Happy 2019! Here were our most popular posts from 2018

2018 was a year of transition. At least it was for this journalist.

I experienced my first full year overseeing my own segment on WXIA-TV, and I entered my second year as a grad student at the University of Georgia.

Above all, I became a dad.

This greatly influenced my writing and podcasting in this space. I blogged more sporadically but tried to make my posts meaningful. Throughout the year, support came in comments, Tweets, and messages. Whenever I debated pulling back, I received some form of appreciation that motivated me to keep going.

Here are the posts you clicked on the most in 2018, with a passage from each:

PODCAST EPISODE 64: Catherine Steward, photographer, WTVF-TV: I rarely ask a Telling the Story podcast guest to come back for a second episode. I like to spread the audio wealth and interview as many storytellers and journalists as possible to provide a full spectrum of perspectives for my audience.

But when a previous guest wins a National Edward R. Murrow award with one of the most pristine slices of video I’ve ever seen, I can make an exception.

Catherine Steward has captured numerous honors for her work as a photojournalist for WTVF-TV in Nashville. This may be her biggest yet. She took the Large Market TV station Murrow for Excellence in Sound, and the winning piece was a solo effort. I asked Steward to deconstruct her story, scene by scene, nearly shot by shot, to give the rest of us a chance at producing something similar.

(more…)

PODCAST EPISODE #69: Autumn Payne, photographer, Sacramento Bee

If you’ve read this blog regularly in the past year, you probably already know:

I love being a dad.

We welcomed our daughter nearly nine months ago, and my life has been permanently transformed. So has the desire to balance my time at home with my time at work. I wrote about these subjects in the recent issue of News Photographer magazine.

I didn’t realize what would stand alongside my column on the next page.

It was a piece from Autumn Payne, a photographer and videographer at the Sacramento Bee, titled, “Yes, you can raise a family and do killer photojournalism, too.”

I read it. I loved it. Payne’s words spoke to me as a new parent, even if she’s a few years further in the process. She wrote around raising her four-month-old daughter while maintaining a foothold in the world of journalism. Check out her web site. She’s crushing it.

Payne is my guest on Episode #69 of the Telling the Story podcast.

This is a worthy conversation, for new parents and for those who plan to one day become parents. Even the most ambitious and driven of us must adjust once they take on the numerous responsibilities of raising a child. But as Payne says, and as I have learned through my own experience, you don’t have to close the door on your career.

“You’re just a little more cognizant of what you’re doing,” Payne told me, “as a person and as a journalist, when you have a little kid looking up to you.”

(more…)

I spent a week covering the aftermath of Hurricane Michael. Here’s how I coped.

Somewhere along the back-road highways on the Florida panhandle, sometime during my third day of enduring images of destruction, I realized I needed to talk to someone.

I had been sent down three weeks after Hurricane Michael to produce a series of stories on its aftermath for my station, WXIA-TV in Atlanta. The cameras always evaporate when the attention dissipates, we thought, so we wanted to divert it back. We wanted to show the very real – and very early – stages of recovery. We wanted to remind our viewers how those in the storm’s eye now face a seemingly permanent new reality.

The first few days went as expected. I interviewed pecan farmers and walked through orchards of leveled trees. I spent a day in Georgia’s hardest-hit city, Donalsonville, where the majority of houses featured blue tarp over their roofs. I surveyed the scene in Panama City and Springfield, neighborhoods in Florida where storefronts and home fronts had been peeled off.

And I drove. A lot. 1200 miles in five days. For large swaths of those rides, I scanned a consistent diet of devastation. I saw piles of felled limbs atop sidewalks, gas stations and mom-and-pop restaurants hollowed out, and mile after mile of trees bent backwards like upside-down check marks.

On the morning of Day 3, I witnessed the worst. I never made it to Mexico Beach, the coastal community in Michael’s direct eye that had been all but flattened in a few hours. But I drove within minutes of it and saw the struggle of communities just beginning to reckon with the aftermath of a hundred-year storm. As I headed back to south Georgia, itself speckled with hard-hit towns, I began to realize how a few short days – spent largely by myself – had gradually worn me down. I struggled to envision how these areas would fully recover. I shook my head at the magnitude and spread of the damage. A few times, I held back tears.

That’s when I picked up the phone and called my parents.

(more…)

PODCAST EPISODE #68: Noelle Walker, reporter, KXAS-TV

The following podcast episode made me uncomfortable.

I communicate for a living, and my trade is words. I stare frequently at blank cursors on my computer screen because I haven’t found the exact word to properly convey an adjective, identifier, or emotion. I wade into controversial waters with caution, because I know how certain words can be interpreted in unintended ways.

