I get asked two questions several times a week, and I brush off both with a verbal swat.
One — because I’m in my late 20s, I suppose – is when are you getting married? And the other, because it seems like small talk, is why did you leave the newspaper?
I could answer both with a single word: Money.
But I usually deflect the marriage subject, wrongly justifying it as an acceptable passing question, with a practical reason: I’m not eager to have children. And I answer the news question with something to which my audience can nod along: “It didn’t seem like a sustainable career path.”
But that’s a cold and detached answer. I don’t feel cold and detached about news, and I only give that response under the assumption that people don’t want to hang around for the full story – ironically, the same reason newspapers aren’t really working anymore.
So here goes. This is the real reason why I left news: I finally came to accept that the vanity of a byline was keeping me in a job that left me physically and emotionally exhausted, yet supremely unsatisfied.
I started working at newspapers in 2005, the tail-end of the good days. During my first year of work, a Florida newspaper flew me down to the Mexican border to write about cocaine cartel murders back at home. We booked the first available flight, disregarding expense, and arrived before the investigators. That would not happen at a daily newspaper today.
I don’t think the Internet killed newspapers. Newspapers killed newspapers.
People like to say that print media didn’t adapt to online demand, but that’s only part of it. The corporate folks who manage newspapers tried to comply with the whims of a thankless audience with a microscopic attention span. And newspaper staffers tried to comply with the demands of a thankless establishment that often didn’t even read their work. Everyone lost.
People came to demand CNN’s 24-hour news format from every news outlet, including local newspapers. And the news outlets nodded their heads in response, scrambling into action without offering anything to the employees who were now expected to check their emails after hours and to stay connected with readers through social media in between stories.
There was never such a thing as an eight-hour workday at newspapers, but overtime became the stuff of legend. You knew better than to demand fair compensation. If any agency that a newspaper covered had refused to pay employees for their time, the front-page headlines wouldn’t cease. But when it came to watching out for themselves, the watchdogs kept their heads down.
A little more than a month after I left the newspaper, I went to Key West for a friend’s wedding. I realized on the drive home that I had never taken a vacation – aside from a few international trips – without some editor calling with a question about a story. I remember walking down Fifth Avenue in New York on my birthday a few years ago, my cell phone clutched to my ear and mascara running down my face, as an editor told me that he thought the way I had characterized a little girl with cancer needed to be sadder.
To many people, and even to me, part of the draw of news is that it never stops. You wholly invest yourself in a story – until something bigger happens. The only guarantee in any workday is the adrenaline rush. And even when the story isn’t terribly thrilling, you’ve still got a deadline to contend with, a finite amount of time to turn whatever mess you’ve got into 12 to 15 column inches that strangers would want to read.
The flip side to the excitement is the burnout. You’re exhausted, and you’re never really “off.” You get called out of a sound sleep to drive out to a crime scene and try to talk with surviving relatives. You wake up at 3 a.m. in a cold sweat, realizing you’ve misspelled a city councilman’s name. You spend nights and weekends chipping away at the enterprise stories that you never have time to write on the clock.
Everyone works so hard for so long and for such little compensation. The results are dangerous.
We saw it with the Supreme Court health care ruling, as our national news leaders reported the decision incorrectly. We saw it with the Newtown massacre, when initial reports named the suspect’s brother as the shooter. Major news outlets are no better than bloggers if they adopt a policy of getting it out first and correcting it later. They don’t have the money to fend off the resulting lawsuits, and they don’t have the circulation numbers to allow people to lose faith in their product.
Newspapers always have been liberal places where people work hard for little pay, because they believe in the job. They always could empathize with the poor. But pay continues to dwindle to the point that I wonder what kind of person, today, enrolls in journalism school?
I took a pay cut when I moved back from Florida to Charleston, expecting to make up the difference quickly. Instead, I quit my newspaper job at 28, making less money than earned when I was 22.
I can’t imagine anyone outside of an affluent family pursuing a career with so little room for financial growth. And I wonder: Would that well-to-do reporter shake hands with the homeless person she interviews? Would she walk into a ghetto and knock on a door to speak with the mother of a shooting victim? Or would she just post some really profound tweets with fantastic hash tags?
Maybe that’s what people – editors and readers – put at a premium now. Maybe a newsroom full of fresh-from-the-dorm reporters who stay at their desks, rehashing press releases and working on Storify instead of actual stories, is what will keep newspapers relevant.
