a reporter is someone who tells stories or anecdotes that he sees in his or her environment. I never thought of being a reporter when I was a kid. I thought it is hard for someone like me to get serious in front of the camera and say whatever I observed and found out.
A man walking slowly, hat marked by a single card. On a constant mission, describing reality as it fades slowly away. What is truth? For most of us it’s what he considers it to be. He has the power to bend reality, twist the essence of time.
Nobody likes an inaccurate reporter. A reporter is meant to be a solid source of information; an accurate, precise and reliable informant of event. Because that’s what a reporter is. A glorified informant.
they show up every time something happens… mostly when bad things happen… or so it seems…. bad things make headlines… sell papers… get people to watch their news… reporters….
there once was a reporter named john. it was a rainy day. his lunch fell to the ground just as he realized he had no money for food that day. he runs to the van truck with food and sees that the workers decided to cut back on food that day becuase they weren’t doing so well. he runs around looking for something- food money. he asks a camera person for some money. he’s got a dollar. he asks his producer. the producer gives him two quarters. the man is starving. he skipped breakfast that day and dinner last night. the man is shaking. he gets onto a subway, with a metro card and holds up a sign. “Starving man– no food, please help me get something to eat.” he makes jokes, but its no use, he is invisible. “I am a tv reporter! sometimes you see me. please friends, i’m freaking starving. can someone lend me anything just so i can have some braincells to keep going on with my day?”
a few quarters roll his way, a dollar here, a dollar there. enough to buy the cheapest sandwich at the grocery deli.
“chicken sanwhich please.”
“you don’t have enough” says the Indian clerk behind the register.
“Anything?” he says with choked up tears.
Indian clerk looks around, sighs, and gives him a sandwich.
“shhhh”
the reporter bites into his new crappy sandwich. had no interest in this craphole beforehand, but food is food. starving is starving. he leveled down just to get something. and hey, he got it. got it.
The story had to be done. While Don was chewing out our current news-reporter on his behavior, I chewed my lip and picked up the camera. Then I ran out into the trees. Our subject was getting away.
She seemed nice. Really. But he’d panicked. He didn’t want to be a celebrity. He never needed the spotlight. He simply did his job. But this was spiralling out of control and all he could do was push them all away. And it wast that he’d meant to be cold or mean or inconsiderate. He just did what ed always done: he told the truth.
“You repel me.”
And he’d seen the hatred bubble and the disappointment simmer and if he’d known that it would ruin him, he’d have just taken the taxi ride. But he’d made a mistake. And it had cost him his life.
i wish i found a reporter who would report to the world about my life situation. i cannot help myself but need somebody else to be objective, and tell the world how much shit there is in here!
the scum of the earth! they flock around their victims like vultures!!
thinking only of their own pleasure, profit, STORY! they are our collective conscious and our greatest evil. the most necessary evil of all.
Ah, this is kinda like what I want to be when I grow up. Not that I’ll ever grow up. It’s like Peter Pan up in here. Anyway, yeah, I want to be a reporter or a journalist, with my notepad and #2 and microphone and classy trenchcoat and fedora ensemble, running around thew city writing stories.
craig wants to be a reporter for the biggest tv network in the country. he’s trying his best to get the best grades to have a better chance in the future, when he graduates college. right now, he just knows what to do..
I don’t want to be a reporter. Never wanted to. I want, instead, to write. I had a job that required me to play the part of a reporter. But I left that job.
This is what I want to be when I grow up, what I dream about in the depths of my waking mind. I see myself frantic at a news desk; the good kind of frantic, of course. The kind of frantic that makes your bones sing and your soul race like it can’t quite be held still. This is the job that I want, not some dull office job but seeking, seeking the truth in everything and not relenting until it is found and safe in my writing desk. I will bash ideas into stories with my wor and manipulate language in beautiful ways, finding new ways to write and express and feel.
The reporter stood over him, out of breath, while the rain smacked against the plastic hood of his parka. After two and a half years, she’d found him, huddled in the dark under the rain like a frightened cat. She held the microphone by the cord, letting it dangle and sway. It dropped and made a muffled thud against the wet, cracked black pavement of the alley as she put her hands on her knees, exhausted from running, exhausted from having been running after James Landry for what felt like her whole career.