So when I invited Noelle Walker, an extraordinary and accoladed reporter for KXAS-TV in Dallas/Fort Worth, to discuss life as a woman in journalism in 2018, I knew it would require her to be vulnerable – and for me to join her.

I would need to challenge my own assumptions and choices, including with words. I would need to accept the ways in which I might be a part of the problem. I would need to avoid presuming to already understand what the problem might be. I would need to worry less about saying the wrong thing or using the wrong word and worry more about keeping my mouth shut and listening. I would need to live in the uncomfortable.

But I welcomed it.

I wrote earlier this year how equal representation in media isn’t just a task for the underrepresented, and I meant it. If I don’t use my position and platform to confront difficult issues and illuminate perspectives that aren’t my own, then I’m not doing my job as a journalist. That’s how I feel about my work on the air, and it’s how I feel about this blog.

That’s why I asked Walker to be my guest on Episode #68 of the Telling the Story podcast.

To be fair – and I mentioned this during our conversation – I could have asked Walker about any number of journalism-related topics and learned an inordinate amount. But I focused on this one because she just spoke at the Women in Visual Journalism conference in Denver, and I wanted to interview someone from that event about the lessons for all of us – specifically the younger journalists, women and men, who listen to this podcast. As expected, Walker offered tremendous insights and anecdotes, which one might expect from an experienced reporter who’s worked in numerous big cities and even freelanced at the network level.

(For an example of this work – and the process behind it – check out my recent podcast with Walker’s frequent photographic partner, Ryan Oliveira.)

(more…)

PODCAST EPISODE #67: Adrienne Broaddus, reporter, KARE-TV

“See the invisible.”

Adrienne Broaddus used this phrase early during our interview, and I instantly got it and loved it. She was discussing her approach to covering Hurricane Florence, which she did for a sister station in the Carolinas instead of her home station, KARE-TV in the Twin Cities. The award-winning reporter spoke of the people she met at a homeless shelter and said, “The people who were there, I wanted their voices to be heard. That’s one of the foundations of great journalism.”

She used her time in North Carolina to find individual stories and unique details that weren’t getting covered amidst the macro focus of the storm. It defines her approach in general, and it indicates a reporter who is confident in her voice and how to utilize it.

Broaddus is my guest on Episode 67 of the Telling the Story podcast.

I reached out to her weeks before Florence, intending to discuss different topics. Broaddus had just captured a pair of Salute to Excellence awards from the NABJ. She had also just spoken at the Sound of Life Storytelling Workshop, where we crossed paths on the presenting circuit. We weaved around each other’s busy schedules for weeks – and then postponed the interview further once Florence arrived – before finally getting to chat.

It was more than worth it. I have known Broaddus for several years and have always been a fan of her clarity of purpose. She showed it in our interview. She spoke about how her faith guides her reporting and why she proudly carries the mantle of “hope dealer.” I think it’s a worthy listen for any storytelling trying to find his or her voice.

(more…)

This episode of Reply All should teach us all how to tell stories

I listen to podcasts a lot … too much, let’s go ahead and say.

According to Stitcher Smart Radio, I have listened on that app alone to nearly 3,000 hours of podcasts and more than 14,000 episodes. At the time of this writing, I carry a 54-day listening streak.

I’m a reporter in TV news, but as a consumer I choose podcasts far more. And I often think the two have little in common. Podcasts run way longer, often function as a talk show or long-form interview, and of course lack the video component that is so essential in my work. But some podcasts tell stories. Some episodes seem like extended versions of what a television reporter would produce every day.

And one particular episode – the two-part “Long Distance” by Reply All – kept me so hooked and contains so many storytelling lessons that I felt the need to dissect it, for all our benefits.

“Long Distance” premiered last year and reran as a single episode last month. I learned about it last weekend, when a friend at brunch claimed it as his favorite but wouldn’t reveal anything about it. I clicked on it that night before bed, thinking I’d listen for 15-20 minutes and then resume it the next morning. I listened to the whole thing. And I found it ripe with lessons for any storyteller, regardless of medium. Here’s my view on how the producers and reporters developed such a fascinating episode:

(more…)

PODCAST EPISODE #66: Persevering as a parent while powering through at work

Since I began telling people my wife was expecting our first child, I received a familiar piece of advice from acquaintances and colleagues:

“Welp, say goodbye to the next 20 years!”

The implication, of course, is that my priorities will take a back seat to those of my child or children. That’s not wrong. Nearly seven months since becoming a dad, I have happily sacrificed and compromised many other aspects of my life to take better care of my daughter.

But I have also strove to maintain my own ambitions and desires, in a way that fits best my new schedule and responsibilities.

This podcast is one example.

It’s suddenly a challenge to conduct podcast interviews from home. During the day I’m typically at work. In the evenings, I try to keep my voice down so my daughter can sleep. As a result I have interviewed fewer guests for my podcast in the last six months, but I have tried to produce new episodes on a semi-consistent basis.

