Tag: Journalism

Repulsive Building

Posted on November 26, 2015November 26, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

The police made a raid against a net of heroine trafficking in a marginal neighbourhood. I had to go to cover the information for my newspaper. The main operation took place in a building near the train station. Petty drug dealers lived there in filthy apartments, where they had made holes on the walls to escape from one to another for when the police arrive with a search warrant. When the police arrived they escaped through the holes and threw their small bags with the heroin through the windows to the courtyard. They were getting rid of the incriminating evidences. And with success. Because the courtyard was an enormous dump And it was almost impossible to find a thing over there.

The outlaws inhabitants of the building hadn’t used the pickup trash services and simply had thrown their waste through the window to the courtyard year after year, creating a major sanitary problem. When I approached the building to follow the police operation, I noticed that the mountain of trash had completely blocked the windows of the first floor and half the second floor. There was a sort of garage down there, completely darkened because of the trash against the windows. On the floor a dark liquid infested by rats. The stench was insufferable.
Next to that disaster there was a twin building with impoverished families living there. An old woman was sweeping carefully the main door trying to keep her home clean in contrast with the terrible filthiness of their neighbours.

After that incident, the city council decided to demolish the houses, sanitize the area and build new ones for the poor families. Now the area remains clean.

challenges

Outstanding Recording

Posted on November 11, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Once, my boss asked me to do an interview to a young doctor about his doctoral thesis. A complicated investigation, very specialised. The truth was that it was a compromise, because the doctor was the nephew of a very influential man with interests in the newspaper.

When I arrived to the lab, the young scientist recognised he was utterly surprised that a newspaper would show interest in his work. His investigation was rather specific and not easy to explain. I spent almost two hours listening to him talking about technical terms I hardly could understand, puzzled. Luckily, I had my recorder with me, and I taped the whole conversation to be able to write the interview accurately. I tried with my questions to get a plain explanation of the study, but it was in vain.

I was wondering what to do with the interview, because I really couldn’t see how to extract something of general interest of all that stuff. But I had to write something. I decided to write down our conversation and turned on the tape recorder, ready to spend hours transcribing a bunch of scientific jargon answers and try to make them understandable to my readers. When I hit the play button to reproduce the tape, I found in horror that all the interview was there, but backwards. It was something never happened to me before or after. I could hear our voices, but it was impossible to understand a word. It was like a dark spell.
I couldn’t trust my notes, and the doctor was not willing to repeat the interview, so it never was published no matter what the influential uncle would say.

Uptight Sympathy

Posted on October 22, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Sometimes we, reporters, have to do very unpleasant things. Once i had to interview a very sick man in the hospital. He had a throat cancer. He had been accused of a wrongdoing in a corruption scandal in my city but, the more I investigated the case, the more I become convinced that he was clearly a scapegoat. I had to get his version of the facts to clear his name. His family was uncooperative. They saw me as a vulture flapping around a dying man. But he was willing to tell his story, and he accepted my request. So I went to the hospital to talk with him. We needed the help of his wife to understand each other, because he had a tracheotomy and she was the only one who could understand the sounds he managed to emit. It was pretty hard. She was not happy with the task. I was uptight about asking difficult questions to that poor man in that situation and felt sympathy for the couple who were enduring so difficult time. But it was worth it. The interview made known the truth about the scandal that implicated several politicians and constructors, and the good name of that poor man was restored.

Perfect Shoe

Posted on October 13, 2015October 13, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Run!, Run!. She didn’t think twice. They had just heard the sound of the launching of a missile and her guide knew it was aimed towards the place where they were standing.

A man in a nearby house called them: Over here! Over here! and showed them the entrance to a basement into a barn. He closed the entrance just when all exploded. They reached safety just for a second. She was lucky to have worn that day the perfect shoes to run really fast.

Down there, several families were sheltering from the bombing. They were sitting on the floor at the light of some candles, frightened. Women, children, men, elderly. A family in a corner was saying quietly the rosary. You could hear some sobbing. But mostly was reigning a deadly silence.

Those people were exhausted and frightened. They had to run to the basements every day. They looked at the newcomers, with their cameras and recorders, indifferently and sadly. Many reporters had visited before their village, taking pictures asking questions and promising they would tell their story, but nothing had changed. The journalists came and went, but the villagers had nowhere to go. their only option was stay there trying to survive.

When the bombing stopped, the news team went out from the refuge and began to take pictures of the demolished house in front of which they had been just minutes before. In the middle of the street, a lone shoe lost by someone who had run like them in search of shelter was a reminder of how near of death they had been. A family was already in the damaged house trying to recover whatever had been left of their belongings.

The reporter climbed the ruins to see the destruction. She knew the language, so she talked with the family affected and their neighbours, to describe the whole episode better in her news report.

Later, before night, the team left the village and their frightened inhabitants. They had to continue their trip to complete their job, but it was not easy. Somehow, in their hearts, they wanted to know what would be the fate of those poor people who helped them in that critical moment of danger. Leave them behind was hard. It’s always hard.

Saved by the Bell

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Hilarious Mistake

Posted on October 6, 2015October 8, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

When I arrived to New York for the first time with almost no idea of English, I was like walking on a dream. The people rushing everywhere, street performers. Skyscrapers, Little and colourful flower shops. Executives, homeless. Claustrophobia on the subway at rush hour, Fresh air on quiet walks through Central Park. Art in the museums, filth in lost streets. Pedestrians, traffic.

