I once got into a heated debate with a much-older colleague at one of the newspapers I used to work for. It was during a training session about new ethics standards that were being crafted by the parent corporation.
I can't recall exactly how the debate got started, but I do know that it centered about the concept of "objectivity."
Even non-journalists know this concept: That it is a journalist's job to be un-biased in our reporting and writing.
You might be asking, how could there be any debate over that issue?
Here's how: Objectivity is not absolute. Anyone who believes otherwise is naive.
Journalists are human beings. Human beings have experiences in life that shape their attitudes. Those experiences make it impossible for us to be purely objective about certain issues.
Which is why -- and this is where the debate came in when I was younger -- I believe that some stories are best told by someone who can relate to them.
It turns out, I'm not alone in believing that. Check out this online chat transcript by Gene Weingarten of the Washington Post. He's one of the country's premier feature writers, and he recently penned a weekend magazine article about the tragic trend of parents forgetting their babies in hot cars.
The article is horror-inducing, can't-put-down good. It's compelling and compassionate and -- most importantly -- addresses a question that most people are afraid to even consider. Could this happen to me?
Now, Weingarten is an amazing writer. I'm not sure I've ever read something of his that didn't leave a mark. But this one? This one goes farther. Within two paragraphs, I was sick to my stomach and I had tears in my eyes. I almost couldn't finish reading.
I discovered later, while reading his online chat about the story, why he was able to write this story with such emotion.
Weingarten once forgot his child in his car.
Yeah. Holy crap. Take a minute to absorb that, and then go back and read the story again.
Luckily, his story had a happy ending. His daughter made a noise as he was getting out, reminding him she was there. After nearly throwing up with horror, he got back in his car and drove her to daycare. He's haunted by it still today.
Read this passage from his chat:
When the news broke last summer about the death of Chase Harrison, I knew I had to write this story, whether I really wanted to or not. Like actors, writers know that genuine emotion is a valuable asset to draw on, not one that you lightly discard. If this article seemed to be presented with more restraint than some of my other magazine cover stories, it is probably because this was the end result of a writer fighting for a sense of control.
I did not tell my wife about that moment in the parking lot, not for years, not until half a year ago when I began working on this story and needed to explain why it was keeping me awake nights. And I didn't tell Molly about it until just a couple of months ago; oddly, I found that 25 years after the day no harm was done, I couldn't look her in the eye.
Wow...
According to former colleague with whom I got into that heated debate, weingarten never should have been allowed to tackle that article. He couldn't possibly have been OBJECTIVE in his coverage of a man who was charged with a crime for leaving his son in a hot car, she would have argued. He couldn't possibly tell both sides of the story fairly because he would be too understanding of the parent who have done this awful thing.
In my opinion, his understanding is exactly why he was the best person to tackle this story.
As a society, we tend to take a black-and-white approach to things that scare us. Things are right or wrong. Guilty or innocent. And as more and more parents have done this -- forgotten a sleeping baby in a hot car -- our society and court systems have dealt with this horrible trend by deciding that parents who do this must be horrible, neglective. They should be charged and punished.
Because really.... how could any decent parent FORGET his child in a hot car, leaving him to die?
Weingarten knows how easy it could happen. And his own horror over that near-tragedy in his life allowed him to delve into this story in a way that the rest of us have been afraid to do.
Why are we afraid? Because deep down, maybe we know the answer; that maybe, just maybe, tragedies like this happen to really good parents.
We don't want to think that. We don't want to have to realize that maybe even WE could someday do this.
Here's the thing I've come to learn in my 15 years as a writer: Some subjects are so difficult, so horrifying, that objectivity becomes an excuse for avoiding questions that we don't really want to think about.
Sometimes, the only people who can ask those questions are the people who already know the answers.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
A writer's restraint
UPDATE: Long time since my last post. A lot has happened. My novel has taken three first-places in three different contests. Let's hope I can publish it! I'm working on two long narrative journalism projects, too.
Music mood: The End of the World As We Know It, by R.E.M. (Did you see that show on the History Channel last night about 2012?)
So, OK...what topic does it take to bring me out of blog hybernation? I saw the movie DOUBT (based on the play by John Patrick Shanley) over the weekend, and I haven't really walked out of the theater yet. The movie is still with me, churning in my brain.
The acting was astounding. I expected no less from a cast that includes Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Meryl Streep and Amy Adams. But it's not the acting that still has me shaking my head in awe. It's the restraint shown by Shanley in his original story.
