I'm happy to say that my son's prosecution team won three Mock Trial competitions in a row over the past month, sending the school into the final round. The original field of about 40 schools has been winnowed down to two, with the final contest to take place this Monday. The semifinals took place in one of the larger L.A. Superior Court courtrooms, as will the final round, so we know there will be no shortage of space to accommodate what we expect to be a big turnout of support for both schools.
The semifinal contest was, of course, close, but I believe what enabled our team to prevail was a solid week of practicing both objections and redirects. Objections can be voiced to probe the consistency of a witness' story, and redirects are an opportunity to repair your witness's credibility after the opposing side has tried their best to undermine it.
As such, objections and redirects are two of the most difficult weapons in a trial attorney's arsenal. They both demand an ability to react in the moment and instantly form--and articulate--a logical reaction to what has just been said. One must be able to nail the inconsistencies and immediately point them out to the judge.
Watching both sides verbally joust over the fate of the suspect in a fictional murder case, it was easily apparent that, on one level, that's what the legal system boils down to--keeping your story straight. The attorneys on both sides construct a narrative to explain a suspect's innocence (or guilt) with relation to a criminal act, and do their best to undermine the story offered by the other side.
And that is the essence of many forms of writing, as well, whether it's persuasive writing (like Op Ed pieces), traditional journalism, magazine feature articles, industry white papers, whatever.
Telling a story remains the best way to illustrate your point, report the news, explain an industry trend, or argue the need for a particular service or product.
Pardon my Shakespeare, but, "What can saying make them believe when seeing fails to persuade them?"
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
NARRATIVE PROVIDES A HUMAN CONTEXT
The power of narrative is evident when dealing with a range of topics, from history to technology.
Back in my college days studying International Affairs at the Georgetown University School of Foreign Service, I had the good fortune to take a course called "Modern European History" with a certain Professor Christopher Dodd, now the respected Senator from the great state of Connecticut.
I remember it as being the most interesting course I took at GU, no small feat considering the rest of the faculty and the overall course of study. It was clear to me even then that Professor Dodd's great strength as a teacher lay in his ability to bring history alive, as though we were getting an insider's view of the larger-than-life characters and the great events that had helped shape our world.
Looking back, it's easy to see why his presentation was so powerful. Professor Dodd knew his subject so well that he was able to relate the ambitions and fears of people at various crossroads in historical events in a very immediate way. He knew their stories. The result was that, however one judged the actions taken at any given point in history, those decisions were at least understandable within an historical context. And that, of course, was the purpose.
With that in mind, I tried to personalize the narrative when I was recently called on by the Pasadena Educational Foundation to tell the story of the breaking of the German military's "unbreakable" Enigma I coding machine just prior to the start of World War II:
"On a brisk fall morning in 1932, Marian Adam Rejewski, a 23-year-old Polish mathematics student, carefully wiped off his glasses, then leaned over a growing stack of papers in his small office located in the Polish General’s Cipher Bureau.
While studying mathematics at Poznan University with an eye toward a career in insurance, Rejewski had attended a secret cryptology course for German-speaking math students given by the Bureau, and decided to accept a job offer after graduation. Over the next year, he would change the course of history.
One of his early assignments was to tackle the German Enigma I machine, which had baffled British cryptanalysts for six years.
Though Germany had been defeated in World War I, the Poles wisely kept an eye – and an ear – on its neighbors. To the east lie Russia, anxious to export its communist philosophy, and to the west Germany, which had ceded lands to Poland after its defeat and likewise seemed intent on someday taking them back.
The Enigma I was an electro-mechanical device with a 26-letter keyboard and 26 lamps, each corresponding to a different letter of the alphabet. Inside were a plugboard that swapped pairs of letters, and three wired rotors, or “scramblers,” that scrambled each letter as it was input.
What made the Enigma so difficult to crack was that the code was advanced with every keystroke. The only way to decipher the message was to set a second Enigma machine to that day’s code settings.
At the beginning of each message, however, the Germans added day and key settings to transmit a new three-letter (one for each rotor) message key. These message keys contained different scrambler orientations, though the plugboard settings and the scrambler arrangement remained the same as in the day-key settings.
Had the Germans not added the message keys, then each day’s messages – thousands of them – would have been encrypted in the same day key, and the sheer volume of messages would have revealed patterns in the letters, making the cipher much easier to break.