Going out of home every day was an adventure full of surprises for my wide open eyes, eager of new sensations. I enjoyed the life in my new city. Every day a had a nice walk and some days I used to take the subway to go to the Rockefeller Centre to do a report about the Associated Press Agency. Very interesting. I even was invited to be present in their morning editors meeting with live connexions with the correspondents all around the world to talk about the news of the day. In just fifteen minutes, you could have a digest of the situation of the world and the main reports for the day. I have always been in the receiving end of the big news agencies and never had seen how they work inside. It was very instructive. When I was there, at their offices, working in my research, I used to pay a visit to St. Patrick Cathedral at lunch time, or take a walk on Fifth Ave.

I lived in lower Manhattan and I used to walk a lot around my apartment. Before I ventured to go to the Associated Press offices, when I was trying to put together my English, I had plenty of time to explore the city. I noticed that there were a lot of little shops to do the nails in my street. Something that in my country didn’t exist. Those shops also offered waxing legs. But with my poor English I understood “washing” instead of “waxing”. So I was really intrigued. Why would somebody want to go to a shop to wash her legs?. It had to be a very special legs bath, I thought. And offered in so many shops! It must have a lot of customers. I was really puzzled. So one day I was walking with a friend, and we saw one of these shops. Then I told her. I understand the nails business but I can’t understand why there are so many shops to wash legs. I think she is still laughing.

Writing 101, Day Thirteen: Serial Killer II.

Proud Paper

Posted on August 31, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

When I arrived at the newsroom in the morning, usually there were many people already working. But that particular day the room was almost empty. A lot of my colleagues were working out, in a building just a block away. A princess had come to preside the inauguration of a hospital. A big social event for our city. several journalists and photo reporters were there taking notes and pictures to fill several pages for the next day. I wasn’t among the chosen ones for the big news. So I was there guarding, just in case something else happened, knowing that whatever I would write, would remain hidden under tons of information about the social event of the day.

Suddenly, one of the photo reporters came hurriedly and entered the editor’s office without knocking the door. He told him something and the editor called me nervously and simply told me: Go with Xavier. He will explain.

I grabbed my pad and my recorder and followed him. We climbed in his car and he began to drive as fast as he could.

– I was in the ceremony with the princess, next to the Governor taking photos – he told me – and I overheard a secret policeman telling him that there has been a terrorist attack in a canyon near a village some 30 kilometres from here and it seems there is someone dead.

So there we went. We were the first ones on the scene. The police had a car with their radio very loud, so I could take notes of all the operation live. They didn’t let us pass into the canyon at first. It was too dangerous.

The terrorists were on the loose. They have killed one policeman and wounded another and fled running by the banks of the river. The police immediately had closed both exits of the canyon and had they trapped. Later they let us go into the canyon to take photos of the scene of the crime. The story was really terrible. The terrorists, four of them, decided to commit suicide rather than let themselves be caught.

I was deeply impressed because the policeman’s widow was my age: 28. I only could think about her, losing a husband so young, so suddenly, and so tragically.

My story made front page instead of the one about the princess and her inauguration ceremony, but I certainly would preferred a quiet day.

My newspaper was proud of me. I had done a good job. But I wasn’t feeling well. I was sad and angry.

topicgenerator

daily prompt

I’m sad

Posted on August 14, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

When was the last time you really wanted (or needed) to say something, but kept quiet? Write a post about what you should’ve said.

I’m sad today. This post is also sad.

Sometimes keep quiet is the best thing you can do. As a reporter, I had to protect the confidentiality of my sources. They had to feel safe with me. So I’d never repented to keep quiet when was needed.

Sometimes one doesn’t know if it’s time to talk or to remain silent. I had a very good friend with a strong temperament. We had an argument. Suddenly she fell ill and in two days she was in the ICU in critical condition. My sister worked at the hospital and they allowed me to visit her at the ICU. She was unconscious, but I noticed that when I talked to her, she reacted. It seemed that she was fighting against the respirator, trying to communicate. It was anguishing. So I said: Shh, quiet, quiet… till she calmed. I didn’t dare to say a word after that. That night, she died. I never told her that I didn’t mean to argue with her, that she was my best friend, that I was praying for her. I was really sad. Later I understood that it didn’t matter. I did what my heart told me. And she probably knows now what my feelings were then.

Break the Silence.

daily prompt

Terrible

Posted on June 23, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Open the first photo album you can find — real or virtual, your call — and stop at the first picture of yourself you see there . Tell us the story of that photo.

Here Am I during the Balkans War in Mostar in front of a destroyed building after a bombing by the Serbian forces. What can I add? it’s all said by the image behind me. I was there as a journalist reporting about the war and the work of the Spanish blue helmets deployed in the area. The besieged city was a pile of ruins. The public parks had been turned in cemeteries. People was suffering a lot . I remember that the Spanish defence Minister came to visit the troops and took a walk through the streets. There were some kids without coats running around, right next to a park full of graves. The minister called them to give them some candies, and this way, have a photo-op with them. Pathetic. Some bystanders were warning to the kids: “don’t take the candies. He only wants the picture”. But the kids didn’t listen. Of course, the photo reporters were busy with other images of the destroyed city but the minister’s PR staff was working hard. I was In Bosnia those days, so I didn’t see it, but they told me that a newspaper close to the Government in Spain published the picture of the minister and the kids.
I’m sorry I brought this horrible picture, but it was the first one I found in which I appear. All my pictures are terrible. I have to find the box of my childhood pictures in search for something nice.

