By Eileen Briesch
For Displaced Journalists

Two years ago, I got the word: Your life is ending. The career for which you worked the past 30-plus years

Eileen Briesch

is over. It was a normal Friday night, and then it wasn’t. We were going to order pizza from my favorite pizza place, and I was going around asking who wanted in. Then my boss came in and said I needed to come with him. I felt my chest tighten, the throat constrict, the tears start to well up. I thought everyone was looking at me as I walked down the hall with my boss. Then Andy said, “It was nothing that you did.”

Then why was I losing my job, the only thing I’ve ever done in my life? Why was I losing my life?
Other people had husbands and families and kids. They had lives. I had nothing else but this career I had built. This was my life. And now it was gone. It was being pulled out from under me, like a rug, and I was falling down, tripping helplessly to the floor. I tried to stop the tears, but couldn’t. Why, why me, if I did nothing wrong? What was wrong with me?

It was like death, I realized. I left the office that night, went to commiserate with other coworkers who had been “killed” that night, who were losing their jobs. Then I was home by myself to cry, to contemplate my death, my new life after death.Getting laid off is like a disease. The next day, I had to go back to work (it was part of the severance package; we had to work until our actual layoff date 60 days later). I felt like I had a disease, and everyone was afraid to get too close to me, afraid they’d catch the disease, too. The first two days were tough, because first, you cry. Then you want to fight back, you want revenge. And eventually, you say, “Ah, hell, the sun will come up and I’ll be stronger for this.”

And you know what? I am. There have been other layoffs at that company, and I feel like I’m going through it all over again, with every one of my former coworkers. I’m walking down that hall with them, feeling the tears well up again. I don’t know what the journey will be like for them. I know my journey has changed me so much. It has made me dig deep to dip into my reserves, some that I didn’t know were there.

I did land on my feet eventually. I got a new job. Maybe it’s not the world’s best one, but it’s a job and it pays the bills. Wherever life takes me now, I know this experience has changed me for the better. As my psychologist told me before I left Michigan for Louisiana, “You are an amazing woman.”

Yeah, I am.

By Jules Older, independent columnist

For better and worse, I tend to work on inspiration, not preparation.

Jules Older

Better because I drop everything except deadlines and focus like a laser on the new project.

Worse because I drop everything except deadlines. When everyone around you is expecting a right turn, a sudden swerve to the left can be unnerving.

In the past month, I made a huge, careening, two-wheels-off-the-ground swerve: an ebook about skiing… a book with a self-imposed deadline — ready to roll before the lifts started turning.

And this week, in the midst of that mega-focus, I detoured to something else. I composed, then sent everyone I know in Greater San Francisco, the message below.

If you have a similar situation where you live, a really good paper in really serious trouble, feel free to borrow the inspiration, copy the words, recreate the idea. (Displaced Journalists will post it as well. S.O.)

— jules

The Chronicle: Ten reasons I hope you’ll subscribe

Like papers everywhere, the San Francisco Chronicle is in trouble. More and more of us are getting our news online; fewer and fewer are buying papers.

Here’s why I hope you’ll reverse that trend in your house, as we have in ours.

1. PG&E. This company is blowing us up. Literally blowing us up. Without the Chronicle’s investigative team, we’d never know that it’s also ‘losing’ evidence, ‘misplacing’ documents, using shoddy materials, in a cozy relationship with the state’s ‘regulators’… and while the smoke was still hanging in the air over San Bruno, PG&E gave a big bonus to its ‘safety’ director.
2. Jon Carroll.
3. Ed Lee. I was right behind Ed for Mayor until the Chronicle began exposing shady practices, shady backers, shady money, even a shady instant biography/hagiography. When I saw Lee’s beautifully produced, ultra-hip, had-to-be wildly expensive YouTube video, that sealed it — I’m voting for somebody else. Wouldn’t have known to change my mind without theChronicle.
4. Bad Reporter.
5. UC. At a time when student fees are rising and entrance quotas shrinking, the University of California has been quietly upping pay and bennies for administrators. How do I know? Read all about it in theChronicle.
6. Willy Brown.
7. Local obsessions. Aside from sports teams (where Chronicle coverage also shines), what are the things that most interest Greater San Franciscans? Food. Wine. The digital world. Green technology. Nearby nature, beaches and mountains. I keep up on all of them through my morning paper.
8. Doonesbury.
9. Lively prose. If I have an addiction, it’s to great writing. I’m amazed at how often I look up from the paper and say, “Hey, listen to this.”
10. Leah Garchik.

