Andrea S. James

Category: Journalism

  • Over-communicating is not communicating at all

    A few years ago, our home security provider installed new fire alarm detectors in my house. They emitted loud, high-pitched beeps at even the slightest detection of heat, smoke or steam. Boiling water set off the one in the kitchen. A steamy shower set off the one in the hallway.

    Eventually, we took the batteries out and then switched to a better brand. Later, a security technician told us that lots of people were disabling their fire detectors because the detectors were too sensitive.

    Wow – that’s a huge product failure. In an attempt to keep people safe from fires, the engineers created a product that was actually less effective. The bar to trigger alarm was set too low.

    Communication works the same way.

    Corporate America relies on executive summaries. The intelligence community taught me the concept of BLUF (bottom-line-up-front). Internet culture uses the concept of TL;DR (too long, didn’t read).

    Narrative always has its place. (I started this post in narrative form.) But there is tremendous value in brevity.

    When I was a stock analyst, I often formatted my research into bullet point format, with three categories:

    What’s new

    • One or two sentences on a development.

    What it means

    • Translating those above sentences into easy-to-understand English and adding context and background

    Recommended action

    • Buy, sell or hold

    Once I knew I had an audience who trusted me, I took pride in not wasting their time. There was tremendous value in helping others to tune out noise. There was value in what I didn’t say.

    Time and attention are limited, perishable resources. If you generate too much noise, people will cut you off, filter you away, and tune you out.

    This is true everywhere — at home, in the work place, on Facebook and Twitter. How much is too much? That’s subjective — it’s up to you to know your audience. Maybe you need to communicate more. Maybe less. If no one is opening your emails, or they are missing important information, it’s time to re-calibrate.

    We’re all communicators now.

    Calibrate constantly. Think about your audience. Strive to reduce noise.

  • Economics should be taught in schools. Period.

    My initial reaction to the #OccupyWallStreet protests is this: Our public schools are failing many of our kids.

    This is not new and I’m not the first to say it. People know that to compete in a global, information-based and technological economy, education is more important than ever. Our nation has a huge mismatch of available labor skills and needed labor skills.

    When I hear some of the protesters speak, I feel they don’t have the full set of tools — the language, even — to express themselves. They don’t know how the system works. And it’s ridiculous that they don’t, because the capital markets are ruled by some basic concepts that are not that difficult to teach.

    (Here’s  a start: The economic collapse of 2008 and 2009, from which we’re still reeling, was caused by too much debt. Did Wall Street play a major role in buying and selling that debt? Sure thing. Did consumer banks and mortgage lenders make loans to people who shouldn’t have gotten them? Yes. Could they have done it without borrowers? Nope. Would they have done it without government tax incentives and policies that promoted home-ownership, which guided capital to flow into mortgage debt, versus other types? Probably not. Read Michael Lewis’s The Big Short to learn more.)

    It’s ridiculous that kids memorize the dates that Confucius lived but don’t learn a thing about consumer credit or compound interest.

    One colleague recently told me that his grade school taught him weaving and knots. He didn’t learn the concept of supply and demand until after college. (What economy was he being prepared for?)

    When I was in grade school, I learned the difference between a mitochondria and a ribosome. I couldn’t have told you one thing about debt or equity, a bond or a stock.

    Don’t get me wrong — I love science, I love art, I love that my public school exposed me to Toni Morrison and Chaucer — I think these things are important, but there’s got to be a way to fit economics in.

    Economics is the study of incentives, of money supply and flow, of consumption, of economies.

    This economics stuff matters. Even if the Wall Street protesters don’t fully understand the system, they know it affects them. Because it does.

    Business makes the world go around.  And it can be richly taught. I took my first macro-economics as an honors colloquium, 15 students in an intimate group with a real economist. But the fun came in micro-economics. I had a high-energy professor — we did exercises on buying and selling, we were all to be “goods” in the market selling our labor, we played games that illustrated incentives. I never looked at a consumer product price tag in the same way again.

    Earlier this year, I guest-lectured on business journalism 101 at a local university. The college kids, who are self described non-math types, got a lot out of it. For many, it was their first exposure to anything financial.

    One student approached me after my talk and said, “When my boss cut back my hours at the coffee shop, he said that coffee bean costs were rising. I was like, ‘What does that have to do with me?’ I feel like I understand that now.”

    Bingo! I’m sorry her hours were cut, I’m thrilled that she better understands how a drought in South America affects her personally. She figured it out after just 20 minutes of learning the principles of an income statement.

