“Journalism gives writers a backbone.” Timothée Chalamet in Wes Anderson’s The French Dispatch.
‘Oh, so you can do PR, write press releases and so on.’ How many times have I been asked that question? A polite ‘I could, but I don’t’ is invariable met by confusion. No one asks why I choose not to promote them or their wares remotely via publications. Very few want to know what else we might work on together – or indeed what I’m doing for myself now I no longer ply my trade in the media.
To them I am not a writer but a journalist. Expert in my field maybe, but nonetheless just a hack.
To many folk, journalists are only good for marketing if they’re not out there dishing the dirt. How can they possibly have a voice of their own and creative skills that go beyond conveying other people’s news and opinions?
Yet journalism is arguably the best grounding for writing of any sort, be it financial reports or crime fiction – similar pursuits in some ways, and a couple of financial editors I know have turned their hand to novels centring on fraud, applying their inside knowledge. It’s basic communication and, at best, seeks out no-nonsense truth.
Journalism gives writers a backbone. A blank page is there to be filled not feared, a word-count ingrained in the psyche and easily met, as are deadlines. The job is to inform and even entertain the reader – an identifiable beast without whom you’re sunk.
If the customer or consumer is royalty to marketers then the reader takes the crown for a journalist. Simplicity underpins every piece you write whoever it’s for. But each article demands a style that conveys the story in a way that talks to a particular audience.
In my worlds – architecture and design – you can’t expect to engage an architect as you might a graphic designer. Architects more likely go for longer texts, strewn with technical details, graphics folk, snappy pieces, to the point but easily accessible. Both appreciate imagery – architects detailed drawings, designers the finished work. Words rarely stand alone.
But what happens if you decide to apply your well-honed journalistic rigour to more expressive writing forms? I’ve never seen myself as a frustrated novelist as so many Journalists claim to be. Memoir writing is my thing. But even so it isn’t easy making the transition.
For a start you’re expressing your own views and probably sharing your own life experiences. That can be tricky when throughout your career you’ve been an interested outsider looking in. Who cares about what has shaped your life? Does it matter? Who are you anyway? These thoughts flit through your mind constantly.
A massive crisis of confidence ensues. Imposter syndrome. You can feel you’re no better than those financial fraudsters if you let it get to you.
My cop out has been to write about the amazing people I’ve met along the way rather than myself. Profile features now dubbed cameos and focusing on our relationship rather than just their history and influence. Other hacks, usually English Literature graduates, transition more easily.
Then there is this thing about adjectives. News reporters pride themselves on unearthing facts not colouring them in. Word counts and deadlines invariably prohibit that anyway. Yet self-expression relies on adjectives and literary mood enhancers to create atmosphere and personality.
It’s easy to over-compensate to begin with. Adjectives abound in early drafts, often at the expense of the story. Balance doesn’t come instantly. But perseverance furthers, as the I Ching famously insists. I’m counting on that.
It takes courage – and in my case immersion in Dark Angels courses – to use ‘writer’ as your personal descriptor. Writers have things published. My published portfolio as a journalist bulges, but as a writer only a couple of 26 pieces have made the cut. In truth, they’re all I’ve ever put forward.
But I grow bolder. I know I can write. Maybe one day I’ll publish. My choice. But at last I am a writer in my head, at least.
– Lynda Relph-Knight