But I doubt it.
The day I announced my resignation, I had to cover the alcohol ban on Folly Beach. The photographer working the story with me said very little about my decision, except for one heartbreaking statement: “But you were made to do this.”
I had thought so, too. For so long, people had asked me what I would do if my name wound up on a future round of layoffs, if my paycheck were furloughed into oblivion.
I had spent countless hours late at night trolling online for something else that appealed to me. But covering news was the only thing I ever had wanted to do and the only thing I ever had imagined doing.
I started writing stories for my local newspaper when I was 16. I worked seven internships in college, eager to graduate and get into a newsroom. I left school early, school that was already paid for with enough scholarship money that I took home a check each semester, so that I could lug my 21-year-old life to West Palm Beach and work the Christmas crime shift alone in a bureau. And I wouldn’t change that decision for anything.
People in news like to describe a colleague’s departure, especially into a public relations or marketing job, as “going to the dark side.” When word of my resignation traveled through the newsroom, I heard “dark side” references over and over, always with a smile and a wink. I couldn’t help but resent them. But I looked over my cubicle each time and flashed my best Miss America grin instead of the middle finger poised over my keyboard.
I now write for the fundraising arm of a public hospital. Anyone who thinks that’s going to the dark side is delusional. And as my former coworkers ate farewell cake on my last day at the paper, a few of them whispered, “Do they have any other openings over there?”
I don’t know a single person who works in daily news today who doesn’t have her eyes trained on the exit signs. I’m not sure what that says about the industry, but I certainly don’t miss the insecurity.
Sure, it took me a while to get used to my new job. When I go to parties, I no longer can introduce myself as a reporter and watch people’s eyes light up. Instead, I hear how people miss seeing my byline. No one misses it more than I.
News was never this gray, aging entity to me. It was more like young love, that reckless attraction that consumes you entirely, until one day – suddenly — you snap out of feeling enamored and realize you’ve got to detach. I left news, not because I didn’t love it enough, but because I loved it too much – and I knew it was going to ruin me.
Sticky Valentines 
Love this Allyson. Interesting to hear more about your background…and now that I read about it, I realized that I never really wondered “why did she leave the newspaper as a reporter.” I just assumed that writing for a non-profit hospital would be more gratifying to anyone who’d been a newspaper reporter. (I wrote for my college paper…but it ended there).
I especially love your last paragraph. And glad to have the opportunity to work with you!
Thanks so much for reading, McLaurin! We’ll have to chat about reporting one day.
My hat is tipped to the author. I’ve worked since 1965 at AP, starting as a copy boy, then tty and tts editor. I then became a reporter/broadcast writer at UPI. UPI went bankrup in 1993 but I still had ink in my veins and an ego boost from my own byline so instead of taking a job as a counselor or one from Clinton as a PIO to help disabled folks in D.C. I went to a suburban Detroit paper owned by CapCities. They got sold to Disney. They then got sold to an individual. Then a company that is bankrupt bought it and I watched our staff go from more than 100 writers, photogs, etc to about a dozen. It was fun when it lasted but it’s over. Americans have the attention span of gnat. U think cable is gg to find the crooks? no way. the wolffeman and Mr. Norton
Fantastic post, Allyson, and speaks to the truth of journalism. Like you, I always wanted to be a reporter. I loved it, but it took it out of me. I understand how you feel. When I got out, I was so burnt out, I considered fast food as an alternative. Thankfully, I landed at an incredible nonprofit agency and actually make a living. And I have a life again with my family.
This post puts on paper (so to speak) the feelings of so many journalists (current and ex). Thanks.
Thank you, Kim. Great to hear from you. Looks like your family is doing great! xoxo
Well said, Allyson.
{sigh}
I do miss reading your stories.
MUSC is lucky to have you.
I miss seeing you, David. I hope you’re well — and thanks.
I love reading your articles. SO, I don’t care how you do it, just so I know where to find you always. Keep up the good work. Love your “stuff”.Ann Barber
Wow! That is so kind, Ann. Thank you.
Well said, and it needed to be said. But then you aren’t just an unbelievable writer. You are totally gutsy. I believe we are long overdue for lunch.
Yes, please! I’ll send you a message.
