It’s 3:47 AM and I’m Wired
Honestly, I shouldn’t be up. But here I am, staring at my laptop, scrolling through news alerts. It’s a habit, a compulsion, a sickness. Let’s call him Marcus, my old editor, used to say, ‘You’re like a vulture, Sarah. Can’t resist a carcass.’ He meant it as an insult, but I took it as a compliment. (Which, yeah, says alot about me.)
I’ve been in this game since 1998. Back then, news was something you got in the morning with your coffee. Now? It’s a firehose, a relentless torrent of information that never stops. And I’m the idiot standing under it, mouth open, trying to swallow it all.
Last Tuesday, I was at a conference in Austin. Over coffee at the place on 5th, a colleague named Dave told me, ‘You’re gonna burn out, Sarah. You can’t keep this up.’ I laughed it off. But he’s probably right. I mean, I’m 48 years old, and I’m still pulling all-nighters like some fresh-faced intern.
Why Can’t We Just Slow Down?
Look, I get it. News is a business. And in the age of digital, clicks are king. But at what cost? We’re not just reporting news anymore. We’re manufacturing it. And it’s completley unsustainable.
About three months ago, I was working on a piece about local politics. I spent 36 hours researching, interviewing, writing. Then, bang, out of nowhere, a celebrity tweets something dumb, and suddenly, that’s the story. My piece? Pushed back. Again. And again. And again.
It’s not just me. It’s everyone. We’re all chasing our tails, trying to keep up with a cycle that’s spinning faster and faster. And for what? So some algorithm can decide what’s important?
The Human Cost
I’ve seen it happen. Great journalists, incredible reporters, reduced to tweeting about cat videos because that’s what gets the clicks. It’s depressing. It’s demoralizing. And it’s not why I got into this business.
I remember when I started. It was 1998, and I was working for a small paper in Liverpool. We had deadlines, sure. But we also had time. Time to think, time to research, time to write. Now? Forget about it. It’s all about speed. Quantity over quality. And it’s killing us.
And don’t even get me started on the physicaly toll. The stress, the anxiety, the constant pressure. It’s taking years off our lives. Literally. I read a study once—okay, I skimmed it—that said journalists have a higher rate of stress-related illnesses than any other profession. Shocking, right? (Not really.)
But What Can We Do?
Okay, so the system’s broken. What now? Do we just give up? Hell no. We fight back. We push back against the 24-hour grind. We demand better.
And it starts with us. With me. With you. We need to take a step back, take a breath, and remember why we’re doing this. We’re not here to churn out content. We’re here to inform, to educate, to hold power to account. And we can’t do that if we’re constantly chasing our tails.
So, yeah, maybe I should be in bed. But I’m not. Because I care. Because I’m stubborn. And because someone’s gotta be the idiot standing under the firehose.
Oh, and if you’re looking for ways to manage the stress, check out these healthy lifestyle tips daily habits. (Seriously, it’s helped me alot.)
A Tangent: The Time I Interviewed a Rockstar
Speaking of stress, remember that time I interviewed that rockstar? Let’s call him Marcus. (No, not the same Marcus.) Anyway, he was a wreck. Total mess. And he said to me, ‘Sarah, you know what your problem is? You care too much.’ And I said, ‘Yeah, well, that’s why I’m good at my job.’
Which, honestly, is probably true. But still. Maybe he had a point.
Anyway, I’m gonna wrap this up. It’s 4:23 AM, and I need to get some sleep. But before I go, let me leave you with this: The news cycle is broken. It’s a broken clock, stuck on the same damn minute. And it’s up to us to fix it.
About the Author
Sarah Thompson has been a journalist for over 20 years, working for major publications across the UK. She’s a staunch advocate for ethical journalism and mental health awareness in the industry. When she’s not chasing breaking news, she can be found drinking too much coffee and arguing with her cat, Mr. Whiskers.
