The Young and The Restless | Just a small-town journalist

We become a jack of all subjects and a master of none to some degree, knowing a little about a lot of things, not a lot about few things.

After all, that’s our job; the very nature of journalism is for the journalist to learn things and then share them.

And, out here in ‘the country’, we’re expected to report on a bit of everything.

Since I came back into the newsroom full time, not even a year ago, I’ve covered gendered violence, homelessness, men’s suicide, mental health in general, a 60-year-old prison closure, business movement, art events and daily police briefs.

I’ve talked with recovering addicts, told veterans’ stories, interviewed world-famous musicians, written obituaries, investigated paranormal activity, met with a centenarian, listened to a harrowing tale of attempted murder told by the victim-survivor herself.

One day we get praised for a heart-wrenching feature-length story we wrote after shedding tears alongside our interviewee as they vulnerably shared some of their most traumatic history with us.

The next, we get attacked for covering something political or criminal, despite it being a completely straightforward, factual and unbiased piece that we have a duty to inform the community about.

One victim of crime might be happy for details surrounding it to be published to create awareness in their neighbourhood and warn others.

Another might be as wild as hell that we would even dare.

The thing is, everyone wants to know the gritty little details of the crimes, tragedies and tribulations in our town — until it happens to them.

Readers look to us for factual information because they know we’re bound by a strict code of conduct and only publish what we’re legally allowed to.

As much as some of us might be personally upset to hear about devastation from emergency services or see it firsthand on-scene and then come back to our desks to write about it (surprise, yes, we are human), we know they’re important stories to get to the masses.

Our data is proof that our most consumed stories are police and court-related.

As a rule, I hate upsetting people, but as a journo it comes with the territory.

We have haters who see us as scavengers not to be trusted.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hear at least once a week when standing in social circles “off the record” or “this doesn’t go anywhere else” (with a side dish of side eye directly at me) as though I don’t have multiple settings in my menu.

I do get it, it’s fine, so long as John’s giving Jane that stern warning look too, because her embellished gossiping at school pick-up time might have an even louder bush-telegraph effect than anything I could, or would, write.

People who hate mainstream media often can’t distinguish between the spineless giants and us small guys who have integrity.

They lump us, unfairly, in the same basket.

We live in this community, too. We don’t want to be hated by it, and not just because we might run into you down the street on smoko, but because we actually care about the community our families live in.

If I write your story, the pages it’s printed on today might very well be used to wrap everyone else’s veggie peels tomorrow.

But for you, it might be the only chance you’ve had to have your story told, so I want to do it justice for you and give you a piece fit for your scrapbook.

Before I returned to journalism last year, I had many friends who were support workers or staff at not-for-profit organisations working with the disadvantaged or disabled.

Though I loved being a graphic designer, my friends’ roles inspired me to reflect on mine. What was I doing that was making any difference to humanity?

While I’m not working directly with people in any of those fields, I feel like I’m poised to help many demographics and organisations and shed light on important issues through the art of storytelling.

To be paid to do a job that makes a difference in people’s lives is a privilege.