Allyson, great piece. You don’t deserve the byline vanity label you mentioned. Anyone in a profession deserves to have her work recognized and acknowledged for excellence. A byline is also an accountability tag. As for the “dark side” talk, that is so very dated and offensive. Witness my friends whose advanced degrees in marketing and public relations are equal to mine in journalism. They could also teach many journalists a lot about branding and tech skills. Good journalists have to be able to recognize how news is packaged to them. But newspapers’ lag, or outright refusal, for years to use those same skills to communicate and sell their products has been excrutiating to watch. Timex watch in a digital age.
Thanks, Harriet. You’re doing it the right way!
Your words sum up why I left TV news and wrote a whole memoir (which I am rewriting this year) about it: “I finally came to accept that the vanity of a byline was keeping me in a job that left me physically and emotionally exhausted, yet supremely unsatisfied.” The part about you walking down a New York street on your birthday made ME want to cry. I’ve been there. Thanks to Cheryl Smithem for forwarding me this post.
Thanks so much, Angie! I’m going to follow your blog.
You have done good things with your writing. Your article during our fight against a megadump in Williamsburg County made a big difference. That being said, we work for the pay. But if you don’t enjoy what you do, the pay will never be enough. Now that you are settled into your new job, maybe you can concentrate on getting married. (Just kidding!)
Ha. I loved covering that story. Thanks, Beth!
Everything you say is true. And, yet, even after seven years of being “out” of the industry, I still miss it at times. The first year away was the hardest and I kicked myself in the butt over and over for leaving the thing I thought I had loved. But, as I started getting healthier (seriously, my abnormally high blood pressure and high cholesterol issues went away) and as I started feeling much happier, I realized how fortunate I was to get out in time. Thank you, Allyson for voicing it so well.
Thanks, Cindy. Best wishes.
Good stuff, but sad. I used to enjoy reading newspapers, but it that exact change you speak of that has left them so empty for folks like me. I don’t subscribe anymore – and when recently asked about paywalls for content admitted that I wouldn’t pay because the content wasn’t there. Wall or no. Sad to see a love die like that.
Thank you, Michael. I appreciate it.
Hey Allyson…A story that anybody in any of a number of media can appreciate…Do more…with less and if you ask for help or tools you are just being a whiner. You reporting for P&C is missed…Even if I’ve moved up to Columbia
Good to hear from you, Mike! I hope Cola is treating you well. We miss hearing you on the radio.
As someone who has never had any interest in or talent for writing, I feel really enlightened by this piece. I’m proud of you for realizing what you need and going for it, that took a lot of courage, man. We should do lunch sometime, I’m still a student at MUSC ’til May! I miss you and I’m glad you’re doing well! ❤
I’d love that! I’ll message you. Thanks, Ashleigh.
Et tu brute?
Now we have no good reason to accost drug dealers on tamarind.
I spend my days in a government job cubicle … We were young and in love once …
HA! Best comment of the day. Unrelated: I think you should join the derby team down there. You survived Gladiator, after all.
Very well said! I miss the newspaper myself and you, and the comeraderie (and spell checking) we had there. I felt tho, that the bean counters were more out of touch than ever, and even the financial crunch vacated desks they still threw more obstacles (Saxotech) in our way than help. Yes, I too made less money my last years there than I made 10 years prior. Bless you Alyson, and may only good things come your way now!
I hope you’re enjoying retirement, Eddie! Your going-away was the most epic sendoff I’ve seen.
Thank you, Allyson! It was the best sendoff (cake and a spoof movie!) I ever saw in my 38 years there, and for that I will be ever grateful. I was expecting maybe to be taken out for a burger or beer, as is the custom for the lucky departees.
You were, by far, one of the best young reporters and writers at the Palm Beach Post. And it is clear from what you wrote here that you remain a terrific writer. Keep observing. Keep writing. Actually the “dark side” (where I am now) may give you more time and freedom to do both.
You crossed over, too! One of my favorite editors. I loved when you were substitute teacher for the TCoast gang.
Hey it ain’t for everyone. More room for those of us who aren’t leaving any time soon.
Excellent piece. My husband can relate all too well as a reporter. He’ll always miss it.
I’ll just add (as someone who also left traditional newspapers) that I can relate to the editor who had to call you on your birthday about your story: As a copy editor, I hated making those calls to people who were on vacation, spending time with their families, having a life when they could find a moment. I was just doing my job, too (on nights, weekends, holidays), but it felt like both sides were losing, because in the end, neither of us was going to be recognized for the work we were always doing.
