Marguerite Duras, French Novelist.
Today was the first time I came face to face with an actual TV reporter, carrying an actual wireless microphone, surrounded by actual video-cameras and crews. It was an interesting experience, not because of the possibility that my face might appear in the news, but because I know now how reporters do their jobs. It was funny to watch the frustration on the reporter's face as she interviewed someone in my class because her objective was to get a killer story, which means she doesn't give a crap about what the people she interviewed actually feel as long as they say the right words and bring her that perfect scoop. Unfortunately, in this case, it seemed like she picked the wrong respondent as the answers given to her didn't seem to satisfy her at all. She was going nuts because the meaning was there, just not the exact words she was looking for, which made it a not-so-killer story.
I'm not writing this to mock reporters or journalists, because I honestly give them my highest respect for so many reasons. On the contrary, I'm writing this because I admire their effort in collecting data and information merely to put together a good piece of article, their hunger to capture as widely as they can but deliver them as precisely as possibly. It's hard work, serious hard work, like every other writing process. I'm writing this because I was jealous of them, jealous of their desperation to share their story in such a way that so that the whole world will turn their heads and listen to them. The thirst and the passion in their eyes are not something you get to see everyday.