Two things you should know.

First, I’m not sentimental about paper vs. digital. I like and use both. But I am passionateabout knowing what’s really going on. Not all papers deliver that, but the Chronicle does… and if it’s going to continue, it needs the financial support of subscribers.

Second, I occasionally write for the Chronicle, and I occasionally fight with the Chronicle. Neither has influenced this message in the slightest.

In this house, we’re subscribers. I hope you’ll be one, too.
— jules

Jules Older (still no relation to Displaced Journalists Founder Susan Older) is a freelance travel writer, the author of children’s books, the creator of the iPhone app San Francisco Restaurants, a speaker, a broadcaster and a consultant. Learn more about Jules here. To become a Lifeguard, just drop Jules a line at jules@julesolder.com, saying, “I’m a writer.  Sign me up!”

Editor’s note: Our most prolific Displaced Journalists member is definitely Jules Older, who shares my last name, but not my genes. We ran one of his Writer’s LifeGuard columns titled “Don’t Let the Bastards Rip You off” August 12, 2010. (Just check our archives.) These two columns deal with the same subject: what freelancers can do if they aren’t getting paid. The current (most recent) column is first, followed by “Making the Bastards Pay, II.”

Writer-Think and Lawyer-Think

By Jules Older

So here we go again (see below), only this time with a twist.

The twist is, the editor/publisher/owner of a magazine I’ve written for many times asks me, as a

Jules Older

favor, to delay sending my invoices for a while.

Magazines are in hard times, and I readily agree. I send him several articles over a number of months, and then I tell him it’s time to pay.

He’s shocked, shocked. “I— I didn’t know it would be this much. I just can’t afford to pay you all that now — I just don’t have the money.”

I say, “OK, then, how ‘bout this? You go on an automated payment plan, and on a regular basis, your bank transfers a set sum to mine.”

He agrees…though he’s a bit cagey about putting the terms in writing. He suggests $250 once a week until I’m paid in full. I cheerfully accept.

He misses the first payment. And the second. And the third. When I point this out, he sounds hurt… hurt and increasingly hostile.

Now I do what I should have done in the first place — I start contacting his old employees. “Ah,” they say, “Welcome to the club.”

Oh yeah, he’s done this before. Many times. I say to his ex-graphics guy, “I feel like I’ve been had.”

He says, “Mate, you have been had.” Both he and the ex-editor tell me, “You’ll never collect without a lawyer.” They each recommend a lawyer. It’s the same lawyer.

I’ve always taken a certain pride in the fact that I have no lawyer. I settle non-paying accounts with my wits, or, when I belonged to the National Writers Union, through their collections guy. But by now, my debtor has missed a fourth payment, and I know I won’t be able to crack this nut on my own.

So I become the third “ex-” to hire the same lawyer. I caution him that the editor/publisher/owner — let’s call him Milo — is about to leave the country for a month.

“Good,” says the lawyer. “That way when he gets my letter, he’ll be away from his support team, and it will cause maximum disruption.”

That’s the moment I begin to understand the difference between writer-think and lawyer-think.

Here’s another moment: At one point I’m explaining how “I’ve put Milo on a payment plan and—” and the lawyer interrupts. “Do you want to be a banker?”

“Uh, no. I want to be a writer.”

“Well, you’re acting like a banker, and if that’s what you want, bankers charge interest for their loans.”

“Oh.”

A third moment: “Do you want to get paid a little a week, which means that somebody else isn’t getting paid, and as soon as they put pressure on Milo, you won’t get paid? Or do you want to get your money in a lump sum?”

“In a lump sum, obviously, but he said he can’t afford __”

“We’ll see about that.”

Right. When it comes to collecting from welchers, lawyers think smart. Writers, not so much.

The lawyer — let’s call him Andrew — doesn’t threaten to sue. He doesn’t write an outraged letter. He hires a process server to serve the demand… which means deliver a court document that says, in lawyer-speak, Dude, unless you pay this debt, we are petitioning to dissolve your company.