Hi Allyson, I worked the news desk at a local paper here in Ireland and left for pretty much the same reasons. I loved my job but it alm
You sound bitter to me.
Honestly, this whole article sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself you made the right decision — a justification in words.
You left news, so what. People do it all the time. It’s a tough job and not everyone can hang. You want more money, but you’re a “writer” — what do you expect.
And your reasoning:
“Everyone works so hard for so long and for such little compensation. The results are dangerous.
We saw it with the Supreme Court health care ruling, as our national news leaders reported the decision incorrectly. We saw it with the Newtown massacre, when initial reports named the suspect’s brother as the shooter. Major news outlets are no better than bloggers if they adopt a policy of getting it out first and correcting it later. They don’t have the money to fend off the resulting lawsuits, and they don’t have the circulation numbers to allow people to lose faith in their product.”
“What we saw” were mistakes. This is nothing new. No organizations intentionally set out to make those, and “being first” is not a new concept.
But making a general statement like, “I don’t know a single person who works in daily news today who doesn’t have her eyes trained on the exit signs” sounds like you think your way of thinking is the only way of thinking. It makes you sound small minded.
There are many of us out here who love this job and don’t do it because of some sense of duty or importance or romanticism, but because we simply like it and money doesn’t matter.
I’m not rich, I put myself through college and I’m broke but I work at a newspaper because I don’t care about the money.
I won’t give up on it just because I can make more money in a job that has better hours.
I think you’re a quitter. I think you gave up and you want to justify it by telling yourself you made the right decision.
Good lord, what an asshole. You’re obviously on the fast track to management…
A#hole is right.
A free press is the cornerstone of democracy, and we are losing both.
Actually, I think he is right. But calling her a “quitter” may be going to far, that’s a low blow. I feel sorry for her though. It’s hard life and not for everyone. However, she is describing an entry level journalism job. Many of us called those demanding 24/7 jobs “doing your time.” If she had stuck with it, she might have reached a job that afforded her more freedom. After 15 years, I don’t work weekends, late nights and am very rarely on call. I still get to cover the big stories out of Washington. It took a lot of work to get to where I am. I wouldn’t want her job either.
She wasn’t making a general statement about anything or anyone, she was making a PERSONAL statement about her experience. It’s not bitter, it’s her truth. And because you decided to stay broke and miserable doesn’t make her choices any less than. “The [fella] doth protest too much.” It sounds to me like you’re projecting. “Asshole” is definitely the appropriate term, wakamole99.
Ha! That’s just what I was thinking. What an ass.
HAHAHAHA Wack another mole for me! And this time, use the pointy end of the mallet!
The weird thing is, Jon, that one could easily draw the same conclusion that you’re trying to justify your stance by being a judgmental jerk to the blogger. Leaving something that isn’t working for you for something that will hopefully be better isn’t ‘quitting,’ it’s called ‘wisdom.’
Jesus, you forgot to say “work smarter, not harder.” You’re either in your VERY early 20s, in management or whistling past the graveyard. Thanks for responding to a heartfelt, sincere column with a barrel full of dickery. As for staying in a job because “money doesn’t matter,” WHAT PLANET DO YOU LIVE ON. Some of us actually require money for, you know, trivialities like food, clothing and housing. It’s people like you who keep journalism salaries at rock bottom levels.
And if you don’t think EVERYONE in a newsroom over 22 years of age or not in management isn’t thinking about an escape strategy, you’re sadly mistaken.
Jon, I’m guessing you’re either very young, with maybe five or 10 years in newspapers, or you’re an old dog with one exceptionally good trick. Either way, slamming someone for choosing stability over an uncertain future makes you sound small minded.
Sorry. No one who leaves newspapers is “a quitter” or “gave up.” They’re just smart enough to leave the bar before they’re thrown out. Some of these “quitters” find another place that’s more viable: TV, online, often in academia. I know of at least two former Pulitzer Prize winners doing great work for organizations that aren’t cutting down to the bone and sacrificing quality for page views. Read the Pew report released last month, read how digital ad revenues have no chance at catching up to even current (!) print levels in our lifetime, and tell me where it equates “giving up” with declining a valiant and noble Slim Pickins-style ride down to earth.
Newspapers are still the home of great work, done daily by great people who deserve better than they’re getting — both in respect and compensation. But no one who leaves can ever be faulted for wanting more.
