“Smart Brevity”

Politico co-founder and Axios Media CEO Jim VandeHei just explained what made his brand of journalism successful in an 85-word blog post, reinforcing his motto of “smart brevity.” Here are a couple highlights we can all learn from:

 

  • Obsess about your reader/viewer/listener. Their addiction/appreciation equals long-term biz success.

  • Related to first one: Never do stupid tricks for clicks or ad dollars. Short-term high but long-term buzz kill for biz/consumers.

 

These two items are at the core of everything we talk about at the front of the books: The audience matters most. If you don’t know for whom you are writing, you aren’t going to be able to help them or make them want to seek you out as a source of information.

In addition, the reason VandeHei and his crew can write so tightly is because they have a strong working knowledge of the topics on which they write. I can always spot the student with the least confidence in his/her writing when we review stuff in class because that person always has the longest and most complicated sentences. The people who know what they are talking about? They can boil it down to the noun-verb-object in nothing flat. Even if you aren’t in a reporting class, you have to “report” enough (read, ask questions, bother people etc.) to have a good grip on the topic. That will improve your writing.

 

 

  • If you don’t know with precision what your company is doing broadly, and what you are doing personally, run. Clarity of purpose is 🔑.

 

This is more about making the company successful, but it falls nicely in with our discussion of writing. One of the hardest shifts we have to make in learning to write for the media is from the long, descriptive-filled sentences of English, sociology and history papers to the noun-verb-object, bang-it-out structure we use in our field. After years of writing one way, it can feel frustrating to strip a sentence down to its core.

The reason we need to do this is to give people what they need to know quickly and simply. That’s our purpose.

And after taking four times the word count to explain half of what VandeHei had to say, I’ll end here for the sake of “smart brevity.”

 

GAME TIME: An AEJMC-based AP quiz

How well do you know AP style? Some rules seem eternal while others get added or dropped each year. If you think you have game, give this quiz a shot. Speed counts, but accuracy matters most.

In honor of AEJMC’s annual convention, the 10 questions have an AEJMC theme. You don’t have to create an account to play, but if you want to, it will rank you.

Post a screenshot of your score here and brag to your friends. (Don’t worry if you bite the dust, we won’t tell your students.)

Click here to begin!

Are gnomes in your underwear drawer planning to murder you? (or why rhetorical questions undermine journalism)

When you write for the media, embrace simplicity. When I need to remind myself of this, I go back to a book by William Woo, the first person outside of the Pulitzer family to edit the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, called “Letters from the Editor.” Woo frequently mentions his first editor, a man named Ray Lyle who ran the city desk at the Kansas City Time and who fit the crusty, grumpy editor stereotype perfectly.

Lyle’s edict to his young reporters was simple: “Write what happened.”

I thought of this when I got an alert on my phone today about a special report from one of my favorite publications:

Are all-inclusive resorts in Mexico drugging tourists with tainted alcohol?

My first thought: Good God, I hope not.

My second thought: Don’t ask me. Tell me.

The use of rhetorical questions is a threadbare device that has become all too common in today’s writing. In a quick look through my Twitter feed, I found these from major media outlets:

WSJ

APQuestion

Of course my favorite question headline/promo is this one:

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The story about the all-inclusive resorts wasn’t done asking questions either. “Extortion?” “Was it robbery?” “Sexual assault?” And then this:

Could it be what the attorney for the Conner family alluded to in his report: All-inclusive resorts using cheap, bootleg booze to cut costs?

The story is an intensely reported piece from a journalist I have long admired. The depth of the digging demonstrates how hard it can be to get at the core issue of a complex international topic with limited access to almost non-existent official reports. However, each rhetorical question undermined what the reporter actually had: A number of people reporting similar incidents, having similar outcomes and finding little in the way of answers.

Journalism is about getting answers for readers and providing them in a simple and straightforward way. This is one of the reasons to avoid rhetorical questions in your writing.

Or to paraphrase Ray Lyle, just tell me what happened.

 

 

“Held a news conference” (or how many news agencies does it take to write one good lead about a naked on-fire guy?)

