I'd usually introduce this kind of follow-up post by saying that it's long overdue. But then I realised: who the hell is it long overdue to? As far as I'm aware, nobody's set me a deadline. I tend to live by the mantra that if you have nothing worth saying, then don't say anything at all. That's not to say I've gone nowhere in the past few months since Part 1 of this series: just that there wasn't enough to write about in one go until now.
And now there's so much, Part 3 will probably be right around the corner. It's like Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and 3! Or Avatar 2 and 3! ...No, I'm not sure why I'm associating myself with those other back-to-back releases either. But suffice to say that by the end of this post, it'll become blatantly obvious why Part 3 will surface in a couple of weeks...
In Part 1, I mentioned I was writing for a website called The Hollywood News. I still am. I also mentioned that I might be going to a film premiere to interview Justin Timberlake, Amanda Seyfried and Cillian Murphy. And that I did. (It was a complete clusterfuck and a pretty horrendous experience, but more on that later.) Now, though, I've expanded my horizons somewhat: I'm writing for Kettle Magazine, with my first piece (which is currently in the research process, and will likely end up at around 4,000 words. Ah, if only I was paid per word. Or paid at all) consisting of a history of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, followed by an album and concert review. So there's that.
Also along the music lines, I'm currently midway through a one-week stint at Uncut magazine. You might have heard of it. As it was a short notice invitation, they don't have much for me to do. For the past two days I've mainly been proofreading the March issue. But I've also had the chance to write an album review, for which I'm awaiting feedback from Deputy and Reviews Editor John Mulvey, and I've had a nice long chat with the Editor, Allan Jones, about getting into the business. So it's not been a complete waste of time. Plus, I get to listen to decent music, while kicking back and basking in the sun from my tenth story view of Central London. Not too shabby.
On another note, before Christmas I applied for a paid freelance position at mobile advertising website MobiAD, and next week I have a phone interview. Now, anyone who's spoken to me in person will no doubt have wondered what the hell the other half of the conversation they just had was about. My vocal clarity is about as advanced as that of a mute infant. But never mind. MobiAD, in any case, is, like Uncut, a completely different direction from film journalism. But one can never have too many doors open.
And now it's apparent to you, or at least it will be if you actually took any of the last couple of hundred words in, why Part 3's just around the corner. No doubt in a couple of weeks I'll be telling you how I shouted at the interviewer in a state of panic about how I'm acshully a reli gud jurnalist man despite wat he must fink by dis stage in the intavew and how I accidentally burned down Uncut's offices on my final day. At least I'll have plenty to write about...
Back in the world of film journalism, and I've had my fair share of press screenings to attend since October. Most surprisingly enjoyable was A Very Harold and Kumar 3D Christmas (where I also got a free pair of 3D glasses. Simple minds and all that). I do love a good press screening. Free drinks, free films, etc.; it's all good. But yes. Back to that premiere. Huddled into groups of 6 after waiting in the cold Halloween winds for an hour and a half, the lowly print/radio/online journos (basically anyone without a camera) all charged at the poor unassuming actors in one go. For about thirty seconds. Which meant we got about one question in each (if that). And when it got to Seyfried, they were really short on time, so all 12 or 13 of us had to clump together. Again, a bit of a clusterfuck.
Luckily, JT and Seyfried were lovely and co-operative. Murphy, on the other hand, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world and was very unresponsive and offhand to questions, but, then, a lot of them were about the weather... bloody Sunday tabloid journos.
Tuesday 17 January 2012
Friday 28 October 2011
Breaking into film journalism, one step at a time… Part 1
Without getting too personal about things - I’d rather not turn this into a ‘me me me rant rant rant’ blog after all - I thought I’d start a series of posts relating to my journey into the torturous, bewildering and oh so exciting world of film journalism. Here’s part the first, whereupon I watch some films, write some words and get lost in a hotel with the man who has managed to basically do everything I want to do in my career. The bastard.
Just before starting at City University on a journalism course (what else?) I started writing for a website called Nerditorial. I can’t stress this enough as a way to get yourself out there: find and volunteer to write for as many websites as you can. Or have time for. After a few weeks at City I was forwarded an email from one of the journo guys about a website called The Hollywood News. Here was yet another opportunity to get myself into the world of film journalism. And in the cut-throat world of, well, any journalism really, opportunities are not things you can wave at as they pass you by.
Sure, these aren’t the kind of opportunities that are particularly financially viable. I’m writing for free, but at the moment it’s just about getting my name out there. The Hollywood News in particular is brilliant for this: last night I attended a press screening of The Thing, due out in December. Five seats down was Kim Newman, author, film critic, journalist and contributing editor to Empire magazine. In short, everywhere I want to be.