Jon,
If the newspaper business is so important to you, I’d assume you normally defend the use of an anonymous source. Yet, you’re cloaking yourself and your insults (i.e. calling her a “quitter”) in anonymity here. Classy.
Who sounds bitter? Ahem.
You think she’s a quitter? Interesting, as I think you’re an asshole.
I’m a former reporter that also came to the unfortunate conclusion years ago that though my heart was in the job, I could no longer keep working in a field that was seeing less and less growth each year, where pay cuts were becoming the norm and where management saw a reporter’s exit as a means to save money, even if the rest of those in the newsroom had to do more work for more money.
You, sir, are an asshole. You’re also delusional. Unless you’re working for a newspaper that’s a nonprofit, someone is making money at your expense. Someone is making a profit on your labor. Someone is making a profit while refusing to pay you what is all too often a real, livable wage.
You think getting out of a business that is more and more interested in taking advantage of dyed-in-the-wool news junkies and individuals interested in becoming journalists for altruistic reasons is quitting and giving up? I think a statement like that is not just misinformed, but ignorant. Maybe you’re fine letting people take advantage of you. Maybe you’re fine with fewer opportunities for advancement. Maybe you’re even fine working into your thirties never knowing what it’s like to break $30K a year as a salary. If that’s your thing, well, that’s on you. But if you think calling other quitters because they wanted actual compensation for their work and expertise makes you some kind of true believer, you’re wrong. It just makes you sound immature, ill-informed and quite frankly like a sucker who’s not ready to admit he’s been conned just like so many others.
You’ll need more money by the the time you want a place to live, a wife and kids, pal. If you don’t – you’re likely a sociopath perfectly suited to news.
What a fantastic article, and all too true.
If everyone thought like you the news media would not exist. Just move on and stop with the rationalizations.
Katy: If everyone thought like her? You mean passionately and deeply about what they do for a living, and weighed the pros and cons seriously before making a choice that worked for them? Yeah, that would be a terrible thing.
Newsflash: the “news media” as we once knew it does not exist. It is a dying beast for all kinds of reasons. Some of which are discussed here.
Lastly, I find it ridiculous that people come on here and tell this writer to “stop the rationalizations” on her own blog. This is her place to rationalize, and she has done a pretty fine job of it here.
I was referring to Ms. Bird leaving the news media b/c she was unsatisfied. Not everyone is unsatisfied and some have found creative ways to stay in the industry in their own terms and keep it alive for future generations. You are just trying to turn around what I said to substantiate your prose. I am glad that she has found something that she can enjoy and make money of. These are hard times and she did what was right for her, but there are other options besides leaving the industry entirely. I would like to see more ex-journalists supporting those efforts rather than rallying around others that legitimize their own choices. And lets be honest, many of us were forced out -hardly a choice -which creates fertile ground for rationalization.
The news doesn’t have a choice but to survive. I don’t think the business model will survive. That’s ok. People like this blogger will very likely not bring anything to the table in terms of what will be its next incarnation. I know that many journalists want to believe that b/c they are gone the news media will be gone to, but that is not the case.
“That’s ok. People like this blogger will very likely not bring anything to the table in terms of what will be its next incarnation. I know that many journalists want to believe that b/c they are gone the news media will be gone to, but that is not the case.”
Sounds like beaten woman’s syndrome to me, frankly.
I work for what used to be a locally owned newspaper that got sold to a foreign company, which quickly bailed and dumped it in its American conglomerate. Since that happened in 2008 everything you bemoaned has come to pass. I don’t know anything but news including 25 years in another dying industry: local radio. I realized too late I am useless to anyone outside of journalism. I am 54. I might as well be 84. I am a dinosaur. You were smart to get out while you still had your soul.
I was pushed out at age 51 and most likely won’t work full-time in the media ever again (moved to a small town off the grid–my decision), although my freelance work allows me to work the hours I want, albeit at less pay. I think Allyson made the right decision for her. She will happy about it when she’s my age.
Great post, Allyson. You said it perfectly.
Great piece. I’ve been freelancing for years as used to wish that I could get a full time job with a paper, but considering the landscape I’ll stick with freelancing. I can write what I want, when I want, for who I want. When it stops being fun, I’ll stop. Oh, and ignore the troll calling you bitter. You did what you needed to do.
