Archive for September 2014
For todays workshop, we were given a press release and had to work in pairs. Within our group, we had to come up with a story from the press release that we had been given and create a script to it.
The press release that Me and Roxanne received was from the Department for Education, National College for Teaching and Leadership and The Rt Hon David Laws MP.
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| www.gov.uk/government/news/bursaries-and-scholarships-for-top-graduates-who-train-to-teach |
We decided to work on Google documents, collaboratively, which meant that we could both work on the same document,at the same time from our own computers, altering it real time as we researched.
At first when i was talking about the story with Roxanne, i mentioned that we should cover what the press release has told us, but then after brainstorming some more, she came up with a comparative suggestion, about how the nurses are being denied a 1% in pay rise, and bursaries are being offered out to top graduate, to which we checked this over with Helen, and she gave us the go ahead.
Here are the notes we worked on together
Here's the script that we worked on together
Further information can be found about the research that we done on Roxanne's blog post.
http://roxannemeatsbroadcastmeadia.blogspot.co.uk/2014/09/digital-news-workshop-research.html
Tag :// Digital News Production Unit,
Tag :// Idea development,
Tag :// Idea development workshop,
Tag :// Research
One of the ideas i mentioned to my group was about a recent incident that happened with the leaked photos of celebrities nude, hacked from their iCloud account, and how a P.R company pretending to be 4chan; made up a fake website called Emma your next, a day after Emma Wattson had given a speech on Gender equality at the United Nations.
After creating this fake website, and fake post (screen shot) of 4chan website, they then went onto create it into a news story, and made the news story trend alongside Emma Wattsons UN speech with the hostage EMMAYOURNEXT
The result of this was that a variety of different news companies picked up the story and reported on it, not know that it was actually a fake P.R marketing campaign. Not happy about it, the real member of 4Chan began to investigate whom was behind this scheme, and in the end found out it was a company called www.Rantic.com and also www.foxweekly.com. To which Rantic tried to start a viral campaign to close 4chan down, and that backfired majorly with 4chan and Reddit users hacking Rantics website, and starting their own hashtag campaign called ShutRanticDown.
http://www.dazeddigital.com/artsandculture/article/21909/1/emma-watson-nude-photo-leak-outed-as-viral-marketing-hoax
http://www.bbc.co.uk/newsbeat/29341593
We were contemplating to go ahead with this story, but then found it to not possibly have much appeal to our audience, however, because of us talking about this, we came across another story which was to do with iCloud and the U2 album.
Following up from our workshop we had on the 26th of september, i done some further research into how the News is produced, and some of the key jargon used within the News industry, and what makes up a News story.
(Based off of notes taken from slide and altered)
Where the Newsroom Finds it's stories
Primary Sources
- Your own direct contacts
- Original sources direct from source material eg Archive material from libraries etc such as Kew (National Archives)
- PUBLIC APPEALS ( Public appeal for donations, or for a missing person
- PRESS RELEASES ( Could be a company which has sent out a press release about a new up and coming product, or a Government announcing plans for new housing(https://www.apple.com/uk/pr/library/2014/09/09Apple-Unveils-Apple-Watch-Apples-Most-Personal-Device-Ever.html))
- STATS ( Official stats released about i.e. the declining rate of unemployment in Britain compared to previous years)
- OFFICIAL STATEMENTS (i.e Politician giving official statement towards a subject matter, written or spoken(https://www.gov.uk/government/news/statement-on-murder-of-alan-henning-by-isil)
- News agencies ( Reuters, Press association, (A news agency is an organization that gathers news reports and sells them to subscribing news organizations, such as newspapers, magazines, and radio and television broadcasters. A news agency may also be referred to as a wire service, newswire, or news service. taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/News_agency)
SECONDARY SOURCES -
- STRINGERS ( a freelance journalist or photographer who contributes reports or photos to a news organization on an ongoing basis but is paid individually for each piece of published or broadcast work (http://handbook.reuters.com/index.php?title=Dealing_with_stringers))
- Trending topics on Twitter ( Sometimes they could be unreliable, as someone could be manipulating the trending system to make untrue story popular and of public interest)
- Facebook ( Even tho this too is not too reliable, however, someone could put out a story on your news feed of something that has just happened in front of them, plus they could of filmed/took pictures and uploaded it along with their account of whatever it is that they've witnessed)
Television News story forms
Which are your:
- READERS (“tell” stories) - A short story which the presenter reads out with no video to accompany it or any full screen graphics
- OOV -VO Out of Vision, voice-overs, Type of story that incorporates b-roll video rolled-in from the control room, in addition to the script read by the anchor. The abidance hears the nat sound on the B-roll behind the anchor's voice (Phillip L. Harris, 2011. Television Production & Broadcast Journalism. Second Edition, Textbook Edition. Goodheart-Willcox P.19)
- SOT Sound on tape, footage of a principal player connected to a story, which include voice/audio that supports the story. Also called sound bites. (Phillip L. Harris, 2011. Television Production & Broadcast Journalism. Second Edition, Textbook Edition. Goodheart-Willcox P.197)
- VO-SOT Voiceover - sound on tape; a type of story in which the audience sees B-roll video and hears both the anchor reading from the teleprompter and footage of a comment from a principal player in the story (Phillip L. Harris, 2011. Television Production & Broadcast Journalism. Second Edition, Textbook Edition. Goodheart-Willcox P.197)
- PACKAGE A story that is about 1-2 minutes in length, contains it's own intro and outdo, is edited, and can be inserted into a live program at any time the producer chooses.
