Journalism

I’m lucky, and I know it. At 32 years old, I’ve spent nearly seven years already working in my “dream job.” I decided I wanted to work in magazines as a young child, and my position as managing editor of Birmingham magazine really has lived up to my hopes and dreams.

And I’m honored when others ask me for advice for finding work in the field. On Aug. 8, I’ll be one of several editors on hand for a “Meet the Press” mixer. This event is hosted by the local women’s writing group See Jane Write, and you can learn more about it here.

Because of my involvement with the event, SJW Founder Javacia Harris Bowser interviewed me for a profile in the current edition of the organization’s online magazine. I love talking about my work, and I’m looking forward to this event!

Carla Jean Whitley knew she wanted a career in magazines when she was only 10 years old. But she started her journalism career in newspapers, working at The Tuscaloosa News, The Cullman Times, and The Birmingham News – all Alabama-based publications.

“I can’t say enough about how valuable my newspaper experience was,” Whitley says. “I had a chance to write, copy edit, line edit and design.

Still her magazine dreams were alive and well.

–Read more “Carla Jean Whitley’s ‘dream job’ at Birmingham magazine paves way for book deal.”

This entry’s title is inspired by the organization See Jane Write. In case you hadn’t already figured that out.

I like variety. While it wasn’t the initial reason I was drawn to journalism, it’s certainly one of the perks. My job requires me to develop a wide range of skills while reporting and writing about any number of topics. It’s immensely satisfying work.

And for four years, that work has also included managing interns. I had a wonderful experience as a Birmingham magazine intern back in 2004, so I knew both how much value they could offer the publication and how much students could learn in the process. But the magazine’s internship program had fallen by the wayside.

After convincing my then-boss to let us resurrect the program, a colleague and I quickly set about finding our first intern. Over time, the program has become increasingly competitive and the skills students bring change. One thing remains the same from semester to semester: I’m so lucky to be these students’ boss.

I learn something new every semester because these kids bring so much variety themselves. I try to assign them work that will help them attain their career goals while teaching them as much as I can about magazine publishing. They’ve taught me so many lessons: how to be a better boss, how to guide a student or writer to the “a-ha!” moment, how to teach AP style, how to be patient, how to help someone develop time-management skills without micromanaging them, how to plan my days and tasks so that I have plenty of time for them, how to be a professional reference, how to encourage them through challenging times in the industry–and so much more.

This semester’s interns brought yet another experience. Traditionally, I have two students at a time. They work part-time and share a desk, so their schedules don’t overlap.

But this summer, I shared a full-time intern with another department and also managed a part-time intern. As a result, they not only got to know each other, they worked together on a number of tasks. And the resulting teamwork was a beautiful thing. I didn’t have to walk them through collaboration; they naturally turned to each other and worked to figure out the best solution to any assignment.

That was even so in moments when they could have instead aimed to see who could be the best; when I asked them both to come up with a head and dek for a specific story, they worked on it together rather than trying to see whose would end up in print.

These students turned to each other time and again throughout the summer, cheering each other on and lending a hand when the other needed help or feedback. As one prepares to return to school and the other faces a commencement march, I feel something akin to the pride of a parent. I can’t wait to see what’s up next for these young people.

This post is dedicated to Bennett Sumner Rolan, Sarah Kate Boltz, Blake Tommey, Molly Folse, Emily Etheredge, Laura Sibley, Katie Brizendine Jackson, Lindsey Shelton, Clair McLafferty, Lauren Sharpe Denton, Jena Hippensteel, Stephanie Brumfield, Lauren Schneider, Meg Bowden, Jared Downing, Sarah Waller, Jessilyn Justice, Katie Stewart, Rachel Freeny, Steven Katona and Melody Kitchens. I am so honored to have been a part of your lives.

The title of this post is taken from Alanis Morissette’s “You Live, You Learn.”

Last week, Birmingham magazine won the national City and Regional Magazine Award for redesign.

I cried.

