1st
TELL ME A STORY
Every writer is afraid of one thing: Losing the ability to tell a story. In the end, that’s all our job boils down to. Self-doubt, though, can be a tricky thing. It can cause even the most confident people to lose faith in their most inherent gifts. The writing process is one that lends itself all too easily to this self-doubt. When I write, a blank Microsoft Word document stares back at me. Every time — without fail — fear sets in. My mind loudly shouts at me, “Will this be the time the words won’t come?”
That thought was never more prevalent in my mind than on the night of Sept. 18, 2010. Ninth-ranked Iowa had just lost to No. 24 Arizona in unspeakable fashion. A blocked punt. A botched extra point. A failed defensive stop late in the game. Each of these led to the Hawkeyes’ demise in the desert that evening. What’s both funny and terrifying, though, is that I could tell you why Iowa lost, but I just couldn’t write it — at least not initially — which was a problem since that’s why I was in Arizona in the first place.
I was the only reporter at the game for The Daily Iowan — the ever-present financial struggles of the newspaper industry kept us from sending more. My task was to write two 600-word stories on an as-soon-as-possible deadline and two more stories the next day. This was nothing new — at least not the deadline reporting. Writing about college football and basketball since my sophomore year, I quickly learned to apply the wisdom of UCLA basketball coach John Wooden to my job — “Be quick, but don’t hurry.”
But on that night, nothing would come to my mind. Not a crafty lede. Not an untold storyline. Not an interesting anecdote. When I opened Microsoft Word, that same blank screen stared back at me. Will this be the time the words won’t come? Eventually the words — almost 2,500 of them between the four stories — came. And I stayed up all night writing.
Still, the self-doubt is there. The doubt is not because of a lack of confidence or ability. It’s just part of the profession. It has been there during every one of my jobs and internships. At ESPN.com, I wondered whether I could successfully ghostwrite for several notable baseball analysts. At The Washington Times, I wondered whether I should be trusted with David Falk’s incredible story of being an NBA super agent. AtThe National Football Post, I wondered whether I deserved such a platform to express my opinions.
On a certain level, I’ll always be afraid of losing the ability to tell a story. But every time that thought creeps into my head, I remember all of those times where that blank Microsoft Word document was filled with such ease. I remember how my story on Iowa’s Julian Vandervelde uncovered an untold storyline in the over-reported realm of Hawkeye football. I remember how my feature on Falk garnered national awards. And I remember how my work at ESPN.com was met with approval, acceptance, and even accolades. Yes, the doubt is always going to be there. But there’s no greater feeling than telling a good story. I’d certainly hate for a little fear to get in the way of that.
CONTACT: scott.tierney89@gmail.com
