Steak to Stake

At about 3 a.m. Saturday, I finished the rough draft of a story that microcosmically embodies the number one obstacle I think I’ll always face as a journalist: it takes me forever to “find the steak.” It’s a term Liz uses, and Audrey’s used it on this blog before.

Basically, you look at a field from which you draw a story like it’s a cow, and the task is to cut away the fat, bones, hide, whatever, and come up with a nice, lean cut of meat…uhr, story.

Journalism is fundamentally challenging for me. I’m not a reporter by nature. I’m a gatherer, and I’m a storyteller, but I’ve never been very good at picking an angle and sticking to it. If you turn me loose with a topic, I’ll come back with a novel’s worth of information and no clue what’s actually most important. Ask me how my day was, and I’m likely to give you a full, start-to-finish report. I’m like a Native American with a buffalo — I’m not just interested in a nice, juicy steak. I want to use everything. Even the spleen. (Do buffalo have spleens?)

So when I was turned loose on a story after I suggested an incredibly nebulous idea — “Hey, there’s an exhibit on pre-Columbian artifacts at the museum, so I want to do something on Missouri’s prehistory” — it could’ve been a recipe for disaster, and for a while, it was. I fumbled and stuttered, rambled and ran myself around in circles, casting a net here and there until I was completely tangled up.

I’d talked to all my sources about possible approaches and angles, and I started to wonder if the story was worth pursuing. In my gut, I knew there was something there. I knew that buried within my stack of notes — a collection thick enough to incite envy in an anthropology student looking for an easy way out of a thesis paper — there had to be a great story. Something smooth. Something simple. A yarn.

Then, about a week ago, the light bulb in my head didn’t just click on, it exploded: If I wanted to find the steak, I had to start with a stake…or at least a stakeholder.. With a story about a historical topic, I’d need a timely, real world connection with an actual human being who could breathe life into the past. I needed a character people could follow.

Screaming from the pages of my notes was a man named Ray Wood. He still works on campus. He’s an engaging guy. And if I’d been smart enough to see where the news in my story was from the very beginning, I’d have called him right away…because he was the guy who discovered the Fairfield Gorget — a key component of the museum’s exhibit and arguably the coolest thing anyone’s ever dug up in the state.

So, at about 11 a.m. Friday, I started writing. In a little more than 12 hours, I had a damn good story, and I only kind of killed myself finding it.

In my meandering and, I think, successful search for an angle, I learned an important lesson that will hopefully help keep me grounded when I’m given big projects in the future. When in doubt, think about the people who make a story tick. Because where there’s a soul, there’s a story.


Progress Report:

Finished a 70-inch rough draft for the Saturday cover some time in mid-April, organized a photo session and met with the graphics team. I also did accuracy checks. I’ve said this before, but man: 90% of my advanced reporting experience is stuff that goes on behind the scenes…the kind of stuff that makes the news process run a great deal more smoothly but never shows up with column inches and a byline.

For our shells project, I’ve taken a leadership role along with Matt, since we’re both type-A-ish and like firm outlines and specific delegation. Our group met a couple times this week, and we’re just about ready to dole out assignments and start reporting. We’re definitely on track.

Back to the paper, I’m getting started on two pieces for dailies: one offering a status update on the Missouri Theatre, and another about Tim Page, a music critic with an interesting form of autism who’ll be on campus in a few weeks. After that, Liz and I think it’s time to get started on another Saturday cover…now, I just need to find another really fantastic topic to take a bite out of. Maybe this time, I’ll be able to recognize the soul of the story a little earlier in the reporting process.