Before an article can be written, there must be an interview and initial contact. Because this internship consists of interviewing/contacting faculty members at FSU and professionals in Tallahassee, presenting a respectful, professional image in all correspondence is important.
Email Tips
1. Include a short, descriptive subject line. [This is really important because everyone's email Inbox is crowded, and you want yours to grab the person's attention.]
2. Use appropriate titles for first contact and any subsequent contact, unless the professor/interview subject gives you the OK to be more casual. For example, use “Dear Dr. X” when contacting professors. Graduate students, even Ph.D. students, are not yet officially “doctors,” but go ahead and use that title when emailing them anyway. The courtesy will get you off to a good start with them.
***It is always safe to use "Professor" if unsure about faculty titles***
Faculty webpage: https://english.fsu.edu/people/faculty (can use to look up appropriate titles etc)
3. Don't sound too demanding with your request for a specific time to conduct the interview. [See below for possible ways to word this part.]
4. Wait at least two days before sending a follow-up email if you don't get a response to the first one. Then follow up with something along the lines of, "Hello again, Dr. X. I am following up on the email I sent to you on Monday. Please let me know if you are OK with the story idea and interview process." Or something similar, depending on the circumstances.
5. When you are finalizing the interview time, inform the person that you would like to have photographs for the posted article, and ask them if it is OK to take them during the interview. This also allows the person to wear appropriate clothes or look nice, if they choose to do so.
Sample Email
Dear Dr./Professor [last name],
My name is _______, and I am a writer for the Department of English, working this semester with Jack Clifford. He asked me to reach out to you about an article I am writing for the English department website. The article is [one of these options or something similar: a profile of you, if you are comfortable with participating; a profile of *someone else* and I hope you can supply a few quotes about the person’s work; a feature article about (a department/university-related topic) and I hope you can supply a few supporting quotes for the article.] I would like to set up a time to meet with you to discuss the [article’s topic/purpose of the interview], if you are OK with being quoted.
I can meet in person with you at your convenience, although I am not available at these times: _____. [This is important info to include so you don't get into a back-and-forth email exchange with the person: "Can you meet Monday at 10 a.m?" "No, I have class. What about that day at 2 p.m.?" "Oh, I teach then. What about..." Frustrating for both of you.] Thank you in advance for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you.
Best regards/whatever email sign off you use,
[your name]
Interviewing Tips
Interviewing: Accelerated Intimacy by Isabel Wilkerson (from Telling True Stories)
I don't do much interviewing in the Mike Wallace sense of the word. In a story about a ten-year-old, the goal isn't nailing the kid to the wall. You don't go up to a ninety-year-old and say, "Isn't it true that on November 18, 1942, you got a parking ticket on Forty-third Street?" My work involves spending a lot of time with ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. It requires a different kind of interviewing, a different kind of relating to the subject.
I need to create what I call accelerated intimacy. We can't write the beautiful narrative stories that we all dream of unless we can get some things from the mouths of our sources. They must be comfortable enough to tell us anything. In journalism school, no one called the interactions between journalists and sources relationships, but that's what they are. In thinking about these relationships, think also about your role relative to the subject's role. To help win the subject over, I try to make the most of my own traits and define a natural relationship between the source and me. The average age of the people I'm interviewing for my book is eighty-six. I come to them as a granddaughter.
To achieve accelerated intimacy I only do formal interviews when essential. I do everything I can to make my subjects feel comfortable enough to talk with me. I still ask questions—lots of them. I try to be a great audience. I nod; I look straight into their eyes; I laugh at their jokes, whether I think they're funny or not. I am serious when they're serious.
I think of these as guided conversations. The overall interaction is more important than the particular questions. I try to make the interaction as enjoyable as possible. No one wants to be grilled for hours on end. A formal interview isn't conducive to soul baring.
People often compare interviewing to peeling an onion. Though it's a cliche, the metaphor is instructive. Picture the onion. Its outer layer is dry and brittle. You tear off the outer layer and throw it away. The next layer is shiny, rubbery, limp, and sometimes has a tinge of green. You won't use it, either, unless it's the only onion you have. You want the center of the onion: It is crisp and pungent and has the sharpest, truest flavor. It's the very best part. It requires very little slicing because it's already small, compact. The size and quality are so perfect that you can just toss it right into whatever you're making.
