{"id":2417,"date":"2023-04-20T12:00:49","date_gmt":"2023-04-20T12:00:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/niemanstoryboard.org\/2023\/04\/20\/narrative-journalism-reporting-writing-scenes\/"},"modified":"2025-03-18T16:38:02","modified_gmt":"2025-03-18T16:38:02","slug":"narrative-journalism-reporting-writing-scenes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/niemanstoryboard.org\/2023\/04\/20\/narrative-journalism-reporting-writing-scenes\/","title":{"rendered":"Reporting and writing scenes: The foundational building block of stories"},"content":{"rendered":" \n
\n
\n \n

EDITOR\u2019S NOTE: This is the second post in our focused series on the core elements of narrative<\/a> by narrative journalist and teacher Lauren Kessler. Future posts will explore the development of character and crafting of story endings.<\/em><\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n

\n
\n \n\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n
\n
\n \n

A passage from a true story:<\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n

\n
\n \n\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n
\n
\n \n
\n
\n
\n \n

In Portland, in the spare bedroom in his daughter\u2019s house, David Bradley was sitting up in bed dressed in a thick, scarlet-colored robe, his dog Scooter napping by his feet, the bottle of Nembutal on the night table. When the doctor arrived in the early evening, the family was finishing its farewells. They had all sat together in David\u2019s room that last week watching old episodes of the TV miniseries \u201cLonesome Dove,\u201d his favorite movie in which\u2013it was hard not to notice\u2013the fiercely independent main character chooses to die on his own terms.<\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n\n\n \n

\n
\n \n

David picked up the end of his feeding tube, removed the plug and poured in the liquid Nembutal. Then he poured in a cup of water to make sure the medicine went down, re-stoppered the tube and settled back on his pillows. He talked to the doctor sitting beside him about how much he loved his family.<\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n\n\n \n

\n
\n \n

Downstairs, eight people sat in a circle on the floor, including David\u2019s three daughters and his sister. In the middle of the circle were objects important to David: an eagle feather, the Leatherman tool he always carried with him, a battered stuffed animal he had when he was a child. Each person picked up an object and told a story about it. Then they went around the circle again, this time each person holding David\u2019s eagle feather and saying whatever they wanted to say. David had wanted someone to recite the strong, unsentimental poem John Wayne had said at Howard Hawks\u2019 funeral, \u201cDo not stand at my grave and weep,\u201d and so someone did.<\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n\n\n \n

\n
\n \n

Upstairs, David yawned. The Nembutal was beginning to take effect. David motioned the doctor closer. He had one more thing to say.<\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n\n\n \n

\n
\n \n

\u201cYou know,\u201d he said quietly, \u201cI\u2019ve done a lot of things right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n\n\n \n

\n
\n \n

Then he smiled and closed his eyes and fell asleep. Within a few minutes, he was unconscious. Within 10 minutes he stopped breathing. The doctor felt for his pulse and found none, listened for his heartbeat, and heard none.<\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n

\n
\n \n\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n
\n
\n \n

You were there.<\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n

\n
\n \n\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n
\n
\n \n

Only you weren\u2019t. The magic of scene-setting took you there.<\/p>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n

\n
\n \n\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n
\n
\n \n
<\/div>\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n \n
\n
\n \n\n\n <\/div>\n <\/div>\n
\n\n

Related Posts<\/h2>\n\n
\n