The miracle worker

So it looks like I’m going to be teaching an online journalism course, in addition to my duties at Manhattanville.

Earlier today the woman from the program sent me a course description to be listed in the enrollment catalogue. This is part of what it said:

In this class, you will learn:

• How to create captivating sports stories that editors will want to buy and readers will want to read

• How to get your foot in the door at the nation’s leading sports publications

I had to laugh. I’m 38. I’ve been out of college for nearly 17 years. I still struggle with the first, and I definitely struggle with the second. This shirt is hard, no matter what an increasing number of bloggers and “experts” seem to think. Good writing—truly good writing, the type you see from the Verduccis and Posnanskis of the profession—is a beast. It takes an abnormal attention to details; a willingness to make the 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th call; a ceaseless desire to find the exactly right word; on and on and on.

Can I teach the answer in six weeks?

Crap, I’m not even sure what the question is.

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