By adding a new message key for each message, it was as though sender and receiver had agreed on a main cipher key, but then only used it to encrypt a new cipher key for each message. No wonder it had cryptanalysts stumped.
Working alone and in secret, Rejewski focused on the one point of the Enigma’s weakness that he could identify – the three-letter message-key setting, which was always transmitted twice at the beginning of each message. The first three letters would establish the setting and the next three would translate the first three into that new setting.
Without knowing the day key or the message key, Rejewski could only track the relationships of the letters in the hope that they would reveal a pattern that might lead to the day key. The relationships he found established chains of letters, and he created tables to monitor and record these relationships, and note the links in each one.
Thanks to the successful efforts of espionage, he eventually received a replica of an Enigma machine, so Rejewski put together a team and assigned them the grueling task of checking – by hand! – each of the more than 100,000 scrambler settings and cataloguing every letter chain that was generated by each.
In the days before computers, it took his team more than a year to accomplish the task with only pencil and paper, but eventually Rejewski was able to compile a complete catalogue of Enigma’s scrambler settings.
Then, in a moment of genuine insight, an inspired Rejewski realized that the parts played by the scrambler settings and the plugboard settings could, to some extent, be disconnected. By removing the cables from the plugboard in the replica machine and entering intercepted ciphertext, Rejewski was able to recognize certain phrases that resulted. The plugboard settings were then easy to deduce.
Solving the mystery of the day/key settings and the plugboard settings together was impossible, but, by separating the two, each was solvable. In a little more than a year – without the use of a computer – Rejewski cracked the Enigma code."
The result, of course, was that the Allies, thanks to the efforts of one inspired Polish cryptographer, broke the "unbreakable" Enigma and were able to intercept and monitor German communications throughout the war.
Back in my college days studying International Affairs at the Georgetown University School of Foreign Service, I had the good fortune to take a course called "Modern European History" with a certain Professor Christopher Dodd, now the respected Senator from the great state of Connecticut.
I remember it as being the most interesting course I took at GU, no small feat considering the rest of the faculty and the overall course of study. It was clear to me even then that Professor Dodd's great strength as a teacher lay in his ability to bring history alive, as though we were getting an insider's view of the larger-than-life characters and the great events that had helped shape our world.
Looking back, it's easy to see why his presentation was so powerful. Professor Dodd knew his subject so well that he was able to relate the ambitions and fears of people at various crossroads in historical events in a very immediate way. He knew their stories. The result was that, however one judged the actions taken at any given point in history, those decisions were at least understandable within an historical context. And that, of course, was the purpose.
With that in mind, I tried to personalize the narrative when I was recently called on by the Pasadena Educational Foundation to tell the story of the breaking of the German military's "unbreakable" Enigma I coding machine just prior to the start of World War II:
"On a brisk fall morning in 1932, Marian Adam Rejewski, a 23-year-old Polish mathematics student, carefully wiped off his glasses, then leaned over a growing stack of papers in his small office located in the Polish General’s Cipher Bureau.
While studying mathematics at Poznan University with an eye toward a career in insurance, Rejewski had attended a secret cryptology course for German-speaking math students given by the Bureau, and decided to accept a job offer after graduation. Over the next year, he would change the course of history.
One of his early assignments was to tackle the German Enigma I machine, which had baffled British cryptanalysts for six years.
Though Germany had been defeated in World War I, the Poles wisely kept an eye – and an ear – on its neighbors. To the east lie Russia, anxious to export its communist philosophy, and to the west Germany, which had ceded lands to Poland after its defeat and likewise seemed intent on someday taking them back.
The Enigma I was an electro-mechanical device with a 26-letter keyboard and 26 lamps, each corresponding to a different letter of the alphabet. Inside were a plugboard that swapped pairs of letters, and three wired rotors, or “scramblers,” that scrambled each letter as it was input.
What made the Enigma so difficult to crack was that the code was advanced with every keystroke. The only way to decipher the message was to set a second Enigma machine to that day’s code settings.
At the beginning of each message, however, the Germans added day and key settings to transmit a new three-letter (one for each rotor) message key. These message keys contained different scrambler orientations, though the plugboard settings and the scrambler arrangement remained the same as in the day-key settings.
Had the Germans not added the message keys, then each day’s messages – thousands of them – would have been encrypted in the same day key, and the sheer volume of messages would have revealed patterns in the letters, making the cipher much easier to break.