One of my favorite quotes about writing, credited to Mark Twain, is that writing is not the art of revealing information, but withholding it.
Shanley proves that quote to be true in DOUBT. The story is set in a New York Catholic parish in the mid-1960s, run by a young, progressive priest who butts heads with the strict, traditional Sister Aloysius, principal of the school. Aloysius accuses Father Flynn of having an inappropriate relationship with a young boy.
Here's where Shanley's restraint comes in: The nun's accusation stems from an incident that Shanley never shows to the readers (or even to Aloysisus, for that matter). We never truly know what happened in the rectory. We don't see it. Father Flynn doesn't reveal the details. And the boy is never questioned about it.
As the title suggests, we are all left with our own sense of certainty or doubt. You either believe Aloysius, or you believe Flynn.
Think about the restraint Shanley had to draw upon to make this possible. Many writers would not be satisfied to leave readers guessing. They would find a way to take us into that rectory to see for ourselves what happened. If Shanley had done so, I would have likely forgotten about the movie already.
Instead, I am still debating Flynn's guilt with myself and the people who saw the movie with me. We are still in doubt.
Music mood: The End of the World As We Know It, by R.E.M. (Did you see that show on the History Channel last night about 2012?)
So, OK...what topic does it take to bring me out of blog hybernation? I saw the movie DOUBT (based on the play by John Patrick Shanley) over the weekend, and I haven't really walked out of the theater yet. The movie is still with me, churning in my brain.
The acting was astounding. I expected no less from a cast that includes Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Meryl Streep and Amy Adams. But it's not the acting that still has me shaking my head in awe. It's the restraint shown by Shanley in his original story.
One of my favorite quotes about writing, credited to Mark Twain, is that writing is not the art of revealing information, but withholding it.
Shanley proves that quote to be true in DOUBT. The story is set in a New York Catholic parish in the mid-1960s, run by a young, progressive priest who butts heads with the strict, traditional Sister Aloysius, principal of the school. Aloysius accuses Father Flynn of having an inappropriate relationship with a young boy.
Here's where Shanley's restraint comes in: The nun's accusation stems from an incident that Shanley never shows to the readers (or even to Aloysisus, for that matter). We never truly know what happened in the rectory. We don't see it. Father Flynn doesn't reveal the details. And the boy is never questioned about it.
As the title suggests, we are all left with our own sense of certainty or doubt. You either believe Aloysius, or you believe Flynn.
Think about the restraint Shanley had to draw upon to make this possible. Many writers would not be satisfied to leave readers guessing. They would find a way to take us into that rectory to see for ourselves what happened. If Shanley had done so, I would have likely forgotten about the movie already.
Instead, I am still debating Flynn's guilt with myself and the people who saw the movie with me. We are still in doubt.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Are stories about Palin's clothes newsworthy or sexist?
I try to keep my mouth shut on political issues because journalists must remain objective. But I can't let this one go.
It was big news earlier this week that the Republican National Committee went on a $150,000 spending spree for VP candidate Sarah Palin's campaign wardrobe. Today, the news continued with reports that the highest-paid campaign staffer for the ticket is Palin's make-up artist.
The question I have to ask -- besides, holy crap, how I can get a gig like that -- is whether this is truly newsworthy or just one more example of the sexism that still exists in our country?
Admittedly, I am put off by the amount of money the RNC spent on her wardrobe. I think it could be a reflection of whether the McCain-Palin ticket is truly in touch with the issues facing average Americans today.
When I look at the foreclosure signs in my own neighborhood, I have to wonder how those families feel about a candidate who allowed her "handlers" to drop more money on her clothes that some Americans pay for their homes (at least in my part of the world).
However, as a woman, I'm pissed off at the attention this issue is getting. It stinks of double-standard and reminds me that no matter what a woman achieves in life, she will always be judged on her appearance. If she had walked out onto that convention stage in a Wal-Mart suit, she would have been judged for it. Instead, she walked out looking like a million bucks in a Saks Fifth Avenue suit that cost damn-near that much, and she was judged for it.
I'm sick of hearing legitimate political pundits discuss whether Sarah Palin is on the ticket only because she's hot. I don't hear anyone debating whether Barack Obama's super-rise to stardom is due to the fact that he's downright dreamy when he smiles. (Oh, um... not that I think that or anything. I mean, um, blushing here.)
The point is, there is more than enough about Sarah Palin to give us pause about her readiness to be the proverbial heartbeat away from the president. Can we please focus on that and forget about her clothes?