Leads are incredibly complicated things to learn how to write. You have to pack a ton of information into about 25 words, cover the 5Ws and 1H, hit on the FOCII interest elements that are present, engage your readers and draw people deeper into a story. That’s a tough thing for one sentence to pull off.

One way to guarantee you will put people to sleep is to focus on procedure leads. Any time you have to tell me that someone “gave a speech and…” or “held a news conference and…” or “held a meeting and…” I’m guessing the news (whatever there is) is sitting right after the word “and.” It’s not fair to say you can NEVER write a “held a news conference” lead, but let’s just say when you have a naked guy that the cops set on fire with a taser, you’re probably missing the bigger news. Consider this story’s lead:

MANITOWOC, Wis. (WBAY) — Manitowoc Police held a news conference Tuesday to address the tasing of a naked man during a struggle with officers.

Why would a reader care that the police held a news conference? Let’s consider the other items that might make the lead before that:

  1. It took three taser hits to get this guy under control.
  2. One of those tasings connected with a lighter in his hand, creating a “flame burst” that set his beard and chest hair on fire. (or at least “singed” him, depending on your point  of view)
  3. He punched a cop in the face and continued to struggle throughout the arrest.
  4. Did we mention he was in the middle of the street naked?
  5. He appeared to be under the influence of something and had a warrant out for his arrest in a nearby town “for something OWI-related.”

However, in the noun-verb-object structure we so love to discuss in the “Dynamics” books, what we have here is:

Police hold news conference.

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EXERCISE TIME: Give this a try. Look up all the information on this guy and his weird exchange with the police (you can even watch the whole presser online) and write a better lead. The rules:

  • Write it as if you covered the news conference today. Thus, “Tuesday” is your time element or “Sunday” is your arrest day (if you want to go that route)
  • It must be one sentence, 25-35 words, and touch on as many of the 5Ws and 1H as possible.
  • Apply the FOCII elements (Fame, Oddity, Conflict, Immediacy, Impact) when you write it.

Post your version here and let folks see what you came up with.

Cops set nude man on fire, see paragraph 11 (or why you should use the inverted pyramid better)

Oddity is one of the five interest elements we discuss at length in the “Dynamics” series. If people can say, “Did you READ THAT? WOW!” you have a winner. In short, embrace the weird. Consider this lead:

MANITOWOC – Police officers arrested a 32-year-old Manitowoc man Sunday evening for standing in the street without any clothes on.

Public nudity isn’t normal, but it isn’t that odd, either. Here are links to several “public nudity arrest” stories run over the past month or two. Also, the lead here in noun-verb-object order is “Police arrest man.” Not exactly compelling… but keep reading…

Second Paragraph:

Officers found Travis L. Tingler in the 1100 block of South 25th Street near Hamilton Street, where he was shouting toward a home at the intersection that he had a knife and was going to gut people in the house.

Getting there…

Eighth Paragraph:

Police talked to a girl, who was holding a baby, in the home. She said Tingler was dating her mother and they had lived in the home for about two years. She said he started drinking alcohol three hours earlier and started to act weird, making comments such as “Stay in the light and never come into the dark.”

Getting weirder… Hang in there…

Paragraphs 11 and 12:

Police reported Tingler somehow picked up a lighter during the struggle, and when the stun gun probe hit the lighter, a combination of lighter fluid and electricity from the stun gun caused Tingler’s beard and chest hair to catch fire. (Emphasis added)

An officer tried to pat the fire off his body, and Tingler continued to fight even after the fire was put out. He then punched an officer in the face. An officer used a stun gun on him from about 6 feet away, and he then fell and hit his head hard on the pavement.

As the person who forwarded this to me put it: “They set him on fire and you don’t find out for 11 grafs. 11!!!”

If you read the whole story, you find that the headline does mention this, but headlines aren’t there to bail out bad writing. You also find out that the reason this story has this problem is the reporter wrote it chronologically instead of relying on the inverted pyramid.