The solution? These shorter episodes that double as spoken-word recitations of my recent entries.

I did this for Episode 63, sharing my reflections upon my first Father’s Day. I do so again here, on Episode 66, with a behind-the-scenes story of life that intertwined with the launch of a major project at work. I hope you enjoy it … and, parent or not, laugh along with it.

(more…)

Sometimes, as a new parent, you just need to bake a peach pie

Last month I launched a documentary for WXIA-TV that involved a full week of on-air stories, online posts, and off-air promotion. It was a big week. It also came during a wild time at home, which have become more frequent as a new parent. Here’s a glimpse into a particularly moving moment, though not in the traditional sense …

***

I stand under an amber light, over an oven door, preparing to witness perfection.

There’s a pie in there. A peach pie. A Georgia peach pie. The best kind of pie. A pie I’ve made from scratch. A pie I’ve made to surprise my wife. A pie I’ve made in silence and near-darkness to not wake my six-month-old daughter.

No one asked for this. But I need it.

This week I’m a solo parent. My wife is in Los Angeles for work. Olivia is in Atlanta with me. She’s got a cold. That means I’ve got a cold. She’s sleeping through the night. I am not. I woke up at 3:30 AM yesterday and 1:30 AM today. I’ve spent the week launching a massive work project that was months in the making. I’m stressed. I’m sleepless. I feel red veins creasing my eyeballs.

But I take food seriously. And I love Georgia peaches. I inhale the pulp in 30 seconds and suck the pit for ten minutes. I buy two bags a week during their three-month season. Last Saturday marked the last sale this summer. I snagged three bags. When my wife left for L.A., I pledged to make a pie.

It seems selfless. I want my wife to open the front door, smell the scent of baked peaches and crust, and break into a smile. I want her to feel I can handle it all and still find time for a sweet gesture. But I also want to show myself. I bristle at boundaries. I feel them when we scarf dinner in five minutes before Olivia starts crying. I feel them when I fall asleep at 9:15 on the guest bed, trying to seize the Olivia’s-finally-asleep window and eat popcorn with my wife while we watch some stand-up comic on Netflix. The sacrifices seem small compared to the overwhelming gifts of parenthood. But sometimes I need to prove I’ve still got it.

Sometimes I need to bake a freaking pie.

So I did. I put Olivia to bed at 8:15 and strode toward the kitchen. I boiled the peaches, peeled their skins, and scooped their pits. I chopped them into eighths, mixed a batter, and poured it all between two rolled-out layers of would-be flaky crust. I slid the pie in the oven, rotated it after 20 minutes, lowered the temperature to 375, and rotated it one more time as the recipe instructed. Now, at 10:30, I stand over the oven, adrenaline drained, ready to wave a metaphorical middle finger to How It’s Supposed to Be.

I open the door. A steam cloud flies out, carrying the scent of sweetness. All looks golden: the caramelized sugar, the crumbly crust, and the Georgia peaches itching to bust through the slits in the top layer.

Perfection.

Then I slide on my mitts, pull out the pie, lose my grip, and watch perfection fall out of my hands and crash upside-down onto the kitchen tile.

I don’t cry, but I almost do. I don’t scream, because somehow Olivia has stayed asleep. I stand motionless, surrounded by dark, the stove light above me a spotlight of sadness.

I grab a fork. I kneel down, curl myself on the tile, and search for scoops of pie that didn’t hit the ground. Then I eat. It’s gooey, rich, delicious. It’s my middle finger to How It’s Supposed to Be, remixed to show How It Is. I consume the equivalent of a slice, then cobble enough bites to save for a slice for my wife. I call her and confess it all. I know you’re a germaphobe, I say, but perhaps you’ll make an exception for smushed perfection.

To my half-surprise, she accepts.

svj-cover-2

The Solo Video Journalist is available for purchase. You can find it on AmazonBarnes & Noble, and the publisher’s web site.

Matt Pearl is the author of the Telling the Story blog and podcast. Feel free to comment below or e-mail Matt at matt@tellingthestoryblog.com. You can also follow Matt on Facebook and Twitter.

I just produced a documentary on income inequality. Here’s what I learned.

As a journalist, my biggest adversary is perhaps my own cynicism.

It’s easy to lose that battle. I see the continual triumph of style over substance. I see the burnout suffered by many of my younger colleagues. I see a shrinking number of pieces that truly have an impact.

More than that, I see a far-too-frequent unwillingness to take on the mountainous issues of our time, mainly because of their mountainous-ness. How does one cover a subject, for example, like income inequality, which has been on the rise for decades but seems too widespread and abstract to truly digest?

