Ask a Journalist, Vol. 1
TOPICS: Twitter and online douchebags and how to pack a suitcase and juiceboxes
Welcome to the first edition of Ask A Journalist, a newsletter I’ve been putting together for weeks but have delayed finishing because of 1) a nasty cold 2) stomach flu 3) campaign trips to South Carolina 4) another cold/flu bug.
No, that was not multiple choice — all four happened. In rapid succession. Sometimes multiple at once, as evidenced by this joyful tweet I sent from DCA on the way to South Carolina:
Anyway. I’m here! With knowledge! On to your QUESTIONS!
How do you move past the personal nature of so many of the comments you get (via Twitter/X, email, or other methods)? It seems like it'd be difficult not to let it get to you at times, but so many journalists, including yourself (at least to an outsider who really knows nothing about you), seem to be able to set that stuff aside when writing a new piece.
So you just chalk it up to "well I know what some folks are gonna say about this already?" and try to ignore that population? Do you feel any motivation to try and get through to those kinds of people despite their bad faith communications? – Nate B., via Substack
A couple of points here. One is that the firehose of internet feedback takes some getting used to. The insults/criticism used to be a big problem for me – in particular, when I went from my first full-time journalism job, at U.S. News and World Report, to Vox in 2014.
Vox was just launching at the time, and it was one of a few flashy new sites marketed to people who consider themselves smartypantses (FiveThirtyEight and the New York Times’ Upshot section were others). And because Vox was founded by some big names (Ezra Klein, Matt Yglesias) who were often attacked for being too liberal…there was a lot of scrutiny.
And so the number of criticisms (often mean-spirited and full of schadenfreude when I actually did get something wrong) skyrocketed.
Not coincidentally, around that time, I started having Twitter-themed nightmares. As in, I would dream about people writing all manner of cruel, vulgar things to me about the stories I wrote.
It took a few months and a lot of anxiety, but the nightmares faded. All was right with the world.
And then after a year at Vox, I left for NPR, and the whole process restarted. THE CIRRRRRCLLLE OF LIIIIIIIFE!
A second point, though: my reaction to a comment very much depends on the nature of said comment. If it’s a pure personal insult, like “you’re ugly” or “you’re a c*nt,” I sigh and move on with my life. I might even punch the air. Because (1) wow does that opinion not matter, (2) even as far as insults go, it’s lazy and (3) this jackass wasted actual time in his life (and it’s always a he) writing and sending his thoughtful message. Good job, dude! [Enthusiastic thumbs up!]
If the comment is a thoughtful critique of one of my pieces – a point of view I left out entirely, a way in which I was unfair to any number of parties – I go into a side office (if I’m at NPR HQ) or a couch (if I’m at home) and cry and have a self-doubt fest. I sometimes email/DM with the complainant and tell them, “Know what? I could have done that better, and I’m sorry.” And then I figure out how to never make the mistake again.
Aren’t you worried that by explaining which comments really hurt, the biggest jerkfaces out there will now be able to be more effectively ruin your journalistic life? – [Follow-up no one really asked]
That would require them to be thoughtful and non-lazy. So, no.
As a woman on the internet, do you feel like you get harsher comments/criticism than men reporters? – [another follow-up no one asked] [I’m not even going to label these phantom questions going forward here]
Broadly speaking (no pun intended), I think the nature of the comments is different – the occasional looks-based insult, the very very occasional threat. (The worst of it came in 2016 — as it happens, substantially more from the Bernie Left than the Trump Right.) And I also suspect that the criticism towards women tends to be more sweeping and personal (“you are clearly unfit for your job”) as opposed to particular and substantive (“this piece was dumb”).
But I’ll be honest – I have somehow miraculously been spared the worst of the threats and slams that I hear some of my colleagues talk about.
Have you in the past feared that maybe you aren’t doing impactful/important enough work, judging from how few truly reprehensible attacks you have received? And has that had the added effect of making you figuratively berate yourself for being so twisted and self-involved that you thought abuse was somehow a good thing – a reward for a job well done?
Yes to all the above.
How did you get past thinking that way?
Therapy and aging.
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Do journalists get sick of being confused with/lumped in with the varied group of opinion talkers on the "group on a couch" or "talking head with whiteboard" programs? – Darren Franzen (@DarrenTF), via Twitter
No, but relatedly, I do get tired of being lumped in with all other journalists as The Media™.
As it stands, many of the loudest voices criticizing The Media seem to look at a few national news behemoths (primarily, CNN and the New York Times), see faults, and then attribute those faults to The Media as a whole.
This is frustrating, because any outlet could improve how it does things. And “The Media” criticism is usually so broad as to be practically useless.
But also, the whole “The Media” thing is pretty small potatoes…if some people on Twitter want to blanket-criticize The Media, they can have at it. If they have a specific, valid problem with NPR’s reporting, however – then I sit up and listen.
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As someone who gets to witness what we all hear/read about in politics, what do you wish could be conveyed or articulated more that is hard to put into published work?
In the same vein, what stops you from spiraling into cynicism or from deciding to run for office yourself? – Taylor (@BeastlyPhoenix), via Twitter
First question first: what do I wish could be conveyed or articulated that is hard to put into my stories? That is a great question.
There’s a lot I wish I could convey in my reporting that I can’t…too much to list here. So let me list one.
I do often wish the News Voice weren’t a thing – the formal Voice From Nowhere with which we tell our news stories.
For example, I might start off a feature by saying, “Tonight in South Carolina, Donald Trump told a crowd that he might encourage Putin to attack NATO countries.”
But if I were telling the story to a friend, it would sound more like, “OK, so in this speech tonight, Trump said this thing about NATO, and it’s wild in and of itself and I’ll explain why, but here’s the thing about it…” and so on and so on and then add “and by the way, he called the media the enemy of the people AGAIN.”
And I do think that that kind of talking allows a reporter to convey more — namely, in this case, to convey just in tone of voice that something is a big deal, that you should care about this.
(I would argue that beyond the well-written jokes, simple delivery/tone of voice is what makes people like John Oliver and Jon Stewart so effective.) (Not that I’m comparing myself to them.) (But/and also, I am painfully jealous of the journalism Last Week Tonight does.)
I’ve thought hard about why I don’t talk more like Danielle in my stories. And some of it is norms and professionalism and made-up standards. And, okay, norms and professionalism and standards exist for a lot of reasons (not swearing on the radio, using neutral language).
But when it comes to tone — in many cases, putting fear or anger or sarcasm or a laugh into one’s voice involves editorializing. For example, to chuckle as I talk about politics, for example, might imply, “I think this politician said something laughable.”
In other words, this is a question of what does and doesn’t count as “objectivity,” and whether striving for objectivity gets in the way of clarity. I think often it does. I would like to do things better in this regard.
Do I have a satisfying answer for how this will change my reporting? No. But you bet your ass I think about it a lot.
Danielle, are you saying you really just wrestle with objectivity?
I mean, show me any reporter who doesn’t.
Moving on to Taylor’s next question: What stops me from spiraling into cynicism?
Whoa whoa whoa, my friend…what made you think I’m not cynical?
Perhaps the most cynical thought I regularly have is that issues don’t matter to voters. At this point, I often think, many voters don’t start with an issue position (say, I care deeply about trade policy/inflation/the plight of [group of people]) and look at the candidates’ positions and then make a reasoned decision that they want to vote for the Red or Blue Team.
Rather, their reasoning goes in the opposite direction: “Well, I’m on the Red/Blue Team…and my team isn’t usually wrong, and the other team IS. So whatever my team thinks, or at the very least the other team doesn’t think…that’s the position for me!”
In which case, all a candidate has to do is give you a list of reasons/excuses to hate the other guy.
Which, let’s face it, some of them are really good at.
I readily admit that this is not a charitable way to think, particularly for a person who asks a LOT of voters, “hey what issues matter to you?”
And look. I DO think a lot of voters reason this way. But also, that doesn’t mean they don’t care about topic X. Furthermore, some people do reason the opposite way — I care about the climate so i’ll vote for so-and-so.
And bottom line, I can’t be SURE how anyone chooses who they vote for — to be honest, I think a lot of people aren’t even aware of how they themselves choose.
