A little narrative goes a long way

Kevin WilliamsIn last night’s NFC Championship game, which the Giants won 20-17 in overtime, the outcome pivoted twice on turnovers by San Francisco punt returner Kyle Williams. Williams muffed a punt late in the fourth quarter, which gave the ball back to the Giants, who shortly after took the lead. San Francisco managed to tie the game and send it to overtime, but six minutes into that extra quarter of play, Williams fumbled the football during a punt return, and again, the Giants pounced on it. Minutes later, New York kicked the game-winning field goal that sends them to the Super Bowl.

Yahoo Sports writer Les Carpenter posted a short article about William’s night and the aftermath. It’s a good piece of reporting, but what struck me was a great little scene he captured at the end of the story, an excellent bit of narrative:

Yes, Kyle Williams was alone on the day he was introduced to the rest of the country. At one point, as he dressed, he noticed a man with a television camera filming him and he gave the man a cold glare. Otherwise, his eyes focused on nothing. He pulled on a White Sox cap and blue-hooded sweater, draped the hood over his head and quickly walked out of the locker room, into a tunnel filled with delirious Giants players, family members and eventually into the parking lot where he blended in with the fans and disappeared.

Outside the lot a line of red brake lights stretched up the hills. He would be going nowhere but at least nobody was going to know who he was.

What a great (and sad) little cinematic moment Carpenter captures in a very economical bit of writing. 125 words. We see Williams, alone, getting dressed, being filmed, putting a hood over his head, then walking out into a tunnel, where he passes members of the Giants celebrating. And then we see him drive off. It’s subtle, understated, and powerful. You don’t expect something like this in a quick sports story, but Carpenter shows that great narrative nonfiction can be done quickly and on deadline.

Simmons, Klosterman, and why writers write

In a recent “B.S. Report” podcast, Bill Simmons and guest Chuck Klosterman started talking about their upcoming ESPN-backed website project, which led into a fascinating discussion of what writing and publications inspired them when they were younger, where they see writing going on the web, and more broadly, what motivates them as writers.

Check it out here. The exchange starts at around the 29:30 mark… The more general discussion of why they write starts at around the 35 minute mark. You don’t have to be into sports or pop culture to find their exchange interesting.

What I’ve been writing about

As I work on my Thesis for the Hopkins Program, I’ve had people ask me “what it’s about.”

The short answer is that I don’t know. The thesis is a collection of highly-reworked and revised stories I’ve done for the program. I’ve written about a wide range of topics. So I thought I’d try Wordle, a cool visualization tool that creates word clouds based on the frequency in which they are used in a given text. I put all eight stories for my thesis into the tool and here’s a visual explanation of “what it’s about”:

Wordle visualization of the words used in my thesis

16 Interesting Ideas from AWP 2011

This year, I attended the Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) conference here in icy Washington DC. It’s a massive conference, with hundreds of panels and sessions to choose from (though I’m not sure if quantity was better than quality). AWP also featured a book fair / publishers exhibition bigger than a football field. The entire experience was pretty overwhelming.

The coolest thing about AWP is that I saw every possible writer stereotype you can imagine. Grey-haired professor-looking fellow with tweed coat and elbow patches? Check. Sullen-looking woman in black sweater, scribbling furiously in a leather-bound notebook? Check. Handsome, well-dressed thirty-something man with vintage pipe? Check. Dorky, wired, Macbook-tapping blogger? Check. Sloppy, scruffy bald guy who was high, hung-over, or hallucinating? Check. Wiry, cynical hipster with sunglasses who makes two-minute-long speech instead of a question? Check.

All that said, here are some highlights and interesting insights from various panels I attended:

“A Sense of Where We Were: Nonfiction Writers on Setting”

Steve Church: “Setting needs to do more than one thing“… It shouldn’t just establish a place; it should help with other elements of the narrative: establish character, tone, theme…

Church or one of the other panelists also make this suggestion to nonfiction writers: flip the old writer’s adage — “write what you know” — and tackle the opposite: write about what you don’t know. Fill that void of knowledge with strong research, reporting, and interviewing to create something fresh and insightful.