Snapshot Stories.

daily prompt

Fear

Posted on June 13, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Tell us about a conversation you couldn’t help but overhear and wish you hadn’t.

It was not properly a conversation, but an exchange between a terrorist and a policeman who had just caught him. I was there with my photographer as a young reporter, following a police operation against a terrorist cell in my city many years ago. We were at the hiding place of the terrorists. My photographer and I the only ones not related with the investigation. They were interrogating the arrested about how to open a small steel armoured door that they had found during the search, concealed below a sink. The officers suspected – and they were right – that behind that door there was a room, where the terrorists were keeping a huge arsenal with weapons, and explosives, and lots of documents about potential targets.
Basically what I heard was how the arrested began to say that he had nothing to do with that place, to finish talking about exactly how many people were using the hiding place, and admitting to know how to open the mysterious door. In fact was he who opened it, using a secret mechanism. Several policemen disappeared through the small door while others stayed with the terrorist and us in the main room.
The place was narrow and dark. There was too much people inside. So we ended waiting to see what would happen next, close to the arrested and the policeman who was guarding him. Then was when that man, who only minutes before seemed desperate, began to threaten us, till the policeman ordered him to shut up.
Soon after I decided I had enough of the terrorist and his threats and menacing stares, and crawled to go through the small door to the secret room. I found myself in a place full of automatic weapons, rocket launchers, rockets, explosives and clock bombs already prepared. We saw pictures of potential victims that had been followed by the cell, and a place ready to hide a kidnapped person. We stayed there till the search finished. Late at night we emerged from that dreadful place and went to the newsroom as fast as we could, to arrive in time for the deadline. My coworkers and the editor were waiting for us. I wrote fast and it was a great piece. I had been the only reporter in the police operation and only my photo reporter had the images.
The only problem was the fear because of the threat, and the fact that they called me as a witness against the terrorist cell during the trial two years after. I learned how irrational the fear is. That was a hard experience.

Hear No Evil.

daily prompt

Exploring my city

Posted on April 29, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

What’s your travel style? Are you itinerary and schedule driven, needing to have every step mapped out in advance or are you content to arrive without a plan and let happenstance be your guide?

If I could travel I would go without a scheduled plan other than visit my family abroad and spend as much time as possible with them. Because of family circumstances, I can’t leave my city, even for a weekend. It’s been so long since I’ve traveled last time that I’m not sure I’ll know how to behave in an airport with the new security measures.

I used to travel all around the world, mostly because of my job as Journalist. I had to have a clear destination and a plan of action to find a good story. But once there, everything could change in matter of seconds. I had to be always ready to the unexpected, be flexible. I learned a lot that way and best of all, got to know pretty well the people of the countries I visited. That was the richest part of the experience.

So when I travel, I avoid organised tours and scheduled plans. I prefer to explore by myself new places, at my pace. I guess a day will come when I’ll get the chance to travel again. Meanwhile I’m exploring my city. Everyday I take my backpack and my stroller walker and I try to go walking everywhere. There are nice places to visit. I often find in my way pilgrims who are in a stage of the Way of St. James or groups of tourists in a tour. You can see in the picture above one of its squares on the old quarter near my home, with the arches of the fortified church of St. Nicholas.

The Happy Wanderer.

daily prompt

A long night

Posted on April 22, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Write 500 words on any topic you like. Now remove 250 of them without changing the essence of your post.

I’ve past a great deal of my professional life writing texts and adjusting them later to a specific length to fill a column, or a page in my newspaper. So I’m used to use mental scissors to remove words without changing the meaning of the article. It’s easier when you apply the rule to put the essence of your story at the beginning.

I had a boss very indecisive. I remember one evening, after a concert, when he told me that my story would go in half a page with a picture. So I wrote a long reportage with all sort of details about a cultural event, including a little interview with an orchestra conductor. Later, he told me there was no space and my story would go in one column , with a small picture of the conductor. So I had to cut my text to the essence. Finally he came back and told me he had found two columns free for my story, so I had to rewrite it and made it long enough. For me it was easier to cut the text than to rewrite the story once deleted. I had to remember all the details, search again in my notes and so on. It was a very long night.

Slash and Burn.

daily prompt

Oh, if I could!

Posted on April 21, 2015April 21, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

“It’s never a good idea to discuss religion or politics with people you don’t really know.” Agree or disagree?

I don’t like to discuss politics even with people I know. I’m so fed up with politicians, their lies and their corruption, that I can’t stand a conversation about them. I don’t like to argue. So I prefer to stay silent and avoid or change the subject when it pops up. It’s not easy, because, people, as soon as they know that I’m a journalist, begin to request my opinion about the political situation. Of course, they already have their own ideas, and the risk of an argument is high. I have to be careful. The best way is answer with some piece of bare information. The curious people will probably be disappointed, but maybe I could change the topic of the conversation to another more pleasant for me.

Polite Company.

daily prompt

My father

Posted on April 15, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Have you ever had a mentor? What was the greatest lesson you learned from him or her?

When I was looking for my first job as a journalist I avoided the newspaper in which my father was working as a columnist because I didn’t want any favouritism. So I went with my résumé to another newspaper knowing that I would leave my home and move to another city. It was worthwhile. I learned a lot those first years by myself. Nevertheless I consider that my dad was my best mentor in life and in my profession because he taught me everything I needed to survive, search for the truth and work with ethics. He was always available for me. He knew to listen. He understood my problems and knew when I needed an advice and when I only wanted to lean on his strong shoulder, or share my joys or worries with him. He never imposed anything. By listening to me and let me talk, he helped me find my way to do things. And all with his fine sense of humor, with an easy smile in his face and in his bright blue eyes.

