The layers of Nickens

I never thought I would hear a writer of any kind say, “Sometimes you’re aiming at one person,” but those were Tim Nickens’ words exactly.
Nickens, the Editor of editorials at the St Petersburg Times, delivered that boom rather unexpectedly.

Up until this point, it had appeared to be the most relaxed session that we had ever had with a guest speaker.
Unlike our previous visitors, Nickens didn’t quite take over the floor. Professor Thelen and Nickens engaged in conversation, looking to spark a dialogue amongst the whole class. But quite frankly, the class seemed so disengaged that at one point Nickens joked that he took requests.

When I heard Nickens say, “You’re trying to stimulate and provoke thought,”
I just assumed that there might not be much new to learn from this guy, this concept had been explored before.

But I soon learned that I had been hasty in my judgment.

After being taught to write in terms of targeting a certain demographic, or even a diverse community, he told our class that editorials could and should be aimed for one specific person.
At this point, he had my attention. I wanted to hear him explain this.

He clarified that this technique is usually designed for someone who has the power effect the most people, such as officials, members of government and head of corporations. He began to make perfect sense.
“You’re trying to convince them to do the right thing,” Nickens said.

As the class carried on, I became more intrigued. The layers of Nicken’s onion slowly began to peel. He discussed his start as an editorial writer.
“I didn’t think I could do it” he said, sharing a glimpse of his vulnerability.

Much like our other guests, after relying so heavily on reporting, he was scared to use his voice.

“Objectivity is a shield” he said.

After going through a mind shift, he became more comfortable with editorials and found them liberating.

He went on to say that most editorials can be argued on either side of the issue, and this was exemplified when I shared my topic for editorial three.

After sharing that I planned on writing against Obama’s desire to extend the date for the switch from analog to digital television, I received advice from Nickens on how I could write this argument, saying how it could financially affect stations running on both systems.

Then fellow class mate, Thomas King, argued that there should be an extension because people have received defective equipment for the digital switch. He also pointed out that having the switch too soon could negatively impact two sects of our society that are often ignored: The poor and the old.

Both arguments could make for an excellent editorial, but Nickens told us that whatever way we go, this must be clear to the reader.

“The worst thing is a mushy editorial, where you don’t know whether it’s for or against a point.” He said.

As he took the point one step further, he shared one of the best pieces of advice I’d heard from one of Thelen’s guest speakers thus far: First paragraph, hammer it home. Last paragraph, hit them again so you’ve left no doubt.

As I continue to find my way in the land of editorial writing, I’ll be clear on which side I am writing about, and who I am writing for.

Rosemary Goudreau

She's masterful, she's poetic and she's unemployed.
Rosemary Goudreau, a writer who made the transition from a reporter to a member of the Tampa Tribune's Editorial Board was fired about two months ago.
When she shared the news, I imagine I was more unearthed by her circumstance than she seemed to be at the present time.

It wouldn't have been so hard to swallow had Goudreau been some run-of-the-mill, clinical reporter but if her writing was anything like the words that leaped off of her tongue with a combination of warmth and authority, it nearly frightened me to pieces.

Considering the fact that I'd be graduating in a few months, I had coaxed myself into believing that drive and talent would help me find and keep a job, but the harsh reality was that the news industry wasn't immune to the blow that the economy had suffered and my peers and I have been reminded about this troubling fact over and over again.

Thankfully, Goudreau is not worried about her predicament at all.

"Not a lot of people are good writers that can make a point," she said.

When she said this, she reminded us that there will always be a need for writers to do what we do best: Effectively communicate a message. To do so, Goudreau gave us a few of her weapons in writing that assured her she would always have a place in her industry.

Finding a story is a lot like science, you have a hypothesis and you test it out to see if it sticks and share your discovery. She warns us that there is no "I" in editorials. She prefers to use the 2nd person, personalizing her stories with phrases like "You know...", making a point to talk to readers rather then at them, and advises us to write in short concise sentences, because they pack a powerful punch.