I smiled broadly, trying not to breathe too loudly in the microphone. Was it even on? Was my crew ready? This was what I had dreamed about for so long. I’d better not screw it up. I took another breathe and began to speak.
A reporter is someone who devotes their life to the study of anything and everything that comes their way. Like it or not. They have to be familiar with the p[resent times and be able to accurately speak about it in front of millions of people.
Billy was a reporter. As a kid he always looked up to the journalists and reposrters who would uncover the world’s mysteries and unrafel the truth about conspiracies and misled people.
Things didn’t quite turned out as expected so here Billy was in a small, cramped, badly lit office room, writing for the local newspaper about cats that had gone missing
Reporters are kind of like the cockroaches of our world. They never seem to die off, there all over the place and getting in the way, and tend to make a group of people split.
I started the day with a coffee and followed it up with a visit to the morgue to report on the latest killing in what was beginning to seem like a spree. No one knew who he was – or even if he was a he. For all we knew it was a woman, but
He worked as a reporter for the newtime magazine which took on its shoulder opening the public eyes of things related to the wrongdoings of the this corrupt government. He was good at it.
Make your report on how the universe stands tonight. This many deaths. This many accidents. These controversies. Politics playing like a soap opera. The stock market. Real life stories. Thanks for the heads up; if you need to find me, I’ll be deep deep under my covers, hiding from the world.
Reporters are people who report news on the television by telling the story of news events to the people watching the news report. In fiction works, reporters are often portrayed as nosy and annoying people who would change a story to make it more interesting, and that stereotype is not always true.
Wow! I can’t believe I see this word. Grin. It’s been a while. I was once a reporter and I am now a teacher. What sheer coincidence that I was just reflecting on my choices and this word comes up when I decided to pop in here. Reporting and being a reporter is fun and there’s a lot to be done. I miss the job sometimes.
The reporter looked down at his notepad and realized he was getting old – the new reporters (or “journalists” as they demanded they be called) were using iPads and net books to log their stories – not pen and paper. And they weren’t even out in the field they were using their fancy electronics and googling for info. Where was the adventure in that?
reporter was one of my words playing taboo tonight. I got it right after time ran out so it didn’t count. funny cause I think the time is going to run out here before I have anything worthwhile to say. ding.
‘He doesn’t look like a reporter,’ I said.
‘No, but he is.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘How long are we going to have this conversation for? Yes, I’m sure!’
‘Okay I believe you. He just doesn’t look like a reporter, is all.’
‘So you said. But what exactly do you think a reporter should look like, then?’
Someone who goes out and investigates the current events in the world, it could be about the latest cookie shop opening up or a man eating another man’s face. In some places, like Juarez, Mexico, they are killed.
The man listened to her, calmly, with his small magnetophone on the table. She didn’t even make sense and they both knew it, but that was his job after all : to take those meaningless, stupid sentences, and turn them into beautiful, incredibly touching declarations. He was not a reporter, he was not a journalist : he was a true, a real, a marvelous poet.
Reporters give vita, information to the public. Many news stations have to have reporters because of there speech skills and confidence whilst on a recording or even on live tv. Where would we be without them.
It has been my life dream to become a reporter. I am even studying Journalism and Media at a University in aid to become one. It is a difficult course, but I feel like I am getting there. Pray for me to succeed.
Batman
Oracle
hook up
play boy
body positive, empowerment
slut shaming
purple
Batgirl
annoying
persistent, abrasive
spell check, editing
hot news, celebrities, inside access
once upon a time
peace travel diversity freedom choices movility people heart sadness smile love animals plants earth planet view landscape sea ocearn sun moon joy appreciation creativity feel honesty family friend flower hospitality health sickness heaven architecture beauty life happy best humore food water vioce music share information sleep rest wondering respect sports
a reporter is someone who tells stories or anecdotes that he sees in his or her environment. I never thought of being a reporter when I was a kid. I thought it is hard for someone like me to get serious in front of the camera and say whatever I observed and found out.
A man walking slowly, hat marked by a single card. On a constant mission, describing reality as it fades slowly away. What is truth? For most of us it’s what he considers it to be. He has the power to bend reality, twist the essence of time.