By adding a new message key for each message, it was as though sender and receiver had agreed on a main cipher key, but then only used it to encrypt a new cipher key for each message. No wonder it had cryptanalysts stumped.
Working alone and in secret, Rejewski focused on the one point of the Enigma’s weakness that he could identify – the three-letter message-key setting, which was always transmitted twice at the beginning of each message. The first three letters would establish the setting and the next three would translate the first three into that new setting.
Without knowing the day key or the message key, Rejewski could only track the relationships of the letters in the hope that they would reveal a pattern that might lead to the day key. The relationships he found established chains of letters, and he created tables to monitor and record these relationships, and note the links in each one.
Thanks to the successful efforts of espionage, he eventually received a replica of an Enigma machine, so Rejewski put together a team and assigned them the grueling task of checking – by hand! – each of the more than 100,000 scrambler settings and cataloguing every letter chain that was generated by each.
In the days before computers, it took his team more than a year to accomplish the task with only pencil and paper, but eventually Rejewski was able to compile a complete catalogue of Enigma’s scrambler settings.
Then, in a moment of genuine insight, an inspired Rejewski realized that the parts played by the scrambler settings and the plugboard settings could, to some extent, be disconnected. By removing the cables from the plugboard in the replica machine and entering intercepted ciphertext, Rejewski was able to recognize certain phrases that resulted. The plugboard settings were then easy to deduce.
Solving the mystery of the day/key settings and the plugboard settings together was impossible, but, by separating the two, each was solvable. In a little more than a year – without the use of a computer – Rejewski cracked the Enigma code."
The result, of course, was that the Allies, thanks to the efforts of one inspired Polish cryptographer, broke the "unbreakable" Enigma and were able to intercept and monitor German communications throughout the war.
Friday, November 13, 2009
THE POWER OF NARRATIVE
Last evening found me in the L.A. Superior Court Building to watch my son's prosecution team in their debut effort at trying to nail a suspect accused of murder in this year's Mock Trial competition -- GO LIONS!
Mock Trial provides the opportunity for high school and middle school legal teams to both prosecute and, separately, defend a fictional suspect accused of a fictional crime. Each team goes up against another school, citing evidence, grilling witnesses on the stand, voicing objections and delivering final arguments. Ever since 1980 the Constitutional Rights Foundation has sponsored these yearly competitions, wherein students of opposing schools portray prosecutors, defense attorneys, suspects, witnesses and even bailiffs in the proceedings. Thousands of judges and attorneys volunteer their time to give students a direct lesson in our legal system.
Students prepare for weeks with teachers and volunteer attorneys, but in the courtroom they're on their own. The case is decided by the real judge sitting before them and, separately, their performances are graded by a small team of lawyers who score the individual participants. The total scores of each team determines who wins that evening's trial.
My son's team did well and won a guilty verdict, and today we learned that they had also won the evening's competition by outscoring the other team. Next week, on to the quarter-finals.
An impressive performance by all, and what I remember particularly well is that, in his closing remarks, one of the scoring attorneys complimented both teams on their ability to create and convey compelling narratives, noting that the ability to tell a convincing story is what a trial is, in essence, all about.
That was another reminder that the narrative is one of the writer's most powerful tools, and that a good writer always looks for ways to use it.
Even in many forms of business writing, narrative is useful.
For example, when I first began researching and writing industry white papers I quickly developed what I call a straightforward "challenge/solution" narrative structure.
By that I mean simply describing the issue to be addressed in a narrative form, then proposing the solution as a possible "ending" to the story. The deficiencies of inadequate solutions, or failing to address the challenge in the first place, can also be spelled out as alternate--and less satisfying--conclusions. The "moral" is simply contrasting the benefits of a satisfactory solution with the price of not dealing with the challenge successfully.
Before I sign off, I'd like to draw your attention to a great Profile of legendary (and award-winning) storyteller Horton Foote, who passed away in March of this year. It's in the October 26th issue of THE NEW YORKER, and it's by John Lahr, who at one point describes Foote's writing style when he was starting out in the 1940s:
"In Foote's plays, the big dramatic events happen offstage. Foote examined the ripple, not the wave. He was a quiet voice in noisy times."
I also particularly enjoyed a quote that Foote gave in an interview just this past January: "If I ever teach writing again, I guess the first lesson is to listen."