Mentor Me.

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Newspaper

Posted on March 25, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Draft a post with three parts, each unrelated to the other, but create a common thread between them by including the same item — an object, a symbol, a place — in each part.

A man was reading the newspaper while waiting at the door of the district attorney. I noticed he was reading my piece about a corruption scandal I was investigating. I was there hoping to find more information. I knew that the man with the newspaper was the police officer in charge of the investigation, but he didn’t know me. So I asked him casually: Is it true what it says the newspaper?. He said: Absolutely true. Everything. I wonder how they knew all this. I knew my sources were good. I’d checked and re checked every bit of data before publishing. I liked his reply. Then I introduced myself. That morning I got another valuable source.

The little office was cold and humid. I had a desk and a panel with a chart of the parking they were building right in the opposite side of the street. My job was to sell parking places. I was 19. I had found that job through a friend because I needed the money to live. I wanted to work for a newspaper and I was an intern in a newsroom in Bilbao, but they didn’t pay me enough. So I spent the mornings selling parking places to live and the evenings doing journalism. What I didn’t know was that the parking business would become pretty dangerous. I learned too late that my boss was involved in something suspicious. One day when I was alone at the office with the door open, two thugs came in looking for him. They threatened me and made me promise not to tell him they were around if he showed up. I was so scared I closed and locked the door as soon as they left. I didn’t care about what the customers would think. I didn’t dare to venture out with those two characters around either. The boss came, I told him about the thugs and I quit right away. Well, as soon as I gathered enough courage to leave that awful place alone to go home.

As a reporter for everything in Pamplona, Spain, I had to write a lot about the San Fermin Festival. During eight consecutive years, my boss gave me the assignment of write about the wounded on the Running of the Bulls. So, when everybody was going towards the old city to watch the run, I drove in the opposite direction towards the hospital, to wait at the entrance of the ER the arrival of the ambulances with the wounded. Many traditional runners run with a rolled newspaper in their hand. With it, they measure the distance between them and the bull, and if it is too close, they can move it in front of the face of the bull to distract its attention and save precious seconds to escape. It was usual that when a wounded arrived in an ambulance, he still had his hand tightening hard the rolled newspaper.

Weaving the Threads.

daily prompt

Learning

Posted on February 26, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Write about your strongest memory of heart-pounding, belly-twisting nervousness: what caused the adrenaline? Was it justified? How did you respond?

My boss sent me to the city council to write a piece about a polemic session that was going to take place very late. It began at 8:00 pm. I was an intern. Very young. I think I was 17. I wanted to cause a good impression because my first day at job had been a complete disaster.

Back then almost a third of the city council was in hands of the radicals pro independence who supported the terrorist group ETA. They used to introduce motions asking for the Basque Country independence including Navarre. My newspaper had its headquarters in Bilbao and my deadline was 10:00 pm, earlier than the rest of the journalists.

When I arrived I saw that in the streets there were violent demonstrators and a lot of police. While we were in the session the situation in the street worsened. The police wouldn’t let me leave the building because of the violence, so I began to get worried about my deadline.

I had to look for a phone and I found one in a small office next to an open window. The police was shooting rubber bullets that bounced everywhere. I took the phone and sat down on the floor under the table to talk with my boss. I dictated my piece about the city council session and the disturbs on the street with the sound of the shots and the screams in the background, while my colleagues remained at the council room. The news was in the street.

Around midnight the police allowed us to leave the building. Only one of the journalists had his car out of the perimeter formed by the burning barricades so we decide to go all together towards his car. When we were walking with the police behind us, suddenly a demonstrator appeared in front of us and screamed “Murderers!”. The police began to shoot towards him with us in the middle. We had to run looking for a safe place to escape the rubber bullets.

Fight or Flight.

daily prompt

Politicians

Posted on January 27, 2015 by Olga Brajnović

Think of something that truly repulses you. Hold that thought until your skin squirms. Now, write a glowing puff piece about its amazing merits.

When I was a young reporter my boss sent me one afternoon to cover a budget commission in the regional parliament with the instruction to stay there untill the end of the debate, no matter how long it would take.

The room had a big horseshoe-shaped table for the politicians from the different political parties, one squared table for the presidency in front and two smaller tables at the back for the journalists.

At the beginning the journalists tables were full. The politicians began debating item by item the budget with tense and nasty speeches, throwing accusations one to each other (we were in an electoral year) and dropping sentences to make headlines out of… nothing.

The matters under discussion were uninteresting and the session too long. There was nothing important to decide. Little by little the other journalists began to leave, pressed by their deadlines. But I had to stay till the end so I stayed alone.

Then, when I was almost dead of boredom while they continued with their endless debates and political skirmishes, one of the politicians situated just in front of me, looked at the tables of the journalists, saw them empty (he couldn’t see me) and said:

– Now that the journalists are gone we can vote the rest of the points without debate as we agreed.

All the efforts and signs by the president of the commission (who could see me taking notes) to warn that man that there was a journalist in the room were useless.

The most interesting sentence in for hours of debates was already recorded and written in my notepad. They tried to convince me not to mention that incident in my column but it was too late.

Why I wrote about that old anecdote? Maybe because I don’t like politicians, and this was a relatively naïf story about how they tried to play a double game and were discovered by chance.

