Writing Must Grab the Reader and Make Them Feel
By Jeanne Acton, Journalism Director | Tuesday, November 20, 2012 11:19 AM
I cried this weekend.
No, not terribly shocking news. I do cry sometimes. But these tears didn’t come from some sappy Lifetime movie or frustration with my kids, husband, family or any other slice of my life.
I cried during a presentation — reading some of my own writing.
Not exactly the best way to present — especially since I don’t own waterproof mascara.
But I didn’t apologize. In fact, I told the audience that my tears were good. It meant I felt something. And we should feel when we read.
The presentation was at the JEA National Convention in San Antonio and was called ‘Make Average Writing Great’ or something like that.
At the last minute I did something I don’t normally do — I changed the presentation. I added pieces from one of my latest stories. It’s an article about Dinora, a baseball mom with Stage 4 breast cancer.
Earlier that morning I judged Best of Show newspaper at the convention, and I was disheartened by all of the average stories. The newspapers had good writers, great ideas for coverage and beautiful design, but I felt almost nothing when reading the majority of the copy. Nothing. The writing was flat. It was emotionally void.
Writing shouldn’t be flat. It shouldn’t be cold and distant. Good writing sparks emotions.
So I changed my presentation to push this idea of feeling with the students.
Everything about Dinora’s story was emotional. The interview. The writing. The editing. And even the reading, months after it was written and published, was hard.
But hard is good. Hard means there is feeling.
Six large black words sit atop of the entryway to Dinora and Jason Niedzwiedz’s two-story home in North Austin.
“With God All Things Are Possible.”
A simple statement. A powerful message.
A message Dinora and Jason believe. Completely.
They believe despite the past five years. Despite the pain. Despite the loss. They believe.
And that belief, that conviction, has given them their strength as they fight the cancer that is invading Dinora’s body.
Dinora’s journey with breast cancer is not a short one. And unfortunately, her story doesn’t start with her.
A powerful lead grabs the reader and pulls them into the story. If the lead isn’t powerful, it’s not worth writing the rest of the story because people won’t bother to read it anyway.
With the Dinora story, I found the lead almost immediately.
When I entered Dinora’s house, the first thing I saw was the phrase “With God All Things are Possible” painted on her archway. It struck me. And I knew that was my lead. If it struck me, it would strike others. They would read on.
Then, I began the interview — one of the hardest of my life. I had to ask this 38-year-old beautiful mother and wife what it was like to fight cancer for her third and final time.
Dinora shared her story with me — all of it. For two hours, we talked. Her husband sat with us, interjecting his thoughts every now and then. It wasn’t easy hearing her story. I teared up several times, but I kept writing and kept talking.
When our time was up, I left Dinora’s house with my notebook and pen and got in my car and cried. I was overwhelmed with her story. Emotions flooded me — anger, sadness, joy, amazement and more.
I knew I had to write.
And I took those emotions with me as I wrote. I let them pour onto the page.
Things are different this time, too.
Dinora is Stage 4. She will always be Stage 4. Even if she and her doctors are able to find the elusive NED (No Evidence of Disease), her diagnosis will never change.
“At some point, breast cancer will likely take my life,” she said. “That is what my future holds, and we understand that. I did everything I possibly could have to prevent the cancer from returning. I have no regrets on treatment. But at the same time, we don’t understand. We love Christ, and He has a plan for us. I just wish that plan didn’t include cancer. I have to trust that whatever happens is what is supposed to happen, even if we don’t like it.”
The cancer does get to her sometimes.
“Anytime you are faced with your own mortality, I think certain things go through your head,” she said. “I was watching the Olympics the other night and wondered if this is the last time I will ever see them.”
But Dinora doesn’t get those thoughts often. Instead she tries to focus on the present.
“If it’s in God’s plan, I certainly want to raise my boys, but that may not happen,” she said. “I am super grateful that I married Jason. He will do a great job without me.”
Facing her mortality has been doubly hard because Dinora says she is happy.
