I wish all of you could have been at the Nieman Conference on Narrative Journalism in Cambridge this past weekend, and not only because of the chance to experience a northeaster winter storm from the cocoon of a Hyatt.
For writers and editors, the workshop was a blizzard of inspiration and instruction. The bad news was that there was so much good stuff competing for time that you'd have been hard-pressed to decide which session to go to. Choosing between dueling workshops led by Susan Orlean on voice, Anne Hull
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Bill Mitchell/Poynter
Chip in the snow. |
on structure, and Tom French on narrative sequencing was just one of the difficult choices. The good news is that you can
get the conference in bits and pieces or the entire talkfest on tape or CD and even mp3 files that you can rip and store on your music player. (Note to Holiday Gift Givers)
I've never attended a writing workshop without taking away at least one nugget. Even though my duties as a speaker and Poynter rep kept me from attending as many sessions as I'd like (wondering what to give me for Christmas, honey?) I still carried home a daybook full of things I want to remember, put into practice, take to heart, and share with others who devote their lives to making meaning with words.
Friday, Day One
I arrive in Boston, ahead of the storm, but too late to hear David Halberstam. Fortunately, Poynter and the Nieman Foundation teamed up to produce a blog, an online diary that participants could log onto and share their reactions to sessions.
Random mistakes or journey of discovery?
I do get the chance to take in Adrian Nicole LeBlanc, a young, passionate nonfiction writer whose book, "Random Family," has earned critical acclaim. But its self-effacing author told us about the "relentless series of dead ends and mistakes" she'd made in the 10 years it took her to complete the book. (You can read more about LeBlanc and other speakers mentioned here.)
What she termed mistakes sounded to me like the journey of discovery that every story becomes. Recounting the process of writing "Random Family," LeBlanc dropped a long trail of gold coins, glittering nuggets of hard-won wisdom that could help any struggling writer.
- "An assignment is a work of fiction to get you going, an excuse to get you out there."
- "Imagine yourself an instrument, a fine instrument, in the field, receiving information. Allow yourself to be reflective about what you experience as a reporter."
- "Be a tea bag ... steep yourself in the environment."
- "Close your eyes and listen." She described making lists in her notebook of every song she heard, and the make of every car she saw, on a South Bronx street.
- "Exercise the muscles of your imagination. Stretch your heart." She would imagine a setting a courtyard where her subjects hung out from the perspective of a three-year old.
- When profiling subjects, she always asks for letters, diaries, and other self-generated writing.
- Mindful that her subject matter the urban underclass is bleak, she said she always asks sources, "What's the happiest part of your day. What makes you happy?"
Strangely, the single most important lesson I took from LeBlanc appears nowhere in my notes. She spoke about the importance of knowing yourself as a key to learning things about others. It made me realize that I need deadlines and contracts to produce work. Without formal commitments, I can spin my wheels forever on a piece. I resolve to write a proposal for a project I've been stalled on.
Changing quotes
Bob Herbert rejects the idea of changing quotes as "absurd." That, The New York Times op-ed columnist said, is why God invented paraphrasing.
Saturday, Day 2
I can only spend a half-hour in Barry Siegel's session before I have to get ready for my own session on reporting the past: writing the investigative memoir, but still fill three daybook pages with advice from the Pulitzer Prize winning L.A. Times reporter and author.
Scenes and characters
Describing how he planned his first book, a nonfiction account of a murder that he'd covered for his newspaper, Siegel described writing every scene he could think of on one side of a piece of paper. On the other, he made a list of every character in the story. In the field, the lists became his reporting compass. He asked every source what they knew about every scene and every character on his list
As someone who travels the country "looking for something that's happened," Siegel relies heavily on reconstructing scenes. Critics worry that reconstructions rest on the fallible foundation of human memory, but Siegel's criminal justice specialty means his stores rest on more reliable layers of documents such as court transcripts, witness statements, and other records. To recreate a Minnesota murder, he consulted newspaper microfilm, learning that pivotal action occurred during a "Storm of the Century."
His passion for scene notwithstanding, Siegel reminded us that "if you do all scene by scene reconstruction, you have a play."
"Only the most dramatic and telling moments should be put in scenes," he said. The rest can be conveyed with narrative prose that summarizes and condenses a series of events. A detailed scene deliberately slows the reader down, operating in real time for dramatic effect or to reveal character; narrative passages pick up the action, vaulting the reader days, weeks, and even years ahead in a single paragraph.
Sunday, Day 3
Adam Hochschild, a brilliant writer of historical nonfiction and master teacher, offered life preservers to any writer drowning in a sea of notes.
Drowning in a sea of notes
How many times have I struggled with stories because I didn't want to give up everything I'd discovered in my interviews and research? Hochschild made me see that's my ego talking and that I and my reader would be better served if I asked, "What's the structure that can keep the reader reading?"
His suggestions:
- "Start thinking about your structure when you're still gathering information. It will help direct you where to go."
- Envision the story while you're reporting as a way to keep from going down blind alleys. Use the process of sorting your notes to help you envision the story. He sorts into two piles on his first pass -- things that determine the structure (such as major characters, a good interview) and things that don't relate to the progression of the narrative (little details, quotes).
- Look to classic structures for inspiration:
The journey. Models: Homer's "Odyssey" and Michael Arlen's "Passage to Ararat."
A day in the life.
Full circle, that is, beginning and ending in the same place.
To keep his stories moving, Hochschild relies on friends and family to answer this question: "Tell me when you get bored." That's what he cuts.
The snow had stopped falling Sunday afternoon when Susan Orlean of the New Yorker gave the keynote speech, which included the perfect epigram for a conference on narrative writing: "You can't write well without incredibly good reporting."
The Nieman event brought to an end the 2003 season of National Writers Workshop, a series of eight events nationwide that attracted more than 4,000 participants. Each relies on the generosity of writers, editors, and teachers who donate their time to share lessons about the craft. The 2004 season starts next month in Washington, D.C., continues during the spring in seven cities, and concludes in December in Cambridge, Mass. Do yourself a favor and make plans to attend.
I attended the Nieman Conference as well, though as an...