Embrace the Ick.

daily prompt

Counting words

Posted on September 20, 2014September 20, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

“I would have written a shorter letter, but I did not have the time.” — Blaise Pascal
Where do you fall on the brevity/verbosity spectrum?

As a journalist working for newspapers, I always have had to count words to write the news as concise and clear as possible, and at the same time to fit it in the space reserved on the page. So, brevity it’s already a habit.

Today with the digital media, this problem to fit a text in an enclosed space has disappeared, but the journalistic style of writing tends to the same rules. Be clear, concise, accurate. Say as much as possible with only the necessary words. Don’t confuse the reader with long disquisitions. The important stuff at the beginning: if the reader get tired and stops reading after a few sentences, at least knows about what goes the story

I don’t know if I have journalistic style in everything I write. I hope there is some diversity. But I know that journalism have left its mark on me.

Brevity Pulls.

daily prompt

Direct punch

Posted on September 14, 2014September 14, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

When was the last time you were completely stumped by a question, a request, or a situation you found yourself in? How did you handle it?

As a reporter on courts, I spent many hours in the Court House waiting for news with different luck. Sometimes, after waiting for hours for a trial, there was no such a thing because the defence lawyers and the District Attorney had made a deal, or the judge had decided to suspend the hearing and postpone the trial because of the absence of some key witness, for instance, so there was almost nothing to write about.

One of those days I went to the Court House at 8 am for an important trial and it was postponed because a technicality. When my boss asked me in the afternoon about what happened I informed him there was little to write about the trial because it had been suspended. He was hoping for a long story and I only could offer a few lines.

Suddenly he asked me angrily so everybody could hear :

“Have you really been this morning in the Court House?”

As if I were making up an excuse to work less. he was accusing me to skip my job on purpose. His mistrust caught me off guard. He had no reason to doubt on me. I stood speechless for a moment. Then I told him :

“Where do you think I was at 8 am? Doing my job.”

I could call witnesses. My photographer could vouch for me.

Maybe it was only his frustration but for me it was not a curve ball, but a direct punch.

Curve Balls.

daily prompt

Confidentiality

Posted on September 7, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

Can you keep a secret? Have you ever — intentionally or not — spilled the beans (when you should’ve stayed quiet)?

Most of people would not tell secrets to a journalist knowing that his or her job is publish information he or she obtains. But for a journalist is crucial to know how to keep secrets when needed. To maintain the trust of the sources of information is the key importance to keep a secret, and there are journalists risking going to jail in their determination to protect their sources. I have never been in that situation, but I had to keep secrets to build trust with my sources and sometimes to protect them. It’s the professional secrecy or confidentiality I observed carefully.

Apart from those secrets, in quotidian life, I don’t like secrets. I prefer open truth. Sincerity, Confidence. Not boundaries. I prefer that people don’t tell me secrets, because they are a burden you can’t release or share. Despite so, if some friend confides me a secret can rest and be sure it’s safe with me. I won’t talk

Locked and Sealed.

daily prompt

Work?

Posted on August 21, 2014August 21, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

If money were out of the equation, would you still work? If yes, why, and how much? If not, what would you do with your free time?

Work now would be a blessing to me. I had to leave my job because of my lack of health. And it’s hard to get used to this new situation. But I have no other chance. That’s life. I miss badly my newsroom, my colleagues, going out in search for news, the thrill of getting an exclusive or some breaking news. Now I have to watch the game from behind the barrier and I don’t like it at all.

What I don’t miss are the sleepless nights, the long hours of work without schedules, the disorder and the lack of free time to spend with my family and my friends.

If health were out of the equation as well as money, I would work again as a Journalist. But this time as a freelancer. This way I would be able to control better how much time I want to devote to my work and how much to my family.

Miracles don’t happen so often, and I don’t think I’ll recover my health. So I guess I’m going to spend my time doing house chores, blogging when I can, and, above all, taking care of my ailing mom, a real privilege for me.

Work? Optional!.

daily prompt

Every day?

Posted on August 6, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

When was the last time you experienced writer’s block? What do you think brought it about — and how did you dig your way out of it?

Since I left my newspaper, I’m in a permanent writer’s block state. In the newsroom, always busy with the daily news and my multiple assignments, with a pressing deadline with no time to lose, there was no space for blocking.

Dealing constantly with the news and the strict facts can harm one’s imagination. I’m used to write about real facts in a way as objective as possible. If I don’t have any fresh news to tell, it’s difficult to me to write.

The Daily Prompt is a good help to keep alive this blog with new topics each day.

My father was a journalist and writer and he advised me to write every day something creative. Never stop practicing. I must admit that I have a worrisome lack of imagination and sensibility which makes me difficult the task. I usually begin my day with no idea of what to write about.

He kept a diary which is a true literary work. We discovered it when he died. Now I’m trying to translate it from Croatian and I’m learning a lot from him above all about life, but also about how to write. Lately I’m finding inspiration in his writings. Now I have an idea besides de blog and I need to find time to write.

Writer’s Block Party.

daily prompt

A walk

Posted on August 6, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

We often capture strangers in photos we take in public. Open your photo library, and stop at the first picture that features a person you don’t know. Now tell the story of that person.

How can I tell the story of a person I don’t know? I’m a Journalist I’m used to stick to the facts. I can’t invent a story over real life persons. I would need to talk to them, to interview them to know about their stories before write about them. The contrary would go against my principles.