I remember reading an article a few weeks ago, though I haven’t a clue who by, which described a very similar situation to mine. The author was breaking into film journalism, writing for free for some local fanzine, and was sent to a press screening. He described his awe at being in the presence of such renowned names in the world of film journalism as Newman, and… well, other guys from Total Film and stuff. This was when he knew he was beginning to ‘make it’; he was in the industry now and it was all gravy from here. Regardless, as I was reading it I was pretty sceptical about the whole thing; surely it was just a bunch of guys watching a film - the only difference being everyone else was getting paid for it and he wasn’t?
Yet upon entering the Charlotte Street Hotel last night, feeling horribly out of place in jeans and a tee, clutching a free copy of the Evening Standard and a bottle of Ribena, I was overcome with that same sense of awe. And nervousness, of course; I may have felt a tad better was I in a suit, with a copy of the Financial Times (or at least The Guardian), and perhaps a bottle of champagne instead of Ribena, but nevertheless it was a stomach-churning experience. I just couldn’t believe I was there; I felt like I’d made it already. It was the same thing I felt after attending City for a couple of weeks - everything was just completely surreal and I couldn’t believe I was finally on the course I’d been looking at for at least two years. But now this post really has become all about me. Bollocks.
Basically, in any kind of journalism you’re gonna find yourself working for free to start off with, unless you get incredibly lucky. But push yourself out there, across all platforms, in multiple ways; don’t limit yourself to writing for one publication or website. And if you want to get into film journalism, go write for The Hollywood News. On Monday I might be going to the film premiere of In Time to interview Justin Timberlake, Cillian Murphy and Amanda Seyfried. It doesn’t get much better than this… until I start getting paid for it, of course.
(Please note: I’m just describing my experience starting out, I have no idea whether this will actually get me into film journalism and taking my advice is a pretty daft thing to do in all honesty.)
Sunday 16 October 2011
The Amanda Knox Show
Freedom of press; a given right in most liberal third-world countries - yet at what cost? The case of Amanda Knox’s supposed murder of Meredith Kercher came to a head recently, in the form of the suspect’s eventual acquittal. But it cannot be denied that the global media may have had some bearing on this outcome.
Take, for instance, the American press: most publications were eager to support Knox, in both the run up to and aftermath of her lengthy appeal. Forbes, for example, stated outright that ‘Knox was not guilty of the charges against her.’ But such a determined stance on such a mysterious case may be impinging on its outcome; in reading simply the press, or even the case files, it is impossible to tell whether Knox and former boyfriend Raffaele Sollecito are guilty.
Such was the case for the appeal: the evidence was fraught with problems, and finally judged to not be enough to sentence someone upon. But if that was indeed true, then how can anyone be sure what happened that fateful night in 2007? The US media seems to think it can, but surely its lavish support for its own - Knox was American, after all; probably the reason she was so lauded by her native press - would lead to its impeding on the trial in some way?
It’s all debatable, of course; such an abstract concept is impossible to prove either way - would the case have turned out differently had it not been surrounded by such a media circus? Would Knox’s appeal even have been taken seriously? The nationality of all those involved plays a huge part in the spotlight upon them - first and foremost is Knox, the now 24 year old typical American college student on her junior year abroad, just out to have fun. Kercher comes second, though sadly oft forgotten in the appeal case coverage; she is the poor Brit student fallen victim to the hands of promiscuous, drug-fuelled violence.
Without these social factors in play, it is probable such a circus of hype and overzealousness would never have arisen. Had the case happened in, say, Somalia, with native youngsters, this article itself would never have existed. Knox's fame might have been overstated by the Daily Express - which afforded her a 'multi-million pound future' headline - but her celebrity is certainly much greater than it should have been, regardless of location. Yet the power of the press, and the social factors influencing such media, have made it so - and in turn, have generated such a controversial impact on the judicial process that even the importance of the law itself is negated by it. And there’s definitely something wrong there.
Take, for instance, the American press: most publications were eager to support Knox, in both the run up to and aftermath of her lengthy appeal. Forbes, for example, stated outright that ‘Knox was not guilty of the charges against her.’ But such a determined stance on such a mysterious case may be impinging on its outcome; in reading simply the press, or even the case files, it is impossible to tell whether Knox and former boyfriend Raffaele Sollecito are guilty.
Such was the case for the appeal: the evidence was fraught with problems, and finally judged to not be enough to sentence someone upon. But if that was indeed true, then how can anyone be sure what happened that fateful night in 2007? The US media seems to think it can, but surely its lavish support for its own - Knox was American, after all; probably the reason she was so lauded by her native press - would lead to its impeding on the trial in some way?