 

It was the culmination of several years’ of hard work and changes. I’ve been at Birmingham magazine for six-and-a-half years now, and two years prior to joining the staff, I spent four months as an editorial intern. I have a lot vested in this publication, and so the recognition was incredibly meaningful to me.

I was part of the team involved in the redesign, but perhaps more importantly, I’ve been with the magazine through several years of significant changes. We’ve seen several changes in ownership; in the magazine’s 48th year, the Birmingham Regional Chamber of Commerce merged with the Metropolitan Development Board to form the Birmingham Business Alliance. One month prior to the magazine’s 50th anniversary, Birmingham magazine was purchased by the Birmingham News Multimedia Co. Last summer, that company became part of the newly formed Alabama Media Group. Like any company, we’ve also seen a variety of staffing changes through the years. Many of these changes have been positive, but all change comes with a learning curve. So I was particularly thrilled to see our work recognized at the national level.

What surprised me was the way others reacted. When a colleague posted the photo above on the magazine’s Facebook page, it quickly received 150-plus “likes” by our followers. When I posted another image on my Facebook timeline, more than 100 of my friends hit the like button. The ad agency with which we partnered shared it on their timeline, and nearly 50 people liked it. Everywhere I went last week, I received congratulations: from readers, from friends, from family, from contributors.

It reminded me of why my work matters, and why I’m so passionate about it. I fell in love with writing as an elementary-school student. I didn’t turn to it as a career for the same noble reasons that attract so many others; I wanted to be a writer because I like writing, and because I like seeing my work in print.

But during the course of my years in the field, I’ve also realized what value there is in sharing stories with the community you serve. That first hit home for me when I was at the Tuscaloosa News, writing about a young girl with a brain tumor. After another child saw my story, she decided her lemonade stand should raise money for the sick child. That day, she raised more than $1,000.

The way I perceive the communities I serve has changed, as well. While working as a reporter in Tuscaloosa, I grew to love the city more than I had as a student. Reporting means I get to know the people who shape a community while listening to the community’s concerns. That has remained true as I went on to work in Cullman and, for the past seven years, in Birmingham.

The conference that was capped by this awards ceremony encouraged me and provided more insight into how to create a magazine that tells my city’s stories. And my city’s response to the award reiterated that people care about those stories. I’m so fortunate to call this my life’s work.

The subject line comes from Lee Bains III & The Glory Fires’ “Magic City Stomp.” I woke up this morning with their music in my head, and it’s awfully appropriate: The band members are from Alabama, and Bains currently lives in Atlanta, where we received this award.

Though my words here become digital, I titled this blog “ink-stained life” because I have literally surrounded myself with words. Like most writers, my bookshelves overflow with work I admire and books I hope to eventually read. (I’m a book hoarder.) Magazines are piled in nooks throughout my house–on the coffee and end tables, yes, but also in drawers, nightstands and under a bookcase. Most of the art I own is letterpress, with messages I believe in: a line of poetry from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, a message of hope for a recovering community, a simple reflection on good coffee. My bedside lamp is even topped with a shade covered in calligraphy (though I think it’s in French–I certainly can’t read it!).

My point is, I firmly believe in the value of communication. It’s not just a job, it’s life. But tonight, my challenge is to condense one form of that communication into a 50-minute presentation.

I’m speaking Friday to a group of high school students at a journalism conference. I love this kind of thing, partly because I wish I had sought out more opportunities when I was growing up. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was 10 years old, and I feel like I’m a lucky one: I make a living doing what I set out to do.

So I’m thrilled to teach these kids about feature writing. But tonight, I’ve lost myself in Pulitzer Prize Feature Stories and tried to avoid The Best American Magazine Writing 2002 (simply because there are too many tempting stories within, and I eventually need to go to bed). I’m overwhelmed by all there is to teach, and all I have still to learn by reading and studying work by people like Alice Steinbach, Chris Jones, Anna Quindlen.

Then, that’s exactly why I agree to speak at events like this. I want these kids to know the joy that comes from reporting, writing and improving.

Today’s subject line comes from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life.”