"I have a very happy life,” she said. “I don’t want to leave my husband. I want to grow old with him. I don’t want to leave my family prematurely. My prayer is that I get to stick around for a long time.”
I couldn't let this story be flat. It was too important. That is what I wanted the students to see. Our writing should be important to us.
And so as I read the above passage to the students during the presentation, I began to tear up. I didn’t expect it. I thought I had everything under control.
But good writing doesn’t let the reader have control.
Good writing pulls you in, and you feel — no matter where you are. So there I was, standing in front of 200 students, weeping as I was reading my own story.
The tears made the point.
The passage above shows Dinora — her pain, her fears, her life. The reader can see her and feel her. They can do that because the interview worked. Dinora opened up.
It’s not easy to get people — especially teens — to open up about their life. The art of interviewing takes time to refine. It’s about building a relationship with the person so they will tell you their story. It’s about knowing when to dig and push and when to back off and let the person talk.
That relationship cannot be built through email or text messages or Facebook. You have to be there. You have to feel.
Earlier, I said it was hard to write Dinora’s story. And it was emotionally hard. But it wasn’t hard finding the flow, finding the story because the interview worked.
Not every story lends itself to such emotion. I understand students must cover the prom, the Student Council, blood drives, food drives and other rather mundane things about their school. But students can still push and dig for quotes that matter about those topics. Don’t settle for the typical, shallow quote. “The prom was great,” senior Joe Blow said.
Instead find the student who has something to say and then listen. You can find the story if you ask and listen.
As I wrapped up the presentation at the convention and dried my eyes, I told the students to end with power. Start with emotion. End with emotion.
At 38, Dinora is not done. Not yet. Not even close. Dinora and Jason are going to fight as hard as they can. And pray just as hard.
“Every day I wake up and thank the Lord for today,” she said. “And then, I ask to make it until tomorrow.”
Below is the full story on Dinora:
Six large black words sit atop of the entryway to Dinora and Jason Niedzwiedz’s two-story home in North Austin.
“With God All Things Are Possible.”
A simple statement. A powerful message.
A message Dinora and Jason believe. Completely.
They believe despite the past five years. Despite the pain. Despite the loss. They believe.
And that belief, that conviction, has given them their strength as they fight the cancer that is invading Dinora’s body.
Dinora’s journey with breast cancer is not a short one. And unfortunately, her story doesn’t start with her.
In 1990 at the young age of 42, Dinora’s mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. “It was really shocking,” said Dinora, who was 16 years old at the time of her mother’s diagnosis. “We had no cancer in the family.”
After three long years of treatment, including chemotherapy at MD Anderson that almost killed her, Dinora’s mother was deemed cancer free.
For 10 years, her mother lived a happy cancer-free life. Those 10 years were happy for Dinora, too. In 1992, she left Brownsville and went off to college at Southwestern University in Georgetown on an academic scholarship. Her high school sweetheart, Jason, attended St. Edward’s University on a tennis scholarship, just a 30-minute drive from Dinora. In 1998, the two married and began their life together, welcoming their first child Ethan in 2001.
Then right before Ethan’s first birthday, the 10-years of good health vanished. Dinora’s mother was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and a new fight began.
With her mother having two reproductive-oriented cancers, Dinora’s OBGYN suggested genetic testing for the family.
Dinora’s mother tested first. She had the gene — BRCA 1. Dinora and her brother were next.
They also were positive.
“My mom burst into tears,” she said. “She felt fully responsible. It wasn’t her fault. There was no fault here. She didn’t do anything wrong. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it, but she was devastated with the news.”
But Dinora found the silver lining in the brutal news.
“At least we had the benefit of knowing,” she said. “Of course, being a woman, the diagnosis was far more serious for me. Statistically, it meant I would probably develop cancer in my lifetime.
“The hitch at this point in time was that I had a baby (her second son Asher was born in 2005),” she said. “I was still nursing. Jason and I made a decision that by 35 we would have another child or be done with children.”
Then, the couple would do what needed to be done.
