Tetris, afternoon naps and pesky wasps

20170719-JJW_0720

I view each week like a game of Tetris.

Because when it comes to putting together a newspaper, it takes a lot of moving pieces and a lot of strategy and shifting to make things fall into place.

The centre of my week, the core of what keeps me organized, is my Runsheet. It stays in a leather folder with a pad of paper and it’s everything.

Well, it’s a spreadsheet, to be honest.

However, it has the list of all my assignments, all my meetings, all my reporter’s assignments, all my upcoming stories, all my upcoming features, all the reports at city hall that have been sent back to staff and will be coming forward at a later date, it’s got my entire calendar for the year ahead, and finally, it has all the story ideas, thoughts and notes that could one day become real stories.

And it changes every day.

I track it with a highlighter. When an interview gets completed, or a photo takes taken, that block on the spreadsheet is filled in, perhaps with a written note for what comes next.

This process is repeated until the end of the day when the previously clean Runsheet looks like a scribbled mess.

The next morning I clean it all up on Google docs, print off the clean version and start all over.

When the final touches are put on a story and its on the server ready for design, the entire row gets highlighted.

Tetris.

I mention this because, well, today is Wednesday, and it’s essentially the start of the week at The Oshawa Express.

There was a lot of emailing, a lot of feeler calls to set up interviews and a lot of planning.

It leaves my head feeling muddled and it always takes me a few hours to sort things back to normal. I was also up pretty late so that could be a factor too.

I came home from the office, put on Doctor Strange and flopped on the couch. I promptly fell asleep to people moving in and out of different worlds.

I awoke to a buzzing. A wasp was once again trying to build a nest in the crux of my open window. He’s gotten a fairly good start as there’s already a peanut sized ball of mud sticking to the white plastic. I wait for him to leave and close the window.

Now here I am.

I think it’s time for me to go to bed.

Thanks for reading,

J.J.W.