Global Communications (Chapter 12): Skills, Strategies & Storytelling Across Four Continents - My Life As An International Journalist

[This is the latest chapter of my "Global Communications Toolkit" newsletter. To subscribe - or to read previous chapters - please click here. This book project spans my career, to date, and I’ll publish one new chapter per week. I dedicate this project to my three cherished children – and my beloved brother-in-law, Dr. Joseph F. Scalia, who recently died at age 53. Both a brother and a friend, Joseph was always encouraging. As for my kids: If you ever wonder what my life was like during your childhood – amid our journey from New York, to Central Europe, to Southern Africa, then to China – this book is for you.]

CHAPTER TWELVE: MJ's Filters & Polishers, Part I

Rarely does a brilliant story idea appear magically, fully formed, out of thin air. For me, it typically starts out like a rough diamond, plucked from the Earth. It then requires effort to shape and polish into a brilliant gem. At least, that’s how I’ve explained it in recent years, whether I’m teaching Journalism students or training a Communications team.

As promised in Chapter Eleven: Scattering Seeds in Slovakia, in this chapter I return to the textbook dimension of this book. Specifically, I’ll focus on the idea-polishing process that I developed as a freelance Foreign Correspondent: first, a range of skills and strategies to filter and polish ideas that I’d pitch to editors; second, once accepted, more filters and polishers to further buff our idea. Then, how to present it to the smart-but-skeptical audience, as persuasively and impactfully as possible.

Over the years, I’ve identified so many storytelling principles to improve my ideas and stories, I need two chapters to introduce it all. This section is so large, I’ve divided it between Chapter Twelve: MJ’s Filters & Polishers, Part I and Chapter Thirteen: MJ’s Filters & Polishers, Part II. While the first chapter focuses on polishing – and selling – the initial idea, the second shows how to bring it to life.

To clarify, my polishing wasn’t simply to “tell the best-possible story,” but far more strategic. I knew I’d have to persuasively pitch my ideas to two target-audiences, to achieve two objectives: first, secure an assignment from a Foreign Editor; second, encourage the international readers to read.

In fact, to maximize the impact of this chapter, I encourage you to first review Chapter Four: What Editors Want and Chapter Five: What Audiences Need. Those two chapters are the relevant background context for this chapter; though, as you’ll see, I don’t mind occasionally repeating myself, to reinforce some of the most important points.

All this is part of my Strategic Communications approach: it begins with first visualizing the target of our communication efforts. Without that, we’re shooting blindly. Instead, those chapters illuminate the traits and psyche of any smart-but-skeptical audience.

From grasping our audience, as empathetically as possible, we ideally deliver the most impactful ideas and stories. That’s also why my refining and polishing process inevitably leads me to better ideas, which leads to more effective pitches, which leads to what I describe as more “serious and responsible, deep and meaningful” storytelling. I crafted this quartet of terms, as a professional standard for myself. I also sprinkle them throughout my teachings, especially in the skills-centric chapters of this book.

By serious and responsible, I mean that a foreign storyteller – whether we’re a journalist, Communications specialist, or anyone else – must appreciate the responsibility in our hands when we produce a journalistic snapshot of one nation. How might it influence a smart, but non-expert international audience? For example, does it illuminate or educate, or foster or perpetuate stereotypes?

By deep and meaningful, I mean we must provide enough relevant context and in-depth content to truly educate our audience. Pinpoint why exactly the topic matters, what readers can actually learn from consuming this content, then present our storytelling material as impactfully as possible.

Below, then, is the first chapter of the filters and polishers through which I run my ideas, to polish them until they sparkle. I’ll illustrate most of these with my real-life examples, which I turned into published articles. I even include a few exercises, as I hope to inspire you to try some of these skills and strategies for yourself, to practice these lessons and apply them to your own needs.

In the next chapter, Chapter Thirteen, I continue with several more filters and polishers, which explore fresh terrain like how exactly to identify: relevant research to underpin our storytelling; relevant sites to visit for our reporting and to illuminate the reality; relevant subjects to interview, to humanize our content; even the relevant question to ask them, to elicit the substance we need.

Moreover, I include a mini-simulation, where I lay out my entire process, soup-to-nuts, applied to real-life scenarios – and my own stories. (In Chapter Seventeen: Prague Training & Storytelling, I show how I applied my filters and polishers during the TOL Trainings I led for 10 years – guiding each foreign participant, via written feedback, in the weeks before they parachuted into the Czech capital.

From there, toward the end of this two-chapter package, I conclude with two Case Studies. First, ?I elaborate on the “great responsibility” that overseas storytellers have in our hands, when daring to “tell the story” of life in an alien land. I then illuminate a critical juncture of my career: in my old haunt of Hungary, I faced up to this responsibility in my hands – and learned to “spotlight the positive.”

Lastly, with my second Case Study, I lead you through a likely Communications task from a Boss. But to illustrate, I imagine how I’d tackle a similar task for one of my most controversial Chinese clients.

We’re Not Writing For Ourselves

Our first step is to identify an idea that interests us. Careful, though. As I explained in Chapter Four, we’re not writing for ourselves, but for others. Thus, while we should first identify an idea that appeals to us, we’ll soon think through why exactly it might appeal to them.

Why us, firstly? Since we may be wedded to an idea for days, months, even years – anything from a shorter-term assignment to a longer-term project, like a book idea, documentary film, etc. – we should ideally feel impassioned about the subject. Or, minimally, be very interested in this topic.