It’s all debatable, of course; such an abstract concept is impossible to prove either way - would the case have turned out differently had it not been surrounded by such a media circus? Would Knox’s appeal even have been taken seriously? The nationality of all those involved plays a huge part in the spotlight upon them - first and foremost is Knox, the now 24 year old typical American college student on her junior year abroad, just out to have fun. Kercher comes second, though sadly oft forgotten in the appeal case coverage; she is the poor Brit student fallen victim to the hands of promiscuous, drug-fuelled violence.
Without these social factors in play, it is probable such a circus of hype and overzealousness would never have arisen. Had the case happened in, say, Somalia, with native youngsters, this article itself would never have existed. Knox's fame might have been overstated by the Daily Express - which afforded her a 'multi-million pound future' headline - but her celebrity is certainly much greater than it should have been, regardless of location. Yet the power of the press, and the social factors influencing such media, have made it so - and in turn, have generated such a controversial impact on the judicial process that even the importance of the law itself is negated by it. And there’s definitely something wrong there.
Monday 11 April 2011
‘The Death of the Dictionary’
As an A-level English Language student, I find myself in equal amounts dismayed yet intrigued at the latest addition to the Oxford English Dictionary: the modernism ‘LOL’, now characterised as an actual lexical term (and totally credible in a game of Scrabble).
Intrigue? Yes, partly as to the direction the English language is going in (an eternal downwards spiral?), but more in relation to the way the generations appear to be blending. Anyone over 25 might once have been belligerent at the very mention of the fabled acronym, but it appears this distinction between the generations is fading. Graeme Diamond, the OED's principal editor for new words, explains the choice to include ‘LOL’ in the latest edition of the dictionary: "The word is common, widespread, and people understand it.” If it is so widespread, then perhaps the older members of our community are indeed embracing the young, hip, text speak that so defines our younger generation’s vocabulary?
So yes, this intrigues me. I myself know a few adults inclined to use it in written speak; mainly texts or emails, but am yet to hear anyone beyond my age group actually utter the phrase aloud. This might not be so remarkable were two variations of the acronym not featured in the OED: both a capitalised version, so as to the pronunciation of all three letters, and a lowercase version, by which ‘lol’ is uttered as a word. While the first is conceded by the OED as “used chiefly in electronic communications”, the second is more often said aloud. Based on my own perceptions and experiences of the older generations, the second variant is debatable as to its widespread use. Even within the social boundaries of the younger age groups, I very rarely hear ‘lol’ said aloud, much less all three letters in its capitalised form ‘LOL’. If it is spoken, in most cases it carries much irony – so whilst it is understood, it is understood for different connotations (and thus perhaps Oxford’s definition of ‘to express amusement’ needs revising somewhat). Either way, I am not yet ready to believe ‘LOL’ is so widespread and commonly understood so as to deserve a place in the OED.
Dismay comes in my purist lexical side, derived from my English language studies but also comfortably within my mindset prior to sixth form classes – long have I detested the use of the word said aloud; I cannot argue that even I tend to use it in casual written lexis (texts or even Facebook comments), nor do I particularly dispute the disparaging means by which one of my colleagues uses it in place of full stops in most of his informal written contexts. But I do find myself dismayed at any soul who wishes to convey vocally an acronym of the type that ‘LOL’ has become; be it ‘OMG’, ‘CBA’ or ‘TBH’. All simply serve to reflect the laziness and lexical deterioration of the 21st Century generation – I have heard reports of teachers being handed GCSE English essays written almost entirely in text speak. While a little extreme, I feel that example alone serves to highlight my dismay and concern: I’m all for a little ‘lolling’, but not at the cost of the very language we speak.
Of course, I am not against change whatsoever: as Graeme Diamond argues, “There will always be a minority who want the English language to remain as a frozen beast, that doesn't admit changes. But language is a vibrant, evolving animal." In an albeit roundabout sort of way, Diamond has it – of course, language change is vital for the evolution of language in the context of everyday life, else we’d not have a faintest clue what an adverb is or the realms of possibility offered through ‘borrowed words’ (i.e. those brought from other languages).
But that’s not to say we should include every Tom, Dick and Harry acronym that rolls our way.
Intrigue? Yes, partly as to the direction the English language is going in (an eternal downwards spiral?), but more in relation to the way the generations appear to be blending. Anyone over 25 might once have been belligerent at the very mention of the fabled acronym, but it appears this distinction between the generations is fading. Graeme Diamond, the OED's principal editor for new words, explains the choice to include ‘LOL’ in the latest edition of the dictionary: "The word is common, widespread, and people understand it.” If it is so widespread, then perhaps the older members of our community are indeed embracing the young, hip, text speak that so defines our younger generation’s vocabulary?
