Two weeks in the life of the nation.
Monday morningish and the latest edition of The Nation has arrived from the printer. The Nation team get their first look at the latest product. There are some oohs and aahs and once in a while an awww make its way into the reactions. Another week has begun and I am still at home in bed recovering from the past weekend’s debaucheries.
Monday is the least stressfull of the entire two weeks. Long lunches and more frequent smoke breaks make up most of the day complete with open discussion on the previous weekend’s events. But then people get serious after another, or during, a smoke break and start coming up with story ideas for the next issue. The salespeople are already hot on the trail for advertizers. The newsmen are on the phones chasing down their quarry. The phones are ringing. Another smoke break follows.
Tuesday: Not that much different from Monday. Sometimes photos are taken, people do lunch, ideas are batted around. Catherine runs around making sure people are working. A work board has been tacked up to the wall. Under every worker’s name is a list of their chores for the week. The list is long. “Between Friends,” “News,” “Phonebook,” “CD ROM,” “Rez Notes,” “Tax situation” and on, and on. A game is on one of the computers and some of us are hypnotized by Red Alert or Diablo. The office slowly empties by six o’clock.
Wednesday: Ads are drummed up and stories start to take form. More scandalous behaviour by the two governments and maybe a chief from here or there. Readers call in with tips. Some even call for help with this or that. Alex, Will and Catherine are constantly on the phone. Ernie is at his desk deep in thought plotting the takeover of the national Native publishing industry.
The classifieds come by mail or fax by the handful and have to be entered. Tedious work. I wanna this, I wanna that. You’ve seen them.
Thursday: A slight panic starts to enter the workplace. Are the photos done? When will they be ready? Did this person call back? This has to be done that has to be done. “Put away the photos!” someone says to me. It never ends.
Friday: The calm before the storm. The weekend is ahead. People are glad.
Black Monday: Three days before the paper goes to print. The writers are hunched over their computers, their fingers moving lightning fast over the keyboards. Ads come in by fax or courier. More meetings follow. Frantic smoke breaks.
Tuesday: Photos are ready. Some of them. The others are on the plane from the North. Stories already done are edited, proofed and if someone feels like it, they’re laid out. Once in awhile a story breaks and calls are made. Get the ugly facts! Stress everywhere. Red Alert comes up on the computer screen. People stay in much later putting finishing touches on their pieces. The nights end sometimes eleven or midnight.
Wednesday: Most of the ads are done save for corrections. Katerina spews out newly designed ads from the Mac and many end up back on her desk for minute corrections. The layout has begun. Most photos are back. Headlines are conceived. They have to be hip and catchy dammit! The editorial is on its way. The boys are working late. Not midnight late but two thirty in the morning late.
Thursday: We’re almost there. Everything is up on the wall ready to go and I’m sitting here typing these word with the guy from the printer standing behind me glaring. I pissed him off again I think.
