Japan and Maine.

They set up outdoor studios in Acadia National Park and from late July until early September they created these magnificent contemporary art sculptures – and the public came to watch.

The pieces have since been installed in seven small towns in Hancock and Washington counties.

Jesse is speaking at the Saint John Arts Centre on Thursday, May 14 at 1 p.m. to talk about the Symposium and what it has meant for the arts in this rural area of Maine.

Wouldn’t it be great to do something like this in Saint John?

Hugh Thorburn, the Nostradamus of our times.

I’ve been researching the political history of New Brunswick and just finished Politics in New Brunswick by Thorburn, a Queens U prof, who wrote in 1961. His assessment of the province is laughingly and depressingly still current in far too many ways.

Below are some of my highlights:

New Brunswick has not been affected by the dislocating influence of a new immigrant population bringing different folkways with it. Instead, it has been bypassed by the stream of immigration and has continuously lost a considerable portion of its own you and vigourous population. Small wonder, then, that the province holds on to old ways in politics. It has not had change thrust upon it since Confederation. – pp 41-42

Anything you can do, ACOA can do better:

New Brunswick is in no way an economic unit; rather, it consists of several small regional economies that have few interests in common and tend to compete for government projects in their respective areas. p.45

The view from the 2nd floor bunker at the Centennial Building:

The responsibility of government to respond to a complex array of representatives of local, region and special interests each alert to claim the desserts of its principals, results in a rather negative introversion that emphasizes the smaller and more local interests. p.50

Who’s your father syndrome:

…[E]very citizen belongs in his own community through long association and general acceptance. He has his place, which is his pride or his cross, and others recognize it. His family and its social position dogs him through his lifetime. He will be recognized by his family name and by where he comes from…

And my personal favourite:

It is a society which offers few advantages for the energetic young men who have completed their secondary education or obtained university degrees. These are tempted to emigrate unless the opportunities offered by a family enterprise or the practice of a profession present the makings of a career. Many of the members of the notable families find suitable employment and so remain, as do most of the unskilled and uneducated, who can find labouring jobs or stay on the family farm.

It is the educated and vigorous young men without moneyed connections who find suitable employment opportunities scarce, and many of them are drawn off to central Canada.

Those who “kick against the pricks” are encouraged to leave; those who accommodate themselves to things as they are tend to remain.

Perhaps such conditions, existing over a prolonged period, account for much of New Brunswick’s charm, but they are also responsible for its static and traditional outlook, its strong local loyalties and its calm and resigned acceptance of things.

Kick against the pricks. Did that mean the same thing in 1961 that it means today? There’s a bumper sticker waiting to be printed, I think.

I love my TweetDeck.

That and Radio 2 are my near-constant companions during the day; a nice little mash-up of old and new media.

Watching all those tweets and status updates scroll by has got me thinking about my j-school days at Ryerson and the proudly ink-stained, notebook-toting profs who drilled into our heads the inverted pyramid style of writing and sparse prose for those single column stories.

Sure we all wanted to explore literary narrative devices, but they kept pulling us back, demanding we write sentences that made every word count.

There’s an art to it and once upon a time, the very best practitioners put their work on display every morning. There on the front page screamed out headlines that were designed to draw us in and make us want to read more.

Its a lost art but I have a hunch its about to make a comeback.

My favourite tweeters and Facebook dwellers offer me wit, info and a little teaser. That’s what it takes to make me click the hotlink and see what lies beyond those 140 characters.

As for the rest, well, try as I might, I just can’t fake it – I’m just not that into you.

Hey, here are some quick observations and pieces of advice for those about to wade into the ocean of information that is today’s media world.

1. It all begins with ‘why’

Everyone thinks they’re interesting.

They’re wrong.

Interesting people have a story that connects with their audience and the easiest way to make that connection is to give people what they want. Maybe it is an important piece of information, a neat new product that fits into their lives, an event they want to attend or – and this is the award-winning journalism category – it grabs them emotionally.

