Tracy Breton: The dance of interviewing
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Tracy Breton: The dance of interviewing |
| Related: Part 2: The dance of interviewing Tracy Breton, who is a veteran reporter at the Providence Journal, recently was asked to talk about interviewing. Here is the talk that Tracy gave, which has been called "The Dance of Interviewing." Part two follows next week with a Question and Answer session about dealing with difficult sources and other fine points from the dance. Like most new reporters, I covered a city or town when I began. Many of my interviews have been friendly; many have been confrontational, where the story may cost a person his job or his freedom. Also, I've done the interviews no one wants to do, with victims of a tragedy. I try to get the essence of somebody's character, and as quickly as possible. We do what a psychiatrist does in a therapy session, and we're like an anthropologists — out there trying to understand a strange planet. Sometimes I take the rice-pudding approach. I sit back and become part of the furniture. But other times I may turn into more of an interrogator. People talk to a reporter for a variety of reasons: need, fear, vanity. Sometimes you're the only person interested in their problem, especially with elderly people. People really need to connect, and they want to tell their side of the story. A good icebreaker: ask the person you're interviewing to talk about his childhood, hobbies. For unfriendly interviews, I take a different approach. You have to get to the point as fast as possible. Interviewing is like a dance. One leads, the other follows. Sometimes people feel more comfortable if they think they're leading. I do as much background research as possible. I look at clips, and the clips in our morgue. I also look at public records. If you come in with a lot of knowledge about your subject, this can get a subject's respect and it can get them to open up. I go to my subject's turf as often as possible. You will get telling details from the home or office — more than a phone interview or an interview in a restaurant. I don't think it's a great idea to do an interview over a meal. In someone's house, you can see their taste in furnishing, their hobbies, their relations with kids, with animals — whether they have a life outside of work. I do a lot of looking around. You're not supposed to turn a blind eye to what you find. You've got to hang out with these people. Sometimes, you get your best stuff by observing what people do. Ask open-ended questions. Rarely do you need a yes-or-no question. Ask questions such as: —"Tell me about so and so." —"What does that mean?" —"How did that make you feel?" —"Let me hear your side of the story." Establish trust. Later, hone in on things you need to know. Sometimes, you need to let your subject lead you around the dance floor for a while; later, you can begin leading. The best interviews are when the subject is doing most of the talking. You're not there to impress them with what you know. It's better to start off nice. The intensity of the interview can accelerate as time goes on. Biographical questions are good icebreakers. When the person gets to the important part of the story, slow them down. Ask what they were doing, etc. Resist the temptation to fill in silences. When there's a silence, someone cries, stares at you — don't fill it in, don't leap in and say something. Time will go by, and they'll say it for you. I write down key questions in advance: a single word, or questions on cards. Sometimes I write up all my questions beforehand, especially if the person sets a time limit. I don't use a tape, unless the person will be nervous by my taking notes or if there's a threat of a lawsuit, or if I'm doing a question-answer session that will be published verbatim, or I know I'm going to use dialogue. But you don't want to bury your head in a notebook. You want to keep eye contact. There's a danger in being overprepared. Often, you have to throw your questions away. When they open up with new information, be prepared to punt your prepared questions. Dress appropriately. Wear what's going to make the subject comfortable. Don't talk too long. If the subject is tired, the interview will go badly. Break the interview into manageable time slots. With someone like the mother of a child killed by a drunk driver, I take a package of Kleenex. You're also being a person. Part of your job is being compassionate. You want to avoid the question: How did you feel? Ask them: Tell about your son as you would like him to be remembered. Ask to see a picture album, to see his bedroom. Interviewing a lawyer who has embezzled: bring documentary proof, confront him with it, do more steering. Keep asking the question again and again, but phrasing it differently. It's much more like an interrogation. Save the hardest questions till the end. People are giving you an interview for some reason: if they think their side of the story will sway you or they think they can change your mind. Don't argue with your subject. Don't interrupt except to ask for more details. Liars often give details. You can later reconstruct their story step by step. If a person is a victim, be sympathetic without offering advice. You have to be fair. You're not there to be a friend; you're there to get a story. Once you establish intimacy and trust, you don't have to ask many questions. Break up long questions into parts. Don't make the interview sound like a courtroom cross-examination. The exact wording of your question isn't that important, provided you get the right answer. You're not going to publish your question. You may want the person to tell you where they were standing, what was the victim wearing, what did she say. Stories often live or die on what you get the subject to say in the interview. Try to get them to talk. I'm the kind of person who genuinely likes talking to people. If you can't get information from people, and if you're not curious, you're not going to get a good story. Recommended reading: Gay Talese's profile of the boxer Floyd Patterson, originally in Esquire magazine, 1964. |
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