Worth your time

The YDR's own books blog reports that Edward P. Jones, author of "The Known World" among other things, will be speaking at Goucher College in Baltimore Oct. 15 (and it's free).

This guy is a brilliant writer, in my opinion. When I read "The Known World" I remember feeling like he had crafted each sentence for months before moving on to the next one. It's just great stuff and I'm sure it would be cool to hear him do a reading.

What is journalism?

(You can be more specific and change that to "What is storytelling?" if you like.)

Either way, check this out. It's a guide to "Journalism 2.0." I don't think it's overdramatic to say that understanding the material in here will, in large part, determine whether you're cut out to thrive in this business.

I welcome argument on that, though!

Perhaps the ultimate narrative non-fiction

From "Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets" by David Simon:

Pulling one hand from the warmth of a pocket, Jay Landsman squats down to grab the dead man's chin, pushing the head to one side until the wound becomes visible as a small, ovate hole, oozing red and white.
"Here's your problem," he said. "He's got a slow leak."
"A leak?" says Pellegrini, picking up on it.
"A slow one."
"You can fix those."
"Sure you can," Landsman agrees.
"They got these home repair kits now. . . "
"Like with tires."
"Just like with tires," Landsman says. "Comes with a patch and everything else you need. Now a bigger wound, like from a thirty-eight, you're gonna have to get a new head. This one you could fix."
Landsman looks up, his face the very picture of earnest concern.
Sweet Jesus, thinks Tom Pellegrini, nothing like working murders with a mental case.

That's just to whet your appetite.

Join us noon Wednesday, Sept. 5, to eat lunch and watch an episode of "Homicide," based on Simon's book, after which we'll talk about how character development and dialogue can be used to develop conflict in a story and lead us to the story's resolution.

The episode is about 45 minutes and we'll leave about a half-hour for
discussion, so we should be done in a little over an hour.

See you there.

Words and music

Just caught a clip of Jack Kerouac reading from "On the Road" backdropped by jazz piano on the Steve Allen show in 1959. Scroll down and look on the left side of the page; the video clip is only 30 seconds but the audio clip is 3 minutes or so and worth every second.

Kerouac virtually sings his writing to the beat of the music. It's captivating in and of itself, but it's also a writing lesson for us -- listen to how his syllables, words, sentences and emphasis within those sentences create an irresistable, entrancing rhythm.

A good yarn

Picked up Sunday's Virginian-Pilot while at the beach. Saw an Earl Swift whodunit series beginning atop page 1A. Check it out. Starts with a detective investigating a death; he doesn't know who the dead man is until someone in the neighborhood tells him. By the time I read the following few grafs, I was hooked:

Mears returned to the body. He saw no bullet holes in the coat, so he unbuttoned it. Saw no holes in the man’s dark blazer, so he unbuttoned that. On the white shirt beneath was a spot of red.

Lordy, Mears thought. Tonight’s not going to be so routine, after all.

W. Fred Duckworth was the former mayor of Norfolk.

And damn if he hadn’t been shot.

Good stuff flagged by me and others

• Michele Canty saw this from AP on the Minneapolis bridge disaster. She wrote:
  "Something like this also helps us remember that good writing doesn't have to be a long-term project, and that breaking news stories can be the perfect opportunity to really shine."
• Dustin Long, a reporter and friend of mine, sent this along -- a Seattle Times piece on a basketball coach's daughter who has cancer. What's different is that the reporter is doing a blog with regular updates about the girl. That's something new. Any thoughts? Do you like it? Not like it?
• I saw a blurb on Romenesko about this series, which the Newark Star-Ledger says "tells the story of one of New Jersey's most notorious killers, Robert Zarinsky. It is the tale of a cunning psychopath, the dogged lawmen who pursued him and the victims who, even today, await justice." One interesting thing is that the sourcing is basically a huge footnote, their way of preserving the narrative without inserting attribution throughout the story, according to a piece in Editor & Publisher. Check it out & let us know what you think about this method.

Stephen King weighs in ...

... sort of. Buffy and Jen led a group discussion Aug. 1 on King's book, "On Writing." A couple of highlights they pulled from King's combination of technical advice and inspiration (well worth the read even for non-fiction writers):

• "I want to suggest that to write to your best abilities, it behooves you to construct your own toolbox and then build up enough muscle so you can carry it with you. Then, instead of looking at a hard job and getting discouraged, you will perhaps seize the correct tool and get immediately to work." Some things King suggests you carry: Vocabulary; grammar; Strunk and White's 'Elements of Style.'
• "I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops."

I have copies of both Buffy's and Jen's handouts, which are basically quotes pulled from King's book, if you'd like a copy.

Narrative handout

If you missed the July 11 writing seminar and want the handout, there are some available in the big conference room, or see me and I'll print one out for you. It contains quotes about good narrative writing and examples too. Samples:

• Ask yourself, "What's the satisfying resolution to this story that will make readers glad they read to the end?" -- Mike Wilson, St. Petersburg Times
• "Nothing is too insignificant to ask about." -- Diane Tennant, Norfolk Virginian-Pilot
• "In interviews, the object is not to get quotes but to get action and build a situation." -- Jon Franklin, University of Maryland

And there are many more ....