The Future of the Book Review: How to Break In

The consensus of the four panelists (three of whom were affiliated with Bomb) seemed to be that traditional, long-form book reviews are an endangered species, to be replaced by short 500-words-or-less reviews or Q&A interviews with authors. Oh, and almost nobody gets paid to write reviews. Thanks for coming!

The Q&A session heated things up when a couple traditionalists in the back of the room got loud and angry at the panel, accusing them of playing kissy-face with small-press authors and acting like “a club” where people agree not to ever say mean things about each other. It got a little awkward.

I just needed coffee.

The Art & Authenticity of Social Media: Using Online Tools to Grow a Community

Despite having one of the needlessly long titles at the conference, this was one of the best sessions I attended: a diverse group of speakers with varying perspectives on how to use Facebook, Twitter, and other social media as part of your writing career.

Christina Katz: “never say ‘having a conversation’ or ‘building a community’”… She also had this often-ignored bit of advice: “Before you use social media, have something to say.”

Bethanne (The Book Maven) Patrick: “it’s social media, not ‘me’ media”… Don’t think of social networking as a one-way marketing transmission.

In a similar note, Dan Blank suggested that writers should think more broadly when using social media: it’s not just about promoting a book; it’s about connecting with readers and other writers, as well as exploring the ideas that you write about.

Tanya Egan Gibson cautioned writers to remember that whatever they post on social media is difficult to un-share. Her rule of thing: anything you post online should be something you’d be comfortable saying to someone at a cocktail party.

Status Update: The Personal Essay in the Age of Facebook

Apparently, Philip Lopate is a rock star at AWP, which might explain why I’ve been assigned his stuff in about half of my classes at Hopkins.

Suzanne McCallum-Smith: essayists need to create a lot of material before editing down a great essay. They should “take a lot of footage”… think of themselves as a movie director who shoots lots of film before cutting it down to a finished product.

Jocelyn Bartkevicius: “Fiction is scarier, but nonfiction is harder”

Balancing Professional Writing with Your Creative Side

Valerie Due really shined on this panel with a lot of practical advice, both big and small, for writers:

  • If your day job is uncreative, stifling, or toxic, LEAVE. It will suck away your energy and creativity and leave you with little to apply to your other work. It doesn’t matter what it pays: the price is too high.
  • Be disciplined. You need to produce on schedule, be focused and disciplined with your creative writing as if it were a job. Schedule time to do your personal work and set deadlines
  • If work won’t fuel you with lyric language, voice, read all the time. READ other good writing. Feed your brain with quality, beautiful writing.
  • If you do freelance or consulting work, when you estimate time needed to get work done (not hours billed, but how long it will take to get something back to them), take the real time you think it will take and multiply it by three: that’s what you tell the client.

Moderator Matt Tullis echoed Valerie’s emphasis on discipline, suggesting that in addition to setting your own writing deadlines, you find someone to “be your enforcer” and make sure you don’t miss those deadlines.

To Tell You the Truth: Strategies in the New Nonfiction

This panel was standing-room only, or in my case, sitting-indian-style-on-the-floor room only. Apparently we’re all looking for new nonfiction strategies. Stephen Elliot had tips on “three reasons people will read your entire memoir”: good sentences, tension, and honesty. Simple advice, but spot on, I think. It’s not enough to write well, or to have create tension, or to open up and be honest on the page. Good, powerful memoir delivers all three at once.

5 mistakes writers make when doing interviews, and how to avoid them

a retro-looking reporter taking notes during an interviewInterviewing someone for a story is difficult. Getting people to give you valuable, useful, interesting information in a colorful way is no small task. You need to ask good questions, follow up, take notes, as well as observe the environment and personal mannerisms.  It’s a lot to process, and it only gets harder when you make it difficult on yourself.  Here are five things I’ve learned to avoid that can help make interviews a lot better:

1. Don’t ask long, convoluted questions

Ever been to a big meeting or a lecture where an audience member stands up, and instead of asking a direct question, rambles incoherently for two minutes, then finally asks something like, “what do you think about that?”  Don’t be that guy.  Nothing makes me cringe more than listening to an interview I did and hearing myself launch a long, windy question that takes a full minute to unravel.  It’s rare that such questions need to be that long:  usually it’s just a rambling statement or observation with the real question appended to the end of it.  The interview shouldn’t be about you or your impressions (that’s what your story is for); the interview needs to focus on your subject.  Keep the questions short, clear, and open-ended.