But most importantly, she told us to write about something that matters. As she listened to our ideas about our second editorial piece, she challenged us with questions that were basically saying, why should someone care? The objective of our writing shouldn't merely be to share interesting tidbits. The goal of a medium as Goudreau so elegantly worded it, is to illuminate issues to a community. A great editorial has something to say, and can have the power to influence the reader's behavior.

As the managing editor of the Cincinnati Enquirer, Goudreau led a city wide initiative to address racial tensions in her city. Her passion and words spurred an effort involving over 2,000 people getting off of their seats and out of their comfort zones to address the issue in the hearts of their communities, schools, churches and homes.


Though my writing is no where near the proficiency of Goudreau's prose, knowing the power of writing gives me peace of mind. I'm not saying all my fears have vanished, but I know there will always be a need for words to impact, influence and inspire.

Chachere's Visit

Young Reporter, Enlightened

With her torso slightly leaning forward and the focus of her eyes reflecting the intensity with which she listened, she couldn't have been anything else other than a reporter.
From the moment Professor Thelen introduced her, I saw her wheels turning as she took us in and began listening to my fellow classmates pitches on what they would write for their editorials.
Vickie Chachere, elegant in appearance and strong in presence, felt so familiar.
It wasn't that I had seen her somewhere or even read any of her stories; her persona resembled the way I envisioned myself in the thick of my future career: witty, articulate and fashionably refined.

Though the latter might seem nonessential, image plays into credibility, and Chachere had me sold.
Her dark hair was cut into the classic reporter bob, reminiscent of Katie Couric. Her make-up was light and fresh. She wore a vibrant teal blouse under a fitted gray blazer, a black skirt and modest heel shoes.

"Do your own reporting!" She said smacking her right hand into her left, driving her point home.

Chachere made it clear to never rely on another's reporting, whether its a trusted reporter, or a highly respected news source such as CNN. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that she knew what she was talking about. Shortly after graduating from Arizona State University in 1989, she landed a job with the Tampa Tribune where she stayed for 11 years, until she left for an opportunity to write for the Associated Press, the prized news wire responsible for many stories that reach newspapers, blogs and television news. After a 5 year stint with the AP, she returned to the Trib, where she landed a coveted position as an editorial writer, and through those years she had seen it all.

"I'll give an example..." She said as she began telling us about a study that came out and spawned a highly controversial story that generally went like this:
Working mothers' children behave worse than children with stay-at-home moms.
When Chachere decided to read the study for herself, she found that the news reporting had been rather inaccurate and caused a lot of unneccessary grief in the working mother, house mother dichotomy.

For every story we pitched, she found a way to advance the story.
Instead of focusing on a mother killing her child, Chachere advised a student to explore the apathy towards infant death in the state of Florida. She flipped a story about a school menu lacking healthy options to the history of the school menu's contents being based in an era of malnutrition and not being updated to address the obeisity epidemic facing American children.
I was also challenged to go beyond my initial feeling of Citizen's insurance being wrong for raising their rates in a poor economy, to inquiring whether their reasoning was valid.

Chachere challenged me, as well as my classmates, to be open to being proved wrong. Being commited to the preliminary thesis I have on a story idea can and will negate the real story from developing if I don't listen to facts as I uncover them.

As the class came to an end, she advised us to back up all of our opinions with fact that we've found. As an editorial writer, Chachere referred to the best, Pulitzer winning editorialists, and read their stories. The common thread among them was outstanding reporting. If all opinion was stripped out of the pieces, a well reported, well-written story could stand on its own. So I learned editorial writing isn't neccessarily a pass to blindly write on a topic with emotion as my primary source.

Chachere's passion for reporting really sung to my soul. The joy she described when finding a vital piece of information for a story was inspiring, because I thrive off of that feeling, too.

I knew her before I met her, because she's who I've always wanted to be.
In due time, I know I will see her again. I'll make sure to wave back to my mirror's reflection!