In the first few months of my first real job, I floated around the newsroom on a cloud. I was a cub reporter, getting regular bylines on page one of my hometown’s daily newspaper. I remember telling a new friend in the advertising department, “I can’t believe I get paid to do this.”
Those early days of beat reporting meant walking down to the county sheriff’s office each morning just a few blocks from our office and scouring the nightly log for speeding tickets and drunk driving arrests. I took calls from mortuaries and typed up obituaries in the late mornings, and just before deadline, I wrote stories from the notes I had taken at the county commissioners meeting the evening before.
In the afternoons I did ride-alongs with deputies or interviewed children about their 4-H projects. I wrote follow-up stories about lectures at the local college, or went out on a boat with the local Department of Natural Resources ranger.
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My friend and fellow High Calling editor, David Rupert, hosting a bunch of us over at his place this summer to talk about our first jobs. This is my contribution, and I'd be honored if you'd head over and finish the story. Say "hi" to David while you're at it!