I only can deduce what I can see in my picture. A young couple with their first-born baby having a nice walk taking advantage of one of the firsts sunny days of this summer. They are passing by a big park in my city. Maybe they are already tired and are heading home. Who knows? The fact is that they are walking towards the old city of Pamplona where you can find a lot of little stores and boutiques and animation. The streets are narrow and shadowy, and the temperature fresher than here in the park’s gates.

They will pass by the Church of St. Laurent, where the image of St. Fermin, the city saint patron, is kept and venerated, one of the most typical spots of the city.

They will probably met several pilgrims walking in the opposite sense. This is one of the routes of the St. James Way or Camino de Santiago. Pilgrims coming from the France route who walked all the way from Roncesvaux to Pamplona and were visiting the gothic cathedral and the other gothic churches in the old city or who have stayed in one of the shelters, start their stage in this point from Pamplona to Puente la Reina to continue their march towards the distant Santiago.

I’m sorry I don’t have a picture of a pilgrim or a group of pilgrims.

They are an important piece of our city landscape. It’s frequent to see them on the streets no matter if is summer or winter, with their peculiar attires, trying to speak Spanish to ask for directions when they get lost, always good-humoured.

Thousands pass every year. Spaniards and foreigners it’s really impressive.

Edge of the Frame.

challenges

Trip to Zagreb (II)

Posted on June 19, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

Earlier in the course, you wrote about losing something. Today, write about finding something. For your twist, view day four’s post and today’s post as installments in a series.

Here is a link to the part I of this story

I can’t wait any more. There is no time left. The boarding time is approaching and I’m still waiting. I have my ticket with my reservation confirmed and I’m not going to be left behind. For the tenth time I go to the checking-in desk. It’s my last opportunity.

This time, the same JAT’s attendant that had rejected me nine times before, asks me now why am I so late! I can’t believe it. But I don’t have time to argue. I sigh in relief. At least I’m going to fly to Zagreb. I will be able to cover for my news agency and my newspaper the first free elections in Croatia and the political crisis in Yugoslavia.

I meet again my Spanish colleagues waiting to board the plane. We talk about our job. They are nervous because they don’t know the language and they’ll need a translator. I realise they know little about the country and the situation and less about the political parties and their leaders. I wonder how they would manage once there.

We board the plane. I’m surprised to see it’s almost empty. So the story about not enough seats for all the passengers that they told me when they sent me to the waiting list was a lie. My suspicions that I had difficulties because of my name arise again. But the important thing is that I’m on board.

During the flight they show us a propagandistic video about the wonders of Yugoslavia. Nothing about the crisis or the situations that are making news. The State is in a brink of a collapse. In the video all is idilic and wonderful.

I spend most of the time looking through the window. It’s my first trip to my homeland. I want to catch a first glimpse from the air. But it’s not my lucky day. It’s raining. I only can see grey clouds covering the landscape.

We land in Zagreb Airport. The border police officer take his time with my passport and begins to make questions about who am I, what am I going to do during my visit to the city, where will I stay, and so on. The other passengers pass quickly while I still answering questions. Finally, the officer seems satisfied and let me pass.

I go to pick up my bag. When I arrive all the luggages are already on the conveyor belt. I notice that my suitcase is not there.

Tom and Marko, my cousins, are waiting for me at the other side of a crystal wall. They are waving at me excited. We have recognised each other by photos. I’m trying to tell them by signs that I can’t go out because my luggage is lost. Tears fills my eyes. Not precisely because my lost bag. I’m deeply moved to meet my family for the first time. And now they are so close and still I can’t embrace them and speak with them because of that damn bag.

I go to reclaim my lost bag and after a lot of questions they tell me that it has gone to Belgrade with the plane.

Did they sent my bag intentionally to Belgrade? Did I lost something vital to my work in the process? How was my meeting with my family? Could I overcome the emotions and do my job?

challenges

Trip to Zagreb

Posted on June 6, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

Today, write about a loss. The twist: make this the first post in a three-post series.

1990. The first open elections in Croatia, part of the former Yugoslavia. I have been sent as a young reporter from Spain to cover the event because as a daughter of Croatians I know the language and the situation. I’m nervous. It’s my first trip to the Country. My father, a journalist too, is a dissident. He never got involved in politics but was prisoner both by the fascists and by the communists. The communists are still in power in Yugoslavia.

In my trip by bus from Pamplona to Madrid to catch a plane to Zagreb, they put the film “Missing” with Jack Lemmon. I’m not afraid, I’m realistic, but I’m certainly not in the mood for such a story.

Already in the Barajas airport of Madrid I go to check-in. Despite I’ve assured I have my reservation all right, the JAT company informs me that I don’t have a seat and I’ll be put in waiting list. I protest showing my ticket with the reservation but there is no use. I have to wait.

Meanwhile I see other people checking-in without problems. I meet two Spanish Journalists like me from a TV station. They pass whiteout problems. I begin to suspect The problem it is in my name. I approach the check-in desk and ask again about my ticket and my seat. The attendant tell me now that the ticket is all right but they had technical problems with their big plane and they only had a smaller plane so there is no room for all the passengers. So no room for me. I’m still in the waiting list.

I see how people continue checking in without problems and I get nervous and angry. I’m the only one waiting. The clock is ticking. The boarding time is approaching.

Am I going to be left behind? Is this happening because of my name? What about my reports?

To be continued in chapter two

Writing 101, Day Four: The Serial Killer.

daily prompt

Not me

Posted on June 2, 2014June 2, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

In 300 years, if you were to be named the patron saint of X, what would you like X to be? Places, activities, objects — all are fair game.