Writer's insight on the 'Grizzly attack' story

If you haven't read the grizzly attack story , it's worth your time. It fascinated me, so I e-mailed the L.A. Times' Tom Curwen with a couple of questions. He provided some great insight into how he put the story together, from how he got the access to how he focused to the story to a lot of great stuff in between.

One interesting note: He is an editor, not a staff writer there, so he used time here and there to work on the story until he gained enough momentum that he got cut loose for about a week to finish it off.

One more note: He's jazzed by our focus on writing, saying he thinks it's critical whenever we can "to think away from the inverted pyramid and to reimagine story-telling as a vital, energetic and surprising expression that taps into readers' curiosities, interests and needs."

Here are his thoughts on the grizzly story:

How did you decide when in the story to weave in background, and how much time away from the storyline was just right?

As the question implies, backsteps are always a gamble. In the case of this story, I was lucky to have a compelling narrative -- and a simple chronology -- that could tolerate any momentary breaks in the action. I'm a big believer in delayed gratification and wanted to tease out the drama of the attack as long as I possibly could. No detail was too small to include. Each allowed me to create a crescendo in each paragraph, in each small scene, before stepping away (I think readers appreciated this too; a number wrote to comment on how it allowed them to catch their breath).
But that said, I never take readers for granted, and for better or worse, I believe they have an extremely short attention spans. Therefore, any step back has to be written like haiku, no single word wasted.

When did you decide to try to do a story like this?

I first read about the attack in an AP story that ran after Johan was discharged from Harborview Hospital in Seattle. It was a well-reported piece but just the bare-bones. At the time, I was editing the paper's Outdoors section and had just written a re-creation of another bear attack that had taken place that summer up on Alaska's North Slope, and I knew from reader response that bear stories never fail. Then, within weeks -- and rather coincidentally -- I was visiting a family member at Scripps Memorial Hospital, and I noticed a man in a halo walking down the corridor. It had to be Johan, and I knew this was my chance (a sign?).
In the beginning, I had no idea the story would have so many fascinating components. I just thought it was a bear attack, but as I got into the reporting and learned about the helicopter rescue, for instance, and the scalp surgery, I knew I had a narrative that could go the distance.

When (in the timeline of the attack/recovery) did you secure the access?

Rather than approaching Johan first, I went to the nurse in charge of his recovery. I wanted to give the family space; clearly his treatment was far more important than anything I needed. She put me in touch with the hospital's public relations manager, and after I explained how I wanted to write this story -- with an emphasis on the recovery -- she spoke with Johan and passed his phone number onto me.
Winning the trust of a stranger is a tricky business, but I was helped by the fact that other media (newspapers and television) had so inundated Johan with interview requests that he appreciated someone willing to take a slow, calm and methodical approach. As I explained how I work and how I imagined telling this story -- getting into the psychological angle of his recovery, sending him a tape recorder to capture moments and feelings when I wasn't around -- the more Johan opened up to me. I think he has as much respect for narratives as I do and realized that it was a story perfect for sensationalization (Bear Bites Man!), which he wanted to avoid that at all costs.

What, if any, ground rules did you have with Johan, the family, doctors, etc.?

When I explained to Johan what a narrative is, I told him that I would need complete and exclusive access. I was up-front with him every step of the way. I told him that I would need his medical records. I told him that I would do a FOIA on the park's report about the rescue. I hid nothing from him, and I told him that he had to be open with me, especially if there was any part of the reporting that made him uncomfortable. I explained that we would talk about it and then decide whether or not it was critical to the story.
Of course, along the way he was tempted by other magazines and mediums (Oprah, for one), but after a month or two, I was able to appeal to his conscience, explaining how the LA Times needed to break this story first and that the paper had already devoted a lot of time and money in reporting it. Fortunately, he understood and respected that agreement.

How did you get the level of detail in the story?

I was lucky. Not only was Johan very forthcoming (it became clear to me that our interviews and email exchanges were becoming a form of therapy for him) and his memory of the events completely lucid, but also everyone involved in the rescue and the recovery seemed to have the whole incident seared into their brains.
Also, my editors were terrific and played no small role helping me uncover every detail. The first draft of the story was an ungainly 15,000 words and contained a number of extra characters and characterizations (which would probably find room in a book but not in a newspaper story). We decided to scale the story back by focusing strictly on Johan's point of view. I consequently spent a day with him, allowing him to fill in as many blanks as he could. It was a smart decision. It forced me to dive deeper into his psyche, and it shortened the piece by about 5,000 words.

Can disgusting bugs teach us about storytelling?

I say yes, and I'll try to prove it on July 11 when we meet for our six-month storytelling seminar.
Time: Noon
Place: Big conference room
Food: Catered lunch of sandwiches, pasta salad, chips, drinks, dessert*
Features: Story readings, playing of songs and DVD clips from various staff members.
Plan to spend: About 90 minutes max. We'll try to keep it moving.

*I don't think the bugs are disgusting enough to kill anyone's appetite.