Very rarely will I say this, but sometimes being arrested naked isn’t the biggest part of the story.

h/t Alex Nemec

UPDATE: Apparently, the paper got the date wrong, so during the “rewrite” of this to fix that problem, they updated the lead:

MANITOWOC – Police officers arrested a 32-year-old Manitowoc man Friday evening for standing in the street without any clothes on. In the process, they accidentally set him on fire.

Not great, but at least they got there…

 

Cliffhanger questions are for “Game of Thrones,” not journalism

The goal of good writing is to make sure you answer the questions your readers have. At the very least, you don’t want to create questions and then leave them unanswered. CNN’s report on the latest poling numbers for President Trump does exactly that:

Washington (CNN) Only 36% of Americans approve of President Donald Trump’s performance in the Oval Office, a new Washington Post/ABC News poll has found.

That gives Trump the lowest approval rating at the six-month mark of any president in 70 years, ABC News reports.

As the story goes on, I kept waiting for the answer of, “Why 70 years ago?” Did they only start doing polling like this 70 years ago? Was there a guttural level of unique hatred for Truman or Eisenhower at one of their six-month marks? How close was the closest guy to this number for Trump? Or as Sunshine would say:

I kept reading and kept looking, but no dice. As the story wore on, CNN seemed less interested in answering the questions I had about that record-breaking low and more interested in pelting me with as many numbers as possible. It was like CNN kept loading up a bratzooka with percentages and firing them into the story:

In the end, I went elsewhere to find the answers, namely the ABC story CNN references. To be fair to CNN, the video did cover some of the items I wanted to know, but as a journalist you a) can’t assume the audience is going to look at the video and the text, even if you set it to autoplay and b) you don’t want to force readers to look elsewhere for answers.

This is especially true if it’s your fault they have the questions in the first place.

Noun, Verb and Object: The Holy Trinity

At one of my teaching stops, students were required to fill out an evaluation at the end of the class and explain what they learned. Some wrote a lot, some wrote things that are anatomically impossible for me to do. One student wrote simply this:

“Noun, verb, object: The Holy Trinity.”

If you want to write well, he’s not far off. The thing that makes most sentences good is that they consist of concrete nouns and vigorous verbs. They also tell simple stories in active voice: The noun-verb-direct object order.

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Above is a simple sentence diagram (It’s even a bit off, in that the “object” should be “direct object,” but you get the idea). In fourth grade, Sister Mary Kenneth beat this into us over and over and over: Draw a diagram and dissect the sentence. (She was about 183 years old when she taught me all those years ago; It would not surprise me if she were still out there somewhere, scaring the hell out of preteens in an English class…)

The goal here isn’t necessarily to fully diagram a sentence or to create an intricate overall visual structure, but rather to help you boil down your thoughts to a few simple words. If you can build your sentences with a good NVO structure, you can avoid using far too many adjectives and adverbs. You can also improve the overall clarity of your approach to content and build your stories in a more reader-centric fashion. Consider this lead:

Firefighters fought a blaze at a burning house, Tuesday evening, in Springfield, that was caused by electrical failure in a storage room.

If you want break that down into a simple sentence diagram, or at least locate some of those “main idea” words, look for the verb:

Action word: Fought
Noun (who did the fighting?): Firefighters
Object (what did the firefighters fight?): A blaze.

So in short, you have a core sentence that says “Firefighters fight fire.” Isn’t that what they always do? Instead, look at what matters most: What the fire did. How bad was the fire? Try this instead:

An electrical fire caused $150,000 damage to a Springfield home Tuesday, after a freezer malfunctioned in a storage room and sparked the blaze, fire officials said.

NVO = Fire caused damage.

Other good starts could be “Fire damaged home” or if people were hurt/killed “Fire hurt/killed people”

At the core of all strong sentences are those primary elements, so when you write, look to see how your sentences stack up.

 

GAME TIME: An AP quiz for the folks at the College Media Mega Workshop (and the rest of us, too…)

In honor of the student journalists who are slaving away at the College Media Mega Workshop, here’s a chance to prove moral and intellectual superiority over your peers: An AP style quiz that is based on the CMMW.