First one has to become a saint, which is not impossible but is not easy either. While I believe everybody can aspire privately to sainthood, I know that being recognised as such universally is another thing. Besides there are already patron saints for almost everything.

For instance, the patron saint of journalists is saint Francis of Sales, a French who was bishop in Switzerland in the XVI-XVII century. It seems that in a stage of his life when nobody listened to his sermons, he decided to make copies by hand and slipped them under the doors of the houses. He also wrote numerous letters and composed a book with them with advice for lay people about how to reach sanctity. He is patron saint of Journalists because of those writings.

I guess it would be great to have a modern journalist as a patron. A more present-day model. But for that we need a journalist saint and known for that. Not me. I’m sure there are more than one out there, unknown, and some day we will have a journalist as a patron.

A True Saint.

daily prompt

Questions

Posted on June 1, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

Open the first photo album you can find — real or virtual, your call — and stop at the first picture of yourself you see there . Tell us the story of that photo.

Here I am as a reporter trying to extract some declarations from the defense attorney representing a corrupt politician at the Court House during the investigation of a scandal that shocked my city years ago. The politicians involved had robbed a lot of public money and soon after this picture was taken three of them ended in jail. I had had published already a lot of stories about the investigation and was not very popular among the defendants. You can see by the picture that the lawyer was not very happy with my questions, which was a good sign for me. I didn’t obtain many elaborated answers but his silences were very eloquent. I made a good report that day.

Snapshot Stories.

daily prompt

I’ll decline

Posted on May 29, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

A Pulitzer-winning reporter is writing an in-depth piece – about you. What are the three questions you really hope she doesn’t ask you?

First, no Pulitzer winner will waste her precious time interviewing me, so I’m in no danger.

Second, if such a thing happened, the interviewer, being a seasoned journalist will come perfectly documented about my life, and since I have nothing to hide surely will know in advance more or less the answers she can obtain. I’m a journalist and I know what a in depth interview is, how you get ready for it. When the interviewed accepts, he or she accepts the risk to face tricky questions about his or her life.

I’m a private person so, Pulitzer or not, I’ll probably decline.

Just to play with the prompt I’ll propose three questions

Why have you been hospitalized lately?

Have you recovered completely?

why don’t you drive?

As I said a good investigative journalist would know the answers on advance so it’s useless.

Trick Questions.

daily prompt

No techniques

Posted on April 8, 2014April 8, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

Tell us your tried and true techniques for focusing when that deadline looms and you need to get work done. In other words, how do you avoid wasted days and wasted nights?

My entire profesional life has been a consecution of deadlines. Mainly daily deadlines. And I had to finish my job in a hurry in the middle of the noisy environment of a newsroom at night. I don’t know about techniques. I just did it every day under that pressure of the clock. usually the pressure was enough to focus on the writing.

Sometimes, when I desperately needed to isolate myself from the noise and I had all the data collected and a very clear idea of what I wanted to write I used to listen to music. through my earphones. Something calm, classic, known, that would not distract me. But usually I just worked as fast as I could to be on time. That was especially important when I had some exclusive news or last hour news to report about.

Being late was not an option. The newspaper had to wait for the news but the presses had to start at a specific hour. It was the old fight between the newsroom and the machine room.

One night I had an exclusive story about an illegal scheme in which were implicated policemen divided in two rival groups. I wrote as fast as I could. I was on the verge of the deadline. But I had to be careful with the data and I checked and rechecked until I was completely sure of what I was going to publish.

Next day I expected my bosses to be satisfied because it was an exclusive and it was good, but to my surprise they only were worried because my story had delayed 10 minutes the start of the presses. A lot of money depends on being on time. Instead of talking about the story and how to follow it, I was lectured about the need of don’t surpass the deadlines. My fault.

via Daily Prompt: Wasted Days and Wasted Nights.
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How do you feel about your job? Do you spring out of bed, looking forward to work? Or, is your job a soul-destroying monotony of pure drudgery, or somewhere in between?

I was enthusiastic about my job. Journalism is a wonderful, demanding and absorbing job. It gave me unforgettable experiences. It marked deeply my life. I’ve shared great sufferings and big joys. I’ve known all kind of people. Common people. Heroes and villains. I’ve known places in peace and in war. I’ve learned a lot about human kind. I’ve tried to don’t be cynical despite what I have seen during my career. I believe there is a space for hope in this world, despite its horrors.

Daily Prompt: Sixteen Tons.

No money

Posted on February 15, 2014February 15, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

If you’re like most of us, you need to earn money by working for a living. Describe your ultimate job. If you’re in your dream job, tell us all about it — what is it that you love? What fulfills you? If you’re not in your dream job, describe for us what your ultimate job would be.

Today I met my old coworkers. They were in a demonstration to protest because the company wants to cut them their salary to a half (the wonders of the crisis). I went to support them. Because of my health problems I can’t work any more. I had to quit a year ago. Now my friends are in the brink of a colapse. It’s so sad. Money for nothing? There is no money. Period.

I’ve worked in all kind of jobs during my life. We were immigrants. My father was a University teacher. No much money at home. As so many people, I had to work when I was a student. I worked as a maid, as a telephonist, as a shop clerk, as a music teacher, as an office clerk… I can’t remember all the things I did to earn money to help at home before I finally began my career as a journalist. I’m not demanding. So what would be my ultimate job? Nowadays probably whatever they would offer me in a solvent company that would be fair with its workers.

