For a tech executive interview series I produce, I always open with the same first question: What was your first job, and what did it teach you that you still use today?
(It’s usually the best answer of the interview.)
Recently I flipped that question on myself: 20+ years ago, I learned how to write obituaries. My first (industry) job was in print journalism, reporting for the Staten Island Advance — a local newspaper with flare; a daily reflection of the weirdest borough in New York City; a source of neighborhood pride.
And the deal was when you started out as an intern reporter there, you wrote obituaries, at least one a day, sometimes as many as three… assigned round the clock and handed out like sad, dark candy.
So what did writing obituaries every single day for my first months in journalism teach me?
Obviously…
Start with the core: the 5 Ws.
The core, the backbone, the formula of any news article: Who, what, where, when, why (and how).
There was a formula for writing obituaries too. We had questions developed to get at the core of a person’s life, to come out with a concrete slice of their story — with as much personality shining through as we could dig at with the 5Ws and more.
Outlines and questioning are not just for news though. They are for any content, any assignment, any project management you embark on, in professional or personal life. With an outline developed to hit at the core of what your communicating/building/leading, you get closer to pinpointing the real essence of a person or story or outcome — and hopefully some takeaway, some fact or point or inspiration you get to keep when it’s done.
Hopefully…
There is something notable about everybody.
There are all these lives lived every day — and each of those lives is full of details. And while not all the details add up to something memorable, when handled with open eyes and caring and insightfulness — you can turn it into something that someone else is excited to read about or inspired by.
I have this thing where — when something is ugly or unmemorable, I enjoy the task of seeking out the beauty in it, sometimes staring at it till I find it. Maybe it’s the way a line curves on a dress pattern, or finding a new appreciation for an unattractive color. We’re all the same — any person you see on the street, the cashier that seemed nasty at checkout, your kid’s classmate who drives you insane. We all have multiple angles to us, and some of those point to some really noteworthy, interesting, inspiring things. Don’t wait for obituary time to find it. Turn everyone notable and gain insights from what makes them so (and watch the power of your empathy grow).
Surprisingly…
There’s an audience for everything.
Why were we junior reporters writing obituaries every working day?
Being a community-oriented paper, the Staten Island Advance published an obit about any Staten Islander who passed away — even if they moved on from the borough before their death. We’d be alerted of who died by getting reports from the funeral homes, which meant we were cold calling grieving families to gently ask for some insight into their loved one’s life. Many were taken aback, many had to take a few quiet moments to reflect while I waited on the other end of the line, but most understood this was a last chance for their loved one to occupy space in the living world.
The third thing obituary writing taught me was — for every person, every topic — chances are there’s an audience. Maybe it’s a micro-audience of a spouse, a daughter or son, or a full extended family, or maybe a whole community that knew this person watering their garden on Saturdays, or volunteering at the Church bake sale, or manning the election polls every other year. Someone out there is invested in this human’s memory, and even on the most local of levels, an audience exists.
In a way, it was a higher honor to create a printed account of a person’s life when the audience for it was numerically miniscule. The importance of the work only felt intimately… larger.
So back to my original question — it’s your turn:
