Happy CNFriday, CNFers, purveyors of the mighty nonfiction,

Pretty rad pod this week as we have Justin Heckert (@justinheckert) in the house to talk about his work, but also, more importantly for the sake of Ep. 417, to talk about the late Matt Tullis’s posthumous book Stories Can Save Us: America’s Best Narrative Journalists Explain How (University of Georgia Press).

Justin has been doing longform features for more than twenty years for outlets like The New York Times Magazine, The Ringer, Esquire, and Garden & Gun, just to name a few. He wrote the afterward in Walt Harrington’s Artful Journalism as well as a poignant profile of Matt for the end of Stories Can Save Us. Justin is the primary ambassador of this book, and he’s here to make sure people know about it, friend.

I put together a special pod remembering Matt Tullis in the fall of 2022 shortly after he died following complications from brain surgery to remove a tumor, likely due to the result of the punishing radiation he received during his treatment for childhood cancer. That treatment saved him then, but it planted a time bomb … and he knew it. He knew that, one day, the monster could resurface and rob him of the life loved, not to mention robbing his students and family of his infectious energy. You should pick up his first book Running with Ghosts: A Memoir of Surviving Childhood Cancer. It’s a brilliant book and he treated it just as much as a journalistic project where he turned the focus to some of his friends in the cancer ward who didn’t live. Buying his books helps the Tullis family.

Enjoy Episode 417 wherever you listen to podcasts.

Archer City Writer’s Workshop returns!

From Glenn Stout:

Happy to announce that I'll be leading the Archer City [Texas] Writer's Workshop this year Sept 25-29. Please spread the word. If you, or any writers you know, might be interested please pass this along and have them contact me. Unlike the 2016 and 2017 workshops, this will be more of a traditional workshop for Works in Process (book manuscripts, rough drafts, features, proposals, whatever) without an on-site reporting component. Some of you might recall that this workshop once took place adjacent to the Mayborn Conference.

Glenn’s contact info is at his website glennstout.com. I wish I could go, but you totally should if you can.

Too Long; Didn’t Listen: Justin Heckert Will Die on the Hill of the Beginning

Excerpt lightly edited for concision and clarity.

Brendan: You once wrote, ‘I have to get the first sentence before I can write anything else that follows.’ Does that still hold true?

Justin: Absolutely. And since then, I have met any number of journalists who I respect and admire where that seems like a very alien notion to them. I feel like a lot of people think the ending is more important. I will die on the hill of the ending being way less important than the beginning. It's like the assumption that anybody would get there is why the beginning is always the most important part. To me, it's how I read, if it doesn't intrigue me or entertain me, whether it's a novel or short story or piece of journalism, I'm not going to make it to the end.

But personally, yes, always thinking about the first sentence, the first paragraph is laborious. The second sentence is a pain in the ass, because you can have a good first one. And it's like, what is my second sentence? I swear to you that I have spent so much time on the first and second sentences. That's just the way it is for me. And it has not changed since then. Even if it's a story that I'm almost done with, I have to go back and reread the entire thing to where I'm writing. So I always go back, and no matter where I am in the piece and just reread the first couple grafs, and are they still good? Are they still enticing me? I have to hear the story. For myself, the story has to sound a particular way to me, and depending on the subject matter, the story might sound differently. I will stare at a page until I have a first sentence. I have to hear it in my mind before I can progress. It's the hardest part of the process for me. I think that you really got to hook people, you know, that's what I think.

Brendan: Oh, for sure. I think a lot of people tend to put a lot of energy into the lede and a lot of energy into the ending. And as a result, sometimes the middle can sag. So in terms of pacing and the way you're structuring your stories, and especially the middle so we don't get bored in the middle, what are you thinking come the middle of the story? 1,500 words in 2,500 words in?

Justin: That's a good question. I don't usually outline. Every new section is like, it's very difficult. I don't usually think about is this not interesting now, or compared to the ending, which sometimes I don't even know where it ends, a lot of people know where the story is going to end. But sometimes I don't. When I'm looking at something I've written, and I'm 2,000 words into it, I'm actually not thinking about being in the middle. I'm just trying to keep it truthful and interesting somehow. And like, is this the right way to go with the story? Occasionally, I will hash out a vague outline, rudimentary, just like, you know, four sections or whatever. So to answer your question, I don't know, I'm usually not thinking that way within the body of the story. It's mostly trying to make it as interesting as I can depending on how the material has presented itself on the page. I've seen people who I know who are my peers sort of roll their eyes when I'm like, the words just kind of come to me, I don't know, you're sitting there and it's kind of like the magic happens.

