One of the stories I’m working on right now was prompted purely by my own curiosity.
I don’t want to give anything away before it’s published, but this story was prompted by something I see every day: handbills being handed out on Turlington Plaza.
I walked away, but five minutes later I started wondering if this was a story.
So I called my friend and former Alligator Editor Lyndsey Lewis.
“Lyndsey,” I said. “I need to ask your semi-professional opinion about something.”
So I told her the situation.
“Hmm,” she said. “Can you get class credit for this?”
I said I probably could.
“Well, if you can get credit for it, do it. Otherwise, you’ll just have to be curious,” she said.
So I thought about it for all of ten seconds and decided I could not settle with being curious.
So I walked back, did the story and called my mom (who is also a journalist).
“That’s the great thing about being a journalist,” she said after I told her the saga. “You always get to satisfy your curiosity.”
Telling this whole story to my friend Katie later on, she added to that last comment: “Much like a small child.”
That’s true. But I’d rather be like a pesky three-year-old than be left wondering.
