May 3 was the Atlantic Journalism Awards. (Was a finalist in the Feature Writing for Radio category) Quite the swanky affair…reception overlooking the harbour, excellent people watching opportunites, delicious food (a salad ‘sculpture’ with poppy seed dressing, salmon steak rubbed with herbs, and a decadent chocolate custard served with Nova Scotia berries. I feel so Virginia Woolf.), and a long awards ceremony laced with a bit of schmoozing. (and wine)
The guest speaker (a national news anchor who shall remain nameless) informed the audience that ‘fiction can’t change lives and journalism can.’ Hmmm, I sure wish someone had told me that before I started the novel.
ARGHHHHHH. What an ass. I guess he thought he knew his audience.
After fuming over his remarks I have come to these conclusions…
1. If he’s never read a work of fiction that has left him feeling ‘changed’ then I feel sorry for him.
2. Excellence in writing is excellence in writing. the ‘difficult story’ whether told by a journalist, a novelist, a poet or playwright is the most rewarding.
3. My reason for being there was to light a fire in my heart. The evening reaffirmed my dedication to work toward ALWAYS creating work that has meaning and depth.
On the up side I met some wonderful people. The journalist who won the gold in my category has been at it for over 20 years. She and some other CBC producers had many compliments for my work. Encouraging. I will keep the homefires burning.
Mr. National News can bite me.