I liked my job. I’m so sad I had to quit because of my health. Working in a newsroom is stressful but very interesting. I miss my coworkers. I miss the excitement of coming with breaking news, the rush of the deadlines. I miss hitting the streets to report about whatever I had assigned. I miss spending time investigating some interesting news.
And all this although being a journalist wasn’t my first choice. My dream as a kid was to become a marine biologist. I adore the Ocean and the nature and its living beings. So the perspective of spend my life sailing and studying marine creatures was the best I could imagine. But I studied journalism instead and I don’t regret it. I’ve had a very interesting life. I’ve witnessed historical facts. I’ve known wonderful people. I’ve interviewed very interesting people. I’ve traveled. What else can I ask for?

Daily Prompt: Money for Nothing.
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commitment, daily prompt

The best policy

Posted on January 3, 2014January 3, 2014 by Olga Brajnović

Is it possible to be too honest, or is honesty always the best policy?

Lies, even good intended ones, can be a source of a lot of confusion and suffering. At the end the truth prevails anyway. Is better to be always honest. No matter the consequences. My Mom had to endure prison and persecution because she was honest telling that she believed in God and insisting in going openly to the church in a communist regime. She told us that, that way, at the end, everybody respected her because of her coherence. It was hard but worth it, she said. She taught us to be always honest and tell the truth.

When I was young they said I was too sensitive. Once I had to pass a very important exam and I was studying hard. My older sister was pregnant, and the day before I had to take the exam, she had her baby, but after a few hours the baby died. They decided not to tell me about it that night and wait after the exam, afraid of my reaction. But I found out about what happened in the library. A common friend told me. And that was far more traumatic for me. From that day I told them never ever do that to me again. I want the truth immediately always. No matter how hard it is. And that works nicely in my family.

Every time I have been in situations when people tried to “camouflage” the truth the result was a lot of confusion misunderstanding, anger, distrust. Honesty is not always easy but is the only way to understand each other and to build trust.

In my work as a journalist honesty is basic. If you’re honest you can build trust among your sources and your readers. And most importantly you can do your job: tell the truth about what’s going on and you’re reporting about. Maybe without honesty you can find a faster way to success, but it would be a temporary and unjust success, not worth it.

Daily Prompt: Truth or Dare.
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The debate

Posted on December 4, 2013December 4, 2013 by Olga Brajnović

Tell us about a time when you were left on your own, to fend for yourself in an overwhelming situation — on the job, at home, at school. What was the outcome?

A pacifist association organised a panel with a debate about terrorism and media. They called me to talk representing my newspaper. I was a simple writer so I asked why me. They told me they had asked others before me and they declined. I asked my boss why. He told me it was too polemic. There had been some attacks against our offices recently. I said I thought we had to go because all the other media were sending a representative to the panel of speakers. Our absence would be noticed. The he told me: “go if you want under your own responsibility”. “But, I said, I’m going representing our newspaper”. He said OK.

So I went alone and I found, as my boss predicted, a hostile audience. Only ten friendly faces and all the rest against me. I said what I thought about the terrorism and the media, and mentioned the recent attacks against our offices and other media offices. They boo me, called me fascist, and things like that. I had some tense exchanges of questions and answers with some of them. I talked against violence. I stressed the point that is better solve things talking than fighting. But they didn’t listen. All the debate focused on me and my newspaper. Exhausting.

The room had two doors to exit. In one of them my opponents were gathering. My friends told me to use the other door to avoid them. But I thought it would be worst. So I went directly to the door where all of them were, told them very politely – “Good evening, thank you for coming” – and passed through them in my way out. They said nothing.

Daily Prompt: Sink or Swim.
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Scary

Posted on December 3, 2013December 3, 2013 by Olga Brajnović

You have a secret superpower: the ability to appear and disappear at will. When and where will you use this new superpower? Tell us a story.

A superpower again? I find very difficult to imagine a superpower working on me.

The other’s ability to appear and disappear scares me:

Once I made a report about a trial. The defendant was a very dangerous and violent criminal. He intimidated some key witnesses and at the end, despite the prosecutor’s efforts, was found not guilty and set free. He left our city. A year after the trial I had to go to the Court House to talk to some of my sources for another report and to attend another trial and suddenly I saw him. He was back in town. He was right there smiling menacingly at me. I knew he was not precisely happy with my reports.

I finished my interview and there he was waiting. His searching eyes and his scary smile glued on me. I went to a Court Room to attend a trial and there he was behind me. Watching me. The trial finished and he followed me outside the room. Always six feet behind me watching and smiling. Saying nothing. I was talking with my colleagues from other media as we were exiting the building and he continued behind us. Watching. Smiling. When I had to left my colleagues and go to a nearby parking lot I decided to face him. I said aloud: “someone is following us” and turned around to ask him what he wanted. And he suddenly disappeared! Nobody suspicious behind us. The others thought I was crazy.

Then I get really scared. Not knowing where he was, having to go alone to the parking lot I didn’t know what to do. By the time I reached my car I have looked every minute behind me out of fear to see him appear again being alone with no one to help me around. I locked de car’s doors and drove looking constantly at the rear view mirror. When I arrived to the newsroom I called to his lawyer to ask her why he was in town. She said “no idea” and she sounded more scared than me. He had his ways to let us know he was following us. Finally my boss advised me to call the police for protection.

Daily Prompt: Now You See Me.
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