'No.'
'Do you know what a pica is?'
'No. I thought this was going to be a beginning class.'
'It was, it was. But the lesson plans have changed.
Which is probably to your advantage. You're going to get a crash course covering beginning, intermediate, and advanced journalism. Only instead of learning the subject the way the book says you're supposed to, you'll be picking up things as needed. Your academic journalism may suffer, but you'll learn what it takes to put out a real news paper. When you do get into a regular class, you'll be way ahead of everyone else. By the way, did you bring that writing sample I asked for?'
'I couldn't find anything,' she admitted. 'But I did write a short story about my parents' restaurant.'
'Short story?' He frowned.
'Nonfiction.' , ...... 'Then it's an article, not a short story. First lesson: terminology.'
'Should I write that down? Should I be taking notes?' 'Not unless you want to.'
'So what is this exactly? A job or a class?'
'Both.'
Sue sighed. 'I told my parents it's a class. They think there's a field trip today to the newspaper. I didn't tell them that's what was happening, but I sort of let them think it. I should've corrected them, but...' She shook her head. 'My father will be cool, as long as it doesn't affect my work at the restaurant, but I'm not sure what my mother's going to say.'
Rich smiled sympathetically. 'Do you want me to talk to your parents?'
'No,' she said quickly. 'I'll do it. But I do need to know what my hours are and all that sort of thing.'
'The hours are flexible. You come in when you can, work when you want to. I'll give you assignments and deadlines, and as long as you meet those deadlines, no problem.'
'How is the grading going to work? Are there still going to be tests?'
'Every Thursday. The newspaper's going to be your test. And don't worry about grades. This is strictly pass fail 'Do you have an assignment for me yet? .... He grinned. 'Glad you asked. You get to go through all that mail on your desk over there, separate the press releases from the ads, then pick out one with a local angle and rewrite it as a feature. That was the first assignment
I was given when I was an intern.'
'Did it teach you anything?'
'Not really. But that mail does need to be sorted, and it'll give you something to do while I go over your article.' 'I guess you want the article, then.' 'It would help.'
She reached into her purse, pulling out several folded pages paper clipped together and handing them to him. 'Here.'
He scanned the top page, then looked up at her. 'I'm impressed. You've got the right format and everything.'
She smiled self-consciously. 'It's amazing what you can learn on a trip to the library.'
He smiled back, but above his mouth his eyes were trou bled. Now that she looked, she saw that the easy good humor that had been so natural to Rich the other evening seemed forced today. She suddenly remembered what had happened, where he'd been all night. She glanced away from the editor, unable to meet his gaze. She tried to imagine how she would feel if her parents' graves had been dug up, but she didn't even want to think about her parents dying and immediately pushed the thought from her mind. 'I'll, uh, start looking through that mail,' she said. :::'.
'Okay. I'll go over your article.'
Sue went to the other desk, her desk, sat down, and began opening envelopes. Before she was even a fourth of the way through the pile, Rich was calling her back. She walked over, and he handed her the pages. She sat down in the folding chair, feeling as though she'd been kicked in the stomach. She'd spent the better part of yesterday working on the story, revising and rewriting it until she felt it was as good as she could make it, but obviously it hadn't been good enough.
The top page alone was covered with red pencil--squiggles and circles and unfamiliar marks.
'Not bad,' Rich said. 'I'm impressed.'
She looked up to see if he was being facetious, but his smile was gentle and understanding and not at all sarcastic. She felt confused and flustered. 'Not bad? Then what's all..' this?'
'Copyediting symbols. Some are corrections, but most are just symbols that tell the typesetter what to do. You'll be doing your own typesetting here, but I thought it was important for you to learn the symbols anyway. Typesetters don't go by the appearance of the manuscript, they go by what you tell them, so you should learn how to prepare your copy. The story itself, though, is pretty good. You're not a bad writer.'
'Really?'
'You're not a journalistic writer yet. This reads more like a report for an English class than a news article, but I think you'll be able to make the transition without too much trouble.'
He spent the next half hour explaining to her the basics of copy editing telling her what the symbols on her paper meant and when and how they were used. He then gave her a short assignment: copy edit one of the press releases she'd come across in the mail.
He opened the middle drawer of his desk, then the drawers on the side, searching for something. 'I was going to get you a pen, but I don't seem to have any extras here. Why don't you ask Carole to get you some.'
Sue had almost forgotten that the secretary was out front. She walked around the room divider and saw the plump woman gathering a handful of multicolored pens and pencils from the bottom right drawer of her desk.
'He's always losing pens,' Carole confided. 'I just gave him a box last week. I swear I don't know where they all go.' She handed Sue the pens she'd taken from the drawer. 'Here you go, dear. This should tide you over for a while.'
Sue smiled at her. 'Than' ......... 'You're more than welcome.' .....
She returned to the newsroom and went directly to her desk. She found a suitable press release in the pile-- an article from the Forest Service about an infestation of ips bee des in the northern part of the state--and began dutifully transcribing the symbols from her own paper to the release.
'I have a deadline to meet,' Rich told her. 'So I'll be working on my own article. If you need any help, give me a holler. Sue nodded. '
The two of them worked in silence. Sue kept glancing over at the editor. She couldn't help thinking that she should initiate a conversation, but she had no idea what to say. She wondered if he felt as strange and awkward as she did and hazarded another glance in his direction. He appeared to be busily working on his story, apparently unconcerned with the silence.
He glanced up, caught her looking at him, and smiled.
'How would you like to do 'Roving Reporter'?' he asked. 'Me?'
'I'm busy, I'm tired, and I'm not sure I'll be able to get to it this week. If I don't put it in, though, I'll be getting calls from everyone and his brother. The people in this town don't like their regular features to be missing.'
'What do I do?'
'You know how to work a camera?' . 'A little.'
'Either you do or you don't. We have a Canon AEI.' 'I don't,' she admitted.
'No problem. I'll show you how.' He opened his bottom desk drawer and pulled out the camera by its strap. 'I should warn you, though, that
'Roving Reporter' is not as easy as it looks. People think we just stake out a spot, ask the question, take a few photos, and that's it.
But you're going to find that there are a lot of people in this town who don't want their opinions published or who are afraid to express their opinions even on innocuous subjects. And there are even more who don't want their picture taken. I remember standing in front of the bank for two hours one day looking for five people to tell me whether they prefer ice cream or frozen yogurt. Not a controversial subject, but I stood there for haft the afternoon trying to find someone to respond. Everyone likes to read the 'Roving Reporter,' but no one wants to meet him. Or her...'
Sue smiled. 'Adversity and I are no strangers.'