This is for practical reasons, linked to our sanity. The process can be long and arduous, with the twists and turns of an emotional rollercoaster. Passion for the subject nearly guarantees that at least we’ll enjoy the ride, overall, and feel gratified when we complete it. Logically, too, the greater our enthusiasm for the story, the more inspired we are to research, report, interview and write.

Yet the converse is surely true, too: The less enthusiastic we are for our subject, then there’s the potential that we’ll be less inspired with our researching, reporting, interviewing and writing. Thus, the storytelling suffers. And we’ll lose the audience, somehow.

So, once an idea hits us, it’s worth taking a moment to, as I often say, “place a finger on our own pulse”: probe introspectively, exploring our thoughts and feelings. Gauge our levels of excitement, motivation and commitment, with two questions. First: Why exactly do we find this topic so appealing? Second: Why exactly do we think it has the potential to impassion us – and hold our interest long-term?

That said, don’t invest too much time answering these questions. They may soon become irrelevant, depending on how we address the next step. Again, we’re not writing for ourselves. For our own journal. Dear Diary …In which we can write about whatever we prefer. For our eyes only. Here I’m repeating myself, because it’s so essential for us to always keep the audience at the fore of our thinking.

We’re writing – or creating content of some sort – for an audience. Which means we want them to consume our content, by reading, watching or listening to it. The challenge, then, is how to do so? We can’t twist their arms, of course. Nothing would force you to read, watch or listen to something, right?

Instead, we must persuade our target-audience to consume it. As I explained in Chapter Five, empathy is an important part of the calculation. We should immediately consider, from the audience’s perspective, why exactly they might find our content interesting. Or important. Or both.

In that case, it’s not enough for us to mull an idea and conclude: This is interesting to me.

Fine. But why exactly would it be interesting to them? Why exactly should they consume it?

Of course, what’s interesting to us may not interest them. But we should figure that out now. First, because if we can’t identify any compelling reason for why exactly a certain audience might be receptive to our content, then we should question: Is it worth producing? Is it worth my time and effort?

Second, for those of us who sell content to clients – like the editor of a newspaper or magazine – if we lack a persuasive argument, it’ll dramatically reduce our chance of a sale. Maybe close to zero.

In fact, as described in Chapter Four, that’s one lesson I had to learn early on in my career: How to persuasively pitch my ideas to two separate audiences? First, how to identify which specific topic might interest an editor – enough for them to hand me an assignment? Second, how to identify why the readers might also find the topic interesting – enough to actually read what I’ve reported and written?

Now, let the idea-polishing process begin – with my first filter.

Identify the Newsworthiness

At this point, it’s worth noting what I see as a key difference between domestic journalism and international journalism – or any “local story” versus one produced from a faraway land. Especially, in terms of which stories appeal more to a domestic audience, versus an international audience. And why.

At its heart, journalism itself should inform and educate the audience: about interesting or important situations, or interesting or important people, doing interesting or important things, and so on. It starts with the fundamentals of fact-gathering, known as The Five W’s & H: Who, What, When, Where, Why and How. (Plus, as I explained in Chapter Four, my Sixth W of journalism: Why exactly?)

Moreover, those who study journalism will likely have received a lecture about the definition of news: What is news? What makes something newsworthy? For example, something the public needs to know, or wants to know. Then, the question: Do they want or need to know that news now? Why?

As I learned early on, some in the business call this: News you can use. If an event just happened, or an issue is going on now, does it directly affect the audience? Could it affect them? Directly or indirectly? Or if not them, then affect their family, their community, their city, their country? Imagine if this development includes an impactful component, like a new law, impending policy, etc.

These are particularly relevant questions to consider with local or national journalism, when produced for a domestic audience. However, the sort of overseas stories that I’ve produced – and taught others to produce – are substantially different, because they aim for international audiences.

Frankly, the international audience can live without those “local” stories. If an event or issue unfolds very far from us, we generally don’t truly need to know that kind of news. Simply out of self-interest: not much of it directly affects our country, our city, our community, our family, or ourselves.

That’s the case with most news that occurs around the world – unless we give readers a “reason to care.” I’m not referring to the more obvious impact of global economics or foreign affairs. (In Volume Two of this book, I’ll describe the fresh perspective into this challenge I gleaned while living in Beijing, when teaching Storytelling from China. For now, though, I present two related essays here and here.)

Instead, I’m talking about storytelling that spotlights different countries, different societies, different cultures – yet rarely has direct impact on us. After all, do we truly need to know about, say, environmental-protection efforts in Central Europe? Or job-creation policies for their disabled? Unlikely.

But … maybe. It might depend on how we frame the story. That’s why, as explained in Chapter Five, we aim for an “elite” foreign audience that’s not only more curious than a fellow average citizen about the world beyond their border – but also more concerned about such issues, too. Still, to pinpoint a reason why exactly a story might matter to this audience is what makes our task so challenging.

With our stories, we should seek a way to present them as interesting, even important to our audience – on a macro or moral level. While we want some newsiness, it’s not for the “news value,” per se, in a conventional news-you-can-use sense that you find in much local news. Instead, we want to identify and insert a “timely hook” as a literary device that will both attract and compel the audience to consume our content now – as well as to enhance the value-added for them to do so.

That’s why at the end of Chapter Eleven, my introduction for the TOL trainees in Prague contained this key passage about such ideas – as I pushed them to dig deeper, for a meatier story:

But it can’t simply be “The Environment in the Czech Republic.” Or “The Disabled in Prague.” Too vague, too general. Instead, what?exactly about?the environment, or about the struggles of the disabled, deserves attention? … Why should readers find this situation interesting? Perhaps even important? Why should they care? Why should they spend their precious time?reading?it? Why should they read it today?

With that in mind, in this chapter I’ll lay out a series of filters that I apply when thinking through my ideas for the most interesting angles, then polishing them into the best-possible stories. Principles such as how we should spot the “symbolism” of situations, or detect the “movement” within stories.

Moreover, as you’ll soon see, these filters help me identify storytelling elements like: the most relevant – even necessary – research, facts and evidence to collect; the most relevant locations to visit; the most relevant people to interview; and the most relevant questions to ask those subjects.

That said, please keep in mind that even as I walk you through my principles and polishers – what they are, why they work, how they work – know that my thought-process isn’t precisely in this order. Many of these filters are interrelated, yet still worth spotlighting individually.

Interesting, Important – Or Both?

For the next filter, we should revisit the Four-Step Formula presented in Chapter Four. I first hatched it as a young freelancer, then molded it into an actual strategy in Prague – where I shared it with each new crop of TOL trainees. Early on, my focus was on pitching editors the story-ideas that I felt were already polished. But in this chapter, I’ve modified it to focus on the preceding stage: how to polish our rough-diamond idea into one that sparkles.

Please note: While I’m focusing on journalistic story ideas, this formula is easily applicable to your workplace, whenever you want or need to strategically communicate to others, whether it’s an idea you want to pitch; content you want to create; argument you want to make; and so on.

As you see, Step #1 remains the same: Always consider the audience. Who are they? And why?

Step #2, too. What’s our idea? Or what’s our point, our argument, our story? What’s the one “core message” we hope will be most impactful – and they remember – after consuming our content?

It’s Step #3 that now requires even deeper thought. We’ll still respond to Why that idea, or point, or argument, or message, or story? But to rigorously examine our response, here’s a filtering question designed to force us to think empathetically, from our target-audience’s perspective: Why exactly would [or should] my target-audience find this topic interesting? Even important? Or both?

One aside: You may notice my continued use of not just the word Why, but the more probing: Why exactly?We could answer a “Why should they find it interesting or important?” question with a superficial “Because it IS interesting and important.” That’s not enough, of course, to either secure an assignment or persuade a reader to read. “Why exactly would they find it so interesting or important?”

(In Chapter Fourteen: Interviewing Skills, I’ll explain in greater detail why exactly the question “Why exactly?” is so essential to a successful interview. For example: why exactly a situation happened, why exactly someone did what they did, why exactly they feel what they feel, and so on.)

However, when it comes to idea-polishing, as we consider our audience, we should absolutely apply the Why exactly? question to their potential motivation to read, watch or listen to our content. Again, we must finish this sentence, to brainstorm a rationale and justify why exactly our audience might consume our content. Because … Why exactly? Perhaps there’s even a two-pronged reason for why exactly they’d find our story topic both interesting AND important to consume our content.

To help spur this brainstorming, here are related questions worth answering:

What, if anything, can they learn from our content?

How exactly might they benefit from it, if at all?

Why exactly should they CARE, or at least pay attention?

The MJ Four-Step Formula (Story Strategy)

In Chapter Three: What Editors Want, I laid out my fleshed-out, Four-Step Formula. But that version of the formula was for pitching ideas to editors, bosses, colleagues, and so on. Then in Chapter Four: What the Audience Needs, I described the need for a Core Message at the heart of that pitch: hammering out a memorable, impactful message that summarizes our entire story in a single sentence.

Here, then, is how I modified my formula for our own internal, story-assembling purposes: TILE

1) WHO exactly is my audience? By now, we should clearly see them. Always worth a reminder!

2) WHAT exactly is my story? What core message will I deliver, directly to their heart and mind? What exactly can my smart, curious audience learn about this country, and/or this issue, from my story?

3) WHY exactly do I want to tell this story? Why exactly would/should) my audience find this story so interesting? Or even important? (Ideally, both interesting and important?) Of all the media now competing for their attention, why exactly should they pay attention to my story? Why exactly should they care? Why exactly would they value learning XYZ from my story, about this country and/or issue?

The filter: My audience should find this story interesting or important, because … WHY? Finish that sentence. Make the case for why exactly our audience should read, watch or listen to our words.

4) HOW exactly do I want to tell my story? How exactly to deliver my message? Supported and illuminated by which relevant (necessary) elements: research, facts, evidence, details, subjects, guests, interviews, quotes, soundbites, insights, photos, maps, graphics, footage, etc.? Why exactly those?

Here’s a filter for Step #4: This element is relevant to (or necessary for) my storytelling, because … Why exactly? More on how to wisely choose relevant elements in Chapter Fifteen: Writing Our Story.

Exercise: For the situation or issue you explore, map out a storytelling strategy.

Revisiting My “Intersection of Self-Interests”

Among all the valuable lessons that Journalism has taught me is this: There’s almost always a self-interest at stake, to help explain someone’s actions. This is especially true when thinking through, for example, why exactly a reader might read my story. Or why exactly someone might agree to be interviewed by me. Or why exactly a client might approve an assignment for me.

Conversely, there’s almost always a self-interest to explain why a reader might not read, why a subject might refuse my interview, why a client might reject my proposal, and so on. It’s also applicable to any work-challenge you face, which involves you proposing a fresh idea to others: What exactly is their self-interest to say yes? Why’s that? What exactly is their self-interest to say no? Why’s that?