So to prevent going full cynicism, I try to be open to the possibility that sometimes people are sincere.
Final question: What stops me from deciding to run for office myself? I don’t have rich enough friends to pump for donations. (See? CYNICISM!)
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What software do you use for recording and editing? – @WestonAbney, via Twitter
For recording, we use an array of recorders that save everything onto SD cards. I have a little baby Tascam that can fit in my pocket and a big honker Marantz that I hook up to mult boxes to get audio of speeches at big events.
For editing, NPR has an in-house program called MTE that those of us within the NPR system really like using, and that causes newcomers to wail and gnash their teeth and scream “WHY DON’T YOU USE PROTOOLS LIKE EVERYONE ELSE?”
I’ve always wondered: how does one gnash their teeth?
Like this! [demonstrates]
Ohhhhh.
It hurts the jaw after a while.
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How do you think Substack or other platforms will impact the quality of future journalism? My concern is that Substack (or similar sites) become defacto journalism without taking on the ethics/responsibility of journalism…basically that everyone is an individual actor who can write whatever they want. – A friend from my group text, where I solicited questions for this newsletter edition. Let’s call her “Wonder Woman.”
I’ll be honest – I don’t really worry about this. I have the highest standards for my Substakc, and while an editer or fact-checker might make my writing more concise or short or coherent or better or whatever, I can [SOMETHING SOMETHING INSERT SMART ADDITIONAL POINT LATER].
In conclusion, my newsletter is awesome, and anyone who says otherwise is a filthy pervert.
That’s moderately funny, but seriously, answer my question. – How I imagine Wonder Woman would respond
My short answer is that I’m not particularly concerned about Substack/newslettering in this respect.
My longer answer is that I am concerned about misinformation and shitty journalism — and it is possible that without ethical guardrails and quality control, newsletters could make that problem much worse.
But that said, I do feel like misinformation and shitty journalism is already, well, [waves arms]. I’m not convinced the rise of newseltters is a major part of that problem.
I will add that there are journalistic benefits to newslettering that may outweigh some of these drawbacks…for example, allowing people to create niche outlets. There are newsletters out there that focus solely on transgender issues, anti-fatness, the bullshit of beauty culture, and so on.
These newsletters go very deep in relatively narrow niches, letting writers reach people who want information on one specialized area that bigger, lumbering news organizations often don’t do a good job of covering deeply.
Now, it’s true that many newsletters are also advocacy journalism – pushing this point of view, that piece of legislation, etc. – and this is where news literacy comes in.
In my perfect world, students in elementary, middle, and high schools would all learn media literacy – how to find and identify trustworthy news sources, how to think critically about the news, the difference between opinion and straight news.
I don’t just say this in the interest of keeping responsible news outlets afloat; really, when everyone has access to (and believes) the facts of what’s going on in the world, it’s flat-out good for democracy.
Hot take, I know.
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Since you travel so much, what are the most useful things you’ve learned about how to go on the road and do good work at a moment’s notice? – A totally unasked question I felt like answering
A prewritten packing list I use for every trip.
Packing cubes.
Really? That’s it?
Yep.
Did you once have a job interview where someone asked you about the most important factors behind how you manage big complicated reporting trips and you said, “packing cubes” and explained how they made reporting easier, thinking you were being all quirky and clever, and the interviewer looked at you like you had sprouted a second head, and you said, “what?” and they asked the question in a more detailed way than before and you realized that they didn’t get what you meant and so you got flustered and went on to give a meandering five-minute response meant to convey that by “packing cubes” you meant “organization and readiness” but then mid-answer you realized you had already lost the battle?
Yes.
Did you get the job?
I did not.
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Where is the juicebox? – a question from another friend in my group text…let’s call this friend “Slappy”
This friend is referencing a story that seemed like a good place to end this newsletter.
Back before I was a reporter, I worked at a church in Minneapolis as an administrative assistant. It was a nice job – good people doing nice things for others (we had a big initiative to end homelessness, for example).
Anyway, after a year of doing admin work, the youth pastor approached me and asked if I wanted to instead be the high school youth director.