2. Don’t think! Listen.

One of the biggest mistakes I’ve made during interviews is being so busy thinking of my next question or how a quote will fit in my story that I miss or neglect to follow-up on something interesting that a subject reveals.  When I listen to recordings of interviews, I’m often baffled that a subject might say something like “I haven’t talked to my father in more than ten years,” and I’ll not even respond or ask him to explain; instead, I move on to an unrelated next question.  A obvious, but difficult skill when interviewing is to concentrate on listening to your subject so that you take advantage of new information he or she presents, rather than robotically taking notes and walking through a list of pre-conceived questions.

3. Don’t marry yourself to weak interviews

Sometimes I’ve scored an interview with a famous person or a highly regarded expert, but when we finally talk, what they say isn’t particularly interesting. Or maybe an interview is interesting and insightful, but turns out to be a poor fit for the focus of the story.

Years ago, while working on a story, I interviewed about six fathers who took paternity leave.  One of them, an old friend, had lots of interesting things to say about the challenges of being on his own with the kids. But when I listened to the recording of the interview, it became clear that he was talking about the challenges of being a stay-at-home father, not about taking paternity leave from work. It might have been useful for a different story, but didn’t really fit this one.  Yet I didn’t cut it.  I didn’t want to give up on the great interview I had with him, even though it wasn’t right for the story.

Sometimes hard-sought interviews just don’t warrant being used in a final story. It’s hard to accept that you might have emailed back and forth with someone eight times, talked for an hour, written up notes on the interview, and yet it has no place in your story. Interviews need to support or develop the key ideas and themes of a story.  If they don’t, they need to go.

4. Don’t write down long quotes; write down times

When someone delivers a fantastic quote, you can get lost trying to jot it down word for word.  Odds are, while you’re doing that, you’re missing something else.  Instead of writing down quotes verbatim, jot down a short snippet of the quote and the time marker for when it he or she said it.

For example, for a recent story, an Afghanistan war veteran told me about teenage students he knows who have no memory of America before it was at war. “Because it’s been there for as long as they can remember, it’s just a fact of life,” he said. Nice quote.  In my notes taken during the interview, I wrote “’just a fact of life’… 7:30” — a quick reminder of the quote, plus the note that he said it seven and a half minutes into the interview. This approach has two benefits.  First, it allows you to focus on what you’re subject is saying more than trying to write out that juicy quote.  Second, when you’re working on a deadline, it will be a lot easier to locate that quote in your recording because you know exactly where to find it.  Odds are, no matter how well you took notes, you’ll need to go back and make sure you wrote it down correctly.

5. Don’t trust your batteries

It doesn’t matter if you think your batteries should be fine; Murphy’s Law says that if you’re doing an interview with a recording device, it will run out of juice at the wrong time.  ALWAYS put new (or freshly-recharged) batteries into your recorder before every interview.  Even if you don’t lose your interview, you don’t want be asking your subject to wait while you switch batteries.  And always have a few backup batteries on hand, just in case.

The Art of Writing the Tough Profile

Shigeru MiyamotoGay Talese’s famous “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold,” is a legendary profile for many reasons, perhaps most notably because the iconic singer wouldn’t talk to him directly. Talese nonetheless delivered an incredible profile of Sinatra, without the benefit of a direct interview.

I thought briefly of Talese’s story when I read Nick Paumgarten’s excellent New Yorker profile of Ninendo creative genius Shigeru Miyamoto. What is clear from the story is that Paumgarten actually had very little opportunity to spend time with the elusive Miyamoto. The only scene in which he directly interacts with his subject is in a Nintendo corporate conference room, through the use of a translator.

