The essay that win me a spot to the American Society of Newspaper Editors conference...
Recently, a student colleague at The Daily Athenaeum interviewed me for an advanced reporting class. I guess my story – a Vietnamese student studying journalism at West Virginia University – sounds like an interesting feature to her.
She asked me basic questions: why I come to Morgantown, is it difficult to work as a copy editor, do I have American friends and so on. The assignment requires her to observe me for days.
Being a reporter myself, I tried to give her good quotes. After we talked for about an hour, she decided that was enough to write her assignment.
I realize she missed the real story: What motivated a Vietnamese student to study journalism in America? Why did I expend all of my efforts to learn copy editing, reporting and writing?
In his book, “Writing for Story: Craft Secrets of Dramatic Nonfiction,” Jon Franklin wrote that most newspaper stories are “endings without beginnings attached” and that “they are not, in and of themselves, stories. They are, instead, tip-offs…clues to stories.”
I give much credit to print journalists. Not having the visibility power of a broadcast journalist, newspaper writers have to work a lot harder to keep readers’ attention. It’s difficult to convey emotions solely through words.
And yet, writers like Jon Franklin knew how to do it.
His masterpiece, “The Ballad of Old Man Peters,” is more than a story of a man who masters six languages. “It’s a powerful saga of human aspirations, of man against both himself and the world,” Franklin wrote.
Like Franklin, I want to be able to recognize stories in life and write them in a way that readers will remember, even after they put the newspaper down.
When I first came to the United States six years ago, the power of the American media – its role as an advocate for the community – sparked a passion for a journalism career. The current lowered public respect for the U.S. media cannot lessen all the sacrifices American journalists have taken to inform and protect people’s rights.
Working for a foreign media organization is the only way I can report on issues that are pertain to developing nations: corruption, poverty, AIDS, lack of education.
That has been my goal ever since.
Someday, I wish Vietnam would embrace press freedom, and understand that citizens have and need the right to express themselves.
After three years studying and practicing journalism, I realize news don’t always have to be bad. As journalists, we have the obligation to spread compassion, not skepticism. Stories about normal folks can also have a positive effect on a neighborhood, and make people realize that there are hopes – amid fires or disasters.
Why choose journalism?
There’s pride in seeing your byline every day, I admit. But there’s also pride in knowing that you can help somebody simply by writing. After reporting on Lund Family Center, a social service agency in Burlington, Vt., I received a thank-you card from a mother.
I love talking to people, listening to their lives and knowing how they overcome obstacles. I love deadline pressure, coming to work not knowing what will happen that day.
Because of the Internet, newspapers are struggling to keep circulation. But I believe no technology can replace the craft of reporting and writing. Readers will listen as long as we know how to tell stories.
While attending the Associated Press Diverse Voices workshop for student journalists in Cleveland, I found myself struggling to find the meaning of this profession.
My mentor, a photojournalist from AP Indianapolis, said to me and another student: “Journalism is not about winning prizes, it’s about recording people’s lives.”
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Ingredients for a perfect day
Favorite memories
Plenty of smiles
Some time for yourself
Happiness
Fresh air
Laughter
Good food
great friends
... and may I add: front-page stories?
Plenty of smiles
Some time for yourself
Happiness
Fresh air
Laughter
Good food
great friends
... and may I add: front-page stories?
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Listening to the 2006 Pulitzer Prize winner in feature writing
I knew it was going to be emotional. And in fact, it was very emotional to hear Jim Sheeler, the reporter from the Rocky Moutain News and the 2006 Pulitzer Prize winner in feature writing, spoke at West Virginia University tonight.
And I have to write this down right away because I'm afraid these emotions will go away.
He cried almost during the entire talk, which lasts about 1 hour and a half. He literally choked up in front of the microphone. I could feel it. I could feel he didn't prepare to lecture us nor to give a power point presentation.
He looked a little different from the picture, but so frazzled. You feel like because he has so many emotions inside; it's like he's gonna collapse someday. And this sounds stupid, but I really feel like I want to hug him so bad.
So, I managed to ask two questions. But what I learn from his talk? I learn that besides having a talent to do this kind of stories, you need a heart. An obnoxious reporter who competes for fame and headline, and front page stories will never be able to come up with such a masterpiece. He didn't write it for the Pulitzer Prize.
I read that story, the Final Salute, so many times. When I wrote the piano student story, I pulled Jim Sheeler's story on the side of my computer, so that I could use the verbs, the words, and could put that much emotions into my story as well.
I used to want to become a business reporter. Just because covering finance, banking sounds important and cool. After last summer, and ever since, I change my direction to be a feature writer. It takes personality and characters to do this kind of story. Maybe I have these characters, quite, shy, frazzled, emotional.
I was gonna ask him for an autograph. But I decided not to. He would probably think I'm one of those people who come hear him talk because of the Pulitzer Prize. I don't feel that he needs to hear how I love his work.
He knew his work has already been loved...
Morgantown, W. Va.,
11: 17 p.m.
Monday, March 05, 2007
When friendships fall...