That very day, Milo starts those automated transfers, as we’d agreed. I say, “He’s paying.” Andrew says, “He’ll stop as soon as he figures he can. Do you want the money or not?”

“Sure, but he can’t affor… yes, I fucking well do! I did the bastard a great favor, and he does me dirty.”

Next lawyer-letter says, we are in receipt of the payments, but we want the money. All of it. Without delay.

Now, Milo writes to me. Chummy letter, all hostility gone. Asks me to please withdraw the dissolve-the-company document. I’m tempted. Andrew isn’t. Says, “Don’t do it.”

I don’t.

Instead, Andrew writes to Milo’s lawyer — yes, he’s had to hire one — and says this: My client has generously agreed to waive the ever-accruing interest on the payment and to even offer a discount if said payment in full is in my hands by Thursday at 4 PM. After that, we’re going after his company.
Milo pays.

In full. At 3:30. I get all that’s owed me. My lawyer takes his fair and well-earned cut. And best of all, it’s cost Milo more to do the wrong thing than it would have if he’d done right in the first place.

Ask me how do I feel?

Like a million bucks.’

—  jules

And in the Steve Jobs’ tradition… One more thing.

Andrew’s law:

The lesson you could pass on is that whenever you are in a situation of a non-payer, it is better to seek help earlier rather than later. If Milo had kept to the bargain you made with him, it still would have taken a long time to pay what was due. During that time, the risk increases that Milo gets further into debt, and the payments to you are claimed back by a liquidator. So better to get a payment in one sum, then bunker down and hope Milo keeps going for longer.

As for other suggestions – I always tell my clients, ”Ring me first before you sign or agree to anything – I can do far more for you beforehand than after you have signed”.

Your lawyer and accountant should be your most trusted business advisors, and you should not choose them on the basis of them being the cheapest or fastest. If you don’t feel the trust, then you should find someone who does give you that feeling – it will save you in the long run.

Making the Bastards Pay, II

First, welcome to the newest Lifeguards, Theresa Russell and Melinda Blau. Theresa’s a travel writer specializing in cruises. Melinda’s a faction (née, non-fiction) author whose books include the wildly popular Secrets of the Baby Whisperer and the newly released Consequential Strangers.

Welcome aboard. Now, let’s talk money.

Writers Lifeguard # 9 was called “Making the Bastards Pay” or in this publication, “Don’t Let the Bastards Rip You Off.” Finances are much worse now, which means more bastards aren’t paying.

I’ve got a new trick.

I learned it from a Lifeguard who wants to remain anonymous; so, assume that names, places, genders are all changed in what follows.

She lives in San Francisco. Her publisher’s in New York. She worked for his magazine for years, first as writer, then features editor, then editor-in-chief. But when money got tight, he wouldn’t pay. Though she’s caring for her sick mom, and he’s building a fancy new house, the bastard wouldn’t pay.

She tried everything. Pleading, arguing, threatening, appealing to his better side. No pay. He figured 3,000 miles and a bunch of state lines gave him a perfect safety net. If she were foolish enough to jump on a plane for a New York court appearance, he’d just stall until she ran out of time and funds. Besides, it’s only $5,000 — no lawyer would want to touch it.

But desperation can be a resource. She wrote to every agency she could think of, telling them of her plight… and one of them answered.

It was the Department of Industrial Relations for the Labor Board of the State of California (www.dir.ca.gov). Two months after she wrote, she received a letter to appear before them. The NY publisher got the same letter.

She appeared (it was all of 30 minutes from her home). He didn’t (now, those 3,000 miles were his problem, not hers). She told her tale to the Deputy Labor Commissioner. She brought copies of the magazine, emails, check-stubs, tax forms, everything.

Two weeks later she was given a court date for a formal hearing. She went. He didn’t. It took about an hour.

Let ‘her’ pick up the story here…

“Two weeks later I received a judgment: My full pay plus penalties. After that, the publisher finally did respond—but too late. The Labor Commissioner told me that his late response was typical—nobody ever does anything unless they are legally ordered to pay.”

The result? Said publisher sent a cashier’s check to the Department of Labor. Our Lifeguard got her hard-earned cash.

Now, in nearly identical circumstances, my ex-publisher is refusing to pay me for work I’ve done.