And yet, Paumgarten still manages to make the most of that limited access. Here’s a snippet of his really effective use of observation, description, and vivid detail:

Miyamoto, dressed in a striped button-down shirt and black pants, regarded me with a wide smile. Up close, I could see that he had freckles and a few gray hairs. His upper lip sticks out a bit, like that of a character in a Matt Groening comic strip. He was carrying a beat-up and bulging old leather diary with a painted, hand-tooled relief of a horse on its cover. A friend had made it for him. It was where he jotted down thoughts and ideas. He said he was very busy: there was a deadline looming for the release of a new handheld device with a 3-D display that requires no 3-D glasses. Also, it was the twenty-fifth anniversary of the release of Super Mario, and he was judging a competition in which thousands of players had used a Nintendo program to make and submit their own Mario animations. Miyamoto himself was to narrow these down to fifty finalists.

As Minagawa translated each of my questions, Miyamoto often buried his face in his hands or rubbed his eyes and frowned, as though Minagawa had misheard me and, instead of asking Miyamoto to parse the differences between entertainment and play, was telling him he’d gone broke. But it became clear, once he began talking, animatedly, with extravagant hand gestures and giggles of delight, that the apparent anguish was merely an expression of deep thought, a counterpoint to his ebullience in answering.

Paumgarten makes the most of a very constrained, limited interview. The doesn’t just get Miyamoto’s quotes, but we see him, hear him, and get a sense of his personality. He might be sitting in a boring conference room, but that doesn’t stop Paumgarten from still creating a vivid sense of his subject.

It’s a good reminder that we don’t always have ideal settings or opportunities to interview subjects, but that’s no excuse for doing a bad job telling the story.

Washington Post’s “Facebook Story”

As I’ve noted before, many modern web communications create natural narratives. “A Facebook Story” by Ian Shapira in the Washington Post is a powerful work of narrative journalism that follows the story of a pregnant woman’s journey through her posts and those of her family and friends. Most of the story is told through the status updates by Shana Greatman Swers, with some small narrative annotations by Shapiro:

screen capture from Facebook story, showing posts and comments

It’s a powerful, emotionally-wrenching bit of journalism, done in a very unconventional way. I read it this morning and can’t get it out of my mind. I’m not sure if the story strikes me so deeply because my wife and I have recently had two children, or because it’s set, mostly, in the same hospital where our girls were born, or simply because it’s a gripping story told in the primary characters’ own words.

Shapira doesn’t do much traditional writing in this piece, but he shaped and edited Swers’ facebook feed to tell the story, with minimal bits of his narrative to round out the feature. The editors and designers at the Post also did a good job making the online story interactive: when you click on some of the photos, they expand so that you can see them bigger.

This approach wouldn’t work for a lot of stories, but this piece illustrates beautifully how old and new media can come together to create powerful, compelling narrative nonfiction.

If you haven’t read this, you should.

For more, check out Shapira’s live chat on the Post, as well as an interview with his editor Marc Fisher at the Nieman Storyboard.

Five ways to make writing harder than it needs to be

Man with his head on a deskThe more I write, the more I notice myself repeating the same mistakes during the writing process, bad habits that waste time and energy. Since I’m often short on both, it’s worth being aware of those pitfalls and trying to avoid them. Maybe others have the same issues.

1. Writing without a map

Perhaps if you write novels or short stories, or if you happen to be a genius, you can just sit down at a keyboard and compose a story without knowing where you’re going. For me, that’s a plan for getting lost and wasting time. I don’t need to have a detailed outline of a story in order to start writing, but I tend to be much more effective when I jot down a basic structure of the story, a loose idea of where key elements of my story — interviews, research, and quotes — will wind up. All of this is subject to change of course, but without a basic map to follow when writing a first draft, I’ve found myself going in circles or drifting off into wordy tangents that don’t advance the story.

