Last Updated: December 29, 2000
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Good writing
Take Mr. Potato Head along for better stories
By Kevin McGrath
One of the best tips I’ve seen for working revealing details into a
story came from a reporter who takes a moment while reporting every story,
writes the word “texture” at the top of a notebook page and starts writing
down what his senses are telling him.
Not all the details make every story. But his reporting allows him to
build every story from a richer trove of raw material: details that build
pictures in the readers’ minds.
Here’s another tip that can help you remember to report for revealing
detail: Try building Mr. Potato Head.
It sounds a bit silly, but it works if you look at it this way: Each
of the Spudster’s parts can stand for one of your senses or some aspect
of reporting on the scene. If you can assemble all the parts, you fill
your notebook with the level of detail that can make a story jump off the
page.
The idea first occurred when I was planning a critique of a deadline
storytelling package on a fatal steel plant explosion in northwest Indiana.
The writers, editors and I sat down and tried to build the Spudster
with clues gathered from the published stories.
As good as their work was — it was essentially a collection of scenes
— they were surprised at the details they’d missed or the sensory clues
they hadn’t provided readers. It helped them recognize how they could do
better next time. Here are the parts and what they can mean:
The feet: For getting to the scene. If you report the bulk of
your stories by phone, go ahead and turn to another page. This isn’t for
you. You can’t report for revealing detail if you’re not willing to go
to the scene, no matter how humble the story.
The eyes: Visual clues. Think of the old admonition “Show, don’t
tell.” This can be a quick snapshot provided on deadline, or a rich tapestry
of images woven into a feature story.
For example here’s a snippet from a fire at a historic church covered
by The Wichita Eagle:
As (the pastor) spoke, grayish-brown smoke billowed overhead, and mist
from the firefighters’ hoses sprayed the back of his neck. Dozens of firefighters,
paramedics, police and reporters scurried around the building. Amid the
chaos, Chittum greeted and embraced his parishioners.
The nose: Smells. This is something you’ll seldom find in newspaper
stories, even descriptive pieces. But it can be a powerful scene-building
tool. It’s a natural for fires, which have distinctive odors. Here’s how
Jenny Upchurch of The Eagle used it in a story about a house explosion:
Sedgwick County Fire Marshal Gary Thompson said Sunday that the explosion’s
cause has not been determined but a propane leak is the most likely possibility.
The Sattlers first noticed the smell after work late Friday. It was like
someone had dumped rotten broccoli down the kitchen sink disposal.
The ears: Sound clues. Another example from the church fire story:
As firefighters fought the blaze, water cascaded down the tile roof
like a waterfall. Clumps of the red clay shingles clacked together as they
dropped.
The hands: Tactile clues. What things feel like to the touch,
or underfoot. This can be a tough one — it’s a visual clue and then some
— and it’s seldom used, but it’s well worth reporting. Here’s how Roy Wenzl
of The Eagle employed it in a story that took readers along the path of
destruction left by a tornado:
Hundreds of yards from the nearest house, we find a Bible. It lies in
a field of wet grass on the northwest corner of 55th and South Seneca.
The field is full of toys, clothes, aluminum, an upside-down pickup with
a crushed cab that must have flown many hundreds of yards.
The Bible is big, 3 inches thick, 9 inches long, and brick-heavy with
rainwater. Some pages are torn. Whole chapters of Deuteronomy and Ezekiel
are glued forever together. New and Old Testaments are filled with blades
of God’s green grass.
The mouth: Quotes. Not just any old lip-flapping, but quotes
that illumine and move the story. Dialogue is best. Even in short form.
Another church fire example:
Several parishioners cheered when a worker carried out a blackened public
address system console, set it on the church steps and announced that it
apparently had survived the blaze.
“Speakers?” Chittum asked.
“No,” the worker said as he turned and went back inside. He returned
a few minutes later with a charred piece of wood and metal that once had
been a speaker.
As you can see, this sort of revealing detail can be easily gathered
with a little thought. For some writers, it’ll take some practice before
the thinking becomes a natural part of reporting at the scene. Others already
use detail deftly but sometimes pass up a chance to add a bit more choices
to the palate.
So it if it helps you remember, take Mr. Potato Head along in your mind
the next time you’re out. You won’t have to tell anybody you play with
a doll. And he just might help you become a more thorough reporter and
a more descriptive writer.
McGrath is communities team leader and writing coach at The Wichita
(Kan.) Eagle. He can be reached at kmcgrath@wichitaeagle.com