I’ve tried everything I know, and he still won’t pay. Told me if I wanted my money, to sue him.

I don’t sue. But I have a date to meet him at the Department of Industrial Relations for the Labor Board of the State of California. No problem — it’s only 20 minutes from home. About 3,000 miles for the publisher.

This little meeting is one of the things I’m looking forward to in the new year. And if you’re having trouble collecting money you’ve earned, consider this a New Year’s gift from the anonymous Lifeguard and…

—  jules

Jules Older is a freelance travel writer, the author of children’s books, the creator of the iPhone app San Francisco Restaurants, a speaker, a broadcaster and a consultant. Learn more about Jules here. To become a Lifeguard, just drop Jules a line at jules@julesolder.com, saying, “I’m a writer. Sign me up!”

– 30 –

Schadenfreude, Part Two: I Apologize

By Debbie Galant, Baristanet

Posted September 8, 2011 on Authentically Local

Schadenfreude, or gloating over another’s misfortune, is not a pretty thing. By definition.

And though I’m used to being scolded by readers, my upbraiding by some of the Patch rank-and-file over my last post here has left me unexpectedly chastened.

I meant my rant for AOL’s corporate overlords, for Tim Armstrong and Arianna Huffington in particular, but I managed to offend and hurt other local journalists who, just like me, spent the last week bailing basements and working furiously to keep up with the news.

That’s bad, and that’s not pretty, and I apologize.

We live in a time of great economic disruption and everything in the world of media — everything in the world — is up for grabs. Read the rest of the story on Authentically Local.

Schadenfreude Time: Watching AOL Circling the Drain

By Debbie Galant, Baristanet

Posted September 2, 2011 on Authentically Local

Those of us who are the proprietors of small, independent hyperlocal news blogs have been watching the headlines with glee.

Tim Armstrong’s AOL dream may be ending

What Happens When AOL Finally Decides to Go Private

What an AOL Garage Sale Would Look Like

AOL Needs to Break Up Now

“Patch is worthless,” wrote Dana Blackenhorn in Seeking Alpha. ”Close it. Think a company like Gannett (GCI) or The New York Times (NYT) or News Corp. (NWS) might want it? If you find a sucker like that, call me. I have a bridge to sell.” Music to our ears.

It may be too early to dance on Patch’s grave, but boy are we ready. We all know how expensive and hard it is to do hyperlocal — but, unlike Patch, we haven’t had $160 million pockets to dig into. We’ve had to do it with our own sweat. Read the rest of the story on Authentically Local.

By Susan Older
Founder, Displaced Journalists & Real World Media

A former colleague from UPI posted a comment on my Real World Media blog yesterday jokingly lamenting the fact that it took him a year to respond to my commentary of March 14, 2010, regarding sloppy copy.

I responded that the issue is still relevant. As we all know, it seems to be getting worse. I can honestly say that it’s rare to find a story on the website of a major publication, one I once respected, that is free of grammatical or spelling errors.

As we all know, readers who see errors in spelling and grammar are likely to wonder whether there are also errors in reporting, quotes, and in the substance of the story.

There is another comment on the same blog post, also from a former colleague, a guy I worked with back at USA Today.

The original commentary, “The World Needs a Good Editor,” appeared on my Real World Media blog and here on Displaced Journalists.

Both comments are from journalists I respect. They both hit the nail on the head.

I think there are far too few seasoned editors in newsrooms these days; they’ve all been laid off, bought out, fired or otherwise cast adrift.

This leaves a few exceedingly busy seasoned reporters (if you’re lucky) to show young journalists the ropes, to mentor them, to teach them why perfection is not optional, to help them resolve ethical dilemmas, to teach them how to file an FOI request and why you would want to, and to help them learn to craft their stories well, keeping the readers’ needs in mind.

Gone are the pros, the journalists who’ve been around, the ones who held us accountable when we still had a lot to learn.

Remember how much passion there was in newsrooms in the old days? People cared, so much so that they were willing to fight over matters of principle.

Remember the gut-wrenching sound of a pica pole whacked on your desk just inches from your quivering hand? That’s what learning from the newsroom culture feels like.

Remember when you woke up in a cold sweat at 4 a.m. because your brain finally got around to telling you that you made a huge, embarrassing error on Page 1? That’s what learning from your own mistakes feels like.

