Esta revista literaria experimenta la narración de historias en Instagram

La revista Virginia Quarterly Review, de 91 años de edad, realiza un experimento en Instagram. ¿De qué se trata? Cuenta historias de hasta 400 palabras.

El editor  Pablo Reyes refiere a NiemanLab que están improvisando y que el potencial radica en la forma en la que Instagram se comporta como plataforma para dar forma al contenido.

El proyecto #VQRTrueStory es un experimento de no ficción, donde se comparten historias en Instagram, la web y la revista impresa. Así será todo el año y los escritores enviarán piezas semanales. Todos los contribuyentes tendrán un pequeño honorario por su trabajo.

Reyes mencionó que los ensayos en Instagram de VQR reciben el mismo tratamiento editorial que el resto de contenidos de la revista. El editor quiere quiere el material refleje todos los valores editoriales la publicación y presentar al mismo tiempo, variedad, integridad y compromiso.

El colaborador Jeff Sharlet dice estar muy interesado en la estética de las instantáneas. En su opinión, Instagram abre posibilidades radicalmente hasta para el periodismo, como YouTube lo hizo con el video.

«Sé que suena diáfano y sin compromiso, pero me gusta la idea de que este proyecto de la oportunidad a ciertos profesionales de acercarse a proyectos apasionantes de una manera nueva», comentó Reyes.

ALGUNAS PIEZAS:

This week #VQRTrueStory presents @jamiealliotts on encounters on the sidewalks of Manhattan (4/4): “I know you,” he says. “I know you, man. I know you.” I’ve yet to sit down. I assure him we’ve never met. “Naw, man, naw. I know you, man—I KNOW you.” I tell him again we’ve never met. “Naw, man.” He shakes his head. “I know you. You arrested me.” I assure him I’ve never arrested him, never arrested anyone. “Naw, naw, naw, you ARRESTED me.” He cocks his head, narrows his eyes. “Which precinct you work at again?” // We’re on West 40th Street, just around the corner from that statue of Jackie Gleason, the one of him as Ralph Kramden in The Honeymooners. The guy points at my cigarette, wiggles his finger. I sit down, hand him one, light it. It’s 9:45 a.m. “Man, I KNOW you’re a cop.” I ask for his first name. He leans back, wincing. Then a light goes on. “Biggie Smalls,” he says, grinning. “Yeah, yeah, Biggie Smalls, Biggie Smalls.” // He wants money. I want a story. A low-stakes showdown. “Aiight, aiight,” he says. “I know how this works, I know how this works. You want some crazy shit? You want some crazy shit? Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you some crazy shit. I got crack stories, bust stories—” I shake my head, say that’s not how it works, you’ve gotta be honest. He looks away, takes a drag, blows smoke, looks back at me. “I know you, man—I KNOW you.” I get up to leave. “Wait, wait!” he says, thinking, taking another drag, blowing more smoke. Then: “I’m telling you, man, I know you.” I start to walk away. He flicks his cigarette. It flies past my kneecaps, sails over the sidewalk between a few pedestrians, nearly grazes a hot dog vendor’s ankle before dropping into a puddle on the other side of the curb and—tsst—fizzling out in the murky water. A perfect shot. “I know you,” he says again, swiping the air with his finger. “We got high together.” I turn, face him, shrug. “Make up your fucking mind, man. Am I a cop or did we get high together?” #smoke #crackstories #buststories #tsst #biggiesmalls #aperfectshot #itsinthehole #jackiegleason #thehoneymooners #bullshit #makeupyourmind #amiacop #streetlife #sidewalks #truestories #streetstories #nyc #VQRTrueStoryAlliotts

Una foto publicada por Virginia Quarterly Review (@vqreview) el 26 de Dic de 2015 a la(s) 9:05 PST