So yes, this intrigues me. I myself know a few adults inclined to use it in written speak; mainly texts or emails, but am yet to hear anyone beyond my age group actually utter the phrase aloud. This might not be so remarkable were two variations of the acronym not featured in the OED: both a capitalised version, so as to the pronunciation of all three letters, and a lowercase version, by which ‘lol’ is uttered as a word. While the first is conceded by the OED as “used chiefly in electronic communications”, the second is more often said aloud. Based on my own perceptions and experiences of the older generations, the second variant is debatable as to its widespread use. Even within the social boundaries of the younger age groups, I very rarely hear ‘lol’ said aloud, much less all three letters in its capitalised form ‘LOL’. If it is spoken, in most cases it carries much irony – so whilst it is understood, it is understood for different connotations (and thus perhaps Oxford’s definition of ‘to express amusement’ needs revising somewhat). Either way, I am not yet ready to believe ‘LOL’ is so widespread and commonly understood so as to deserve a place in the OED.
Dismay comes in my purist lexical side, derived from my English language studies but also comfortably within my mindset prior to sixth form classes – long have I detested the use of the word said aloud; I cannot argue that even I tend to use it in casual written lexis (texts or even Facebook comments), nor do I particularly dispute the disparaging means by which one of my colleagues uses it in place of full stops in most of his informal written contexts. But I do find myself dismayed at any soul who wishes to convey vocally an acronym of the type that ‘LOL’ has become; be it ‘OMG’, ‘CBA’ or ‘TBH’. All simply serve to reflect the laziness and lexical deterioration of the 21st Century generation – I have heard reports of teachers being handed GCSE English essays written almost entirely in text speak. While a little extreme, I feel that example alone serves to highlight my dismay and concern: I’m all for a little ‘lolling’, but not at the cost of the very language we speak.
Of course, I am not against change whatsoever: as Graeme Diamond argues, “There will always be a minority who want the English language to remain as a frozen beast, that doesn't admit changes. But language is a vibrant, evolving animal." In an albeit roundabout sort of way, Diamond has it – of course, language change is vital for the evolution of language in the context of everyday life, else we’d not have a faintest clue what an adverb is or the realms of possibility offered through ‘borrowed words’ (i.e. those brought from other languages).
But that’s not to say we should include every Tom, Dick and Harry acronym that rolls our way.
Sunday 10 April 2011
MacKenzie’s gone and made a right Clegg of himself
Kelvin MacKenzie has launched a scathing attack on modern journalism; dismissing university courses in the field as a waste of time, he calls for the closure of all journalism schools. But with what reason?
An interview first undertaken by City University student Harriet Thurley - check out her Twitter profile here - was yesterday picked up on by The Independent (which initially printed it without citation), and caused quite a stir amongst the media folk. Most dismissed MacKenzie’s dated ramblings; I read a particularly insightful comment from one Independent reader - “It sounds like Kelvin is still in an eighties time-warp. Eighteen-Eighties that is.” And it’s not just this, MacKenzie’s horribly out-of-sync frame of mind, but the fact he’s seemingly gone and done a Clegg.
You might have read recently about Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg’s intentions to make work experience fairer with the abolition of internships, but this comes from the man who got where he is today through precisely such ‘who you know’ methodology. MacKenzie’s own rant mirrors Clegg’s situation impeccably: while Kelvin feels that 18-year-olds nowadays should simply “try and achieve three decent A-levels, go to a local paper, then to a regional, and then head out on to nationals or magazines by 21-22”, things have changed in the past few decades. This just isn’t possible anymore; no local paper will give you a second look without some kind of qualification. MacKenzie’s argument of ‘learning on the job’ is equally ignorant, as most local papers are horribly understaffed - nobody has the time to train a new reporter from scratch.
Kelvin claims there is no merit in going to university if you want to be a print journalist. University is about finding yourself; indeed, under a journalism course, finding your writing style, your knack for the subject (should it exist) - the bitter ramblings of MacKenzie, who had no opportunity to attend such courses himself, might sing a different tune had he had the chance to do so - “not only did I not sit A-levels I only got one 0-level despite taking 15 of them over two different examination boards.” So, dear readers: if Kelvin can’t go, none of us can.
Allow me to refer you to City University professor George Brock for further deconstruction of MacKenzie’s inane, misguided prose. I’m sure it will shed some light on the subject from a more neutral viewpoint than I - Professor Brock rightly concedes journalists can be successful without having “ever been anywhere near a journalism course.”
But that doesn’t make them irrelevant.
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