Jerz > Writing > Journalism
Cut the filler. Unnecessary introductions, transitions and summaries bury the news.
When you write an essay for school, your reader is a teacher who will give you points for your vocabulary, for your thoughtful reactions to literary passages, and for your defense of your own opinions. Your teachers want to see how well you, someone they already have a personal relationship with, engage with ideas.
Journalists have a different audience. They write for busy readers who just want the news.
What matters when it comes to reporting the news is not generalities, transitions, a personal relationships between the writer and reader, or wordplay that shows off the writer’s technical skill. What matters is specific details.
Details drive the news.
Avoid Essay-style Filler
|There are many differences between school essays and journalism. One is that a news story never begins with a pointlessly over-generalized introduction like this one.|
“Details drive the news,” said Dennis Jerz, who tells his journalism students to cut the essay-style filler.
Jerz also criticized unnecessary transitions like this one, which summarizes a quote that should stand on its own.
“Let the quotes do the heavy lifting for you,” Jerz said.
Clearly the differences between writing a language arts essay and reporting the news are worth learning. One can only hope that student journalists will learn to recognize wordy filler like this paragraph and cut it from their drafts.
|In 98 words, the above passage says very little. Instead, it’s full of features typical of mediocre school essays, such as a very general introduction that leads into a specific example, and padding that summarizes the contents of quotes.|
|“Details drive the news,” said Dennis Jerz, who tells his journalism students to cut the essay-style filler. “Let the quotes do the heavy lifting for you.”|
|This revision is about 25 words, which leaves plenty room to add useful details such as the name of the school where Jerz teaches, and even quotes from two or three students sharing their reactions to what they learned.|
Avoid Undermining Your Sources with Summaries
|Sally Smith commented on her father’s strange sense of humor. “I guess you’d say it was kind of quirky.” She said it had a big effect on her professional life. “It probably influenced my choice of a career. I’m a child psychologist.”|
|This passage TELLS. It offers the reporter’s an opinion about the father’s sense of humor (“strange”), which TELLS the reader how they are supposed to feel. While the reporter has sensibly attributed to Smith the opinion that it had a “big effect,” a more effective news story would use direct quotes from Smith to SHOW this point, without relying on the reporter’s narration to TELL this point.|
|“I guess you’d say it was kind of quirky,” said Sally Smith, recalling how her father’s unusual sense of humor drove her to study child psychology. “It probably influenced my choice of a career.”|
|If you have a great quote, use it; however, all quotes are not created equal.|
This version shows an attempt to engage the reader with a quote, but in this case, the quote needs so much context that it’s more confusing than useful in the lead.
|A woman, sitting in her childhood living room, remembers her father.|
“He hugged me tight and whispered, ‘I’m going to miss you when we send you back to the factory,'” said Sally Smith, a child psychologist. “It probably influenced my choice of a career.”
|We don’t need to know, in the first paragraph, the woman’s name and job title, or the city where the house is. Those details can be slipped into the next few paragraphs. For now, the very brief opening sentence provides just enough context to let the quote do its work.|
In this revision, the better choice of a more engaging quote means that we don’t need to be TOLD what to think about the father’s sense of humor; we can see for ourselves how it affected his daughter.
20 Nov 2018 — first posted
'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But, of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence
To tire our patience, than mislead our sense.
Some few in that, but numbers err in this,
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose,
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In poets as true genius is but rare,
True taste as seldom is the critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well.
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not critics to their judgment too?
Yet if we look more closely we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind;
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right.
But as the slightest sketch, if justly trac'd,
Is by ill colouring but the more disgrac'd,
So by false learning is good sense defac'd;
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools.
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can, or cannot write,
Or with a rival's, or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are, who judge still worse than he can write.
Some have at first for wits, then poets pass'd,
Turn'd critics next, and prov'd plain fools at last;
Some neither can for wits nor critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, num'rous in our isle
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
Their generation's so equivocal:
To tell 'em, would a hundred tongues require,
Or one vain wit's, that might a hundred tire.
But you who seek to give and merit fame,
And justly bear a critic's noble name,
Be sure your self and your own reach to know,
How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
Of all the causes which conspire to blind
Man's erring judgment, and misguide the mind,
What the weak head with strongest bias rules,
Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
Whatever Nature has in worth denied,
She gives in large recruits of needful pride;
For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find
What wants in blood and spirits, swell'd with wind;
Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defence,
And fills up all the mighty void of sense!
If once right reason drives that cloud away,
Truth breaks upon us with resistless day;
Trust not yourself; but your defects to know,
Make use of ev'ry friend—and ev'ry foe.
A little learning is a dang'rous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.
Fir'd at first sight with what the Muse imparts,
In fearless youth we tempt the heights of arts,
While from the bounded level of our mind,
Short views we take, nor see the lengths behind,
But more advanc'd, behold with strange surprise
New, distant scenes of endless science rise!
So pleas'd at first, the tow'ring Alps we try,
Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the sky;
Th' eternal snows appear already past,
And the first clouds and mountains seem the last;
But those attain'd, we tremble to survey
The growing labours of the lengthen'd way,
Th' increasing prospect tires our wand'ring eyes,
Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps arise!
A perfect judge will read each work of wit
With the same spirit that its author writ,
Survey the whole, nor seek slight faults to find,
Where nature moves, and rapture warms the mind;
Nor lose, for that malignant dull delight,
The gen'rous pleasure to be charm'd with wit.
But in such lays as neither ebb, nor flow,
Correctly cold, and regularly low,
That shunning faults, one quiet tenour keep;
We cannot blame indeed—but we may sleep.
In wit, as nature, what affects our hearts
Is not th' exactness of peculiar parts;
'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call,
But the joint force and full result of all.
Thus when we view some well-proportion'd dome,
(The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O Rome!'
No single parts unequally surprise;
All comes united to th' admiring eyes;
No monstrous height, or breadth, or length appear;
The whole at once is bold, and regular.
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see,
Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
In ev'ry work regard the writer's end,
Since none can compass more than they intend;
And if the means be just, the conduct true,
Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due.
As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit,
T' avoid great errors, must the less commit:
Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays,
For not to know such trifles, is a praise.
Most critics, fond of some subservient art,
Still make the whole depend upon a part:
They talk of principles, but notions prize,
And all to one lov'd folly sacrifice.
Learn then what morals critics ought to show,
For 'tis but half a judge's task, to know.
'Tis not enough, taste, judgment, learning, join;
In all you speak, let truth and candour shine:
That not alone what to your sense is due,
All may allow; but seek your friendship too.
Be silent always when you doubt your sense;
And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence:
Some positive, persisting fops we know,
Who, if once wrong, will needs be always so;
But you, with pleasure own your errors past,
And make each day a critic on the last.
'Tis not enough, your counsel still be true;
Blunt truths more mischief than nice falsehoods do;
Men must be taught as if you taught them not;
And things unknown proposed as things forgot.
Without good breeding, truth is disapprov'd;
That only makes superior sense belov'd.
Be niggards of advice on no pretence;
For the worst avarice is that of sense.
With mean complacence ne'er betray your trust,
Nor be so civil as to prove unjust.
Fear not the anger of the wise to raise;
Those best can bear reproof, who merit praise.