A 20-something’s farewell to newspaper journalism | Bill Doskoch: Media, BPS*, Film, Minutiae
Dear blogger,
we do not know each other, yet are so well acquainted: through the circumstances surrounding us. I started out as a journalist around the same time you did and have been in the profession (or mission..kinda confused now) for the 12 years. I have been a crime reporter in India, a beat that people these days dread undertake fearing the kind of legwork it involves. The passion for news, breaking stories, highlighting the ills in society and on top of all that the sheer joy of seeing my byline kept the hunger alive in me. (BTW it is still there, I dread that so badly now).
I have jumped off the first floor of my hostel building in the middle of the night to cover a sudden development. There are so many things..it is just one of the examples of what grave risks a journalist takes to live up to her/his own commitment to the ideals s/he sets…however, when it comes to the bitter realities of life as put so elouently by you, in hindsight I think things have perhaps remained the same since time immemorial. I say this because when we start out as a “cub” reporter, the sheer excitement and the commitment level to this field is so overwhelming for people like us that we fail to fathom the ever-existing fallies of this so-called great profession.
Yes, I also believe that it is the newspapers which have killed themselves, they have no business blaming anyone else for the situation they have landed themselves in.
There is so much to talk about, so many things to share: the pain, the anguish, the melancholy, the angst; the everyday encounters with in-house and the wordly challenges, the anger, the rage, the disgust, the fast-creeping indifference and then, the neverdying hope that things would look up one day.
With best wishes
This was a great read. I’m not a journalist but I went to J School–and ended up in social media 🙂 I think yours is just an honest look at the reality of working in news. However, I think the industry is changing and will continue to change. I hope kids still enroll in journalism schools…it’s just that they are getting a different education than we did. They’re learning different skills. It’s a completely different world, and the industry will keep experimenting until they get it right. Who knows, “journalists”, in whatever form the future holds for them, may always work hard for low pay. But I also think everyone has their different reasons for taking the paths they take, and it sounds like you’ve chosen the one that works for you. I’ll be sharing this post, since it does bring up such a charged conversation. Thank you for sharing your thoughts!
Agreed! I went to J-School in 2009-2010 and as mentioned, sure, digital reporting sometimes can shield you from the story you’re reporting, at other times it can get you much closer — just look at this crime blogger’s example: http://www.xojane.com/issues/steubenville-rape-verdict-alexandria-goddard meanwhile online news orgs are figuring out how to make money *and* paying journalists fairly, so there is a future in this for people who have the same drive and talents as you, Allyson! Great post.
Hi Allyson:
I don’t know you, but a few of my friends posted this on Facebook. I’ve been a journalist for nearly 25 years and am a veteran of five newspapers, with a couple of years off to lick my wounds after I, like so many others, got laid off and bought out. Those couple of years were the most challenging of my life professionally. Not a day went by when I didn’t miss the newsroom, my former colleagues, the thrill of the story and the words and the photos and the video and the remarkable ability to truly learn something new every single day.
Being a journalist — sure, it lacks the financial rewards of other careers. It owns your life. You’re married to your news organization. All that is true. But then you write the sad story about the kid with cancer, you write the column that resonates with readers, you help a single person who otherwise would have remained anonymous — and all that other stuff, the rotten hours, the constant demand to feed the news beast, the less money than your equally smart friends are earning — that just melts away.
When I returned to journalism about a year ago, I took a large pay cut. I moved away from a city I loved to a brand new city that I’m learning to love. I went back to working crappy hours. But I also found myself once again in a place where each workday unfurls in a beautiful, exciting, roller coaster ride.
I speak only for me, of course. Everyone needs to make the right decision for themselves. I know a great number of still working journalists who don’t dream of doing anything but what they do for the rest of their working lives. I’m one of them.
All the best in your next career and in all the places that life takes you,
Shelley Acoca
Hi Allyson:
I don’t know you, but a few of my friends posted this on Facebook. I’ve been a journalist for nearly 25 years and am a veteran of five newspapers, with a couple of years off to lick my wounds after I, like so many others, got laid off and bought out. Those couple of years were the most challenging of my life professionally. Not a day went by when I didn’t miss the newsroom, my former colleagues, the thrill of the story and the words and the photos and the video and the remarkable ability to truly learn something new every single day.
Being a journalist — sure, it lacks the financial rewards of other careers. It owns your life. You’re married to your news organization. All that is true. But then you write the sad story about the kid with cancer, you write the column that resonates with readers, you help a single person who otherwise would have remained anonymous — and all that other stuff, the rotten hours, the constant demand to feed the news beast, the less money than your equally smart friends are earning — that just melts away.
