RichSuburbNews
New Member
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2005
- Messages
- 23
First off, thanks to everyone who made comments on the first two stories I posted here. I could probably flood the board with fair-to-middling stories to be dissected, but I'd rather have what I think is my best work be put under the microscope -- it helps keep me humble.
So here's a story that sort of dropped into my lap. I was set to cover a regional basketball tournament for one of my three weekly papers when I discovered, a day before the event, that one of the players on a team that competed in my team's district was killed in a car accident. Now I feel like doing a story on what's sure to be an incredibly emotional game for this team, even though they're nearly 100 miles from my paper's circulation zone and only tangically connected to the school I cover. Sort of like a firehouse dog who barks when the alarm goes off.
Go there, the mourning team wins, a lot of emotion. I don't know who I'm writing for yet, but it's got to be written. Pitch the story the next morning to the Richmond Times-Dispatch (we're both Media General brethern), and their sports editor bites and finds a spot in today's editon for it. Obviously I'm happy to be published at a big-time paper, but now I want to see if I could have done this better. My big regret thus far: I didn't get a chance to talk to the mom.
Spare nothing: I'm not going to get any better unless I know where I did well AND where I strayed from the path.
(story follows)
So here's a story that sort of dropped into my lap. I was set to cover a regional basketball tournament for one of my three weekly papers when I discovered, a day before the event, that one of the players on a team that competed in my team's district was killed in a car accident. Now I feel like doing a story on what's sure to be an incredibly emotional game for this team, even though they're nearly 100 miles from my paper's circulation zone and only tangically connected to the school I cover. Sort of like a firehouse dog who barks when the alarm goes off.
Go there, the mourning team wins, a lot of emotion. I don't know who I'm writing for yet, but it's got to be written. Pitch the story the next morning to the Richmond Times-Dispatch (we're both Media General brethern), and their sports editor bites and finds a spot in today's editon for it. Obviously I'm happy to be published at a big-time paper, but now I want to see if I could have done this better. My big regret thus far: I didn't get a chance to talk to the mom.
Spare nothing: I'm not going to get any better unless I know where I did well AND where I strayed from the path.
(story follows)