a peek inside the fishbowl

I learned a lot about journalism when I was studying at Carleton. My four years there included a lot of communications theory but also a lot of very practical lessons in how to interview people and craft a story, but one of the most valuable things I learned about the interviewing and writing process didn’t happen during my time at school, it happened years after I left.

One of my first freelance articles was for a restaurant trade magazine. This was many years ago, but I was asked to cover a chef’s conference in Gatineau. I knew very little about food, and even less about the food scene. I was painfully aware that this article, seeing as it was for a trade magazine, would be read by people who know more than I will ever know about the business.

And so, with notebook and a pen (and about a dozen spares in my purse) I showed up at this conference. I was sick with anxiety, in fact, I arrived painfully early and hid in the bathroom for the first little while. After cowering in a stall for who knows how long, I gave myself scolding, sucked it up, and forced myself to march out into the conference. There was a huge escalator in the foyer – I remember all these men going up and down – almost immediately I fell into step with one of the few women who was there. Later on I sat down with her for a chat about the challenges of being a female chef in a male dominated industry. Surprisingly, it was pretty painless.

My biggest problem wasn’t my inexperience. I figured I could write something good, but I afraid of looking like a total idiot. And so, as I went around the room, I decided it was okay to admit that I didn’t know very much about the restaurant business. Amazingly, it worked. I’d walk up to someone and introduce myself as a freelancer working on an article for such-and-such magazine. Then I would ask them to tell me what was new, what it was like to be a chef, what conference sessions they were excited about, and what their biggest issues were in the restaurant business. I never pretended I knew about the industry, in fact, I said outright that I know next to nothing but that I was very interested. And you know what? Everyone I spoke to was so kind to me, and patiently explained what I needed to know. Everyone was cool, and I had no reason to be worried or afraid.

I’m had lots of time to think about my experience since then and I learned a couple of excellent lessons that day. (1) Never pretend to be smarter than you are. If you don’t know something, admit it, otherwise you run the risk of looking very foolish. (2) Most people are very happy to talk about themselves and about their passions. So if you ask good questions and pay attention, your story will practically write itself.