I first explained this in Chapter Four: What Editors Want, where my focus was on how exactly to “push the right button” and persuade editors to approve my story-ideas. I illustrated this challenge with the Intersection of Self-Interests diagram I designed, to visualize my task. Later, l adapted this diagram to understand the motives of sources, which I’ll explore in Chapter Thirteen: Interviewing Psychology.

For now, though, the bottom line is: For us to be consistently successful with our Strategic Communications – in this case, how we devise a “winning” story idea – we should always consider the self-interest of our target-audience. And why exactly they may or may not do as we hope.

With that in mind, how exactly to hit our target? How can we climb into someone’s mind, to examine their thought-processes with such precision? That’s impossible, of course. Which means there’s no perfect science to it. But at least we can strive to achieve that.

This leads us, again, to the importance of empathy. If we hope to be more persuasive than less persuasive, it requires more than IQ; we must flex our EQ muscles. As a friendly reminder, I described this in Chapter Five: What Audiences Want – striving to imagine myself in the shoes of my audience.

If we were them, what motivation or incentive would we have to consume our own content? If we were in their shoes, why might we find our content interesting? Or beneficial? Why might we care?

Bulgarian Corruption: A Case-Study

With my TOL trainings in Prague, I always provided examples to illuminate the skills and strategies I was sharing. Then in late 2008, I generated a fresh example – a four-part series from Bulgaria, for the Christian Science Monitor – that became my favorite way to illustrate how to empathize with a smart, curious international audience.

I first referred to this package of Bulgaria stories in Chapter Four – but I’ll now dissect how exactly I pitched my Monitor editors, by applying both my Intersection of Self-Interests and my Four-Step Formula. First, we consider the Who.

Who was the Monitor’s audience? What exactly did they want, from reading the paper’s foreign coverage? And why? I surmised from my own observations – as well as discussions with my editors – that Monitor readers, foundationally, are smart, curious, even concerned about international affairs. Why else would they read a paper focused so heavily on overseas coverage? (Setting aside any religious belief or motivation, a Monitor reader’s self-interest was to better inform themselves about the world.)

Moreover, I sensed that a reader’s need to learn something of value about each country, or each region, covered in that story. A “return on investment” for reading. And by value, I mean they should consider it either interesting or important. Ideally, both. That’s why, with my storytelling from faraway societies, I came to prioritize the need to also “teach” my audience something about that place.

As for Bulgaria, by 2008, with the European Union having invited Bulgaria and Romania to join the exclusive club by early January 2009, concern was mounting about how endemic corruption in both countries might become problematic for the EU, once the duo were already inside the club.

For my initial story-idea about Bulgaria – which only later was expanded into a four-part series – I followed my four-step formula and brainstormed what I hoped was a winning argument. While my pitch was written for the editors, I crafted it in a way for them to justify publishing it for their readers. In other words, two-pronged empathy: imagining myself in the shoes of my editors, as well as my readers.

So, why exactly was Bulgaria interesting enough for readers, to warrant that the editors invest a modest portion of their budget – to pay for my reporting trip, then pay for my stories? Next, why exactly was Bulgaria interesting enough to warrant a reader’s precious time, to read it all the way through?

Here come steps #2 and #3 of my four-step formula: What exactly the story is – and why exactly the audience might be receptive to it.

On the one hand, some observers had branded Bulgaria as the most corrupt country in Europe. I Journalism, and in life itself, we’re curious about extremes: the best, the worst, the tallest, the shortest, the fastest, the slowest, the biggest, the smallest, the cheapest, the most expensive, and so on. You get the idea. In the case of Bulgaria, I seized upon a sexy hook: Learn about Europe’s most corrupt country!

On the other hand, I needed more. Why exactly should a reader read about Europe’s most corrupt country? Where’s the value in that? I’d use the Bulgarian dilemma as an opportunity to educate readers about the EU, which spans the entire continent. This had become an effective literary tool of mine, which I called opening a window. I pitched my editors in such a way that they recognized how this story could “open a window” onto much more than just one unique country – but onto all of Europe.

How do I know that I successfully pushed the right button? Imagine, I was persuasive enough that my editors not only paid me to travel around Bulgaria for one week, but even took the unusual step of allocating enough space for a four-story package – which they then splashed across two full pages.

This ability to “open a window” onto a faraway land is a crucial filter, as I’ll soon explain in greater detail. But first, more on this Bulgarian case-study. Because once I won over my editors with the substance of my potential storytelling, then came Step #4: How exactly to tell the story?

Corruption itself can be difficult to illustrate: Could I travel to Bulgaria for one week, and get lucky enough to catch someone in the act of pocketing EU funds? Or paying a bribe? No, of course not. So, it required a bit of creative thinking: How to illustrate Bulgarian corruption – and bring it to life?

I identified at least four ways that appealed to my editors. First, profile Bulgaria’s top political corruption-fighter, to explain the EU dilemma and humanize the challenge of combatting corruption. Second, spotlight the area seen as the greatest source of corruption: Bulgarian agriculture. Third, shed light on Bulgarian attitudes toward corruption, through newly trained police cadets. Fourth, a historical piece to explain how exactly corruption became so bad in Bulgaria – by humanizing those drawn to it.

Here’s that quartet, with screenshots of my stories (and photos I snapped):

Open a Window

We’ve now placed our audience at the forefront of our thinking, whether our target is an editor who’ll mull our pitch, an audience that may consume our content, or a combination of both. Let’s brainstorm a story idea that strikes the right balance of broad and narrow. Here’s what I mean.