These were the checks and balances that made our profession so great. I know plenty of young people are going to J-school these days, so there must be something about the profession that draws new recruits. I don’t mean to knock these students or recent graduates, either. I think it’s fantastic that people want to be journalists, and I think the new grads are just as smart as we were. I just don’t believe there are enough dyed-in-the-wool pros left in newsrooms to teach them well.

If you are a displaced journalist, you have probably been replaced – usually by someone who has less experience and is willing to work for far less money than you earned. However, too many of these replacements lack the education, the on-the-job training and the mentoring we received. I realize I’m generalizing, but I think this is largely accurate.

I think we all feel that it’s especially painful to see stories riddled with errors on the websites of The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Atlantic, USA Today, etc.

The really sad thing is that many of us love our profession so much that we would probably work for the same wages younger journalists make if it meant a once-trusted publication could turn out perfect copy again. Isn’t it odd that they won’t hire us?

I know why our cover letters and resumes get deleted without a response. Those at the top of news organizations see us as trouble. We know too much. We have opinions and we’re not afraid to express them. We might cause trouble. We might want to take their jobs or incite discontent. We might shake things up. They can’t have that, now, can they? Working in the newsroom of a financial site for just a year in the past decade taught me that.

For the most part, I like the new era. I love the Internet and I love digital media. I think with some proper guidance, it will all shake out to be good – different, but good – much the same as we once progressed from radio to television.

Standing up for what you know to be right? That era is largely gone, along with the insistence on perfection. That was our era. This is a new one.

That’s why I started Displaced Journalists. That’s why I seek funding to create an innovative news operation bearing my existing company name, Real World Media. It would need to embody all the old fervor, fair compensation and high standards, while working as a digital operation on a digital platform. I do believe it can be done.

But back to my point: Errors sap trust. Hire some copy editors.

Nobody wants to read sloppy copy.

This is a Writer’s Lifeguard column Jules Older wrote before we started publishing his commentary here on Displaced Journalists. If you’re sensitive

Jules Older

about reading what a few Amazon reviewers called “raunchy” language in reference to one of the books Jules mentions, stop reading now. Otherwise, enjoy. It’s one of those pieces that never loses its relevance. After you read his thoughts on ledes, you’ll find his latest Writers Lifeguard column, “Two Movies and a Book.” Jules is still not related to Displaced Journalists founder Susan Older, although that’s becoming increasingly hard for either of us to believe.

By Jules Older

FIDDLING AROUND WITH a business article as deadline nears has got me thinking about opening lines. Great opening lines, a.k.a. killer ledes, are things I love.

I once did a Vermont Public Radio commentary that consisted entirely of different ways to start a story, in this case a story about, of all things, a Kingston Trio concert. Here are some of the opening lines I considered:

• The last time I’d seen the Kingston Trio was on an album cover at a garage sale.

• Why was this song banned from AM radio in 1963?

• Y’know, it’s really hard to tell a new joke these days. The trouble is, email has put nearly all of us on one big joke list.

• I believe in the universality of music. You don’t? OK, let’s play a game. I’ll say four words, and I’ll bet you that, like it or not, you won’t be able to keep yourself from saying the next two. And everyone listening to my voice will say the same two. Ready? Hang down your head ___ _____…

Then I thought of my two favorite openers of ski stories. The first is by Steve Casimiro:

“The cold wakes me just an hour into the flight. How cold is cold at 15,000 feet, just a few degrees south of the Arctic Circle? Minus 60? Minus 90? At this point on the thermometer, numbers are irrelevant, just punctuations in a rhetorical question. They’re irrelevant, that is, unless you’re, say, on your first trip to Greenland and contemplating the nature of engine oil viscosity breakdown in extreme cold, and the odds against surviving a plane crash on an ice sheet.”

The other’s by Leslie Anthony:

“Eleven hours on the road does horrible things to a person. You sweat profusely, your clothes cling in awkward bundles and you start to smell. Your bladder forsakes its regular rhythms and becomes an hourly annoyance. Emotions run the gamut from anger to paranoia; you reassess your life, develop an intense lust for someone you haven’t seen in a decade and begin to hate your driving companion. And inevitably, you think sick thoughts. Like abstractly flirting with the ramifications of swerving into a set of oncoming headlights. Who’d come to your funeral? What would they say?”