If you’re not there, don’t worry. You can still play this and dominate all.

Same rules as before: 10 questions, speed counts, rankings will be posted.

CLICK HERE TO START

Everyone needs an editor (sometimes two or three)

The best money I ever spent in life was the $50 I handed over to a 20-year-old college kid who was working a copy desk. I spent somewhere in the neighborhood of a year writing and rewriting and rewriting (and then rewriting some more) on my dissertation. For those of you who have never heard of a dissertation, it’s the giant book that Ph.D. candidates have to write that nobody ever reads that shows you are worthy of being called “doctor” by somebody at some point in time.

I was at the final phase when all the people had signed off on everything that needed a signature and all that was needed was a final edit for grammar, style, spelling and consistency. After that, it was time to print it on “the good paper” and then off to life as a “Doctor of Paper” (to quote one of my former student’s parents).

The problem? I’d gone blind to the text.

I had read it so often, I was filling in words that weren’t there. I wasn’t able to see inconsistencies in style or formatting. I had no idea if I had spelled anything right, spellcheck be damned. So, I found the most trustworthy member of a student-staffed copy desk at my newspaper and cut a deal: I handed her my APA (not to be confused with AP) styleguide along with my dissertation and forked over the cash. In return, she made me look less inept.

When she finished, I ponied up an extra $10 or $20 or whatever I had on me at the time. It was worth it. It also codified a truism that all writers should understand: Everybody needs an editor.

Roy Peter Clark of the Poynter Institute hit on this today with his look at the love/hate relationship news writers have with the copy desk. Writers craft prose, copy deskers crush souls. Writers live for imagery, copy deskers imagine the lawsuit that’s coming unless the story gets shored up a bit better. And so it goes, the tug-of-war between writers and editors.

Like everything else on this site, however, editing isn’t just a newspaper issue. EVERYONE in media writing needs an editor. If you don’t believe me, look what happens when an advertising firm thinks, “Yeah, that looks right…”
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As a writer, you should always go through your copy multiple times, looking for various things that can go wrong. As copy editor Jennifer Morehead notes in the upcoming edition of Dynamics of Media Writing:

“I’ve tried to approach stories of every kind in the same basic way: They *must* be accurate, they *must* be clear… Someone always notices,” she said. “Errors in any story, from local crime briefs to big features, erode credibility.”

And when you are done, find someone you trust who can provide your work with another look.

Everyone needs an editor. (And I’m sure there are at least a dozen errors in this post, so feel free to be mine…)

“Police said.” Two words that can save your rear end

When it comes to attributions, two complaints often emerge in my classes:

  1. They’re boring and repetitive.
  2. They’re unnecessary, as most people can figure it out for themselves.

The truth is, attributions help readers figure out who is saying what, how much faith they should put in the statements and in some cases offer the reporter protection against potential legal action. This last one is particularly true in covering crime, where reporters who quote police or court officials operate usually operate under “qualified privilege.” This means you can quote these officials without fear, even if they turn out to be wrong or change their story.

On June 9, tennis star Venus Williams was involved in a fatal car wreck in Florida. Initial media reports stated that Williams was at fault even though she hadn’t been charged or arrested. The leads on those stories both contain attributions to the police and the remainder of the stories frequently cite the police sources. Why does this matter, if it’s likely she did it and “everybody says so?” Because things can change:

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. — Tennis star Venus Williams legally entered an intersection but was cut off by another car, setting off a chain of events that seconds later resulted in a fatal crash with a third car, police say video released Friday shows.

Even in the above lead, the writer cites the police, who are citing the video, rather than just saying “a video released Friday shows.” This level of attribution is crucial to demonstrate not only who is making the judgment, but also that in this case the source is operating under privilege.

Students often ask me why they should attribute every statement or cite certain sources repeatedly. One conversation I recall even had the student tell me, “The guy obviously did it, so what does it matter?” The truth is, the situation can change and sometimes the only thing that will save your keester is a simple two-word phrase:

“Police said.”

To quote an old police drama, “Let’s be careful out there.”