EDITOR’S NOTE: This essay is a share from our friends at The Poynter Institute, with gratitude. By Roy Peter Clark All good writers play with words, even when they write about grave matters. The device that makes such word … Read more
By Line Vaaben Much of my shaping as a journalist traces back 25 years, when I covered a deadly fire in Sweden. But it wasn’t until I returned to the scene a quarter-century later that I realized how the … Read more
EDITOR’S NOTE: Thomas Gibbons-Neff served with the U.S. Marines in Afghanistan; he now writes for The New York Times, covering the war in Ukraine. Karl Marlantes served with the U.S. Marines in Vietnam; he … Read more
By Fern Reiss I’ve been both accepted and rejected by Nature Magazine. For the same submission. It all started when I met a bumblebee veterinarian at the UPOD Writer’s Conference this past January. Some people keep a bucket … Read more
EDITOR’S NOTE: From the archives, an essay by an Indigenous journalist, inspired by a story by another, about the myths of Thanksgiving and its white-bread centerpiece: turkey. By Jason Begay It happens enough in my life that I have … Read more
EDITOR’S NOTE: This essay is from the archives. If you celebrate American Thanksgiving, I hope it was grand and that you have some leftover pie. By Dustin Renwick One Saturday morning several years ago, during a substantial storm, my … Read more
By Christian Wihtol Eight years ago, the Oregon newspaper where I then worked hired a new publisher. One of his first acts was to start calling our journalism “content.” At news meetings he made declarations along the lines of: … Read more
By Herbert Lowe In my favorite moment of the 25-minute documentary, “Reporting From the U.S. Civil Rights Trail,” one of my students is descending church steps in Alabama to do a TV standup: All eyes were on Birmingham, … Read more
By Michael Ollove I couldn’t bring myself to speak to Stephen King. That Stephen King. The Titan of Terror. The Behemoth of the Bestseller List. Maine’s Master of the Macabre. I had him in my sights, and I let … Read more
By Lauren Kessler We’re sitting on folding chairs around a scarred table, the linoleum veneer curling at the edges, in an airless, windowless room. It’s me and nine men, ranging in age from 38 to 81, all of whom, … Read more