Nobody likes an inaccurate reporter. A reporter is meant to be a solid source of information; an accurate, precise and reliable informant of event. Because that’s what a reporter is. A glorified informant.
they show up every time something happens… mostly when bad things happen… or so it seems…. bad things make headlines… sell papers… get people to watch their news… reporters….
there once was a reporter named john. it was a rainy day. his lunch fell to the ground just as he realized he had no money for food that day. he runs to the van truck with food and sees that the workers decided to cut back on food that day becuase they weren’t doing so well. he runs around looking for something- food money. he asks a camera person for some money. he’s got a dollar. he asks his producer. the producer gives him two quarters. the man is starving. he skipped breakfast that day and dinner last night. the man is shaking. he gets onto a subway, with a metro card and holds up a sign. “Starving man– no food, please help me get something to eat.” he makes jokes, but its no use, he is invisible. “I am a tv reporter! sometimes you see me. please friends, i’m freaking starving. can someone lend me anything just so i can have some braincells to keep going on with my day?”
a few quarters roll his way, a dollar here, a dollar there. enough to buy the cheapest sandwich at the grocery deli.
“chicken sanwhich please.”
“you don’t have enough” says the Indian clerk behind the register.
“Anything?” he says with choked up tears.
Indian clerk looks around, sighs, and gives him a sandwich.
“shhhh”
the reporter bites into his new crappy sandwich. had no interest in this craphole beforehand, but food is food. starving is starving. he leveled down just to get something. and hey, he got it. got it.
The story had to be done. While Don was chewing out our current news-reporter on his behavior, I chewed my lip and picked up the camera. Then I ran out into the trees. Our subject was getting away.
She seemed nice. Really. But he’d panicked. He didn’t want to be a celebrity. He never needed the spotlight. He simply did his job. But this was spiralling out of control and all he could do was push them all away. And it wast that he’d meant to be cold or mean or inconsiderate. He just did what ed always done: he told the truth.
“You repel me.”
And he’d seen the hatred bubble and the disappointment simmer and if he’d known that it would ruin him, he’d have just taken the taxi ride. But he’d made a mistake. And it had cost him his life.
Well, more or less.
i wish i found a reporter who would report to the world about my life situation. i cannot help myself but need somebody else to be objective, and tell the world how much shit there is in here!
the scum of the earth! they flock around their victims like vultures!!
thinking only of their own pleasure, profit, STORY! they are our collective conscious and our greatest evil. the most necessary evil of all.
Ah, this is kinda like what I want to be when I grow up. Not that I’ll ever grow up. It’s like Peter Pan up in here. Anyway, yeah, I want to be a reporter or a journalist, with my notepad and #2 and microphone and classy trenchcoat and fedora ensemble, running around thew city writing stories.
A reporter asked her about her husband. Was she worried?
She glanced to the house, thinking of the rusted old furnace in the basement.
No, she said. I’m sure he’s fine.
craig wants to be a reporter for the biggest tv network in the country. he’s trying his best to get the best grades to have a better chance in the future, when he graduates college. right now, he just knows what to do..
I don’t want to be a reporter. Never wanted to. I want, instead, to write. I had a job that required me to play the part of a reporter. But I left that job.
This is what I want to be when I grow up, what I dream about in the depths of my waking mind. I see myself frantic at a news desk; the good kind of frantic, of course. The kind of frantic that makes your bones sing and your soul race like it can’t quite be held still. This is the job that I want, not some dull office job but seeking, seeking the truth in everything and not relenting until it is found and safe in my writing desk. I will bash ideas into stories with my wor and manipulate language in beautiful ways, finding new ways to write and express and feel.
The reporter stood over him, out of breath, while the rain smacked against the plastic hood of his parka. After two and a half years, she’d found him, huddled in the dark under the rain like a frightened cat. She held the microphone by the cord, letting it dangle and sway. It dropped and made a muffled thud against the wet, cracked black pavement of the alley as she put her hands on her knees, exhausted from running, exhausted from having been running after James Landry for what felt like her whole career.
I smiled broadly, trying not to breathe too loudly in the microphone. Was it even on? Was my crew ready? This was what I had dreamed about for so long. I’d better not screw it up. I took another breathe and began to speak.
A reporter is someone who devotes their life to the study of anything and everything that comes their way. Like it or not. They have to be familiar with the p[resent times and be able to accurately speak about it in front of millions of people.