    This isn’t a post that’s meant to blame or shame. I just think we should arm kids with the tools they need.

    Financial literacy is an important tool.

    For some great commentary on public education, check out this interview with the late Steve Jobs.

    (more…)

  • Improve your writing in three steps: Cut, cut cut

    Journalism professor Robert Marshall Wells opened class once by writing this on the board:

    Fresh Fish Sold Here

    He turned to the class. “You run a fish market. You want to get your sign as short as possible. You want to catch the readers’ attention and convey your message. Which words are necessary?”

    Well, “here” is not needed. The location of the sign indicates that sales happen in that spot.

    Fresh Fish Sold

    That “sold” looks kind of silly now, doesn’t it?

    Fresh Fish

    Does the fact that the fish are fresh need to be conveyed? Would anyone say otherwise? “Smelly Fish” … “Old, Decaying Fish” ? …Nope.

    We are left with:

    Fish

    Today, Alexis Grant gives 10 ways to self-edit your copy. Learn all about superfluous words and how to improve your writing. She gives away a lot of the secrets here.

  • Intellectual honesty and a lesson from Bob Woodward

    For a guest lecture once at Pacific Lutheran University, I compiled a list of interviewing techniques for journalism students. The key lesson that topped them all was this:

    Do not lie. Be smart enough to figure out how to get the story without deception.

    Being upfront has saved me embarrassment many times in my career — whether it’s when an e-mail I wrote was forwarded up some chain and back to my boss, or, whether it was when I found myself questioned by authorities about my intentions.

    In each case, I could say that I had honestly represented myself at all times. (Phew!)

    Intellectual honesty is a virtue, I think, in any profession. It is particularly necessary for anyone working in the information business, and that’s nearly everyone these days! All we have to go on is our integrity. It’s not worth blowing it, even for a seemingly harmless white lie.

    Now:  You should have a healthy skepticism of anyone who would blog about how honest he or she is, in life or her job. So, instead of bragging to you about how awesome it is to work honestly, let me tell you about the time I screwed up, and got schooled in front of my peers in this regard.

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  • Oh, the humanity!

    I can’t help but be incredibly moved by stories of human rescue and triumph. It taps into something deep.

    I can still recall crying at my desk at FDIC in the summer of 2002, reading about the Quecreek Mine Rescue online. Those nine men were trapped for 78 hours and were rescued alive. Rejoice!

    So, how much more special will it be if / when the Chilean miners are rescued! The 33 of them have been trapped in a mine in Chile since August 5. They are living in an approximately 500-square-foot space. (See this diagram on CNN.com.)

    For the first 18 days after the mine collapse, no one knew if they were alright. And then, finally, a drill punctured the top of the space and the miners attached a note that said, roughly translated, “There are 33 of us and we are alive in a refuge.”

    Photo:

    The first communication with the miners after the mine collapse
    President Sebastian Pinera holds up the first communication with the miners after the mine collapse. (AP)

    The media loves stories like this, they are sensational for all the right reasons. CNN has been doing its share of coverage, and the BBC is reportedly sending a crew of 25 to cover the rescue.

    There is a part of me, however, that knows that these men are not saints — none of us are. That their families have problems like the rest of us. And I sort of appreciate that the tabloid media tells that side of the story. Though, I do feel silly when tears are running down my face as I read about the details of the ongoing rescue and then I come across this:

    “Some of the men’s wives have had another unpleasant surprise – running into their husbands’ girlfriends at the camp above ground,” according to the Daily Mail.

    Humans will be humans. A little drama at the camps. We can all rejoice with them anyway.

  • Let’s play . . . back in my day

    Recently, I was thinking over some of the harshest criticisms I’ve received in my career, and how I’m thankful for them now.

    I decided to have some fun with this idea, so I pinged some journalist friends with this challenge: “I want you guys to try to remember things that editors have said to you, that shaped you, and which weren’t very nice.”

    So, here is what my friends and I came up with. I’ve changed every female name to “Jennifer” and “Lauren,” every male name to “Bob.” My friends were more comfortable sharing this way, particularly because some of them are now at the top of their fields.

    I’ve also obscured the names of the publications.

    I hope they give you a good laugh. And if you happen to be new to this field or any other, know that the best professionals got that way in part thanks to tough love.

    Please share yours!

    —-

    “Hey Jennifer, over the weekend, why don’t you read the New York Times and learn how to fucking write.”

    —-

    “What do you do? Be a fucking reporter, that’s what.” — Editor, after I called up and complained that nothing interesting happened at a Chicago city council housing committee meeting.

