New Year, New Me...
A New Year has dawned and as usual, I always say to myself this will be the year, that I resolve to plan more and wish less, as Eleanor Roosevelt said "It takes as much energy to
wish as it does to plan".
I’ve always wanted to write a novella, about my time as the only female press photographer
at a local newspaper. So far I have the beginnings of a first chapter. So I’ve decided to
try out the first few paragraphs the intro so to speak, on you dear readers, so you can tell me what you think. Please be kind.
They are all looking at me, with an intense expression. So I take a deep breath and fire off 4 or 5 shots in quick succession, letting out a sigh of relief I can now relax. I shoot people for a living I’ve actually lost count of how many over the years. Some people remain in my memory, others blend together. Now before you start thinking I’m an assassin, I want to clarify that I shoot people with my camera not a gun. This might make you stop reading, but give me a chance. The life of a regional press photographer can involve murder, high courts, fetes, schools, sporting events, everyday people doing extraordinary things and even naked ramblers!
A legend of press photography, was once asked in a radio interview if he ever employed women.
“No ....” he said, leaving a dramatic pause. Which the DJ filled in with phrases such as sexism in the newspaper industry. He let the DJ rattle on for a good few minutes, before interrupting.
“ As I said, no, I don’t employ women. I hire photographers, men and women. It’s the person behind the lens that counts, not their gender. It inspired me that day, sitting on my bed day dreaming of becoming a photographer. It helped me conquer my fears, at job interviews and press assignments in the future, when I was completely outnumbered by male photographers.
Oh no I’ve suddenly realised, I’ve rambled on, without introducing myself.
My name is MC? and this is my book of confessions. Things that
have happened to me and that I have done. Some of which I ashamed of, being a good catholic girl I should go to confession but my priest knows my voice. And it would take too long!
There are many words to describe press photographers, most of them not very flattering.
Paparazzi, etc. A term affectionately given to our group of trainees at college was snappers. I liked it straight away. Confessions of a snapper girl, it has a nice ring to it. Don’t you think? So here goes, bless me readers, for I have sinned and others too.