- This Package has a combination of VO-SOT (Voice over, Sound on Tape)
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| Script contain VO |
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| Script with VO-SOT |
- PACKAGE A story that is about 1-2 minutes in length, contains it's own intro and outdo, is edited, and can be inserted into a live program at any time the producer chooses.
Correspondents
These subject specialists work in newsrooms and are prized for their in depth knowledge and well honed contacts.
A Correspondent is a Journalist or commentator whom is a specialist in a specific area of field, this could be fore example:
These subject specialists work in newsrooms and are prized for their in depth knowledge and well honed contacts.
A Correspondent is a Journalist or commentator whom is a specialist in a specific area of field, this could be fore example:
- Economics
- Parliamentary
- Political
- War
- Entertainment/Red carpet
- Capital Correspondent
- Chief international correspondant (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/correspondents/lysedoucet/)
- China Correspondent
- African Correspondent
In short, you could have a correspondent for anything that could be reported/newsworthy, so long as these people are experts in the area of fields that they're reporting.
News Packages
News packages are fully formed self contained news pieces.
Unlike OOVs and OOV/SOTs the news presenter is not involved in the storytelling itself, but rather in introducing and wrapping up the story (usually introducing and saying thank you to the reporter at the end) – the reporter takes the lead on the story.
There are a variety of elements available in a news package. These include:
- Interviews
- Sequence / actuality
- Set up
- GV's/ Cut aways - General view and Cut away shots could be shots that illustrate the point that the commentary or interviews is making.
- This video contains all of the above
- PTCs (Pieces to camera = Talking in vision direct to camera,(http://www.bbc.co.uk/academy/journalism/article/art20130702112133474)
- Graphics at 1:34 onwards
Heres a descriptive video that i've found useful from the BBC journalism Youtube account
Today we got set our second assignment which is the fiction adaptation unit. For this unit, we have to choose one of five poems and adapt it to how we see fit, creating a story to the poem, and filming a short film as well. We also have to write a 2-2.5k word essay answering one of the essay questions below.
Here are the five poems that we have to choose from
POEMS for Fiction Adaptation Project 2014
Anthem for a Doomed Youth – by Wilfred Owen (1917)
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, –
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
The Death Bed – by Siegfried Sassoon (1916)
He drowsed and was aware of silence heaped Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls; Aqueous like floating rays of amber light, Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep. Silence and safety; and his mortal shore Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death.
Someone was holding water to his mouth. He swallowed, unresisting; moaned and dropped Through crimson gloom to darkness; and forgot The opiate throb and ache that was his wound. Water-calm, sliding green above the weir. Water-a sky-lit alley for his boat, Bird- voiced, and bordered with reflected flowers And shaken hues of summer; drifting down, He dipped contented oars, and sighed, and slept.
Night, with a gust of wind, was in the ward, Blowing the curtain to a glimmering curve. Night. He was blind; he could not see the stars Glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud; Queer blots of colour, purple, scarlet, green, Flickered and faded in his drowning eyes.
Rain-he could hear it rustling through the dark; Fragrance and passionless music woven as one; Warm rain on drooping roses; pattering showers That soak the woods; not the harsh rain that sweeps Behind the thunder, but a trickling
peace, Gently and slowly washing life away.
He stirred, shifting his body; then the pain Leapt like a prowling beast, and gripped and tore His groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs. But someone was beside him; soon he lay Shuddering because that evil thing had passed. And death, who’d stepped toward him, paused and stared.
He drowsed and was aware of silence heaped Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls; Aqueous like floating rays of amber light, Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep. Silence and safety; and his mortal shore Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death.
Someone was holding water to his mouth. He swallowed, unresisting; moaned and dropped Through crimson gloom to darkness; and forgot The opiate throb and ache that was his wound. Water-calm, sliding green above the weir. Water-a sky-lit alley for his boat, Bird- voiced, and bordered with reflected flowers And shaken hues of summer; drifting down, He dipped contented oars, and sighed, and slept.