I love the imagery of this filter: Journalism can (even should?) “open a window” onto an interesting or important situation, or reveal something meaningful about an interesting person’s life. In International Journalism, especially, our story should go beyond – and “open a window” onto a foreign country or alien culture. Vividly and meaningfully.

From my perch in New York City, if I were to open my window right now, I could superficially say it opened onto the day, onto daylight, onto the city, onto a view, onto fresh air, etc. In actuality, I opened my window onto an entire urbanscape of activity – and stories. The apartment buildings, the skyscrapers, the businesses, the streets – all unique in their own way, populated with unique people.

Sure, there’s the cliché: Everyone’s got a story. But each shop or individual I see through my open window may at this moment be up to something interesting. Or at least something that could reveal and illuminate a truth about life in New York, specifically. Or about life in America, generally.

While we could produce a story that focuses narrowly on a shop, situation or individual, if we hope to deliver greater value to our audience – and convince them it’s worth their investment of time to read, listen or watch until the end of our story – we should also illuminate something of a Big Picture.

By Big Picture, I mean a broader truth, or insight into a broader reality, which is revealed by opening our window. This requires us to re-orient our thinking, so that we don’t view a single event, a emerging trend, or individual person, too narrowly, with “blinders on.” Likewise, to not just present a “snapshot” of what we see through the window we’ve opened, but to explain what it all means, contextualized. What it really “says” about the reality. As in: A picture is worth a thousand words.

More on this below, where I explain the principles of Searching for Symbolism and Connecting the Dots – between what we see and that bigger picture. Indeed, our topic should be a microcosm, a “slice of life,” or a prism through which the audience can learn about a broader reality.

Again, recall my Ladder of Communications from Chapter Five: What Audiences Need. Minimally, our story should inform and educate the audience, to learn something meaningful about this place we spotlight. For those of you who’d like to freelance a foreign story for a newspaper or magazine, this is also what editors look for: A special contribution that “opens a window” onto some faraway land.

Here are some questions for you to ponder, to strengthen the argument within your pitch:

*What does our story “say” about that specific country, or society, or community, or culture?

*What can our audience learn from our story, about that country, society, community or culture?

*Do we have concrete, credible evidence to prove our sweeping assertions about that place?

That said, figuring out which exact “window” we’re opening isn’t easy. It took a bit of time to brainstorm that Bulgaria-EU Big Picture, described above.

Here’s another example to illustrate the point, on Lesotho’s elections. Again, I referred to it in Chapter Four. But it’s worth revisiting how I pitched it, through the prism of promising my editors to “open a window” onto more than just one small country.

As I wrote in that chapter, I was still relatively new to Lesotho, and found everything about it fascinating. That doesn’t mean foreign readers would find it just as fascinating. That’s why, for much-needed perspective and critical-thinking, I applied my Four-Step Formula. As I wrote:

“Why should any foreigner care about elections in a tiny country they’ve barely heard of, if at all?”?This question stumped me, for a while. Then I asked an American friend in Lesotho who worked for the United Nations:?“How do you explain to your colleagues back at headquarters, in New York, why they should care about Lesotho’s elections?”

He explained: Lesotho was aiming for peaceful, democratic elections – a relative rarity in Lesotho, as well as in much of in sub-Saharan Africa. In that case, this election would be, symbolically, “the latest test” for democracy in Africa itself. Heck, that sounded like a great angle for me, too.

As with the Bulgaria story, this piece appeared to be about just one country, when it actually opened a window onto?the entire continent.

Again, here’s the trio of election-related stories I wrote, which revealed an African reality: TRIO

Exercise: For whatever you’re writing, which “window” are you opening? Onto what Big Picture?

Uniqueness Vs. Trend

Next up, one of my favorite filters – for how effectively it polishes story ideas.

If I’m on the look-out for a good story, and see something noteworthy happen, I immediately judge if that event is also newsworthy – or newsworthy enough. Does it deserve my time for deeper exploration, to then publicly share my findings in an article, blog, essay, commentary, OpEd, etc?

To determine this, I apply a filter: Was this event unique, or part of a broader pattern or trend?

Likewise, if I read about, hear about, or observe a person doing something interesting, I may apply a similar filter: Is what they’re doing unique, or part of a broader pattern or trend?

That’s one way to identify the broader meaning of an event or person: if it represents something more. Or is truly unique – literally, one of a kind. There’s nothing else like it, anywhere.

Next, dig deeper: Has it never happened before? Or is this really an exception, an aberration, an absolutely rare occurrence? What this person is doing – has no one every done it before? Or never before, quite like this? If it’s truly that rare, we may be onto something. As I said earlier, we love extremes. And rarity is an extreme. Which makes it inherently interesting – even a conversation-piece.

Yet, what if something happens twice? We should also be skeptical: that could be a coincidence. Two people, doing the exact same thing, almost identically? Unusual. But still, could be coincidental.

On the other hand, what if something happens three times – or more? Or it’s occurring often, in identical or similar ways? A pattern seems to be emerging. And it could be the basis for a story. As we say in journalism: Three makes for a trend. It may be enough for an editor to green-light an assignment.

However, if we’re going to state this, confidently and authoritatively – and even hope to persuade our smart, skeptical audience that this emerging trend truly exists – then we’d better be able to prove that point. With credible evidence, we’ve unearthed through our meticulous research.