My answer? Like this.

In my role at WXIA-TV in Atlanta, I receive the chance every few months to produce a documentary, and I often get to choose the subject. I must run it up the ladder of management, of course, and it must fit within the confines and content of our evening newscasts, but I receive much more freedom in story selection than most.

So when I returned from paternity leave earlier this year, ready to embark on a new project, I chose the topic that affects Atlanta more than any city in America.

But I didn’t know how I’d broach the subject. I reached out to several experts in the region, often over the phone but occasionally in person, and I sought potential vehicles that would allow for the necessary depth, detail, and humanity. I emerged with three concepts, wrote proposals for each, and pitched them to my bosses for their preference.

We all agreed: IN CONSTRUCTION was the one.

I had heard about a program that provides a free 20-day crash course in construction for low-income Atlantans, regardless of their background in either construction or life. Many students have a criminal record. Most rely on public transportation. Some are – or recently were – homeless. But when they graduate, they leave with entry-level construction credentials and, 95% of the time, a job with a major Atlanta construction company.

Suddenly my project wasn’t only about income inequality. It was about the challenges and pathways for those in poverty who look to rise up. And it offered a chance to view the issue through the people who live it.

I essentially embedded with a class, from Day 1 to Day 20, and selected several students who agreed to tell me their stories, warts included. Three had served prison sentences. Two were parents looking to do right by their families. All had a purpose difficult to condense or categorize.

This week, four months after I began working on the documentary, I released the finished product online. It airs three times this weekend on WXIA, and it has already received hundreds of views on YouTube and positive reaction on social media. That’s without much promotion aside from my own.

I think often about our platform as journalists and how we choose to use it. Regardless of our status in the newsroom, we all make editorial decisions from the micro (e.g. how we choose to light an interview) to the macro (e.g. how we choose to present controversial issues). I am heartened by the number of web sites and outlets that have found a winning formula for producing relevant content and finding a wide audience. We often struggle to replicate this in local TV news, but I see examples all the time that push back my cynicism and strengthen my resolve.

Sometimes that’s the biggest hill to climb. I’m proud whenever I reach the summit.

svj-cover-2

The Solo Video Journalist is available for purchase. You can find it on AmazonBarnes & Noble, and the publisher’s web site.

Matt Pearl is the author of the Telling the Story blog and podcast. Feel free to comment below or e-mail Matt at matt@tellingthestoryblog.com. You can also follow Matt on Facebook and Twitter.

I’ve read 30 nonfiction books in 12 months. These ten hit me most.

Before last summer, I always balked at the seemingly straightforward question, “Do you read a lot of books?”

Do I read books? Sure! Well, I always mean to. I start quite a few, but it’s been a while since I actually finished one. I just get so distracted, you know? I can never sit down for long enough – and consistently enough – to really get into one. I wish I read more. It’s what I should do, right? I’m an educated adult. I want to know more about the world. Heck, I’ve even written a book. Surely I should want to read them. But life is so busy. And reading too often feels like work. I can’t just sit down and enjoy books. I don’t have time. So I rush through them and barely remember them a week after I finish. Maybe I’ll just never be a “reader.” But I’m sure I’ll keep trying.

I condensed that inner monologue into a sheepish but socially acceptable, “Sure … every now and then.”

That changed when I soon had no choice.

Twelve months ago I began an MFA program in narrative nonfiction at the University of Georgia. In two weeks I’ll begin Year Two. And the curriculum requires me to read eight nonfiction books every semester – essentially two a month – in addition to crafting twelve long-form works of my own.

So I read constantly. I knew I would force myself during the semesters. I didn’t know I would feel compelled to keep reading when they ended. I submitted my final assignment for the year at the end of April. I have continued reading two months a book through mid-July. I read while I walk on the treadmill. I read while I relax on the couch. I even read select books aloud to my four-month-old daughter while I feed her. (I read her children’s books too. But when you use one hand to hold a bottle and the other to keep your child’s head in position, you appreciate being able to swipe a Kindle screen rather than hold open a hardcover board book.)

As a human being on this spinning planet, I appreciate the education and perspective I receive from an powerful book. But I also benefit as a journalist. I study how authors structure their stories, use words to convey emotions, and construct a scene without any visual aids. I recently listened to an episode of the Longform podcast where food correspondent Helen Rosner spoke about the difference between an author’s intention and reader’s perception. “It doesn’t matter what you say,” she said. “It only matters what they hear.” As a TV reporter and photojournalist, I must guide my viewer through a few minutes. A nonfiction writer must do so through hundreds of pages.

In the last year I have read writing of high quantity and, for the most part, high quality. I have been exposed to writers with different backgrounds, perspectives, and life experiences. Here were the ten that moved me the most:

(more…)