Parting Shot from Ep. 417: On Recorders

Justin brought it up a bit in this interview and it comes up a lot when you’ll hear my conversation with Darcy Frey, author of the masterpiece The Last Shot (now celebrating its 30th anniversary), but it’s this idea of using a voice recorder or merely using a notebook.

It’s the great debate among reporters. For many, there’s no argument: use the recorder. It captures everything verbatim. Sure, it’s a bitch to transcribe, even if you use an AI service like Otter, but at least you didn’t miss anything. You don’t have to worry about not being able to read your penmanship. If someone is recounting dialogue, you’re getting all those tasty bits. While the recorder captures the conversation, you can scribble down atmosphere. Your recorder might pick up the squawking of a blue jay, and isn’t that nice!

And yet … because the recorder doesn’t filter, it can feel lazy. The recorder can be off-putting to people. To put a machine between you and another person feels intrusive, even cold. Taking out a recorder is awkward and clunky. Recorders can be sneaky. Recorders require batteries. Notebooks don’t die … unless you burn them. The files don’t get corrupted. 

Scribbling, at times, means you don’t get every single word down verbatim. In fact, you lose a lot because you can’t keep pace, or your handwriting is such you can’t read what you wrote down. It’s maddening.

Some of the best features I’ve ever written were just notebook and pencil. It’s old school. I feel more connected to the material when I carry nothing but a notebook and a pencil behind each ear. It’s the satisfaction that I’m carrying the buckets of water, not outsourcing it to this cute, little Sony device.

I conducted an interview the other day for the Prefontaine book with a sports psychologist. I did it with a notebook and pencil and what I found is that reporting in this manner means that what I scribble down is sticky with no filler. You go back and fill in the gaps while your memory is fresh and boom, there you go. Go type it up and you have the prime cuts from the conversation. 

I conducted 99.9% of my book research with a recorder and even when I uploaded those files to Otter, it was still a mess to clean up. Plus, I didn’t feel a bond to the conversation, as odd as that sounds. I intently listened, as I do, but the passive nature of a recorder felt, well, passive, like I was along for the ride instead of driving.

That said, there are dozens of conversations I had with sources where I was so glad I had the recordings because the details were so vibrant that I wouldn’t want to miss a single word. It was fun to listen back.

I have a romantic ideal when it comes to reporting, of being armed only with a writing implement and a notebook. It allows the writer to blend in more. You don’t have to start and stop the recording. You don’t have to carry extra batteries. You don’t have to worry about the thing breaking with hours worth of tape you were too lazy to dump. 

But I’m growing more willing to lose some information if it means I feel more connected to my reporting and that’s the indisputable feeling I experience when I eschew the recorder and trust in my note taking. The dead leaves naturally shake themselves out. 

I always go back and forth on this and maybe there are situations where you have to use a recorder or should use a recorder, but when it becomes a crutch? If it makes you lazy? Maybe try a low-stakes piece and see what happens when you trust the notebook. As reporters, we often rely too much on bloated quotes anyway, so the verbatim nature of quoting sources should more often than not be paraphrased in the writer’s own words. 

With so much tech around us, I like going back to something that’s tried and true, analog in nature and far more human.

Coda

Gonna plant a wee seed here: We are less than a year from publication of my Steve Prefontaine biography. Title TK. (We’re changing it from The Gift to possibly The Front Runner or The Last Amateur) Pre-orders are the name of the game, so I just want you thinking about it. It’s not avaiable for pre-order just yet. Again, just getting you thinking about it. Dead in the water without pre-orders, friend.

Also, for face-to-face time and to support the podcast, you can window shop at patreon.com/cnfpod.

And if you leave a review on Apple Podcasts, take a screenshot, send it to [email protected] and I’ll coach up a piece of your writing of up to 2,000 words.

Rage,

Brendan