Night, with a gust of wind, was in the ward, Blowing the curtain to a glimmering curve. Night. He was blind; he could not see the stars Glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud; Queer blots of colour, purple, scarlet, green, Flickered and faded in his drowning eyes.
Rain-he could hear it rustling through the dark; Fragrance and passionless music woven as one; Warm rain on drooping roses; pattering showers That soak the woods; not the harsh rain that sweeps Behind the thunder, but a trickling
peace, Gently and slowly washing life away.
He stirred, shifting his body; then the pain Leapt like a prowling beast, and gripped and tore His groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs. But someone was beside him; soon he lay Shuddering because that evil thing had passed. And death, who’d stepped toward him, paused and stared.
Light many lamps and gather round his bed. Lend him your eyes, warm blood,
and will to live. Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet. He’s young; he
hated War; how should he die When cruel old campaigners win safe through?
But death replied: ‘I choose him.’ So he went, And there was silence in the summer night; Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep. Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.
But death replied: ‘I choose him.’ So he went, And there was silence in the summer night; Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep. Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.
The Cenotaph – By Charlotte Mew (1919)
Not yet will those measureless fields be green again Where only yesterday the wild sweet blood of wonderful youth was shed;
There is a grave whose earth must hold too long, too deep a stain, Though for ever over it we may speak as proudly as we may tread.
But here, where the watchers by lonely hearths from the thrust of an inward sword have more slowly bled,
We shall build the Cenotaph: Victory, winged, with Peace, winged too, at the column’s head.
And over the stairway, at the foot—oh! here, leave desolate, passionate hands to spread.
Violets, roses, and laurel, with the small, sweet, tinkling country things Speaking so wistfully of other Springs,
From the little gardens of little places where son or sweet- heart was born and bred.
In splendid sleep, with a thousand brothers
To lovers—to mothers
Here, too, lies he:
Under the purple, the green, the red,
It is all young life: it must break some women’s hearts to see
Such a brave, gay coverlet to such a bed!
Only, when all is done and said,
God is not mocked and neither are the dead
For this will stand in our Market-place—
Who’ll sell, who’ll buy (Will you or I Lie each to each with the better grace)? While looking into every busy whore’s and huckster’s face
As they drive their bargains, is the Face
Of God: and some young, piteous, murdered face.
Not yet will those measureless fields be green again Where only yesterday the wild sweet blood of wonderful youth was shed;
There is a grave whose earth must hold too long, too deep a stain, Though for ever over it we may speak as proudly as we may tread.
But here, where the watchers by lonely hearths from the thrust of an inward sword have more slowly bled,
We shall build the Cenotaph: Victory, winged, with Peace, winged too, at the column’s head.
And over the stairway, at the foot—oh! here, leave desolate, passionate hands to spread.
Violets, roses, and laurel, with the small, sweet, tinkling country things Speaking so wistfully of other Springs,
From the little gardens of little places where son or sweet- heart was born and bred.
In splendid sleep, with a thousand brothers
To lovers—to mothers
Here, too, lies he:
Under the purple, the green, the red,
It is all young life: it must break some women’s hearts to see
Such a brave, gay coverlet to such a bed!
Only, when all is done and said,
God is not mocked and neither are the dead
For this will stand in our Market-place—
Who’ll sell, who’ll buy (Will you or I Lie each to each with the better grace)? While looking into every busy whore’s and huckster’s face
As they drive their bargains, is the Face
Of God: and some young, piteous, murdered face.
Recalling War – By Robert Graves (1938)
Entrance and exit wounds are silvered clean, The track aches only when the rain reminds. The one-legged man forgets his leg of wood, The one-armed man his jointed wooden arm. The blinded man sees with his ears and hands As much or more than once with both his eyes. Their war was fought these 20 years ago And now assumes the nature-look of time, As when the morning traveller turns and views His wild night-stumbling carved into a hill.
What, then, was war? No mere discord of flags But an infection of the common sky That sagged ominously upon the earth Even when the season was the airiest May. Down pressed the sky, and we, oppressed, thrust out Boastful tongue, clenched fist and valiant yard. Natural infirmities were out of mode, For Death was young again; patron alone Of healthy dying, premature fate-spasm.
Fear made fine bed-fellows. Sick with delight At life's discovered
transitoriness, Our youth became all-flesh and waived the mind. Never was such antiqueness of romance, Such tasty honey oozing from the heart. And old importances came swimming back - Wine, meat, log-fires, a roof over the head, A weapon at the thigh, surgeons at call. Even there was a use again for God - A word of rage in lack of meat, wine, fire, In ache of wounds beyond all surgeoning.