Everything else is  Charlie Brown’s teacher – a droning noise in the background.

Before you pitch ask yourself: Why should anyone care?

After you’ve answered that question, fill in your story with the rest of the W5 family (Who, What, When and Where) and their geeky cousin, How.

2. Motherly advice

Reporters aren’t scary; they just play it up on TV… and in the newspaper and on radio.

No really, we’re nice people.

Harried, understaffed, stressed-out people who aren’t easily impressed.

No pressure.

Talking to a journalist shouldn’t be a horrible experience (unless of course you’ve made off with the company till – then you’re in for a rough ride.)

Here’s some simple tips to remember when you see a reporter headed your way:

Be polite. That means don’t begin the conversation with “I know what you media types are like…” or “You don’t want news, you want sensationalism”, or that old favourite “I know what sells papers.” Really? You do? Well share it with us buddy because we sure as heck can’t seem to sell ‘em these days.

Journalists hate when people talk to them like that. Sort of like walking into your lawyer’s office and telling a lawyer joke or telling your contractor that he’s no Mike Holmes.

Dress appropriately. Straighten your tie. Fix your collar. Would it kill you to wear a little lipstick? If you’re going to be on TV, make sure you look good. Your audience will assess what you have to say by what you’re wearing, so if you want to be respected, don’t show up looking like a slob. So don’t wear weird stripes or patterns that look cool in person but odd in TV’s 2D world.

Smile. A nice smile, not a goofy smile or a pasted on one. A real smile. Particularly when you are on the radio because you can hear a smile over the airwaves.

Tell it to me straight. People know when they are being lied to and when they’re not getting the whole story. So don’t lie and don’t avoid the question. Answer it to the best of your ability and don’t be afraid to say you don’t know that answer. If you don’t know something, offer to get them the answer or direct them to someone who can.

This is turning out to be a weird week.

Today I’m speaking at a Lunch n’ Learn session for young and new entrepreneurs at our local economic development agency. The topic is “Getting Press” and I’m supposed to explain how you grab the attention of reporters and editors so they’ll do a story on you and your business.

Meanwhile, earlier this week, I spoke to two journalist friends about life after the newsroom. One, in Ontario, was recently laid off from a newspaper and the second, out here in the Maritimes, is a bit worried about their future at CBC. Quite literally I got off the phone with one of them and five minutes later the other called.

So I’ve got one group asking my advice on how to get into the newsroom so they can make money for their business and the other wants to know how to make money after they’re kicked out of the newsroom.

I have the same answer for both and it ain’t the old newsroom.

Buzz, influence (and god willing) money lies in the hands of communities.

Traditional media organizations have defined community as the physical place where people live – the town, city, region or country – but tech and social media companies have expanded that definition to mean like-minded people who gather online or in person to talk about the things they share.

Twitter is a massive community; so is Facebook.

Amazon.com (and .ca) has proven a corporation can create a shared experience and turn customers into community members.

Media organizations – yeah, those companies that need to continue to exist so me and my colleagues can continue to earn a living as journalists – need to evolve into online communities. That means inviting others to contribute to the conversation. Hint: That’s not the comment boxes at the bottom of stories. That’s the domain of ranters and that’s why the rest of us stay away.

I’m actually more optimistic about the future of news gathering and analysis than most of my colleagues. I think the music industry and iTunes offers a hint of where we are headed. People are willing to pay for certain things, particularly production quality and authenticity (straight from the source, or creator).

In the past the media organization was the assurance of both. In this new world, the journalist fills that role. That will mean writers and journalists are going to have to take those pitching skills they honed in story meetings and use it to generate business – and audiences. Some will get to do it within a newsroom, albeit a smaller one. Most, I predict, will do it from their homes – pitching to a variety of different places and, most likely in a variety of different forms.

That’s a scary new world for those of us who have spent our careers in newsroom working to deadline.

It’s also really exciting and I intend to enjoy the ride.