When I returned to journalism about a year ago, I took a large pay cut. I moved away from a city I loved to a brand new city that I’m learning to love. I went back to working crappy hours. But I also found myself once again in a place where each workday unfurls in a beautiful, exciting, roller coaster ride.
I speak only for me, of course. Everyone needs to make the right decision for themselves. I know a great number of still working journalists who don’t dream of doing anything but what they do for the rest of their working lives. I’m one of them.
All the best in your next career and in all the places that life takes you,
Shelley Acoca
I was so into this I was almost hit by a bus!
I’m a “quitter” too, and I couldn’t be happier! http://gracedobush.wordpress.com/2012/08/11/omg-i-quit-my-job/
If you ever have a change of heart, come see me.
Great read! And as a PR Executive for nearly 10 years and watching the fall of newspapers, I have to say that you made the right move. Both professionally and personally! Now go get married! 😀
A very nice post. However, newspapers didn’t die a wholly self-inflicted death. You aren’t old enough to have been in the business to see that much of what has happened in the past decade used to be merely cyclical in newspapering. Advertising downtowns, corporate takeovers and changing reader habits reducing the number of papers. Companies periodically killing off senior staff, only to wait a few months, then start hiring college grads to fill those jobs. Nasty business, but that’s how people like you and me got our foot in the door, right.
Newspapering was like Broadway, a fabulous invalid that was dying slowly — very slowly. The Internet both sped up that process and made it terminal. Papers lost their content to Google and didn’t sue the crap out of them from grabbing it and putting their own ads on it. And Craigslist sucked all the classified ad money out that sent you to the Mexican border to report on cartels. Sorry to see you bail out, as you plainly grasp that it is a “calling.” But you had your reasons, and they’re every bit as sound as you state them here.
Nothing in life is sadder than letting go of a dream.
From a former 37- year veteran of the newspaper business who survived seven rounds of layoffs, five fuloughs, two pay cuts, frozen pension and reaaplying for my job, you nailed it.
I left on my own terms- nice buyout – and am now on the ‘dark side’ and loving every minute.
Sure it is not the love of my life – newspapering -,but I am not constantly looking over my shoulder and worrying about my job security.
And sure there were tears shed when the time came because I remembered the good old days well before you got into the business.
I am still and will always be a news junkie but I don’t miss what the gig has become. Not one bit.
personal and heartfelt and eloquent but a bit hollow – newspapers killed newspapers isn’t really adequately explained or supported. news has always been a business and when business gets tough, newspapers do what businesses do – they cut. i worked in newspapers well before the internet age hit and can tell you everything you wrote was just as true then – it was never a money-making career except for those who climbed up from reporter to editor to managing editor etc. – away from all the things that make it satisfying, imo. there are still good-paying jobs in journalism, though, because i stay in touch with friends who are working them. it’s sad that newspapers cut reporters to make the business side work, but they are seriously looking into the abyss. it’s not going to get any better any time soon, that’s for sure. i left news not because i don’t like doing journalism, just because i wanted to explore the world and do things myself – i realized i was always writing about what other people are doing. plus the whole idea of objectivity is a joke. no one wants to admit that but it’s obviously true, just an inescapable part of being human. when i saw that there was this pretty obvious facade about the work – & particularly pious people pushing it & an obvious business interest in telling everyone ‘fair and balanced’ – i figured it would never be genuinely satisfying. i went to the ‘dark side’ and find that i can be more effective pushing an agenda openly and honestly rather than hiding behind all the rhetoric. ha.
Hey, it’s not for everyone, for sure. But not all of us are looking for a way out. I’m still doing daily newspaper journalism largely because I still have fun at work most days. It’s intellectually challenging and different almost every day. Most people can’t say that about their jobs. I wish you luck in your new career.
As a former newspaper reporter myself (though a bit older), I can attest to everything you said. Long hours. Constant exhaustion. Little compensation. I recently was laid off by a metropolitan newspaper after nearly 20 years in journalism, and I am confident it was the best thing that every happened to me.
Now I am pursuing a graduate business degree in an effort to “rebrand” myself and land a job with a long shelf life. Sure, I miss the rush of the news business, but I don’t miss the constant fatigue or surly editors. You made a wise decision to leave the industry at such a young age. Best of luck to you.