War was return of earth to ugly earth, War was foundering of
sublimities, Extinction of each happy art and faith By which the world has still kept head in air, Protesting logic or protesting love, Until the unendurable moment struck - The inward scream, the duty to run mad.
And we recall the merry ways of guns - Nibbling the walls of factory and
church Like a child, piecrust; felling groves of trees Like a child, dandelions with a switch. Machine-guns rattle toy-like from a hill, Down in a row the brave tin- soldiers fall: A sight to be recalled in elder days When learnedly the future we devote To yet more boastful visions of despair.
Entrance and exit wounds are silvered clean, The track aches only when the rain reminds. The one-legged man forgets his leg of wood, The one-armed man his jointed wooden arm. The blinded man sees with his ears and hands As much or more than once with both his eyes. Their war was fought these 20 years ago And now assumes the nature-look of time, As when the morning traveller turns and views His wild night-stumbling carved into a hill.
What, then, was war? No mere discord of flags But an infection of the common sky That sagged ominously upon the earth Even when the season was the airiest May. Down pressed the sky, and we, oppressed, thrust out Boastful tongue, clenched fist and valiant yard. Natural infirmities were out of mode, For Death was young again; patron alone Of healthy dying, premature fate-spasm.
Fear made fine bed-fellows. Sick with delight At life's discovered
transitoriness, Our youth became all-flesh and waived the mind. Never was such antiqueness of romance, Such tasty honey oozing from the heart. And old importances came swimming back - Wine, meat, log-fires, a roof over the head, A weapon at the thigh, surgeons at call. Even there was a use again for God - A word of rage in lack of meat, wine, fire, In ache of wounds beyond all surgeoning.
War was return of earth to ugly earth, War was foundering of
sublimities, Extinction of each happy art and faith By which the world has still kept head in air, Protesting logic or protesting love, Until the unendurable moment struck - The inward scream, the duty to run mad.
And we recall the merry ways of guns - Nibbling the walls of factory and
church Like a child, piecrust; felling groves of trees Like a child, dandelions with a switch. Machine-guns rattle toy-like from a hill, Down in a row the brave tin- soldiers fall: A sight to be recalled in elder days When learnedly the future we devote To yet more boastful visions of despair.
Summer in England, 1914 – By Alice Meynnell (1914)
On London fell a clearer light; Caressing pencils of the sun
Defined the distances, the white Houses transfigured one by one,
The 'long, unlovely street' impearled. O what a sky has walked the world!
Most happy year! And out of town
The hay was prosperous, and the wheat; The silken harvest climbed the down: Moon after moon was heavenly-sweet, Stroking the bread within the sheaves, Looking 'twixt apples and their leaves.
And while this rose made round her cup,
On London fell a clearer light; Caressing pencils of the sun
Defined the distances, the white Houses transfigured one by one,
The 'long, unlovely street' impearled. O what a sky has walked the world!
Most happy year! And out of town
The hay was prosperous, and the wheat; The silken harvest climbed the down: Moon after moon was heavenly-sweet, Stroking the bread within the sheaves, Looking 'twixt apples and their leaves.
And while this rose made round her cup,
The armies died convulsed. And when
This chaste young silver sun went up
Softly, a thousand shattered men,
One wet corruption, heaped the plain, After a league-long throb of pain.
Flower following tender flower; and birds, And berries; and benignant skies
Made thrive the serried flocks and herds. ---Yonder are men shot through the eyes. Love, hide thy face
From man's unpardonable race.
Who said 'No man hath greater love than this, To die to serve his friend'?
So these have loved us all unto the end.
Chide thou no more, O thou unsacrificed!
The soldier dying dies upon a kiss, The very kiss of Christ.
One wet corruption, heaped the plain, After a league-long throb of pain.
Flower following tender flower; and birds, And berries; and benignant skies
Made thrive the serried flocks and herds. ---Yonder are men shot through the eyes. Love, hide thy face
From man's unpardonable race.
Who said 'No man hath greater love than this, To die to serve his friend'?
So these have loved us all unto the end.
Chide thou no more, O thou unsacrificed!
The soldier dying dies upon a kiss, The very kiss of Christ.
Tag :// Fiction Adaptation,
Tag :// Project Update
Today, our first day back at university in the second year, we got set our first project which is the digital news production. For this assignment we’re to
work in a group of either 3 or 4 and create two news stories, plus individually
produce a 1500 word critical case study essay.
Here’s the project brief below
The people whom I’m working with is
Andy Cox, Roxanne Meats and Mark Cooper.
Looking forwards to this assignment, and
hopefully we should all work together well as a team!
Tag :// Digital News Production Unit,
Tag :// Project Update