    —-

    The editor walks over and slaps a draft printout of my “tech bits” write-up on my desk.

    “You read that first sentence and tell me if it makes you want to read the rest of the story.”

    I read my lede. It didn’t.

    As he walked away, he said, “Don’t be boring.”

    —-

    “He hung up on you? Go to his door so he can slam the door in your face instead.” –Editor

    —-

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  • Seattle P-I: A well-run business it wasn’t

    If I were responsible for keeping the books, I would’ve shut it down too. It has taken me a year to realize that and admit it.

    With its spinning neon globe overlooking Elliott Bay, the printed Seattle Post-Intelligencer was a West Coast institution. It was the state’s oldest business. A home for elegant scribes and scrappy diggers. Quirky. Artistic. Majestic. Beloved. Hated. Respected. Feared.

    Working there as a reporter was a personal dream-come-true. I loved that place and proudly showed off my business card to whoever asked, “What do you do?”

    After years of moving around the country and seeking a home, I’d found one in the P-I. I belonged at a newspaper. That newspaper. In a major city. In Seattle.

    So when the Seattle P-I stopped printing one year ago, I felt shattered. “How could they do this to this city? To us?” I wondered about Hearst Corp., the New York-based company that owned the P-I.
    I felt angry and blindsided and helpless. I was one of about 10 percent of the staff chosen to work for seattlepi.com — which was a blessing in that I had something to focus on and I got to keep doing what I love.

    So when the Seattle P-I stopped printing one year ago, I felt shattered. “How could they do this to this city? To us?” I wondered about Hearst Corp., the New York-based company that owned the P-I.

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  • The door’s open, but the ride, it ain’t free

    One of my favorite blogs to read is one on voluntary simplicity, by Emily Achenbaum Harris.

    Harris quit her reporting job at the Chicago Tribune last year to pursue a simpler life. She gave up the city, the stress and the suits, and now blogs about all that she has gained in return.

    At the time, I admired that she admitted in her final Tribune column that she isn’t independently wealthy. Translation: Any of us could shun the material stuff and do what she’s doing.

    Part of my fascination with her blog is that she and I went opposite ways — I traded journalism in for high heels, stock analysis and finance.  She left to start a family and grow her own vegetables.

    She’s also a good writer, which makes reading her blog a guilty pleasure.

    Today, she has posted a guest post from me. It’s an essay I wrote about my irrational love for my car.

    Check it out, and leave a comment!

  • Totally scooped: One year post-P-I shocker

    Seattle P-I employees hear that their paper might close (Andrea James/Jan. 8, 2009)
    Seattle P-I employees hear that their paper might close (Andrea James/Jan. 8, 2009)

    It was this day last year when news of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer’s impending shut-down hit the airwaves.

    If you haven’t heard the story before: The P-I staff first learned of this terrible news by watching it on television.

    It was after 5 p.m. and the staff was putting the paper to bed. A major winter storm had hit Washington state, and thus most of our daily coverage focused on that – I believe that I wrote something about hindered truck shipments into Seattle. Overall, it had been a satisfying day — plenty of news to fill our pages and I had beat deadline by about an hour.

    But I wouldn’t be going home anytime soon.

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  • Secondary byline: Bruce Springsteen?

    When I was a reporter, I would try to incorporate Bruce Springsteen’s lyrics into my articles whenever I could.

    Now, I never altered a story to fit the lyrics and out more than 1,000 articles I wrote in my journalism career, it only happened about twice.  One was an article about cities that suffer from brain drain as youth flee to bigger cities in search of education, jobs, opportunities. In that one, I quoted, “Born to run.”

    I also composed many of my articles while listening to Bruce. I’d put on my headphones and make sense of all of my data gathering while jamming away. The music helped me to focus and to feel lighter than I am, which enabled me to think faster and meet deadline.

    Not only do I adore Springsteen’s music, I relate to it. Which creates a deeper connection than simple enjoyment. (My family hails from the same county in New Jersey that he does, and I have cousins who grew up in his hometown. But I think that his fans, no matter where they are from, universally share a connection to his music.)

    Today, I wonder if my affinity for Springsteen’s music had an effect on how my articles shaped themselves. Did it influence me by making me write according to some theme of which I was not consciously aware? Would an analysis of my articles reveal a Springsteen bias?

    New York Times columnist David Brooks, in an editorial that is half reflection-on-life and half ode-to-Springsteen, explores how Springsteen contributed to his non-formal education. He also remarks that our non-formal education contributes more to our happiness than what we learn in the classroom. I encourage you to check it out.