My 1st year as a journalist

As 2022 comes to a close, I’m doing what a lot of people are doing, reflecting on the year that was 2022. I am doing it through a unique lens as this marks my first year as a…journalist.

I don’t like using that term. Not because of how the word is received, which is sometimes met with derision or suspicion (which is why I often have to tell weary people I’m a writer-that seems to ease their minds for some reason). Nor because I am ashamed to be called a journalist.

It’s simply because I didn’t go to journalism school, so I often feel out of my depth.

Don’t get me wrong-I am a writer. Been writing since I was a kid, and it was really cathartic when I was in the Navy, treating patients and attempting to become a leader. Heck, I even have a masters in writing. But I don’t know all the questions to ask, or how to do deep dives into some news-worthy items. I was trained to write fiction. Though as I write that sentence, I can almost hear the cynical voices out there saying that is what journalism has become.

What I’ve tried to do is bring that old-school David Brinkley or Walter Cronkite feel when I have to do a story. You know, present both sides neutrally and let readers decide. That’s not always easy when people, specifically politicians, don’t want to talk.

To do that, I usually have to refer back to a rule I learned in school from Stephen King, to remove adverbs from writing, because, as put it:

“I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops. To put it another way, they’re like dandelions. If you have one on your lawn, it looks pretty and unique. If you fail to root it out, however, you find five the next day…fifty the day after that…and then, my brothers and sisters, your lawn is totally, completely, and profligately covered with dandelions. By then you see them for the weeds they really are, but by then it’s — GASP!! — too late.”

King’s rant, while humorous, helps me when I have to write something I don’t necessarily agree with. The slip of something like an adverb, or an adjective, in the wrong place can distract from what the story or the message is being conveyed.

That was important when I had to write up the stories about the Houston Mayor, Deputy Mayor, and treasurer all resigning. I live in Houston, so those things were already important to me. I knew them as I had served on city council with them, but I had to keep any personal thoughts, anything that might lend itself to a bias out of those pieces. It was also hard because they weren’t talking.

I also try to bring context to some of the pieces I have to write. Part of that is because I don’t know the depth or breadth of some of the political issues of the Borough, so if I have to cover something at a council meeting, I have to go back and do some research so I understand and can present it. Basically, it’s like writing for someone who isn’t from around here and doesn’t know about the issues.

That’s what the Chickaloon Tribal Police story was like for me. I live on the other side of the Borough from Chickaloon and Sutton, and other than stopping at the little store there on the Glenn before heading to Eureka or Glennallen, I had no ideas the layers involved or what I was going to learn when I had to go out to the informational meeting about expanding the tribal police authority. I even brought my husband along (he’s my sounding board when I am writing about things or if I’m stuck). Over 4 hours later, I realized that I’d only scratched the surface of the tension and history there, and not only had to figure out how to present it succinctly, but make sure both sides of the argument were fairly and accurately represented. That was a lot of time spent listening to the recordings I made to try and get the quotes and information right.

My favorite thing about this job has been finding and telling stories. Sometimes it’s me coming across an interesting post on social media or a tip from a friend. Other times, it’s been a topic heavily discussed and I want to learn more about it, or better still, have someone open my mind to the other side.

That idea, listening to people tell their stories and being in a position to convey them has been the most rewarding professionally and personally. One of those that sticks out was reading, and then meeting parents who had lost children to heroin, opioids, or fentanyl. Those were rough, their pain is real, the losses seemingly insurmountable. But each parent I met with has found a way to take that loss and the emotions that come with losing a child, and put it to use for change. Julie Taylor, who lost her son Taegge, has made PSAs to make people aware of the dangers of fentanyl, worked to help educate others, and supported changing laws surrounding certain overdoses from manslaughter to murder.

But it wasn’t enough for me, and during National Recovery Month, I spent time with people who had experienced addiction and are now on paths of recovery. Those have been some of the most rewarding stories I’ve gotten to cover, and honestly I didn’t do much. I let Joel and Erin and Sean and Matt tell their stories, as raw and deep as they wanted or not.

I’ve also gotten to tell stories that are distinctively Alaskan, whether it’s been visiting Iditarod Champion Martin Buser and his Happy Trails Kennels or Joshua Robbins’s Outreach22, a new nonprofit working to stem the tragedy of veteran suicide; the circumstances that came together through sheer luck to rescue 3, including a baby, from a small plane crash on the Matanuska River; or having a little fun with the contrails that dotted the skies near Lazy Mountain one April morning. Or the dozens of others stories I’ve gotten to tell in the 10 months I’ve been here. I’m excited to see what stories I get to tell in 2023.