I recently finished reading a book that was compiled, edited, and introduced by Ira Glass of NPR fame. It's called The New Kings of Nonfiction, and it reminded me what I love most about journalism. There is such a style involved that makes each writer so unique, and I love that.
I recall being in my first journalism class at Duquesne, and this professor I had would share stories early on in the semester about his experiences. He was, in my mind, the quintessential journalist. He just knew, and he allowed us the opportunity to develop our own styles. He said that by the end of the semester, we would be able to turn our articles in and he would know who wrote which piece. He helped me hone my craft and encouraged me to try new things.
Sometimes when I write, I get attached to what writers call "darlings"-- certain lines or turns of phrase that seem to summarize everything we want to say in a poetic, perfect sense-- only to have a draft returned with the best parts cut out. I don't see much editing in a lot of my pieces, which I am thankful for, but there are occasions that certain editors have so much of my piece moved around, rephrased, or cut that I lose my entire style and personality. I had three pieces over a period of time that were adjusted in such similar ways that it failed to be effective. A choppy introduction rife with brief, staccato sentences is effective maybe once, not in every article.
Another edit I have a problem with is removing myself from the story. I have qualms with this, and I'm happy someone recognized it other than myself. Ira Glass wrote, "A lot of daily reporting just reinforces everything we already think about the world. It lacks the sense of discovery." Writers who refuse to share any sense of discovery, any of the details that make a story interesting because they result from the author actually being a part of the story, are doing a disservice to themselves and the craft as a whole. Certainly, I acknowledge that there are journalists who insert themselves so fully into the story that it's difficult to discern where the fact ends and where the opinion begins. Hunter S. Thompson is regaled as a great journalist but he was inebriated and higher than a kite (to use a cliche) most of the time. How reliable was he, anyway?
There's another bit in Ira Glass's introduction that I really dig. He says, " I have this experience when I interview someone, if it's going well and we're really talking in a serious way, and they're telling me these very personal things, I fall in love a little. Man, woman, child, any age, any background, I fall in love a little. They're sharing so much of themselves. IF you have half a heart, how can you not?" Truth. I mean, I tend to adopt a more Joan Didion approach to interviewing: notebook open, pen flying across the page as I sit silent and wide-eyed, allowing the quiet to go on until the interviewee gets so uncomfortable that they talk to fill the void.
I do fall in love a little. I learn so much about people, and we have some wonderful moments. Sometimes, those moments capture them better than any scripted answer they had canned in the back of their minds somewhere. If I can't put myself in the story and acknowledge that I am writing it, how could I share those moments and truly represent them in their most positive, realistic light? How could I be telling a story as if I were the authority on the topic if I refuse to even acknowledge that I was there?
No comments:
Post a Comment