Searched, Searcher, Searching

Without further ado, I'm proud to present the return of the Copy Massage - Editor Evolved search term feature. Here are the phrases and words people used to find this blog over the last month. My comments follow.

how to write a stylebook entry
good friday massege
"true massage stories"
sucker abbreviate *
run the gauntlet gantlet
tasked a verb copyeditor **
philadelphia lost my copy of my GED
new republic david sedaris entire article
efforting definition
front page quote apostrophe gripe
efforting
how can I write farewell massage
Definition of the word efforting
"In their hearts, writers think of editors" ***
editor evolved
evolvEd editor
"concord monitor" pride

* I believe that would be suc.
** This copy editor says, "No, no, no!"
*** I only wish this were the case.

Quick Jab

Headline from Romenesko:

"Shafer's surprised more journalists aren't scolding Sedaris"

My reply:

That's because David Sedaris is not a journalist. Duh.

Ridiculous

Normally, I am a stalwart defender of truth, accuracy and the American Way of Journalism. But this tempest in a teapot over David Sedaris strikes me as a waste of energy and sense.

To recap:

The New Republic reports, shockingly, that the humorist's essays are not all 100 percent true.

Slate's Jack Shafer, known for never having any fun, ever, accordingly scolds Sedaris.

The News and Observer (from Sedaris' native neck of the woods) pooh-poohs the entire matter.

The New Republic article's author then fired off a broadside to Romenesko.

So that's where we stand. And it's all ridiculous and stupid.

Anyone who has ever so much as read a page of David Sedaris knows he exaggerates. What's more, that exaggeration (sometimes fabrication) is one of the appealing parts of reading him. You constantly shift between believing and doubting his accounts. That queasy tension between the real and fabricated defines his method.

And, he's not a journalist. Let's repeat that. He's not a journalist. He's a humorous essayist. What's more, he's a humorous essayist who has constantly made it clear that his writing contains extremely exaggerated accounts of events.

So let this go, please. Go chase the next plaugurizing college reporter.

Kurt Eichenwald Speaks!

And boy, is he unhappy. Read his lengthy letter to Romenesko here.

Right now, I'll let him speak for himself. But I do find it dispiriting when a journalist -- someone committed to open, public inquiry -- talks of suing others for libel.

More on Eichenwald

In a comment below, Tom Mangan raises some good points on my post. This is what he had to say:

Clay, have you seriously asked yourself what you'd have done?

Which comes first, your " journalistic ethics" (a concept widely ridiculed as an oxymoron) or the perfectly normal human urge to protect a child from exploitation?

High ideals sound fine in theory but in reality I'm thinking I'd have done something like what Eichenwald did. He should've told his bosses and should've handed off the story and, yeah, he shouldn't have written the story w/out revealing the money issue.

But if he'd have stood aside and said he was a journalist first and the kid was just going to have to hope somebody else helps him out, he might've been an "ethical journalist" but what kind of person would he be?

Sorry, but I flat reject the notion that if you want to help people you should find another line of work. That's why most of us get into this biz.

I replied to this below, but I'll post the reply here, too. I want to make clear, for the record, that I went into journalism to help people. The issue, perhaps, is how we offer that help.

I wrote "help someone in that way." And by that, I mean a direct payment to someone you're writing about.

Most journalists, including myself, do what we do because of its public service function. I don't think that's wrong -- that's the basis of our craft.

But I do think there's a line in what we do -- the line that keeps journalists removed from the public arena as actors. And I think Eichenwald crossed it. He was doing good work as a person -- but perhaps not as a journalist.

Let's put it this way. If all he did was help the teen find a lawyer, loan him some money and otherwise help him out of the situation, that would be fine. I would applaud him. He was being a good person.

But Eichenwald then decided to write a story about it. He didn't give it to someone else on the Times to write about. He didn't tell his editors he felt too personally compromised to write about the boy. No -- he wrote the story and accepted the plaudits that went along with it.

In some ways, that was a selfish act.

This also isn't getting into some of the problems with the story itself and the associated trials and publicity around it.

I could write an entirely different post about that, but perhaps the article ran too long ago.

Folks will look at this issue in different ways. Journalism often forces us to make moral choices -- and the judgment we have to live with, ultimately, is our own.

No, No, No

No, "former New York Times reporter Kurt Eichenwald," you do not lend a source $2,000. You do not forget to mention this to your editors. You do not do it, even if, as you tell a reporter, "we were gambling 2,000 on the possibility of saving a kid's life."

It is not our responsibility to save lives. It is our responsibility to inform people, and then allow them to make those decisions themselves. We do not pay them to do so.

That this ex-Timesman feels his loan is no big deal, that he can still defend his actions --

It makes me lose my train of thought.

But it compromises Eichenwald's reporting. It compromises his story. It compromises discussion of the very real issue (teen sex exploitation) raised by his work. If you want to help someone in that way, take social work classes and look for a new career. Really.

Story via Romenesko.

Leaving Fingerprints

Editors want to leave them. They want a sign that they read that story, by God. I understand.

But resist.

Just because you can change a reporter's story doesn't mean that you should. Just because you can tweak and alter every sentence doesn't mean you should. Resist, editors of the world. You have nothing to lose but your nitpicks.

Understand, I'm not defending errors. You should ferret those out and exterminate them like ... er ... ferrets. But if you can't tell the difference between your favorite nitpick and an honest-to-God mistake, then you need some time alone.

Editors play a peculiar role in newsrooms, after all.

A huge amount of copy flows across our computer screens, yet we don't write it. We often design layouts for that copy, but we don't physically print the newspaper. We write headlines, sure, but those are then subjected to the stern glances of our peers. They often (thankfully) make us redo them.

We have great potential power. Yet, if the machinery of the newsroom flows correctly, we don't use much of it.

But we want to use it. Oh, how we want to leave something of ours on a story. So we pick something, something petty. We make all attributions "Jones said" rather than "said Jones." We decide to eliminate all semicolons. We decide no paragraph can be longer than three sentences and enforce our will ruthlessly.

Each of these nitpicks can be defended. (I'm sympathetic to all of those examples.) But after we spend our energy and time making these changes, how much better is the story? Even the most grouchy among us will admit: not very.

So hold back. Restrain yourselves. Make the changes that need to be made. Find the real mistakes. Rework the bad writing. Communicate and collaborate with reporters. Make the stories better.

Don't leave your fingerprints all over something just because you can.