Question: What Do I Say About My (Lack of) Credentials?
16 Sep
A reader writes:
I’ve started exploring a possible story on SUPER SECRET STORY IDEA and I’m successful getting email replies to my original query from some significant clinicians and players in research. So, the question I’m often asked is: “What magazine are you writing for?” Of course I wish I had an assignment from a magazine. Our buddy Dan Baum, even lacking the assignment, would say he’s writing (in his example) for “Wired” because in a sense he contends that he is–doing all this leg-work free for an article he’s going to pitch at “Wired”. But I can’t get away with this can I?–”I’m writing for Psychology Today.” When the question has come up in the past I’ve said that I’m writing on spec and hope no one asks where I’ve been published. “Well, a couple literary quarterlies.” So how do I handle ingratiating myself to key sources so that they don’t blow me off and have enough confidence in me to spill the beans?
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being honest. Tell them that you’re a freelance writer and that your plan is to take the story to Psychology Today.
If the source asks where you’ve been published then mention the name of the journals. Or tell them that you’re just starting out.
Whatever you do don’t apologize. There’s no shame in being new.
If they won’t talk to you, then ask them if they know anyone who will. If they offer another source then pursue that lead.
If they say they don’t know anyone (or if the person they recommend doesn’t pan out) then press them again to help you. Appeal to their vanity. You know from your research that they’re the single most important source for this story, a story that will completely change how we think about INTERESTING SUBJECT MATTER.
Or try luring them into a conversation. Tell them you just want to verify one fact or confirm one theory (then shut up and watch while they talk for half an hour).
If they still won’t talk to you then move down the list and pick the next source.
Wait . . . you don’t have a list of sources categorized by information need and then ranked in order of importance?
If you don’t have such a list, then get one. Every story has its dream scene, its dream quote, its dream fact. With some pieces it’s obvious, like getting the tobacco executive to admit that they’ve known for decades that cigarettes are harmful. With other stories it might be more subtle: a tough guy in a moment of vulnerability or a public saint betraying a hint of avarice. In the right context a boring statistic can be undeniably powerful.
If you can identify these ideal outcomes then you’re more likely either to get them outright or to recognize variations of them that fall into your lap.
Final thought:
Knowing what you want also helps your credibility. In my experience I’ve always gotten more out of interview subjects when I’m a mission. I don’t know how they can tell, but sources know the difference between hunting and fishing.
Years ago I wrote a goofy sort of essay about those white- or translucent-plastic “strings” used to hold price tags (etc.) to clothing in stores. This was just a few years after they’d been introduced, but they were already ubiquitous. The essay whined that no one seemed to know where they’d come from or what they were called. On a whim, I submitted it to The Atlantic. I was flabbergasted to hear from the editor there, who said he couldn’t believe no one knew anything about them and sort of dared me to recast the piece with more info.
Well, I learned what they were called, and I visited the company which first made them and interviewed the inventor (who was a retired part-time materials engineer in his 70s). The company HQ was in the Boston area, where The Atlantic is/was also based. So it didn’t hurt at all that I could wave the latter’s name around some, even though I didn’t have a real assignment (and was up-front about that, too).
No, the magazine never ran the piece. But I derived a lot of benefit from the experience, which had to do with the sheer pleasure of learning, and then writing about what I’d learned. That sense of fun came through in my meetings with the company execs and the inventor, I think, and helped quite a bit in drawing them out.
There’s nothing like being able to say “I’m calling on assignment for MAJOR PUBLICATION.” I was able to get Newt Gingrich on the phone in less than 24 hours for a piece I did for the NYT.
But you’d be amazed at what you can make happen even with a little interest.
There are also going to be times when people simply won’t talk and you have to move on.
Finally, what IS the name of those little strings?
I cannot imagine how heady an experience a Gingrich interview must have been.
I’ve always called those little strings “tickies.” (Onomatopoeia, for the sound it makes when you hold one next to your ear and flick it with a finger.) I wrote my piece in 1990, so some of this may have changed, but: the manufacturer was Dennison, HQ’d in Framingham MA; the product they sold to most retail outlets was called the — wait for it — Swiftachment; the “guns” used to attach the Swiftachment went by various names, including “Secur-a-tach”; the US patent was #3,103,666, granted in 1963 (!); and the inventor — the guy I interviewed — was Arnold R. Bone. (Obviously, I just revisited the dust-covered MS after you asked.
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Actually, this is fabulous advice and encouragement. I’m messing with an article now that has in fact taken me to the most prominent experts in the world on the subject I’m exploring. I’ve amazed myself at how communcative people are without any duplicity–or guarantees the big-time national publication will run with the piece. I just try to think like a seasoned journalist might think before making the fateful call, although sometimes it takes a little extra effort to push the self-confidence button.
Glad it helped. As long as people don’t feel like you’re wasting their time I’ve found that for the most part they’re pretty generous.