But Dinora didn’t get to make that choice at 35. Instead, in March 2007, when she was only 32 years old, she found a “teensy tiny lump” on the side of her breast.|
The results from the mammogram and subsequent sonogram were inconclusive. The needle biopsy gave the diagnosis. Cancer. Breast cancer. At the age of 32. Ten years before her mother’s diagnosis at 42.
“The worst part of it was having to tell my mom,” she said. “Part of me wishes I would have spared her that. But I was so grateful that she was there for the first chemotherapy.”
Dinora elected to have a double mastectomy, even though her doctor said she could have a less invasive lumpectomy.
“I told him, ‘Here’s what I need you to do. Take both of them completely. Save nothing. I want them both gone – completely,’” she said. “My boys were 2 and 5 at the time. I didn’t care about boobs. I was not emotionally attached to these things.”
On April 18, a month after the diagnosis and on her ninth wedding anniversary, Dinora had the surgery.
“The cancer had spread to a couple of lymph nodes,” she said. “That meant chemotherapy.”
Over that summer, she had eight chemo treatments of what doctors appropriately call the “Red Devil.” It was part of a three-part regimen known as ACT, which stands for Adriamycin (the Red Devil), Cytoxan and Taxol.
The chemo hit Dinora hard.
“My mom was there for my first chemotherapy at the beginning of May,” she said. “It was such a blessing to have her there. I was such a mess, just a wreck.”
Between the fourth and fifth chemo treatments, Dinora and Jason travelled to Brownsville to spend two weeks with her mother, who was losing her five-year battle with ovarian cancer.
“It was really an amazing time,” she said. “My mom loved Christ with her whole heart. She knew when she died she was going to heaven. We spent those two weeks praying and laughing with her.”
Although her grief was heavy, Dinora said she and her family rejoiced at her mother’s death.
“She wouldn’t be in pain anymore,” she said. “That wretched body that she had would be repaired in heaven. Cancer had eaten everything up. My mom’s spirit outlived her body.”
In August 2007, Dinora finished her chemotherapy. “It was great timing, right before Ethan started kindergarten,” she said.
That winter while undergoing her breast reconstruction, Dinora also decided to have her ovaries removed. “They were not worth risking my life for,” she said. “I wanted to be done with the scalpel before 2007 was over.”
And she was. For almost three years.
Dinora was cancer-free.
Then in 2010, during a routine check up, the doctor found microscopic cancer cells in her lymph nodes. So Dinora and Jason packed the boys up and headed to Disney World before facing chemotherapy again in November.
The cancer was different this time. The first time her cancer was driven by hormones (the reason for removing her ovaries), this time it wasn’t. Doctors called the cancer triple negative, still breast cancer, but different. More chemotherapy and now radiation as an added treatment.
In September 2011, Dinora got the good news– she was NED. No Evidence of Disease.
“That is what every woman with breast cancer wants to hear, ‘You are NED. You found the elusive NED,’” she said.
And for about seven months, Dinora was happy and free of cancer.
But in April 2012, Dinora fell down the stairs in her Avery Ranch home and broke her clavicle. But the break wasn’t the worst news.
When the doctors read the scan from the radiologist, they found Stage 4 metastasized breast cancer. The cancer had spread to her bones, her chest wall, her hip and her right arm.
“When I got the call, I just thought ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’” she said. “This is not what we were expecting.”
Things are different this time, too.
Dinora is Stage 4. She will always be Stage 4. Even if she and her doctors are able to find the elusive NED, her diagnosis will never change.
“At some point, breast cancer will likely take my life,” she said. “That is what my future holds, and we understand that.”
“I did everything I possibly could have to prevent the cancer from returning. I have no regrets on treatment. But at the same time, we don’t understand. We love Christ, and He has a plan for us. I just wish that plan didn’t include cancer. I have to trust that whatever happens is what is supposed to happen, even if we don’t like it.”
While she’s enduring her new rounds of chemo, Dinora has a few other things on her plate. In the front yard of her red brick home, stands a “For Sale” sign. The couple put their house on the market this month and is building a new house about seven minutes up the road.
