John tipped me off on a quilting truck driver, and 30 minutes later I was sitting in her living room while she told me her life story. I learned quite a bit from working on this piece.
Lesson #1: Everyone has a story. I was really intrigued by a reporter John told me about who went out and met someone new everyday, then came back to the newsroom and wrote their story. I like the idea of it.
Lesson #2: A profile told only by the person being profiled is just an autobiography. My rough draft did just that, and John told me I needed to speak to other people. So I spoke to one of her good quilting friends and met her husband. My story was instantly better just by using a couple of their quotes.
Lesson #3: It's okay to let someone else do the talking. In my rough draft, I moralized the story myself by commenting in the end that Cathy's life came together like one of her quilts. (I'm cheesy, I know. The ACEs are slowly but surely beating it out of me.) After talking to her husband, I ended the piece with his quote about wanting Cathy to sew her initials on her quilts so she could effectively leave a legacy. It was so much better when I shut up and let someone else tell the story.
Lesson #4: Be concrete. Use those details I'm trained to notice.
Lesson #5: Use those details with caution. This morning Cathy called me up and ripped me a new one for using the name of her street in the piece. I felt absolutely terrible. I hesitated to use her address for the same reason she was hacked off that I did: I basically advertised to everyone that her house is empty three weeks out of the month. But in an effort to be concrete, I did it anyway. Here were my justifications: I was trying to use concrete details. I see addresses used in stories all the time (albeit not in stories about truckers who are never home), and I didn't give the actual address, just the street name. Obviously someone could narrow it down because I'm assuming her house is the only one on Georgetown Drive with a red semi out front. Again, my bad. Her house isn't technically empty when she's on the road because her grandson lives with her. But, Cathy argued, he's only 17 and "someone might attack him." They've been living this lifestyle for years and years. If someone was going to case the joint, they would have by now. Nevertheless, I can't help but side with Cathy on this one and want to kick myself over and over again. She said I invaded her privacy, she can't trust the Missourian anymore, and if anything happens to her house or grandson it's all my fault. Suffice it to say I'm probably going to lose some sleep over this.
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