Once upon a time, as a young reporter at a small-town newspaper about 150 miles away from here, I happened upon what I thought was a story that would, to use the cliché, “blow this town wide open.”
My would-be story involved a state government agency, 221 miles away from the small town, and some of its business practices. I went to my city editor with delusions of journalistic grandeur in my head.
He set me straight with just one question.
“So what?” he asked.
One simple question with lots of implications.
So what did my would-be story mean to the readers of our newspaper? I had no answers.
So what did my would-be story mean to our fellow townspeople who didn’t read the newspaper? Why would they be interested in buying the newspaper just to read this particular story? I had no answers.
So what was the significance of my would-be story, if it involved a state agency, that it would compel our newspaper to put it on the wire services? I had no answers.
So what did my would-be story mean to our fellow state residents? I had no answers.
(I discovered later that the business practices I questioned were in fact legitimate. It wouldn’t have been a story in the first place.)
So what does my story here mean today, all these years later?
Take the time to think through what you’re writing. Who is going to read what you write? What do they need to know? How will what you have to say affect them—or at least could affect them? Why is it important? If they must take some action—buy tickets to a concert, for example—when must they take it?
Consider these things the next time you tackle a writing assignment.