For example, I recall one quirky story from my time with The Budapest Sun, in late 1994, when a colleague investigated a string of pitbull attacks in Hungary. We heard of the first attack, on a neighbor, from local news. We didn’t think it merited coverage for our weekly paper – whose largely foreign readership was curious to learn of trends in Hungary. Or of news they needed to know.

A single attack didn’t qualify. Why would it? Yet then came a second attack, by another pitbull, against a child. That made us more curious. But still, nothing more than that. However, the third attack caught our attention, on an old woman walking home with a shopping bag full of fragrant raw chicken.

Suddenly, we detected a trend: What’s up with all these pitbull attacks? What does it SAY?

This was the mid-1990s, amid the upheaval of the post-Communist transition. The rash of attacks spurred us to spotlight a trend whereby some newly liberated Hungarians eagerly flaunted their newfound wealth. For some, this meant buying rare dogs like the pitbull. A few owners took it too far, nurturing the aggressive nature of their pitbull. Suddenly, a new law on dog-ownership was needed.

So, our paper produced a trend-story that simultaneously opened a window onto Hungary. Without a doubt, no daily Hungarian newspaper produced a similar story, for their domestic audience.

Ever since that story, I’ve kept an eye on events or incidents that happen just once or twice, versus three times. But here’s the remarkable thing about exploring the is-it-unique-or-part-of-a-pattern question: Regardless of the answer, we make the idea more interesting – and our story more salable.

Here’s why. On the one hand, “trend stories” are by definition newsworthy. They indicate that something new or relatively fresh is happening right now: it may be growing, shrinking, improving, worsening, etc. Yet, we must do enough research to prove this one thing is actually part of a pattern.

As we research, keep our audience in mind: Let’s explain what it all means. The Big Picture. We’re adding value for the audience, identifying what’s truly interesting or important about the trend.

On the other hand, as I said, we – and our audience – are fascinated by uniqueness, not just extremes. Check out how popular The Guinness Book of World Records has been for decades.

If we suspect that something is unique, we should do enough research to prove it’s truly unlike anything comparable. Our in-depth research should then contrast it with the norm, to accentuate the uniqueness we’re spotlighting. And now we explain both: Why exactly this norm – and this aberration from the norm – are significant, even meaningful. Why exactly it’s interesting, if not important.

In other words, whether a situation or a person is unique, or part of a pattern, either possibility can be a springboard to a story worth pursuing – and trying to sell. It all depends on how we frame it. For example, if a single event, incident, activity, issue, person, or anything else, is actually part of a pattern, we “connect the dots” between this singular situation and the broader trend. Like this:

But XXX [insert the event, incident, activity, issue, person] isn’t alone. In fact, many others are …

(I’ll soon explain more on Connect the Dots, farther below.)

On the flip-side, if we can prove the uniqueness of an event, incident, activity, issue or person, then we contrast it with a Big Picture transition that states the opposite. Like this: Yet XXX [insert event, incident, activity, issue, person] stands out, unlike what’s happening elsewhere …

In the Bulgarian case-study presented above, I mixed these two elements: Bulgaria would become, purportedly, the European Union’s “most corrupt” member-state. Uniqueness! Yet, Bulgaria “was not alone,” as corruption in other new EU members – like Romania – was also worrisome. Trend!

In short, whether a situation (or person) is unique or a part of a pattern, we have the makings of an interesting story. And remember: The more “interesting” the content, the more it appeals to others. Primarily, to an audience whom we must convince to consume it. But perhaps to a paying client, as well.

That said, it’s relatively rare to find pure uniqueness. More likely, there’s a pattern we should work hard to recognize. Unearthing that fact may also enhance the value of that story, making it more meaningful to an audience. Then, once we determine that an event, incident, activity, issue or person is indeed part of a broader trend, that’s when we can turn it into a symbolic story.

Exercise: Research to what degree the topic you’re exploring is truly unique – or part of a trend.

Search for Symbolism

In the previous two passages, I referred to the “symbolism” of an event, activity, issue, situation, person, etc., then the need to “connect dots” to a Big Picture, or to prove a pattern. (In Chapter Fifteen: Writing Our Story, you’ll see how essential they are to crafting an effective introduction.) Both are such significant filters for my idea-polishing and storytelling content, they deserve a bit of elaboration.

Once we establish that an event, situation or issue we’ve personally witnessed – or otherwise heard or learned about – truly reflects a broader pattern or trend, we can present it as a symbolic example: an illuminating representation that sheds light unto that bigger story or broader trend.

Suddenly, we’ve not only broadened the scope of our story, but made it weightier. This ?makes it more interesting and appealing to a target-audience, whether that be an editor, a content-consumer, or anyone else. Why? We’re no longer producing a “simple” feature, only about that singular situation. Now we’re opening a wider window onto that society (or even a region) – revealing something deeper.

Similarly, let’s consider the symbolism of individuals. Sure, just as parents tell their children, everyone is “special” and “unique” in their own way. However, when we’re exploring a unique person, exactly how unique are they? Are they truly one-of-a-kind? In what way are they different – or similar?

When we come across someone whose actions, words, thoughts, feelings, beliefs, etc., strike us as interesting, even rare, if we want to measure their story-worthiness, ask yourself this question:

Is what this person does, says, thinks, feels or believes truly unique, for some reason? How so?

Are they truly the only one doing what they’re doing? Or saying what they’re saying? Or thinking what they’re thinking? Or feeling what they’re feeling? Or believing what they’re believing?

More important, can we actually prove they’re as unique as they say they are? Or as we say they are? Again, show-don’t-tell with evidence – to persuade our smart-but-skeptical audience that it’s true.