I bestow the “Best Travel-Related Lede in a Non-Travel Book Award” to Mary Roach, for her faction (formerly: non-fiction) book on corpses, “STIFF: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers.” Here’s Ms Roach’s winning lede: “The way I see it, being dead is not terribly far off from being on a cruise ship.”

That alone would win her the prize. But the rest of the lede graf seals it: “Most of your time is spent lying on your back. The brain has shut down. The flesh begins to soften. Nothing much new happens, and nothing is expected of you.”

Wow. Now, why can’t I write a lede like that?

As I pondered great openings, I discovered there are entire websites dedicated to just that. Here, for example, are the top five out of the “100 best first lines from novels” as chosen by the American Book Review, published at Illinois State University:

1. Call me Ishmael. — Herman Melville, Moby-Dick (1851)

2. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice (1813)

3. A screaming comes across the sky. Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow (1973)

4. Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967)

5. Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita (1955)

OK, they’re nice enough, but me, I’ve got a new personal fave. I got it from The Write Stuff column in the May 21^st Spectator. Though the columnist detested it (“I would rather not have existed than have written the book to be published next 8 July by St Martin’s”), I thought it was — actually, will be, since it isn’t out yet — wonderful. Nobody, and I mean nobody, can put down a book that starts as J.J. Salem starts Tan Lines, to be published by St Martin’s Press on 8 July:

‘There are 8,000 nerve endings in the clitoris, and this son of a bitch couldn’t find any of them.’

Wow. Now, why can’t I write a lede like that?

— jules

Writer’s Lifeguard: Two movies and a book

Royal weddings aside, everybody’s talkin’ bout a pair of films: “True Grit” the Elder and “True Grit” the Usurper. Everybody’s talkin’ ‘bout which one’s better.

Here’s how the argument goes: The original’s clearly better; it starred The Duke in his only Academy Award-winning performance. Nah, the remake’s better — Duke-schmook, you can’t beat the Coen brothers.

I’ve recently watched both, and I yam happy to provide you with what I know you’ve been seeking: the definitive answer. Which is…

There’s no contest — “True Grit” II is the winner. The first did have John Wayne, and he turned in a fine performance. But Jeff Bridges is no slouch, either. Though I’d give him the nod, let’s call that part a tie.

But while the first movie starred Wayne, the second doesn’t star Bridges. The real star is a 14-year-old phenom named Hailee Steinfeld. She acts circles around the original’s Kim Darby, who, though no slouch herself, looked and sounded like who she was — a 20-year-old acting the part of a young teen.

As you’d expect from the Coens and a movie called “True Grit,” in their film, everybody looks like they haven’t washed for a week, or in the case of Bridges, for 16 weeks. In the original, even if they’d been riding the dusty trail and sleeping rough, every actor’s hair was squeaky clean. Every male actor was freshly shaved. Even that drunken roughneck Rooster Cogburn appeared to have just stepped out of a Rodeo Drive spa.

What’s more, the first Grit’s director, Henry Hathaway, shot for the scenery. Every outdoor image was framed or backdropped by a glorious mountain range or clear-flowing river or fertile valley — the score could have been God Bless America. (Actually, the score was soaring strings, the auditory equivalent of those scenic backdrops.) It was shot like a western musical, more Oklahoma! than Arkansas. By contrast, the Coens focus tight on Rooster, on Mattie, on the villains they’re chasing. Given the story, that’s a much better choice.

So. The winner and champeen is “True Grit” 2010. I adored it. Liked the 1969 version — adored the remake.

But not quite as much as I adored the book they’re both based on.

“True Grit” by Charles Portis came out in 1968. In the midst of a summer-long trip to Japan and jonesing for something American, I picked it up in a Tokyo bookstore. Fell in love with it that night. Re-read it last month and felt the love anew.

“True Grit,” the book, is an American classic, right up there with Tom Sawyer and Grapes of Wrath. It’s recently been re-issued in paperback by The Overlook Press. I so highly recommend it to you.

