Back in the late 1990s, when the publishing industry was in its golden era, the relationship between journalist and PR was as sketchy as our fashion sense. This was a time of ‘Cool Britannia’; when new magazines seemed to be launching on a weekly basis, when editorial budgets were limitless and the notion of a ‘long lunch’ was a twice-weekly prerequisite for a working journo.
Against this backdrop, I was starting out as a staff writer at Marie Claire magazine. When I worked there, Loaded, the notorious lads’ mag, launched on the floor above me, and it was the norm for many journalists to ham up a ‘bad boy’ persona, wielding their pen as if it was a rock star’s microphone.
While it was considered fine to take liberties with an expense account or to get rowdy on a press trip, there was one unspoken rule: PRs were to be kept at arm’s length. The narrative was that there was a strict hierarchy in place. Senior editors resided at the top and PRs were at the bottom – to be largely ignored unless they could help us with a story (usually last minute). Then, and only then, was it deemed acceptable to answer their calls or to meet them for lunch.
Fast-forward some 25 years and the publishing and PR landscape has changed dramatically – as has the journalist’s relationship with the PR. The shift into what I call ‘intelligent collaboration’ is a welcome one. Since going freelance 12 years ago I have actively carved out meaningful relationships with many PRs. We work together creatively and – I hope – on a level. It is not just in a PR’s interest to do this: we are both pitching to the same editors and we have the same goal in mind – to secure a commission.
Here are five ways to transition from PR to 'intelligent collaboration'.
Strive to storyboard
Accomplished PRs that I often work with will brainstorm ideas with me, so I have the best chance of curating a story. They may have carried out research on a destination to fill me in, or have found specific elements they know I’d be interested in. In short, just like a good journalist, you need to have nouse – to be able to hunt out what elements will interest a particular writer, and then work on them collaboratively.
Act up
The relationship I am looking for with a PR is a grown-up one. In essence, I want PRs to think and pitch like a boss, which may mean looking at how your seniors put together an idea to send to a journalist and emulating. Also, try not to sweat the small stuff – if I haven’t got back to you about a general press release, then it means I probably can’t do anything with it. It’s been said before, but if you have emailed a journalist with a suggestion clearly tailored to them, you are more likely to get a response.
Be cool
In PR things go wrong. People get stressed. Being level-headed and kind is always a welcome thing. This goes for journalists, too. While it is easy to get irritated with cold calls and chase-ups from junior PRs, I try and remember there’s probably someone more senior breathing down their necks, and respond with good grace.
Travel with a plan
While I don’t need a PR to hand-hold while I'm on a press trip, I do expect them to be cheerful company, to keep the client at bay, and have all the practical elements sorted. I know that’s not an easy task. The most successful trips I have taken are the ones where a lot of the leg work has clearly been done at the desk – the client has been briefed, there are Plan Bs in place and there is enough breathing room worked in to keep everyone happy.
Sway with the changes
Talking of which, as well as factoring in downtime for journalists (freelancers still have to work when away), flexibility is key. An itinerary should always have some movement in it – after all, if there are five of us on the trip doing the same things, the stories are all going to be similar, and that’s not great for getting a unique piece. I’m not talking about ducking out of something last minute, but if there’s something I know I can’t cover, I try and flag it early and I’d expect a PR to be ok with this.
I still remember a pivotal moment from the past. Three months into my job on Marie Claire, I was making tea in the kitchen and in came the editor – the inimitable (and scary) Glenda Bailey. This is my moment to put myself on her radar, I thought. And so – in shaky voice – I introduced myself. She swept around to look at me, all caramel pashmina and curly hair: “I know who you are. I make it my business to know who everyone is on my team,” she said in her brusque, Derbyshire accent. “OK,” I answered sotto voce, feeling stupid.
But as she left, she looked over her shoulder: “Hey - you are doing a good job. Keep it up.”
And who doesn’t want to hear that?