Or, on the flip-side: Can we prove that this person is actually part of a broader pattern, or wider trend? If so, what exactly is that pattern or trend? Do we have the credible evidence to prove this person is a microcosm, a metaphor, or a symbol? Proving that is one thing. Again, while their uniqueness or symbolism may interest us, why exactly might any of that interest our audience? Make your case.

Ultimately, if we make that case, have we done enough quality research to hyperlink our work to credible facts – from reputable sources – to prove this person does indeed “open a window” onto that country? Or to connect dots between their mini-story and the Big Picture of what they represent?

If we have, then we can confidently use them as a storytelling device – in this cse, as an illuminating, symbolic example that sheds light unto a bigger story. This one individual, then, can open a window onto any country, or any foreign culture. It requires serious research, but is worth the effort.

Again, answering this core question not only makes our story more interesting to the audience. If we’re starting out in – or climbing the ladder of – the media industry, more appealing stories may earn us the trust of our bosses, and lead to more appealing assignments. For a freelancer, well-polished ideas will enhance the salability of our stories, leading to more assignments and increasing revenue.

To summarize, run through these questions when assessing either situations or individuals:

Something interesting happens: Is it a unique event?

Or part of a broader pattern or trend?

Or is it a microcosm or metaphor?

Does it somehow “open a window” onto this country? How so?

What exactly does it symbolize or represent?

How and why exactly does it symbolize or represent that?

Can we dig up concrete, credible evidence to prove this? From credible, reputable sources?

Someone does, says, thinks, feels, believes something interesting: Are they unique?

Or are they part of a broader pattern or trend?

Or are they a microcosm or metaphor?

Do they somehow “open a window” onto this country, or this country’s people? How so?

What exactly do they symbolize or represent?

How and why exactly do they symbolize or represent that?

Can we dig up concrete, credible evidence to prove this? From credible, reputable sources?

Something happens to YOU: Is it a unique event?

Or part of a broader pattern or trend?

Is it a microcosm or metaphor?

Does it somehow “open a window” onto us, personally? How so?

Does it somehow “open a window” onto our country, community or culture? How so?

What does it symbolize or represent?

How and why exactly does it symbolize or represent that?

Can we dig up concrete, credible evidence to prove this? From credible, reputable sources?

Exercise: If writing about an interesting event in your hometown, or profiling an interesting local person, determine to what degree that event or person is truly unique. In what way does that situation or person symbolize a broader pattern or trend about your hometown? Or about your country?

Aiming For More Than A Simple Feature

It took me years of experience – both in journalism and in living life itself – before I gained enough wisdom and insight to spot metaphors and microcosms: Again, we’re all “unique” in our own special way. But we’re all a microcosm of some broader trend, if viewed from a certain perspective.

Take me, as an example. Depending on the story angle you pursue, today I symbolize a wide range of realities: a middle-aged man; a middle-aged American man; a middle-aged Western man; a mid-career professional; a mid-career freelancer; a mid-career professional who’s lived abroad; an international journalist; an international educator; a global-communications specialist; a father; a middle-aged father; a divorced father of three; and so on.

While living in China from 2015-2020, I often used myself as an example, to illustrate for my Chinese students the distinction between a “simple” feature that focuses on a single “unique” individual, versus identifying what exactly the subject represents. Then, use them as a literary hook that opens a window onto a broader trend-story, or a big-picture feature.

It’s important to note: I wasn’t teaching how to be a local Chinese journalist, reporting in Mandarin, for a domestic audience. I taught them a curriculum I developed: Storytelling from China – how to think and act like a Foreign Correspondent, reporting in English, for an international audience.

As I’d tell them, you could write a straightforward profile about me as an American teaching in China. It might be a nice little feature for your readership: “The Life of a Foreigner Living in China.” That might appeal to either a domestic Chinese audience, or perhaps a lighter, English-language publication. ?But as you see, I always pursue – and preach – “deeper, more meaningful” content, for foreign readers.

In that case, apply my earlier filter: Am I unique, or part of a broader pattern or trend? With this American, an Visiting Professor of International Journalism, standing before Chinese students, I’d ask them: Am I the only Westerner teaching in China? No! Am I the only foreigner teaching at a Chinese university? No! Am I the only one teaching in English? No! Am I the only one teaching journalism? No!

For any of these, though, could they root out a few facts, as evidence, to state this definitively? To prove I’m merely one of dozens, hundreds, or thousands – whatever the figure might be? Where to unearth this information? Perhaps from China’s Ministry of Education? Or another government agency that tracks the presence of foreigners residing in the country? Or from a Chinese researcher who studies educational trends? Or from individual embassies? Or from educational companies? Just some ideas.

Then there’s the question of: Why exactly might smart, curious international readers find this situation, involving a foreign teacher in China, interesting enough to read about – from beginning to end? Here’s an angle: In one of humanity’s oldest, greatest civilizations, with its own deep traditions of education, Chinese society is gradually opening up to the teaching perspectives of foreign educators – not just to benefit their students, but to keep driving the engine of the world’s second-largest economy.

That’s quite a meaty topic. My Chinese students typically nodded their heads, amazed and impressed. We all symbolize something? We’re all a microcosm of some bigger picture? That’s right!

To illustrate this, I turn my magnifying lens onto them. Most of my graduate students were young Chinese women, between the ages of 22 and 25. They’d prioritized their education, their careers, their own preferences for how they wanted to live their life. Even if it meant resisting cultural norms and societal pressure, delaying marriage and child-bearing. Some planned to refuse both. Yet, they were far from alone. Where to find the concrete, credible evidence to support and prove this? It exists. Find it!