Will you love it, too? If you love the lede graf, the answer is yes. Here’s how Portis opens:

“People do not give it credence that a 14-year-old girl could leave home and go off in the wintertime to avenge her father’s blood but it did not seem so strange then, although I will say it did not happen every day. I was just 14 years of age when a coward going by the name of Tom Chaney shot my father down in Fort Smith, Arkansas, and robbed him of his life and his horse and $150 in cash money plus two California gold pieces that he carried in his trouser band.”

Way back at Writers Lifeguard 10, I wrote about killer ledes. It’s republished above. Let me now add “True Grit” to my fave list.

And, I hope, yours.

— jules

Do you ever feel like caving in and writing “for exposure”? Do you just want a reminder of why you haven’t done so? Watch the Harlan Ellison video: Pay the Writer. It’s a classic.

By Jules Older

When you’re out of work, or, put more genteelly, underemployed, what do you do with your newfound leisure time?

Jules Older

By ‘leisure time,’ I mean time nobody’s paying you to use.

Everybody’s different in needs, time, mortgages and inclination, but I know what’s working for me. In hopes that some of it will work for you, here goes:

Learn new stuff. The new stuff I’m learning is videography. As the world grows more visual and more digital, it will be increasingly usefulblahblahblah.

That’s likely true, but the real reason I’m learning it is that I want to. I love it. I love watching my skills grow from naught to naught half bad. You can judge for yourself at http://www.YouTube.com/julesolder.

I’ve had three great aids in learning to shoot and edit.

One is a tiny, cheap, incredibly versatile Canon camera. I’ve used the pocket-sized Canon SD940 IS to shoot about 30 videos. I still can’t believe how good it is, most especially in low light.

The second is Apple’s iMovie, a tool that comes at no extra charge with every Mac. It’s made for enthusiasts, not professionals, but it’s met or exceeded my needs and desires nearly every time.

Third — maybe first — is the best bargain I’ve found, ever. It’s Apple’s One to One program. When you buy a new Apple computer, you’re given the opportunity to sign up for One to One. Take it.

Costs a hundred bucks for a year. For that hundred, you get to meet with an expert once every week or two to work on any aspect of Macology you like. Just about everything I know about videography, I’ve learned at the Chestnut Street Apple Store. Costs me, oh, $1.50 an hour.

Do good things. Last time I was in New Zealand, the earth moved. It moved in Christchurch, which experienced its first quake ever. This time, a few short days after I got off the plane, Christchurch had its second. And this was the big one.

On the theory that it might be me, I did what I could to ameliorate the horror. Through my Jokers list, I kept friends and relatives up to date on our safety, our friends, and what was happening in Christchurch. Because I’m a member of Ski Club of International Journalists, I did the same with the 200 or so media mavens I’d met only the week before. I used both lists to raise funds for the victims.

And I volunteered to go to Christchurch. I volunteered three times to three organizations. And while none took me up on it, I couldn’t have even made the offer if I’d been gainfully employed.

Stay in touch. The Christchurch quake was only one way of many I’ve been in closer touch with friends and colleagues since those monthly checks stopped rolling in. I’ve used the down time to pick up lapsed relationships and to start new ones. That’s been nice.

Hasn’t always worked out the way I planned, though. When I left a message for an old friend who’d moved to L.A. asking if he was ok, he admitted “My first thought was — what’s he want?”

I suggested he’d been in Los Angeles too long.

Hard times roll. Renewing my freelance ‘career’ has reminded me how bloody hard freelancing really is. For instance, from New Zealand I wrote what I think was a pretty fine op-ed piece about the quake, Why it’s good it happened here. Sent it to, oh, seven or eight papers and three magazines in five countries. My hometown paper didn’t bother replying — thanks a lot, San Francisco Chronicle. Others said no, not for us. In the end, one paper and one magazine took variations on it, but it was hard yakka getting the thing sold.

That’s all, folks… except for one thing. Remember: Life is what’s left when you’re out of work. Better learn — or re-learn — to enjoy it.

— jules

Jules Older (amazingly, no relation to Displaced Journalists Founder Susan Older) is a freelance travel writer, the author of children’s books, the creator of the iPhone app San Francisco Restaurants, a speaker, a broadcaster and a consultant. Learn more about Jules here. To become a Lifeguard, just drop Jules a line at jules@julesolder.com, saying, “I’m a writer.  Sign me up!”

By Mike Cassidy
Mercury News

Are you there God? It’s me, twitter.com/mikecassidy.

