Rich Jaroslovsky

As a reporter and editor at the Journal for more than two decades, and the author of a-heds on subjects ranging from parsley to singing-dog-contests, I have to take issue with at least one point of your a-hed recipe: point three, the nut graf. In my experience, lack of a nut graf was never an impediment to a good a-hed -- in fact, was often an advantage. The best a-heds often had no reason why the reader should have read them -- except that they were great reads. Nut grafs were, and are, an essential part of the recipe for Journal leders. But even there, you would occasionally find an apostate. One of them was Dennis Farney, one of the best writers I ever edited. Dennis used to say something like this, as I recall: "At some point in every leder, usually about the fourth paragraph, there is an absolutely logical point at which to step back, crystallize the theme of the story and explain its significance. Resist this temptation at all costs. It will only slow down the story, and if you have done your job well, the reader will know why the story is important and what it is trying to say without your having to hit him over the head with it." It often worked for Dennis; alas, those of us mere mortals found the nut graf much more of a necessity than he did. But not for a-heds. Cheers, Rich

When I ask reporters and editors to name the newspaper writing they most admire, I'm struck by how often they cite the central news feature on the front page of the Wall Street Journal. Known as the "A-Head" because the border around the headlines forms a boxy letter "A," this off-beat feature is likely to focus on topics as eccentric as pickle factories, chicken inspectors, Mummers parades, Ted Williams, Camel cigarettes, and Spam (the canned meat).

Reported by a talented staff and often rewritten by a bank of hotshot editors, the A-Heads have developed around a successful formula, often abandoned for something truly inventive. (My favorite told the story of a language club where members spoke in words of only one syllable. The "staff scribe" of the Journal wrote the piece in the same way.)

Writers and editors, of course, want to know the formula. (Is there really cocaine in the Coca Cola?) A wonderfully elaborate description comes from Bill Blundell, now retired from the Journal, who writes about his process in The Art and Craft of Feature Writing (New American Library, 1988).

Before I offer my description of the formula, allow me to demonstrate what I mean by a formula. Not long ago, I was sitting in a doctor's office reading a magazine feature about the making of a pornographic movie. The author said that the screenplay for most porno films looks something like this:

Scene 1: Man and woman.
Scene 2: Man and two women.
Scene 3: Three women.
Scene 4: Man and woman.
Etc.

That gets at what I mean by a formula: a big pattern with many possible variations. What follows is my x-ray reading of an old Wall Street Journal feature. The formula that I see beneath the text goes:

1. At least two decks of headlines that reveal the point and the tone of the story.

2. An interesting lead, in this case briefly anecdotal, that opens the door wide for many potential readers. The lead includes a person and a quote.

3. The nut graph, in this case two paragraphs that explain why the story is worth reading.
(See sidebar for a contrary view of nut graphs from Rich Jaroslovsky, a former A-hed author and editor.)

4. The first of at least three gold coins (high spots of interest) that alternate with technical, explanatory, or historical information.

5. A kicker that looks ahead while closing the circle.