I finally made the print edition at work today, with a little culture piece. I went to the Go Red for Women luncheon at the Waldorf last week, looked around at the rich, stout socialite women jammed around me, and wrote it up. Some of my delightful snark was edited, however. A fun game is "find the place where the editor took out a snide mention of second-wave feminism!"
On another note: Fact-checking can be a thankless job. I sit in the midst of young, ambitious reporters and force them to help me go back over what is generally a job well done. Most of them are good sports about it; some try my patience by fighting all the (light!) editing I do for clarity. I don't see the point of acting like a diva when someone is essentially my age and working at a paper that is famously NOT the top of the scene, but rather covers it. (I happen to love the publication. It's creative, unique, and high-quality. It has some absurdly fantastic editors. However, working there is not a reason to cultivate a giant ego.)
This is all by way of saying that my favorite reporter at the paper wrote a blog post that made my morning. In the process of skewering publishers discussing the latest memoir faker, she wrote that she appreciates fact checking. I appreciate being appreciated, especially by people who do good work.