I’d then explain: This means you each symbolize a broader trend of modern Chinese women, who feel empowered enough to blaze your own trail – with various repercussions for your decisions. If I were writing about Chinese feminism today, through the prism of an ancient, tradition-bound society, now evolving and modernizing, I could interview any of you – and tell this story through you. As a symbol.

By now, you get the picture. All this requires is for us to re-orient our thinking: Instead of looking at one person as a potential story, ponder more deeply what they represent. That’s how you or I can become the symbolic example that illuminates an entire trend – if backed by enough credible evidence.

I’ll elaborate on this in Chapter Fifteen: Writing Our Story. But here’s the diagram I created to visualize the profound distinction between how we could view an individual, if we’re content with producing I termed a “simple feature” – and how we should view them, when generating a “big-picture feature.” That is, if we hope to enhance a story’s value. And even boost our chances of selling it.

Connect the Dots

It’s one thing to identify how either a situation or an individual can symbolize a broader reality, or a greater truth, about some society or community. But how to work that into either our pitch or story? In Chapter Fifteen, I’ll show how exactly to open our story with a “curtain-raiser” – an anecdotal intro that immediately humanizes our content. Let’s call it a “mini-story” within our broader story. But of course, it’s not just any story, about anyone. It’s story that strategically symbolizes the entire issue.

In this chapter, though, we’re still looking for ways to polish our ideas into the most persuasive pitch, then compelling story. So, how to draw a link between the symbolic mini-story and big-picture story – by only using our words? Moreover, how can we support this linkage with concrete, credible evidence? This is journalistic technique and idea-polisher that I call “connecting the dots.”

For me, it’s such a crucial storytelling device – yet may only amount to one or two sentences. However, for our smart, busy, presumably easily-distracted audience-member, this writing technique should clearly communicate the significance of what they’re reading, watching or listening to – leading to a clear, concise explanation of why the entire issue or situation presented even matters.

More specifically, this single-sentence linkage should subtly signal to the reader the difference between the two approaches I laid it out in that diagram above: You’re not consuming a simple feature about one situation, or one individual, or one organization, or one program, etc. Instead, this mini-story symbolically opens a window onto content that illuminates a broader, more significant issue. It conveys to the reader: we’re about to present much greater value than just a single story. Please keep reading!

Conversely, without such a line – relatively high up in our content – our audience may understandably be led to believe that our content is simpler. Thus, it holds significantly less value. For this reason alone, they may think it’s not worth the effort to read further. So they bounce elsewhere.

In an era when we have shorter and shorter attention-spans, each sentence counts. If the first 100, 200 even 400 words all focus on a single individual, what message does that send to the brain of our audience – regarding what exactly our story is about? Just this one person, of course!

Consider our own reading-habits. How much patience do we give a storyteller or content-provider? If it only seems to be about one single person, and if we sense that’s the extent of the value provided, we might also react by thinking: Thanks, I’ve had enough. Time to surf elsewhere.

That’s why I advise, structurally: Within the first 100-200 words of our content, and doing our best to pull the reader in, we’d better connect dots to our Big Picture. This signals to our audience that there is indeed much more value below. I’ll explain more about how to specifically produce this part, and where it should go in Chapter Sixteen: Writing Our Story.

For now, though, from the symbolic, microcosmic event or situation we observe, then describe to pull in our audience, can we “connect dots” – and draw a link between that mini-story, or little picture, and The Big Picture? For example, here’s one template that’s applicable to multiple scenarios:

Company/Organization/Government XXX [insert name] isn’t the only company-organization-agency to do YYY[insert notable action or activity]. Today, they’re actually one of ZZZ [insert research that credibly proves the broader trend] producing/committed to/involved with … Now, fill in the blanks.

Similarly, we have a template that applies to people. From the symbolic, microcosmic individual we observe, then bring to life in our introduction, can we “connect the dots” – and draw a link between that person and some broader trend of The Big Picture? For example:

Individual XXX [insert name] is not alone. They’re one of YYY [insert brief, but relevant, way to identify or categorize these people] now doing ZZZ [insert notable action or activity] … Fill in the blanks.

On the other hand, as I suggested above in the Uniqueness Vs. Trend section, if we prove this situation or individual is truly unique (with enough research to determine the broader trends, beyond this exception), we could present our mini-story in contrast with the prevailing trend. For example:

However, XXX [name of individual, organization, program, etc.] is a rarity. Most other YYY [brief identification or categorization] are actually doing ZZZ [notable action or activity] ?… Fill in the blanks.

But we should do more than fill the blanks with names or numbers. Again, we must always support our facts and figures with credible evidence – and present it transparently. This is where I’d hyperlink to our research, to persuade our skeptical audience that we mean what we say. (In Chapter Sixteen, I explain why I typically “hyperlink like hell” in my stories, to enhance my credibility.)

Moreover, can we connect the dots between this situation, and broaden it geographically? Perhaps to nationalize, regionalize or even globalize our story? I’ll revisit the idea-polishers of symbolism and connect dots in Chapter Thirteen, in the Broaden & Deepen and Globalize or Localize sections.

Exercise: With the content you’re creating, can you connect dots between your symbolic example and the broader issue or Big Picture? Have you unearthed credible evidence to prove the linkage?

Up Next ... CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MJ's Filters & Polishers, Part II

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