Mock Trial provides the opportunity for high school and middle school legal teams to both prosecute and, separately, defend a fictional suspect accused of a fictional crime. Each team goes up against another school, citing evidence, grilling witnesses on the stand, voicing objections and delivering final arguments. Ever since 1980 the Constitutional Rights Foundation has sponsored these yearly competitions, wherein students of opposing schools portray prosecutors, defense attorneys, suspects, witnesses and even bailiffs in the proceedings. Thousands of judges and attorneys volunteer their time to give students a direct lesson in our legal system.
Students prepare for weeks with teachers and volunteer attorneys, but in the courtroom they're on their own. The case is decided by the real judge sitting before them and, separately, their performances are graded by a small team of lawyers who score the individual participants. The total scores of each team determines who wins that evening's trial.
My son's team did well and won a guilty verdict, and today we learned that they had also won the evening's competition by outscoring the other team. Next week, on to the quarter-finals.
An impressive performance by all, and what I remember particularly well is that, in his closing remarks, one of the scoring attorneys complimented both teams on their ability to create and convey compelling narratives, noting that the ability to tell a convincing story is what a trial is, in essence, all about.
That was another reminder that the narrative is one of the writer's most powerful tools, and that a good writer always looks for ways to use it.
Even in many forms of business writing, narrative is useful.
For example, when I first began researching and writing industry white papers I quickly developed what I call a straightforward "challenge/solution" narrative structure.
By that I mean simply describing the issue to be addressed in a narrative form, then proposing the solution as a possible "ending" to the story. The deficiencies of inadequate solutions, or failing to address the challenge in the first place, can also be spelled out as alternate--and less satisfying--conclusions. The "moral" is simply contrasting the benefits of a satisfactory solution with the price of not dealing with the challenge successfully.
Before I sign off, I'd like to draw your attention to a great Profile of legendary (and award-winning) storyteller Horton Foote, who passed away in March of this year. It's in the October 26th issue of THE NEW YORKER, and it's by John Lahr, who at one point describes Foote's writing style when he was starting out in the 1940s:
"In Foote's plays, the big dramatic events happen offstage. Foote examined the ripple, not the wave. He was a quiet voice in noisy times."
I also particularly enjoyed a quote that Foote gave in an interview just this past January: "If I ever teach writing again, I guess the first lesson is to listen."
Monday, November 9, 2009
MAKE 'EM LAUGH - the (st)art of the interview
I have always looked at interviewing as an art as well as a science, because no matter what the topic may be, the first thing you've got to do is establish a level of rapport with your interviewee. Rapport enables trust, trust can lead to relaxation, and relaxation can result in spontaneity.
And if you have an opportunity to share a laugh with your interview subject early on, great. Don't force it, though, because most interviewees have little patience for being interviewed by a would-be stand-up comic.
The value of (guided) spontaneity is that it can unearth the offhand facts or opinions that add depth to your writing. The interviews I've done that have been the most productive are those where it was apparent the interviewee felt relaxed enough to engage in some free association.
Every interviewer, of course, has an advantage in that most people respond positively when asked to talk about themselves or something important to them, but it's also important to find something that genuinely interests you about the topic and the interviewee.
My collaboration with Rory Flynn on her book THE BARON OF MULHOLLAND: A Daughter Remembers Errol Flynn was that rare combination of a subject that I found utterly fascinating -- a personal look at one of the film industry's greatest icons and adventurers -- and an interviewee I genuinely liked. Like her father, Rory is strong-willed and passionate on the subjects that matter to her.
And we laughed a lot -- always a good sign.
The series of conversations we had over a period of nine or ten months for the book drew out a number of little-known facts and stories, surprising since there have been more books written about Errol Flynn than almost any other Hollywood celebrity.
One of our discussions started with her father's love of animals and led to Rory's recalling the largely unknown fact that Errol had been recognized by a fledgling ASPCA as an early protector of animals used in filming decades before the animal rights movement took hold in Hollywood:
"One of the reasons my father built Mulholland Farm similar to a ranch in Australia was because of his love for animals. There was a barn on the property and we had a fulltime caretaker tend to the livestock. The animal population on the farm, in fact, continued to grow over the years because my father often adopted some of the livestock after working with them in some of his films.
Horses, sheep, ducks, pigs, chickens, dogs, cats -- even a particularly cheeky monkey named Chico that he brought home after working with him in THAT FORSYTE WOMAN. Chico had the run of the Farm -- though he had a cage, he was rarely locked inside it -- and spent many days tearing up and throwing things around inside the house. Rather than get my father upset, though, his wild antics would merely inspire gales of laughter.