It was big news earlier this week that the Republican National Committee went on a $150,000 spending spree for VP candidate Sarah Palin's campaign wardrobe. Today, the news continued with reports that the highest-paid campaign staffer for the ticket is Palin's make-up artist.
The question I have to ask -- besides, holy crap, how I can get a gig like that -- is whether this is truly newsworthy or just one more example of the sexism that still exists in our country?
Admittedly, I am put off by the amount of money the RNC spent on her wardrobe. I think it could be a reflection of whether the McCain-Palin ticket is truly in touch with the issues facing average Americans today.
When I look at the foreclosure signs in my own neighborhood, I have to wonder how those families feel about a candidate who allowed her "handlers" to drop more money on her clothes that some Americans pay for their homes (at least in my part of the world).
However, as a woman, I'm pissed off at the attention this issue is getting. It stinks of double-standard and reminds me that no matter what a woman achieves in life, she will always be judged on her appearance. If she had walked out onto that convention stage in a Wal-Mart suit, she would have been judged for it. Instead, she walked out looking like a million bucks in a Saks Fifth Avenue suit that cost damn-near that much, and she was judged for it.
I'm sick of hearing legitimate political pundits discuss whether Sarah Palin is on the ticket only because she's hot. I don't hear anyone debating whether Barack Obama's super-rise to stardom is due to the fact that he's downright dreamy when he smiles. (Oh, um... not that I think that or anything. I mean, um, blushing here.)
The point is, there is more than enough about Sarah Palin to give us pause about her readiness to be the proverbial heartbeat away from the president. Can we please focus on that and forget about her clothes?
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
It's still plagiarism
UPDATE: Haven't posted in a while. Been really busy, which is a good thing. And I'm happy to report that my novel, WHATEVER IT TAKES, has taken first place in two contests!
OK, today's topic: The supposed fine line between plagiarism and not. I say supposed because there is no fine line. You either steal someone else's work or you do your own. Period.
What prompted today's topic: I belong to a couple of online services where freelancers can find writing jobs. Lately, I'm seeing a disturbing trend -- people or companies posting jobs in which they want writers to simply rewrite someone else's work for their own use.
This is from an anonymous job posting today on Guru.com... "What I need is someone who can re-write the information in these pamphlets without plagiarizing the information."
Um... no. That's pretty much the very definition of plagiarizing. Using someone else's work and pawning it off as your own, even if you've reworked it so it looks different on the page, is still an act of plagiarism. (If you're using someone else's work for research, then cite the work. Give credit where credit is due.)
Not to jump on the I-just-don't-understand-these-whippersnappers-today bandwagon, but I do worry that it has become so easy to access information thanks to the Internet that there is an entire generation of people who don't understand the basic rules of fair use.
Let me help you out: If the original words are not yours, and you use them for your own purpose, then you've committed plagiarism.
It's as simple as that.
OK, today's topic: The supposed fine line between plagiarism and not. I say supposed because there is no fine line. You either steal someone else's work or you do your own. Period.
What prompted today's topic: I belong to a couple of online services where freelancers can find writing jobs. Lately, I'm seeing a disturbing trend -- people or companies posting jobs in which they want writers to simply rewrite someone else's work for their own use.
This is from an anonymous job posting today on Guru.com... "What I need is someone who can re-write the information in these pamphlets without plagiarizing the information."
Um... no. That's pretty much the very definition of plagiarizing. Using someone else's work and pawning it off as your own, even if you've reworked it so it looks different on the page, is still an act of plagiarism. (If you're using someone else's work for research, then cite the work. Give credit where credit is due.)
Not to jump on the I-just-don't-understand-these-whippersnappers-today bandwagon, but I do worry that it has become so easy to access information thanks to the Internet that there is an entire generation of people who don't understand the basic rules of fair use.
Let me help you out: If the original words are not yours, and you use them for your own purpose, then you've committed plagiarism.
It's as simple as that.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Too powerful for words
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
No tears for the writer...
Accomplished lately: Check out some of my most recent clips. I also joined Facebook. Freaky.
Music mood: Think, by Aretha Franklin
The greatest compliment I have ever received as a writer came (mumble) years ago when I was working for The Press-Enterprise in Riverside, CA.
I wrote an article about a woman whose young daughter was dying of cancer. She had no money for a funeral, so the principal of her daughter's elementary school was raising funds. The day the article ran, I got a call from a man I had written about in a previous article. He was crying as he told me that the article was beautiful and touching, and that he would be donating money as soon as he got off the phone.