Congratulations! It’s a hard choice and complicated one, especially for those of us who bought so hard into the cultish mantra of “This is the only job I could ever love/not be bored in” blah blah etc. There are exciting opportunities on the other side, and yes, ones that include writing, paychecks, and not working New Year’s Eve (two years in a row), Thanksgiving, the day after Christmas (four years in a row), that 4-hour school board meeting on the night of my birthday …
Have fun and enjoy your new adventure!
Good piece, heartfelt and poignant. There’s a certain self-exploitation that comes with the job, I think – the part where you’re never “off,” and that takes a toll. Newspapering has never been a gig with a lot of positive reinforcement, and it’s hard to understand how grinding that can be until you walk away. You’re a thoughtful writer and I hope that continues to be its own reward for you, now and in the future.
Allyson,
For some reason I loved this story. I’m not sure if it was the longing for the past (5 years ago) or the expectations of the future. I have been struggling myself with how fast things have changed in print media in those past 5 years myself. Yet I still wonder what will come of in the future. I believe good journalism, not just reporting news, is an art or art form that has really suffered as of late. It’s so hard to weed out the quality when their is so much noise. However, a good wordsmith (or as I like to call them, an artist with words) can still stop me in my tracks and grab my attention and hopefully give me some perspective to lead me through my day. So like I tell my musician friends…Never stop writing and creating your art.
FYI, I think you were in the meeting when I got up and spoke out against the alcohol ban on Folly. My picture made the paper because I got up and spoke out barefooted. (I just wanted to make a statement and it worked better than I thought it would)
Richard
Hi. I’m a journalism student, and this is exactly how I feel before I’ve even left school (I’m a third year). I love news, a lot, but I’m not willing to slave and suffer and have no room for financial growth for the joy of clips and bylines that won’t pay the bills.
That being said, when I explain to people that I’m actually looking for communications jobs in corporate and non profits and hospitals, I get scoffed. No one understands.
But you do, and reading this may be realize that I am completely making the right decision for myself. So thank you for writing this. I wish you well.
Yeah, Allyson, I think I can understand that: always had the feeling I was made to it, have an itch to write, majored in Journalism a few years ago – but fear (of all that you testified) just seems to have paralyzed me and I didn’t have the guts to step a newsroom until now. Still in academia, doing specialized journalism, watching my chances of getting into hard-news making shrink as time goes by. I’m still afraid of it because I know my love for Journalism could vanish if I did it (or that it takes more than what I’ve got to get into it). And found out it’s quite hard to fuse passion, skill and some decent earning as well. That makes me want to create my own thing, get some other discontent minds and hands and think of something else that could be more sustainable and still remain true to ourselves. Have a lot of thinking to be done ahead.
But great you seem to have already found a light at the end of the tunnel! 🙂
Your candor is refreshing. Enjoyed the post.
Thank you for writing this. I recently left reporting because I was sick of scraping nickels to care for my family. And also, because I was bored with reporting and wanted to try editing or managing or product development something else. But there are _no_opportunities_for_career_growth_ in newspapers. I applied for several promotions and was told I was the best candidate, but how could they find someone to cover my beat amidst the hiring freeze? (And there is almost always a hiring freeze. Sure, it lifts about once a year or so, then one day, the publisher puts it back in place, and everyone is stuck, like when the music ends in musical chairs.)
I knew that one day, the Baby Boomers would finally retire or die, and editing jobs would open, but I would have zero experience, and I would be passed over for a copy editor or an outside candidate. It is a dead-end environment for middle-aged people.
So I got an offer from a business consulting firm to work as an editor. It’s not journalism. It is editing, publishing, marketing, PR, a thousand skills that are new and interesting to me, along with writing.
And they pay me what I’m worth.
Beautifully said!
True newspaper killed newpaper
I left agency PR for many of the same reasons, and now I’m 40 and clueless about what comes next. But I do know that no job, no byline, no placement, no pay cheque is worth feeling “supremely unsatisfied” every day. Good for you for demanding more for yourself.
Beautifully said. But get back in….somewhere, somehow. Freelance, write a book on this…stay in the river of your tribe.
I left creative writing on college for 30 hours of journalism. I wrote for the college paper. I wasn’t very good, but I worked with REAL journalists and editors who as students ate, drank and slept the stuff.
Keep going! There’s more for you. When you are 50, you’ll be on fire! Stoke those embers now.
I worked PR in non profits for a decade and a half.