I started my blog because I knew I would miss journalism in some way. Also, it was to help me maintain a two-decade-old discipline: keeping on top of the news that affects us on this little red dot. I didn’t have much opportunity to write in the last few years of my career in The Straits Times. (Too busy with other things leh. Serious.) When I did write, I prided myself on being a straight-talker. Of course, my columns were edited (as they should be) whether for logic or because I was too much of a straight-talker or because I was not enough of an expert on some matters.
The blogosphere is so refreshingly different, yet difficult. Different because I don’t have someone breathing down my neck or asking me silly questions about what I’ve written. Dangerous because I DON’T have someone breathing down my neck or asking me silly questions that might not be so silly after all. Every writer needs an editor, I’ve always maintained, and I am grateful to readers who point out errors in my blog, especially since I can’t spel.
My subject is local news and that runs the whole gamut from political to social to economics issues. I believe that you are not a good citizen if you are not taking part in the country’s conversation on big and small stuff – and I don’t mean the on-going National Conversation. A newspaper or a news medium is about people talking to each other. It should mirror society with its aspirations and defects. It should attempt to make sense of what is happening around us, and provide a compass to navigate the maze we live in. No compass; at least give map leh.
Journalism, in my view, is a noble, even if much maligned or misunderstood, profession. Even in Singapore.
Over the past few months, I have been persuaded to do more than just blog occasionally. So I’ve rounded up a few like-minded friends to start a website at http://www.breakfastnetwork.sg
We are attempting to give a Singaporean take on daily news that concerns our country.
Do visit the site and spread the word. Don’t be too critical okay? Still got plenty of kinks. But it’s a labour of love.