I was happy that he was moved to donate, but what moved ME was his tears. To be able to write something that evokes such strong emotion in someone is a writer's greatest accomplishment... and greatest challenge.
Robert Frost once said, "No tears for the writer, no tears for the reader." I am reminded of that every time I put my fingers on a keyboard. If I don't feel something while I'm writing, how can I expect readers to feel anything while reading?
Fiction writers understand this. When I'm working on my book, I know a scene is failing if I don't feel anything while I'm writing.
But journalists can have a hard time with it. We're supposed to be OBJECTIVE, right? And doesn't it ruin our sense of objectivity if we let ourselves FEEL a story?
I used to think so, but not anymore. It is possible to tell both sides of a story -- to be fair -- while also injecting emotion into a story. Emotion can be conveyed through the use of detail, quotes, and your voice.
In this recent story, I cried when I wrote the last line. And my mother cried when she read it. True, she's supposed to love everything I write, but it still meant a lot to me that she was moved to tears. It meant that everything I felt while reporting and writing came through in my written words.
And that is what I consider a successful story.
Music mood: Think, by Aretha Franklin
The greatest compliment I have ever received as a writer came (mumble) years ago when I was working for The Press-Enterprise in Riverside, CA.
I wrote an article about a woman whose young daughter was dying of cancer. She had no money for a funeral, so the principal of her daughter's elementary school was raising funds. The day the article ran, I got a call from a man I had written about in a previous article. He was crying as he told me that the article was beautiful and touching, and that he would be donating money as soon as he got off the phone.
I was happy that he was moved to donate, but what moved ME was his tears. To be able to write something that evokes such strong emotion in someone is a writer's greatest accomplishment... and greatest challenge.
Robert Frost once said, "No tears for the writer, no tears for the reader." I am reminded of that every time I put my fingers on a keyboard. If I don't feel something while I'm writing, how can I expect readers to feel anything while reading?
Fiction writers understand this. When I'm working on my book, I know a scene is failing if I don't feel anything while I'm writing.
But journalists can have a hard time with it. We're supposed to be OBJECTIVE, right? And doesn't it ruin our sense of objectivity if we let ourselves FEEL a story?
I used to think so, but not anymore. It is possible to tell both sides of a story -- to be fair -- while also injecting emotion into a story. Emotion can be conveyed through the use of detail, quotes, and your voice.
In this recent story, I cried when I wrote the last line. And my mother cried when she read it. True, she's supposed to love everything I write, but it still meant a lot to me that she was moved to tears. It meant that everything I felt while reporting and writing came through in my written words.
And that is what I consider a successful story.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
This is the greatest job in the world
Accomplished: Coming off a week in California where I made major progress on a project.
Music mood: "Walking on Sunshine," by Katrina and the Waves
I have so many reasons lately to look around and say, "Seriously? I get to do this for a living? How did I get so lucky?"
There are superficial reasons, to be sure. Like the moment last Tuesday during a meeting with the creative team on this project -- aka my friends who just happen to be an amazing graphic designer and web designer. We met in La Jolla, a beautiful coastal town just north of San Diego, at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Midway through my fish tacos I thought, "OK, seriously... I get paid for this?"
But superficial reasons aside, I was reminded recently of the real reason this is the greatest job in the world. People trust me with their stories, and it is one of the highest honors I've ever known. I recently interviewed an amazing woman (she shall remain anonymous for now), and afterwards, I was struck by a profound sense of duty.
And far more than all the other "perks" of being a freelancer, THAT is why I love to do this. Why I couldn't do anything else.
Why do you write?
Music mood: "Walking on Sunshine," by Katrina and the Waves
I have so many reasons lately to look around and say, "Seriously? I get to do this for a living? How did I get so lucky?"
There are superficial reasons, to be sure. Like the moment last Tuesday during a meeting with the creative team on this project -- aka my friends who just happen to be an amazing graphic designer and web designer. We met in La Jolla, a beautiful coastal town just north of San Diego, at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Midway through my fish tacos I thought, "OK, seriously... I get paid for this?"
But superficial reasons aside, I was reminded recently of the real reason this is the greatest job in the world. People trust me with their stories, and it is one of the highest honors I've ever known. I recently interviewed an amazing woman (she shall remain anonymous for now), and afterwards, I was struck by a profound sense of duty.
And far more than all the other "perks" of being a freelancer, THAT is why I love to do this. Why I couldn't do anything else.
Why do you write?
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