Press Corps

No, not "corpse," that's corps, as in a body of people. Or in our case, a body of nearly dead people. But I digress.
My job is similar to that of famed Lois Lane of the Superman comics. Go to work, get a story, write the story, revel in glory.
Okay, there's very little glory to be had except maybe once or twice in a lifetime and even then it's very little.
And there's no Superman unless you count the homeless guy in Underoos perched on the front steps.

Being a reporter, a journalist and a writer is nothing like the romanticized stereotypes would lead you to believe.
It's long hours, tons of leg work, exhausting nights in an uncomfortable desk chair all so the public who has a right to know can.

This blog isn't going to be about specific assignments or projects, but about themes found in the industry that shapes nearly everyone's opinion of the world around them. The hows and whys and outcomes of decisions - good and bad.

It will undoubtedly include remarks like "oh, my aching [insert body part here]" and "Where's that darn file?!"

But you get the gist. Please feel free to jump into the fray with me, comment, argue and let's hash it all out.

After all, I'm a professional with a job to do.
Let's shed some light on what it's like being a big-city journalist in a smallish-town market trying to maintain some semblance of her sanity.