The decision to build a new home was two-fold. In their current house, the master bedroom is upstairs and hiking the stairs several times a day has taken a toll on Dinora.
And, “we just needed something to look forward to,” she said. “We needed to get our minds off of this. I wanted a home that the boys will be happy in with or without me.”
This distraction, as Dinora and Jason call it, has been good for the boys, too. They know their mother’s condition.
“We told them immediately,” she said. “It’s been hard on them. It’s hard to raise children with faith and explain this. They can’t understand why God doesn’t just heal me.”
“We’ve explained to them that it’s not our choice, and remind them that there are so many people suffering in so many different ways. This is a big deal, but it’s not as bad as it could be. That is hard for them to process.”
To help the boys cope, Jason and Dinora keep them busy. The boys play baseball, basketball, attend camps. Usually Jason is coaching and always Dinora is in the stands cheering on her boys.
“I don’t understand her strength,” Jason said. “She hasn’t missed a single game. She won’t show her pain to you. She may have finished chemo on Thursday, but she will be at the game on Friday.”
Dinora explains that she can’t miss anything. “Time with the boys is too precious,” she said.
And while she can’t do everything a young mom can do, Dinora tries to remain an active part of the boys’ life.
The couple said friends and family have eased their burdens with dinners and restaurant gift cards.
“They have all been such a blessing,” Dinora, who is still working part time, said. “It’s been nice to be able to come home from work and not have to cook. I can take a nap and get up and be present. As much as I wish I had the energy, I just don’t.”
But Jason said her energy level is not the typical person fighting cancer. “Di has a regular person’s energy when she’s on chemotherapy,” he said. “She is all over the place.”
Dinora agrees but with a slight edit. “It just takes me a little longer now,” she said.
The cancer is bad. Dinora and Jason won’t argue that. But it hasn’t devastated their family.
“It puts stuff in perspective,” he said.
Dinora’s big brown eyes shine and her mouth curls into a broad smile as she explains that she finds the blessings in the battle.
“The cancer gives me endless patience with my boys,” she said. “I am grateful for every day I have with them. Sometimes Ethan wants to have a 30-minute conversation about Legos. I will listen intently and even ask a few questions. I just really try to enjoy each and every day with them.”
The cancer does get to her sometimes.
“Anytime you are faced with your own mortality, I think certain things go through your head,” she said. “I was watching the Olympics the other night and wondered if this is the last time I will ever see them.”
But Dinora doesn’t get those thoughts often. Instead she tries to focus on the present.
“If it’s in God’s plan, I certainly want to raise my boys, but that may not happen,” she said. “I am super grateful that I married Jason. He will do a great job without me.”
Facing her mortality has been doubly hard because Dinora says she is happy. “I have a very happy life,” she said. “I don’t want to leave my husband. I want to grow old with him. I don’t want to leave my family prematurely.”
“My prayer is that I get to stick around for a long time.”
Through email and phone calls, Dinora also serves as a mentor and sounding board for many women who are currently battling breast cancer.
“I am always happy to answer any questions,” she said. “I’ve never been embarrassed to talk about anything”
“If my story can help someone, then great, I’ll share,” she said.
Dinora has words of wisdom and advice for all women.
“Every woman needs to check herself and trust her intuition,” she said. “If you find something, get it checked out. Do not bury your head in the sand. The consequences are too hard.”
“This is really important. You have to be a bulldog with any diagnosis. We interviewed multiple oncologists, surgeons and plastic surgeons. The hardest thing was trying to coordinate the schedule for the surgeon and plastic surgeon. I called them all of the time. I wanted it done quickly. I pushed. I told them I would call them every day until I got on the schedule. One was so impressed with my tenacity that he offered me a job.”
At 38, Dinora is not done. Not yet. Not even close. Dinora and Jason are going to fight as hard as they can. And pray just as hard.
“Every day I wake up and thank the Lord for today,” she said. “And then, I ask to make it until tomorrow.”