I am the type of person who has never or will never have a lot of friends. That's OK because I'm shy. But so far, I don't understand why I probably am the only person who has that many friendships fall apart. Am I annoying? It hurts really bad, especially today.
- Take Hannah. She was very very nice to me when we took JOU 308 together. We went out to meals, practicing driving, drinking. I love talking to her about journalism. She just got into it. So I thought she loved talking about it too. I was jealous that she got the internship in Washington, D.C., but that was it. We met again in Burlington and I thought everything was cool. I was alone in Burlington so having a friend over was what I really loved. She left Burlington and we promised to see each other again in D.C. Four months without hearing from her. And then an reply e-mail came in September, saying that I was the most annoying friend she had and she had no intention of having me as a friend. And that she was sick of me complaining. Why didn't tell me in Burlington? Why later? Why ignoring my phone calls?
- Then Nam, whom I thought was a very close high school friend. Last semester, we hit it off perfectly well. We were even planning for a get together in Florida during Christmas. Now, he did not return my call nor my email even though I am moving to Austin.
- Then Lingbing. Though we are not friend, she was the first person I knew in Morgantown. At least, we had 1 day driving around Morgantown when I first came here to do paperwork. After asking her to help me with my photo assignment, and she refused, I apologized, and now she ignored seeing me at one of the j-school events tonight.
- Then Jenna. my roommate, whom I thought we hit well for the first 6 months. Suddenly, saying Hi is awkward and ignoring my presence is what she does.
My big question to me is WHY PEOPLE HATE ME THIS MUCH?
- Take Hannah. She was very very nice to me when we took JOU 308 together. We went out to meals, practicing driving, drinking. I love talking to her about journalism. She just got into it. So I thought she loved talking about it too. I was jealous that she got the internship in Washington, D.C., but that was it. We met again in Burlington and I thought everything was cool. I was alone in Burlington so having a friend over was what I really loved. She left Burlington and we promised to see each other again in D.C. Four months without hearing from her. And then an reply e-mail came in September, saying that I was the most annoying friend she had and she had no intention of having me as a friend. And that she was sick of me complaining. Why didn't tell me in Burlington? Why later? Why ignoring my phone calls?
- Then Nam, whom I thought was a very close high school friend. Last semester, we hit it off perfectly well. We were even planning for a get together in Florida during Christmas. Now, he did not return my call nor my email even though I am moving to Austin.
- Then Lingbing. Though we are not friend, she was the first person I knew in Morgantown. At least, we had 1 day driving around Morgantown when I first came here to do paperwork. After asking her to help me with my photo assignment, and she refused, I apologized, and now she ignored seeing me at one of the j-school events tonight.
- Then Jenna. my roommate, whom I thought we hit well for the first 6 months. Suddenly, saying Hi is awkward and ignoring my presence is what she does.
My big question to me is WHY PEOPLE HATE ME THIS MUCH?
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Feeling the music - the best story I've written
By Huong Le
Staff Writer of The Daily Athenaeum
MORGANTOWN – Sitting inside one of the tuning rooms at the Creative Arts Center, pianist Yew Choong Cheong started his normal daily routine.
He pressed one high-pitched note hard and said: “Do you hear the wavelength? I just listen for the vibration of the note.”
He then turned his attention to the graph shown on his laptop, which was placed on the piano’s right side. Computer software draws the graph, which then tells him if the string needs to be loosened or tightened.
That’s how the 28-year-old doctorate piano student has been tuning pianos for the past three years despite losing much of his hearing.
Cheong can’t hear extreme high notes.
When he plays complicated pieces, especially those of master composers like Tchaikovsky or Liszt, these high notes fall apart.
In three weeks, the West Virginia University student will have the honor of playing at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. As one of the four award recipients from around the world, Cheong will also receive a $5,000 scholarship from VSA arts. The organization was formed in 1974 to promote the learning and performing of arts among people with disabilities.
“I’m very surprised. I’m honored. It’s the biggest achievement in my life,” Cheong said with a smile.
Classical piano has never come easy for Cheong, who now has only about 30 percent of his hearing.
When he was nine years old, Cheong did not respond normally when his mother or sister called. The family took him to the hospital in his hometown, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and found out that a viral infection had damaged his left ear.
He has been wearing a hearing aid ever since. That little piece of equipment attached to the left ear used to make the young Cheong feel embarrassed in front of other children.
“I used to be very quiet and shy. When I was a child, everyone said ‘what’s that?’ It made me feel like I was an alien. Now, I’m already ‘immune’ to people’s curiosity about my hearing aid, let alone my hearing problem,” he said.
Five years ago, through acupuncture therapy, Cheong thought he had recovered from hearing loss.
But things became worse.
“I don’t know how it happened. One day, when I woke up, the sound just got softer, softer and softer,” he said. “By the afternoon, everything was off.”
The doctors said it was a nerve condition. They discouraged him from pursuing a music career.
“Why I don’t change to other majors? Music is too deep in my blood. I simply cannot imagine living without playing music,” Cheong said.
In 2003, Cheong was selected to perform in WVU’s annual Young Artists Auditions, and played Tchaikovsky’s “Concerto No. 1” with the WVU Symphony Orchestra.