The same goes for the interview process. The first thing out of a source's mouth is often of little use. It's the outer layer. Whenever we sit down with a person, we want to get to the center of the onion as fast as we can. That's accelerated intimacy. Every interview, every relationship built with a source, has a predictable arc. That arc progresses through seven phases. Each phase holds pitfalls. If we want people to tell us what's really on their minds, we need to make sure we don't give up before the seventh phase.
Phase One: Introduction
It all begins with the introduction. You flag a person down on the street, or you call and explain what you're doing, or you walk in the front door. You pull out your notebook. The person is busy. The peron doesn't want to talk. The person wants to get rid of you.
Phase Two: Adjustment
You are feeling each other out. You ask the basic introductory questions to start the ball rolling. If you're on a deadline, you're thinking: "Am I getting what I need?" The person you are interviewing is thinking, "Do I really want to talk to this person? Do I have the time for this?" The source is getting used to the note-taking. He or she is looking at your notebook; you're looking at your watch.
Phase Three: Moment of Connection
You must make a connection with this person to accelerate getting to know her. You know you're making that connection when the person puts down the briefcase and leans back in the chair. The subject thinks, "Maybe this won't be that bad. I'll give it a little more time."
A lot of interviews are cut off at the very first stages when the interviewer isn't getting much. The subject hasn't yet set the briefcase down. You might think you already have a serviceable quote, but the first thing out of someone's mouth is rarely worthwhile. It is difficult to be interviewed, so give people a chance to get their thoughts together. Sometimes people need three or four chances to get it right. That next try can create poetry.
Phase Four: Settling In
In this settling-in phase the person finds that she is kind of enjoying the interaction. You both settle into what could be a very shortterm relationship.
Phase Five: Revelation
At this point the source feels comfortable enough to reveal something very candid or deep. The source can't believe she's saying this to you. It is a very good sign, but not necessarily in the way you might expect. Often, what the person says is important to her but has no meaning for you. It has nothing to do with what you're writing about. Still, it suggests a turning point in the person's sense of trust. It's a sign that the reporter may now be able to get what she really wants.
Phase Six: Deceleration
Things begin to wind down. You may feel you already have the best you can get from the intenriew. You try to bring closure. You put your notebook away. And what happens? The source doesn't want the interview to end, because the two of you have a contract: You're a reporter, and you listen to the source.
Phase Seven: Reinvigoration
The source feels free to say almost anything and now makes the very best revelation of the inteniew. Suddenly, with the notebook closed, the source has grown to trust you, without even realizing it. In this final phase you have that person in the mood to actively cooperate. You have reached the center of the onion. Make the most of that moment—it's fleeting. If you get back to the newsroom and realize you should have asked something else, it won't be the same if you call back. The relationship will have changed.
This entire exchange, this seven-phase arc, can take five minutes or five hours or five months. It is the same whether you are working on a daily article or a book.
How does the reporter handle this fast-developing candor? Don't ever lead your sources—that really gets you in trouble. If you are leading and think you know what the story is, and you write it and it's not right, it will come back to haunt you.
In the ideal interview, the source feels comfortable enough to share with me all the details of an experience. I just listen. That is the ideal, but it's rarely that simple. Just as you have motives for doing the interview, your subject does, too. No one ever talks to the press without some ulterior motive: a celebrity promoting a movie, a candidate running for office, or someone seeking catharsis.
We must have tremendous humility as we interview, and also understand the enormity of what our sources are doing when they talk to us. Sometimes they don't even realize it themselves. For my book I plucked people from relative anonymity. I feel a tremendous responsibility and obligation to tell their stories accurately—and not just accurately but in a fair and balanced way. Your own sense of integrity, honesty, and empathy matters more than anything. Empathy is the balance to power. Power without empathy leaves you with manipulation—a horrible thing.
There is a tremendous power differential between the reporter and the ordinary individuals we write about. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have your life story displayed across the front page of the New York Times, above the fold, on a Sunday, with over a million people having access to your most intimate thoughts. Most of us wouldn't submit to such a thing. I have tremendous gratitude for the people who do that. It is important to honor the people who allow themselves to be representatives of something larger in our society. Their return is very small compared to what they give us.