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How to interview a ‘dud’

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(Note: I’m writing this article from the perspective of a freelancer or communications pro who writes for a corporate magazine, newsletter, or something similar.)

 

There are “duds” in every walk of life. You probably have encountered one today.

You, to frowning checkout person at grocery store: Hey, there! How’s it going today?

Checkout person, not looking up: Beep… Beep… Beep…

You: Alrighty, then!

Unfortunately, not every person we interact with has the radiant, outgoing personality of a communications professional or freelance writer/journalist (wink, wink). Usually, we can either deal with these types quickly and move on or avoid them altogether. But what happens when we are tasked with interviewing a dud?

This is a moment when you really earn your money.

Probably eight out of 10 times, interview subjects are fairly happy to see you. They may be nervous and might not speak in perfect soundbites, but usually, people are somewhat flattered to have someone in the media (sorry if that word made you squirm a little) asking them what they think about things.

Occasionally, though, you run into a subject who would prefer a visit to a proctologist to being interviewed. Honestly, this is usually a result of the local contact for your organization not properly vetting the person to make sure he or she has the gift of gab and is amenable to the idea of being interviewed. (Ultimately, it’s your responsibility to make sure your contact knows what you’re looking for.)

The mistake often translates into interview exchanges like this:

You: Tell me, Mr. Manfrenjensen; what is your favorite thing about bullfrog farming?

Mr. Manfrenjensen, after a painfully long silence: I don’t know. Nothing I can think of.

You: Nothing? Surely there’s something!

Mr. Manfrenjensen, checking his watch and looking out the window: Uhhh… Uhh…

You: Just give me one thing. Anything.

Mr. Manfrenjensen: Well. I guess I like the bullfrogs pretty well.

And it goes on like this.

The bottom line is, not everyone likes to talk, let alone be interviewed, and there’s nothing you’re going to do to change that. Others may have been raised without any social training — not gonna change that, either. There’s probably a good reason why Mr. Manfrenjensen is a surly bullfrog farmer and not a game show host. (I’ve heard that bullfrog farmers are notoriously anti-social.) Sure, you may be able to break the ice a little by discovering an area of commonality between you, or by finding that person’s secret favorite hobby to discuss, but in most cases, you’ll be lucky to come away from this type of interview with anything good.

But you have to deliver a story.

In these excruciating cases, I’ve found that going to the basics is the best course of action. I usually begin by having Mr. Manfrenjensen give me the statistics of his farm. How many acres? How many, er, head of bullfrogs? Is it a family farm? How long has it been in the family?

Even a dud can answer these questions. It’s not philosophy, just facts.

After that, consider asking him about his wife, kids, and grandkids, if he has them. Even a world-class dud will lighten up a bit when discussing his grandchildren. Get all the hard and fast information from Mr. Manfrenjensen that you can before going in for the subjective questions.

You: Mr. Manfrenjensen, how the heck does one become a bullfrog farmer?

Mr. Manfrenjensen: Don’t know. Just did.

If he refuses to go there, then you at least have the framework for a story. But don’t give up until you give it the old college try. React to his surliness with enthusiasm and good nature, as if you haven’t noticed his behavior, and then flee the premises as soon as possible. There’s no reason to put the poor man through any more misery. Write a short profile, fill in with quotes from other sources, or make your awesome bullfrog photos a little bigger in the spread. So, what are the takeaways to interviewing a dud?

  1. Try to avoid it altogether by making sure your local contacts know what kind of subject you’re looking for.
  2. Be prepared for it when it happens; it eventually will.
  3. Ask questions about family to break the ice.
  4. At the very least, get the factual information.
  5. Be nice, write your story, and move on.

Use a pre-story-submission checklist

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Effectively editing your own writing is impossible. There, I said it.

But why? Why is it so dad-gummed difficult?? And where does the phrase “dad-gummed” come from, anyway???!

I don’t have any official answer for either, so I’ll give you my somewhat educated opinion, which you may take or leave. (About self-editing, not dad-gummed.)

It’s easy to become enamored with your own writing. By typing a keyboard with your fingers, you are creating a thought that, moments before, didn’t exist. But now … presto! A brand-new thought was just birthed into the world. So yes, at the risk of using a well-worn cliche, your writing becomes your new baby, and who is comfortable in critiquing their own squiggly, cooing baby? Certainly not me! (When they become teenagers, it’s a lot easier.)

It’s also difficult to catch typos in your own writing. My theory is, when you read your own copy, you know what’s coming — it isn’t new to you — so your brain fills in the missing words or changes “your” to “you’re” in your mind without signaling your hands to make that correction on the page. This is why it’s always a good idea to sleep on a story before editing it. When you come back to it, things won’t be quite as fresh and you will read the story more as another person might.

But whether you represent a self-editing freelancer or are a member of a large staff, consider using a pre-story-submission checklist before giving the printer the green light or sending your story around to be edited by others. In both environments, you will save yourself the time of making changes, you will spare your coworkers the agony of fixing your mistakes, and you will end up with a much better story for your readers.

Answer these questions:

  • What kind of story is it? If it’s a straight news story, use the 5 Ws and get quickly to the point. If it’s a feature story, be a little more creative with the lead and use interesting transitions. Be clear on the goal and nature of your story before writing the first word, and then double-check to make sure the finished product jives with your intention before submitting it.
  • Have I answered all of my own questions? Be sure that when you pose a question in your story, you answer it. Or, if you make a cryptic statement of some kind in the lead, you don’t leave the reader hanging. Explain yourself and answer your own questions.
  • Am I making subjective comments as statements of fact? This is a biggie. If John loved the rodeo, be sure that John says this in a quote. This is journalism, not fiction, so we can’t have intimate knowledge, as the writer, of what John does and doesn’t love. He has to tell us himself. In another example, don’t say that the weather was “so nice” or “amazing” in your copy. Say the weather was “mild” or “temperatures were below average.” These are statements of fact. Let your story subjects make personal comments on the weather in quote form.
  • Is every word necessary? “Rainfall during the month of August was below average all across the entire state of Nebraska.” A better choice might be, “Nebraska’s rainfall was below average in August.” There’s nothing wrong with being creative in your writing, but there’s definitely a problem with using unnecessary words. Strive to meet your word count as efficiently as possible. That equals more meat and less fat in your writing.
  • Is this story actually interesting, and will anyone other than the subject give a hoot? A cardinal sin of feature writing is penning a story full of boring exposition, family names, ages, and backgrounds, and banal detail simply to satisfy a word count. But when you view it from 30K feet, it’s about as compelling as your monthly water bill. Look at the first draft as way to get the facts down on paper; the second draft should be about making that copy more directed toward an interesting angle.

Writing is hard and often thankless work, so I admire you for undertaking the job. But never be seduced by that sneaky devil on your shoulder who is assuring you that your first draft is a masterpiece. It’s not. It never is, no matter who you are. Ask yourself the hard questions and make that story better.

Keep your paragraphs from crashing into one another — write good transitions

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Imagine that you’re driving along on Interstate 40, minding your own business, and you hit one of those terrible patches of pavement where the top layer has been scraped off in preparation for re-paving.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!

You know what I’m talking about. The sound of your tires on the grooved sublayer creates a sound akin to an approaching tornado. After a few seconds of torture, you see the newly paved section approaching, but the road crew has failed to create a nice little pavement slope from the sublayer to the new layer. What happens? The front tires bang into the new layer with a jolt that rattles your fillings, wakes the baby, and likely loosens every screw, bolt, and rivet in your once-pristine vehicle.

Ouch.

A similar thing happens when you fail to write a transition between paragraphs. Whether consciously or subconsciously, the reader’s mind bangs into the next paragraph with an unappealing jolt.

Good transitions are what make your story an easy read. They create a smooth, glossy, playground slide for the reader’s figurative backside, with the top of the slide being the story lead, and the bottom of the slide, the ending. Without good transitions, it’s a bumpy ride down for the reader, and they will likely jump off before the end.

Here’s an example of poor transition:

Harvey Manfrengensen grows 5,000 acres of soybeans, cotton, and corn on his farm in Pawnee, Indiana. In addition to his row crops, Manfrengensen also raises 11,000 turkeys and some 75 head of water buffalo.

“I really enjoy shooting skeet with my son-in-law, Jean-Ralphio,” Manfrengensen says. “Those clay targets don’t stand a chance.”

Quite a jolt, right? We needed a transition. How about…

Harvey Manfrengensen grows 5,000 acres of soybeans, cotton, and corn on his farm in Pawnee, Indiana. In addition to his row crops, Manfrengensen also raises 11,000 turkeys and some 75 head of water buffalo. With this extremely odd pairing of crops and livestock, the Indianan says shotgun sports have become his “outdoor therapy session” and one he enjoys sharing with family.

“I really love shooting skeet with my son-in-law, Jean-Ralphio,” Manfrengensen says. “Those clay targets don’t stand a chance.”

Sure, that’s an extreme example, but you get my drift. If your paragraphs are slipping seamlessly from one to another rather than colliding with jarring thuds, you’re doing it right.

~ Mark Johnson