Making Tracks

By Kat Bryant

Karma — or maybe it was irony — bit me in the arse recently.

Remember my Oct. 14 column, in which I talked about why I consider myself a decent writer and editor, but not a good news reporter? And how much I loathe the thought of calling people to ask them questions they don’t want to answer?

Well, just about the time I placed those words on a page and sent it off to the printer, my editor called: A beloved local character had passed during the weekend, and Doug wanted me to write about him.

For the front page.

With just a few hours before deadline.

Now, good reporters can crank out two or three stories in a day without breaking a sweat. In fact, as I write this on a Tuesday afternoon, Dan has four of them in the hopper for today. (I can’t vouch for how much sweat was involved.) But in my position, I’ve been writing one or two longish stories plus several briefs per week; so this was an unexpected call to action for me.

My blood pressure spiked a bit, but I accepted the challenge.

First, I needed to gather some background because — still being new to the Harbor — I knew nothing about the man I was supposed to write about, and I didn’t feel comfortable going into this endeavor cold.

To start me off, Doug forwarded the two-sentence email that had alerted him to the news. Karen sent along a copy of the death notice she’d received that morning. She also dug up contact info for longtime members of the Aberdeen Lions, the service group with which my subject had been most active.

From that point, I gathered all the information I could find online (which wasn’t a lot). And then I started making the dreaded calls.

I started with the person who had originally alerted Doug to the news. He gave me some wonderful stories and pointed me toward several other people who knew the man well.

I contacted them one by one, assuming (wrongly) that they’d heard the news before I called for their comments. That was the most disconcerting part: stumbling into a conversation and realizing I’d just become the bearer of the bad news to one of the man’s friends. I felt just awful. And it happened three times.

Everyone handled it well, to my relief. And with each conversation, I got to know my subject better and better.

Finally, it was time to try to talk with the man’s grieving daughter. It was the call I feared the most; I genuinely did not want to intrude on her privacy. But the family friend I spoke with last offered to make the introduction and get permission for me to call. I’m deeply thankful to him for that.

In the end, I gathered much more information and many more anecdotes than I could use in the space allocated; so half of the writing process entailed deciding what not to say. I wish I could have told all the stories I’d heard that day from people who loved him; but print space is finite. And so, after a day as a reporter, I reverted to my comfortable role as writer/editor and did what I had to do.

When all was said and done, I was an emotional wreck. I asked Doug never to ask me to do something like that again. He smiled and made no promises.

I’m pretty sure he will ask again. And I’m equally sure I will, as ever, give it my best effort.

The editor in me demands it.

Kat Bryant is lifestyle editor of The Daily World. She still considers herself a writer and editor rather than a reporter, but she’s giving it her best shot. Reach her at kbryant@thedailyworld.com or on Facebook at Kat Bryant-DailyWorld.