“Ooh! Sure!” I said.
“And the next Sunday School unit they’re doing is on sex ed.”
“...ooh…sure…” I said.
And so I became a Christian sex ed teacher. It was outrageously fun. Every Sunday morning, I taught 14-to-18-year-olds about vaginas and testicles and pregnancy and STIs and consent and respect and breaking up and coming out and talking to their parents (or not) about all of it.
Anyway, in a time-honored tradition of sex ed teachers everywhere, I decorated an oatmeal box and cut a slot in the lid and announced on the first day of class that this is an ANONYMOUS QUESTION BOX and if you HAVE ANY QUESTIONS that ARE ACTUALLY SERIOUS and AREN’T JUST MEANT TO BE STUPID OR FUNNY I will ANSWER THEM.
The kids, to their credit, asked almost uniformly serious and thoughtful questions.
And then one Sunday I pulled out a new question:
“Where is the juice box?”
It was so odd that I didn’t throw it aside immediately.
“‘Where is the juice box?’” I said. “What juice box?”
“You know — the reproductive organ called the juice box!” piped up a kid named Jonny – a sweet, goofy high school freshman. “You missed it on the day we did the diagrams of reproductive systems.”
It kills me that I don’t remember how I answered, but I do remember that he seemed delighted that he got me to laugh.
Anyway, after that, Jonny dropped in a new juice-box-themed question every week (“What is the function of the juice box?” “Did Jesus have a juice box?”), often resulting in me doubling over with laughter.
And so let me end this newsletter by saying (1) wherever you are, Jonny, you rock (2) be kind to your juice boxes, dear readers, and (3) if this newsletter had any editors or professional standards, you might not have even read my juice box story! Hot damn! Independent publishing wins again!
LINKS
SECTION 1: HOW TO DEAL WITH ILLNESS
Saltwater rinses — I used to think the whole “gargle with saltwater” thing was one of those things your parents say that have zero truth behind them (“if you keep making that face your face will stick like that forever” “that perm looks great on you”). But a cursory Google shows me that it actually might have science behind it? And anyway I swear it helped my sore throat from hell. In conclusion, my mind is blown.
SleepPhones — When I was bedridden with a stomach bug and moaning in agony, concentrating enough to read or even watch a TV show was impossible. And so I put on my SleepPhones and listened to silly comedy podcasts as I awaited the sweet Angel of Death. These things are expensive, yes, but worth the money.
Podcasts I listened to as I died: Hello from the Magic Tavern, My Brother My Brother and Me, I Hate It but I Love It, Blank Check. I don’t care to link to them because that seems like a lot of effort. But those are some quality listens.
DayQuil doesn’t do shit. In case you missed this story from last fall: the cold medicines that they don’t keep locked up behind the pharmacy counter largely are worthless. I have been saying this for years, and was overjoyed to find out I was RIGHT (relatedly, my spouse is deeply annoyed with me on this point).
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SECTION 2: OTHER STUFF
I wrote about Toby Keith and Donald Trump. Finally, a use for my deep knowledge of ‘90s/early aughts country.
Oscar catch-up. Yes of course I’m resharing my Poor Things rant but also this actually informative rundown of the big movies from Garrett Bucks is pretty great (and not just because he links to my piece). (Also, this is me once again putting out into the universe my wish that someday I could be on Blank Check. Just manifesting over here.)
NPR people’s newsletters! Would you like more depth to your NPR parasocial relationships? Hotchie motchie yes you would! You should definitely check out Mr. Stephen Fowler’s latest, on road reporting and trying to do good work. (Stephen has been my buddy at a couple Trump rallies and is a quality hang.) In addition, Steve Inskeep (who likely needs zero publicity from me) and Sarah McCammon (ditto) have books out and you should go read them and also their Substacks.
This long Joe Biden piece. There’s this magazine called the New Yorker. You might have heard of it. I’m not going to editorialize but this article has…a lot to chew on.
This week’s piece of old-internet joy: Just a gif I love.
OK fine I’ll put up something better. The literal Total Eclipse video. Gets me every time.
This has been long. If you’ve read this far, you should know: I think you’re swell.