Billy was a reporter. As a kid he always looked up to the journalists and reposrters who would uncover the world’s mysteries and unrafel the truth about conspiracies and misled people.
Things didn’t quite turned out as expected so here Billy was in a small, cramped, badly lit office room, writing for the local newspaper about cats that had gone missing
someone who record facts and present them to the public to inform them on the matter. they usually
Reporters are kind of like the cockroaches of our world. They never seem to die off, there all over the place and getting in the way, and tend to make a group of people split.
I started the day with a coffee and followed it up with a visit to the morgue to report on the latest killing in what was beginning to seem like a spree. No one knew who he was – or even if he was a he. For all we knew it was a woman, but
He worked as a reporter for the newtime magazine which took on its shoulder opening the public eyes of things related to the wrongdoings of the this corrupt government. He was good at it.
newspaper- tv- telling truth – news- so tiring job – not worthy – dangerous
Make your report on how the universe stands tonight. This many deaths. This many accidents. These controversies. Politics playing like a soap opera. The stock market. Real life stories. Thanks for the heads up; if you need to find me, I’ll be deep deep under my covers, hiding from the world.
i love being a reporter because i never really left high school, said the girl with a fake tan fake nails fake eyelashes, probably fake eyebrows too.
i love being a reporter because i get money, said the secret sugar daddy
i love being a reporter because i get to be seen, said one of the hot cuomos
Reporters are people who report news on the television by telling the story of news events to the people watching the news report. In fiction works, reporters are often portrayed as nosy and annoying people who would change a story to make it more interesting, and that stereotype is not always true.
Wow! I can’t believe I see this word. Grin. It’s been a while. I was once a reporter and I am now a teacher. What sheer coincidence that I was just reflecting on my choices and this word comes up when I decided to pop in here. Reporting and being a reporter is fun and there’s a lot to be done. I miss the job sometimes.
The reporter looked down at his notepad and realized he was getting old – the new reporters (or “journalists” as they demanded they be called) were using iPads and net books to log their stories – not pen and paper. And they weren’t even out in the field they were using their fancy electronics and googling for info. Where was the adventure in that?
reporter was one of my words playing taboo tonight. I got it right after time ran out so it didn’t count. funny cause I think the time is going to run out here before I have anything worthwhile to say. ding.
She stopped. He seemed cunning, but sweet with a ted bit of a snobbish, rich-kid aura. She went on to him, still.
‘He doesn’t look like a reporter,’ I said.
‘No, but he is.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘How long are we going to have this conversation for? Yes, I’m sure!’
‘Okay I believe you. He just doesn’t look like a reporter, is all.’
‘So you said. But what exactly do you think a reporter should look like, then?’
a reporter is a guy with a microphone standing in front of a tv camera trying to make sense of events as the world explodes behind his back.
The reporter was talking
In front of the camera
Disconnected and disjointed
I wonder if she cries at night
Someone who goes out and investigates the current events in the world, it could be about the latest cookie shop opening up or a man eating another man’s face. In some places, like Juarez, Mexico, they are killed.
Seriously? You can move moons, you can fly, you have untold strength! And you want to be a reporter?
Well Dad, I need an alter-ego. Someone who is different from myself and whose job I can quickly accomplish. I think I’ll give the Daily Planet a shot.
The man listened to her, calmly, with his small magnetophone on the table. She didn’t even make sense and they both knew it, but that was his job after all : to take those meaningless, stupid sentences, and turn them into beautiful, incredibly touching declarations. He was not a reporter, he was not a journalist : he was a true, a real, a marvelous poet.
Reporters give vita, information to the public. Many news stations have to have reporters because of there speech skills and confidence whilst on a recording or even on live tv. Where would we be without them.
It has been my life dream to become a reporter. I am even studying Journalism and Media at a University in aid to become one. It is a difficult course, but I feel like I am getting there. Pray for me to succeed.
Batman
Oracle
hook up
play boy
body positive, empowerment
slut shaming
purple
Batgirl
annoying
persistent, abrasive
spell check, editing
hot news, celebrities, inside access
once upon a time
peace travel diversity freedom choices movility people heart sadness smile love animals plants earth planet view landscape sea ocearn sun moon joy appreciation creativity feel honesty family friend flower hospitality health sickness heaven architecture beauty life happy best humore food water vioce music share information sleep rest wondering respect sports