Over the years, the young pianist has collected more than 2,500 music recordings, because he wants to improve by listening to other pianists.
With the hearing aid, Cheong can still hear most of what he plays.
Cheong’s music professor, Peter Amstutz, said all musicians struggle to find the balance between the inner sound – what the artist wants to hear – and the outer sound – what actually comes out of the instrument.
“We strive constantly to adjust the way we produce the outer sound so that it is ‘in tune with’ the ideal imagine of our inner sound,” Amstutz said. “Yew Choong has learned to do that very sensitively in the ranges of instrument that he can hear physically. And he is able to apply those feelings and the physical techniques to all registers of the piano.”
There are moments of overwhelming frustration for Cheong: not being able to call someone on the phone; not hearing music clearly in concerts; not being able to follow other students in group discussions or being lost in music lectures.
For daily conversation, he tries hard to listen to others by reading their lips -- a technique Cheong considers to be “self-taught.” Still, distinguishing between “c,” “s” and “z” sounds remain difficult. “When you have a disability, you just have to work around it,” he said.
Back at the Creative Arts Center, Cheong is now practicing between two and three hours a day for his upcoming performance in Washington, D.C., where he will perform “Piano Variations” by Aaron Copland and “Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6” by Franz Liszt.
“When I play in the concert, I simply think of no words, as taught by my professor, but just music,” he said. “I always ‘hear’ music in my mind ‘in advance’ before I play the notes.”
Staff Writer of The Daily Athenaeum
MORGANTOWN – Sitting inside one of the tuning rooms at the Creative Arts Center, pianist Yew Choong Cheong started his normal daily routine.
He pressed one high-pitched note hard and said: “Do you hear the wavelength? I just listen for the vibration of the note.”
He then turned his attention to the graph shown on his laptop, which was placed on the piano’s right side. Computer software draws the graph, which then tells him if the string needs to be loosened or tightened.
That’s how the 28-year-old doctorate piano student has been tuning pianos for the past three years despite losing much of his hearing.
Cheong can’t hear extreme high notes.
When he plays complicated pieces, especially those of master composers like Tchaikovsky or Liszt, these high notes fall apart.
In three weeks, the West Virginia University student will have the honor of playing at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. As one of the four award recipients from around the world, Cheong will also receive a $5,000 scholarship from VSA arts. The organization was formed in 1974 to promote the learning and performing of arts among people with disabilities.
“I’m very surprised. I’m honored. It’s the biggest achievement in my life,” Cheong said with a smile.
Classical piano has never come easy for Cheong, who now has only about 30 percent of his hearing.
When he was nine years old, Cheong did not respond normally when his mother or sister called. The family took him to the hospital in his hometown, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and found out that a viral infection had damaged his left ear.
He has been wearing a hearing aid ever since. That little piece of equipment attached to the left ear used to make the young Cheong feel embarrassed in front of other children.
“I used to be very quiet and shy. When I was a child, everyone said ‘what’s that?’ It made me feel like I was an alien. Now, I’m already ‘immune’ to people’s curiosity about my hearing aid, let alone my hearing problem,” he said.
Five years ago, through acupuncture therapy, Cheong thought he had recovered from hearing loss.
But things became worse.
“I don’t know how it happened. One day, when I woke up, the sound just got softer, softer and softer,” he said. “By the afternoon, everything was off.”
The doctors said it was a nerve condition. They discouraged him from pursuing a music career.
“Why I don’t change to other majors? Music is too deep in my blood. I simply cannot imagine living without playing music,” Cheong said.
In 2003, Cheong was selected to perform in WVU’s annual Young Artists Auditions, and played Tchaikovsky’s “Concerto No. 1” with the WVU Symphony Orchestra.
Over the years, the young pianist has collected more than 2,500 music recordings, because he wants to improve by listening to other pianists.
With the hearing aid, Cheong can still hear most of what he plays.
Cheong’s music professor, Peter Amstutz, said all musicians struggle to find the balance between the inner sound – what the artist wants to hear – and the outer sound – what actually comes out of the instrument.
“We strive constantly to adjust the way we produce the outer sound so that it is ‘in tune with’ the ideal imagine of our inner sound,” Amstutz said. “Yew Choong has learned to do that very sensitively in the ranges of instrument that he can hear physically. And he is able to apply those feelings and the physical techniques to all registers of the piano.”
There are moments of overwhelming frustration for Cheong: not being able to call someone on the phone; not hearing music clearly in concerts; not being able to follow other students in group discussions or being lost in music lectures.
For daily conversation, he tries hard to listen to others by reading their lips -- a technique Cheong considers to be “self-taught.” Still, distinguishing between “c,” “s” and “z” sounds remain difficult. “When you have a disability, you just have to work around it,” he said.
Back at the Creative Arts Center, Cheong is now practicing between two and three hours a day for his upcoming performance in Washington, D.C., where he will perform “Piano Variations” by Aaron Copland and “Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6” by Franz Liszt.
“When I play in the concert, I simply think of no words, as taught by my professor, but just music,” he said. “I always ‘hear’ music in my mind ‘in advance’ before I play the notes.”
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