2. Stopping to sweat the small stuff

My best work comes when I can concentrate and write, uninterrupted, for a few hours at a time. I get into a flow, and suddenly, the ideas and the words flow together well. I’m better able to think about the broader arguments and themes I’m trying do develop, and the smaller parts of a story come together to develop that. Sadly, that experience is rare. More often, I write in herky-jerky bursts: ten or fifteen minutes on the subway, half an hour during lunch, or an hour or so late at night or before dawn. When I do get the rare stretch to work for a few hours, too often, I sabotage myself with constant interruptions: email, Facebook, sports scores. But worst of all is when I stop to do micro-research instead of staying focused on the writing.

An example: last week while working on a story, I wrote this line: “Right now, [???] American troops are deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan.” I didn’t know the number, though I had a rough idea. Instead of leaving that blank spot there and coming back later to fill it in, I clicked away to the web and spent 15 or 20 minutes trying to dig up and confirm an accurate number. By the time I was done with that – stopping along the way to check my email, Facebook, and the Lakers score – and tabbed back over to my word processor, I’d completely lost my train of thought. Whatever groove I’d gotten in was lost. Researching facts and figures is important, but often, they can wait until later in the writing process. Every time I minimize my word processor, stop writing, and start focusing on something else, I lose the focus and concentration it takes to do my best work. Life gives us enough interruptions as it is; we don’t need to create our own distractions.

3. Spending too much time on the opening

Here’s an unscientific chart of the amount of time I often spend on a typical ten-page story:

Hours spent writing and editing a story, by page

One of my most common mistakes is spending an inordinate amount of time on the beginnings of stories:  editing, revising, and rewriting them endless times, while giving later pages a fraction of that attention. Instead of getting a good complete draft on the paper, I obsess about the first 300 or 400 words, to the detriment of everything that follows.

4. Over-reporting

I pride myself on doing thorough reporting and research. Many writers I admire say that they report and research as much as they can, then wind up using a small sliver of what they found. But too often, it’s easy to lose valuable hours digging too deeply into part of a story that’s not essential to the core focus. For example, in a recent feature I worked on about war video games, a related issue to the story was a recent Supreme Court case. I watched the arguments over the case live, then printed and read half a dozen briefs. It was all very interesting, but much more depth than I needed for my article. When I wound up scrambling to finish my draft of the story, I rushed the writing of the final few pages, which were clearly the weakest part of the finished piece. In retrospect, those hours I spend reading and marking up long legal briefs were critical hours of writing time I wish I’d had back. Good reporting is one thing; burning up hours of time on questionably relevant research is just inefficient. The lesson? Good reporting is essential, but always keep the final story in mind. Ask yourself how essential each angle of research is to the core ideas and themes of the story.

5.  Letting darlings live

Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch offered this famous bit of advice: “Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it – whole-heartedly – and delete it before sending your manuscripts to press. Murder your darlings.” William Faulkner later shortened this advice to “In writing, you must kill all your darlings.” Elmore Leonard offered a similar take in more modern times with this simple rule: “If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.” What they’re all saying is that it’s easy to become too attached to a bit of writing that seems clever or “beautiful.” And often, that favorite little chunk of writing needs to go.

In my writing, this most often is a scene or a moment I think I’ve described well, but which starts to seem out of place with the rest of the story. Or it’s a line where I repeat an idea I’ve already expressed, only in some more clever way. It’s repetitive, but I can’t see that because the second line is seems so brilliant. Eventually, I usually bring myself to evict my darlings from a story and relocate them io a designated “outtakes” file. Somehow this doesn’t seem as final. In the 21st century, darlings never really die, they just move on to someplace else.

Great paragraphs: “Mom let her be who she was”

One skill I’ve learned to appreciate is the crafting of really good paragraphs. Sounds simple, but great writers can craft a paragraph with something that lesser writers would use pages to accomplish. So I’m going to start noting and writing about examples of insanely well-written grafs…

First up, I noted this amazing graf in Gary Smith’s fantastic Sports Illustrated article on Bonnie Richardson, a high school athlete who twice won the Texas state track and field championship… by herself. In this paragraph, Smith is talking about how Richardson’s mother worked hard to help her daughter, but also gave her room to be herself. In about 200 words, we get a rich, narrative glimpse of Bonnie’s growth from toddler to high school phenom:

Yep, lucky Bonnie, because OmniMom let her be who she was: the four-year-old girl shooting a Remington at prickly pear cactus with Dad. The five-year-old climbing on a bucket to mount Snip and trot off with Dad to run the ranch. The seven-year-old scaling bluffs and building forts and diving into Onion Creek till the horn from Dad’s pickup called her to dinner. The eight-year-old rising at 4 a.m. to spend all day separating the cattle for weighing and shipping, and swallowing so much dust that she’d spit brown till tomorrow. The 10-year-old sobbing when the family moved from the 12,000-acre ranch where Dad worked to an 85-acre homestead that the Richardsons could call their own. The 12-year-old praying out loud with Lee when monster hailstones drummed their sports banquet and tornado sirens screamed—”Please, Lord, don’t let them find my dead body in a dress!” The 17-year-old in bulky camouflage shorts, pockets bulging with snacks and energy bars, who’d gone to school with the same six boys for so many years that she’d decided to defer romance till college and focus meanwhile on clamping them in headlocks in the hallways and flattening their right arms on the school’s picnic table during lunchtime arm wrestling.

In that one paragraph, Smith packs eight scenes; a narrative slide-show, rich with evocative details (brown spit; five-year-old Bonnie climbing on a bucket; camouflage shorts loaded with energy bars) that show us a lot about Richardson.

Great stuff. Read the rest here.

For more, also check out:

What writers can learn from Kobe Bryant

During the first game of the 2010 NBA Finals, ABC showed a halftime feature on Kobe Bryant and how he spends hours studying game film of other players; not only contemporary rivals, but legends of the game: Oscar Robertson, Jerry West, Elgin Baylor, Magic Johnson, Hakeem Olajuwon, Michael Jordan. He studies the nuances of their skills: their footwork, the timing their shots, how they moved to create open space to shoot.

Check out the ESPN.com story on Kobe’s film study, or watch clip below:

Here’s a 12-time NBA All-Star, a league MVP, and a five-time champion, with as much skill and talent as any player in his sport, and yet he still spends hours at home, studying game film from decades ago, watching, learning, borrowing techniques from other great players. His drive to improve pushes him to continually hunt down techniques and approaches that will make him better. And he’s not afraid to admit that he’s borrowing and stealing moves from other great players, dead and alive.

“There isn’t a move that’s a new move; there’s nothing that hasn’t been done before,” he said. “I’ve stolen all these moves from these great players.”

Watching this got me thinking about the craft of writing. The romantic notion of a “writer” suggests the image of some inspired, brilliant scribe, composing prose from some deep well of brilliance in his heart.

The reality, for most of us, is less magical: it’s about drafting sentences and paragraphs, organizing and structuring paragraphs, and tying together themes and ideas. It’s creative, but it’s also about craft and technique. Which is why Kobe Bryant has something to teach us.

One of the ideas my instructors at Johns Hopkins hammer home is the value of “reading like a writer” — looking at good writing not just for information or enjoyment, but with an eye for how and why it works. It’s pretty much the same thing the Kobe does when he studies game film: he’s looking for moves and techniques he can borrow. Writers can benefit from the same approach.

When I read Joseph Mitchell, I marvel at how he describes small little scenes throughout his stories; vivid little moments that bring characters to life. Rereading Bill Bryson, I note how his stories are peppered with small, concrete details that ground his narrative. Looking at Adrian Nicole Blank’s masterful Random Family, you can see how she uses powerful or dramatic quotes to close out a scene or a chapter. Malcolm Gladwell’s writing is often about big ideas and complex concepts, but what often gives his articles vitality is the way he slows down to describe the people he meets and interviews; they aren’t just quotes from faceless experts, they become characters that help tell his stories. Gay Talese’s profiles often find their insights not in big dramatic conflicts, but in small, telling moments he observes that reveal character, like how Frank Sinatra gets out of his car, or how an aging Joe DiMaggio’s hand shakes when he lights a woman’s cigarette.

Borrowing another writer’s words is plagiarism, but using their techniques is often a key to better writing. Like Kobe, we can learn a lot by looking closely at the work of great writers, studying their moves, and trying to steal as much as we can.