Emotionally speaking, my job is a very difficult one. I put myself under a lot of pressure. If I haven’t got two stories done by the end of the day, I feel badly. If I spell something wrong and editorial doesn’t find it, I feel worse. If editorial puts its own mistakes in, I am incandescent with rage.
There is also the challenge of getting the story right. This is particularly difficult now, when the mainstream news (especially about Covid-19) changes so fast and contradicts itself so often, you would think we were living in Orwell’s Oceana. I have contradictory stories and voices and slogans coming at me all the time. That would be fine if I cared only for a narrative and not about truth, but like everyone else at work, I’m a believing Christian and truth is a big deal. Truth is the only deal.
Then there’s the disapproval of wider society. On Facebook a woman with whom I went to (Catholic) high school responded to one of my posts with “Pro-lifers don’t care about children after they’re born.” This was so hackneyed and obviously wrong that I was stunned. In the end I wrote back “Do you know any pro-lifers besides me? Do you think I don’t care about children?”