Maybe it’s no surprise that we’ve reached the point where, rather than looking to the heavens to find God, we’re looking to the cloud. It’s where we live now, with iPods, iPads, Android gizmos, social networks. The town square, complete with steepled church, has become a digital rectangle that we carry in our pockets.

I’ve been thinking about this since the recent excitement over “Confession: A Roman Catholic App,” an iPhone application that offers Catholics a nifty way to prepare for the sacrament of confession.

Never mind that any Catholic could use help. When I was a kid, I constantly worried that I didn’t have enough sins to recite to the priest. So, I’d make up a few extras, and essentially lie to a priest, which of course meant another transgression and another trip to confession.

As of last week, the app, which provides a digital inventory of bad acts, was the sixth-most-popular in Apple’s lifestyle category, which in a bit of iLife synergy puts it right behind the iKamasutra.

Some of the buzz around the confession app was due to the fact that it was sanctioned by a Catholic bishop — a sign the church was ready to meet congregants in the century in which they are residing. It also held the delicious juxtaposition of modern technology aiding in an ancient rite. And it provided plenty of material for snickering….

Read the entire story on SiliconValley. com.

By Alan D. Mutter
Reflections of a Newsosaur
Monday, Jan. 31 2011

The Daily, which is set to launch this week, could be a captivating hit, a spectacular miss or something in between. But one thing is sure:

Rupert Murdoch, the last swashbuckling publisher of our time, will shake up the media world on Wednesday when he introduces the first iPad-only news product, which is expected to be sold in subscriptions costing 99 cents a week.

While it is too early to tell how well The Daily will do, here are the key factors that will determine its fate:

Why it could succeed

• No baggage. As an all-new product built specifically for the iPad, The Daily can take advantage of the full multimedia and interactive capabilities of this exciting new platform. Thus, The Daily can avoid the common mistake among the legacy print and broadcast media of trying to replicate their existing products on the iPad, instead of creating something refreshingly new.

• Wealth of content. As the pet project du jour of Mr. Murdoch, The Daily is likely to be able to pull from the global, cross-media content resources of News Corp. This includes not only such varied publications as the Wall Street Journal, The Times of London and the New York Post but presumably also the rich media and reporting produced by Fox Cable News and the Fox Television Network, which has outlets in almost every market in the United States.Powerful promotion. The unsurpassed reach of News Corp.’s diversified media properties means The Daily will have millions of free (or deeply discounted) marketing impressions every hour of every day, around the world and around the clock.

• Deep pockets. With $33 billion in sales and $5.7 billion in operating profit, News Corp. is well positioned to subsidize The Daily for as long as Mr. Murdoch cares to pursue the project.

How it could fail

• It’s not free. While publishers from the Augusta Chronicle to the New York Times increasingly are moving in the direction of charging for the news they digitally delivered for free for 1½ decades, any number of alternative news sources are likely to eschew charging for content for as far as the eye can see. The business models of ventures like Huffington Post and Patch.Com call for them to generate as many page views as they can to build their ad inventories. HuffPo, among many others, specializes in summarizing stories originating at other sites. When The Daily publishes worthwhile stories, it’s likely that HuffPo will want to crib from it, too. And they’ll be free.

• Embedded competition. Widely presumed to be a general-interest national news product, The Daily will compete with well-established…. To read more of this post, click here.

Alan D. Mutter is perhaps the only CEO in Silicon Valley who knows how to set type one letter at a time. Mutter began his career as a newspaper columnist and editor at the Chicago Daily News and later rose to City Editor of the Chicago Sun-Times. In 1984, he became No. 2 editor of the San Francisco Chronicle. He left the newspaper business in 1988 to join InterMedia Partners, a start-up that became one of the largest cable-TV companies in the U.S. Mutter was the COO of InterMedia when he moved to Silicon Valley in 1996 to join the first of the three start-up companies he led as CEO. The companies he headed were a pioneering Internet service provider and two enterprise-software companies. Mutter now is a consultant specializing in corporate initiatives and new media ventures involving journalism and technology. He ordinarily does not write about clients or subjects that will affect their interests. In the rare event he does, this will be fully disclosed. Mutter also is on the adjunct faculty of the Graduate School of Journalism at the University of California at Berkeley. To see his entire profile, click here.