Errol's devotion to animals even led him to take actions on behalf of the animals used in certain films he made. When filming began on THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE in 1936, for example, he objected to the use of trip wires on the horses and refused to take part unless precautions were taken to minimize any injuries to them. For this he received a letter of appreciation from the ASPCA, a newly formed association that had not yet fully examined animal rights issues within the context of filmmaking."
And if you have an opportunity to share a laugh with your interview subject early on, great. Don't force it, though, because most interviewees have little patience for being interviewed by a would-be stand-up comic.
The value of (guided) spontaneity is that it can unearth the offhand facts or opinions that add depth to your writing. The interviews I've done that have been the most productive are those where it was apparent the interviewee felt relaxed enough to engage in some free association.
Every interviewer, of course, has an advantage in that most people respond positively when asked to talk about themselves or something important to them, but it's also important to find something that genuinely interests you about the topic and the interviewee.
My collaboration with Rory Flynn on her book THE BARON OF MULHOLLAND: A Daughter Remembers Errol Flynn was that rare combination of a subject that I found utterly fascinating -- a personal look at one of the film industry's greatest icons and adventurers -- and an interviewee I genuinely liked. Like her father, Rory is strong-willed and passionate on the subjects that matter to her.
And we laughed a lot -- always a good sign.
The series of conversations we had over a period of nine or ten months for the book drew out a number of little-known facts and stories, surprising since there have been more books written about Errol Flynn than almost any other Hollywood celebrity.
One of our discussions started with her father's love of animals and led to Rory's recalling the largely unknown fact that Errol had been recognized by a fledgling ASPCA as an early protector of animals used in filming decades before the animal rights movement took hold in Hollywood:
"One of the reasons my father built Mulholland Farm similar to a ranch in Australia was because of his love for animals. There was a barn on the property and we had a fulltime caretaker tend to the livestock. The animal population on the farm, in fact, continued to grow over the years because my father often adopted some of the livestock after working with them in some of his films.
Horses, sheep, ducks, pigs, chickens, dogs, cats -- even a particularly cheeky monkey named Chico that he brought home after working with him in THAT FORSYTE WOMAN. Chico had the run of the Farm -- though he had a cage, he was rarely locked inside it -- and spent many days tearing up and throwing things around inside the house. Rather than get my father upset, though, his wild antics would merely inspire gales of laughter.
Errol's devotion to animals even led him to take actions on behalf of the animals used in certain films he made. When filming began on THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE in 1936, for example, he objected to the use of trip wires on the horses and refused to take part unless precautions were taken to minimize any injuries to them. For this he received a letter of appreciation from the ASPCA, a newly formed association that had not yet fully examined animal rights issues within the context of filmmaking."
Thursday, November 5, 2009
THE BARON OF MULHOLLAND: A Daughter Remembers Errol Flynn
The delightful Ava B -- yes, that's her legal name -- called me a few years ago and told me that she'd informed her friend Rory that she needed to collaborate with me on a memoir about life with her father.
"Who's her father?" was, of course, the first question to ask.
"Errol Flynn."
"When can we meet?"
Flynn, eminent swashbuckler and bon vivant, film idol and under-appreciated classical actor, whose devil-may-care attitude and lust for life made him an easy target for contemporary morality boards, not to mention J. Edgar Hoover, has been the subject of more books than just about any other Hollywood personality.
And for good reason. While these days the announcement of each year's Number One Box Office personality usually means that an actor was lucky enough to be cast in that year's blockbuster hit, Flynn was Number One Box Office worldwide every year for nearly a decade. He presented a rather large target, especially to those looking to fling a handful of mud that might just stick long enough for their books to make the bestseller list.
When I learned that Rory had a large private collection of her father's writings along with numerous family photographs, I could hardly wait to help her mine the trove for treasure.
Rory I found to be intelligent and sophisticated, and with a great sense of humor -- well, we laughed at each other's jokes, at least -- and very much her father's strong-minded daughter. Rory made it clear that she wanted to write the book she wanted to write. When talks with publishers revealed that they were only interested in what as-yet-untold scandals Rory could share, those talks were short indeed.
"No one knows the story of my father as a family man," she said. "But he put a lot of energy and a great sense of adventure into that, too. That's the story I want to tell."
I proposed that we begin by meeting once a week for 3 or 4 hours and just sharing stories. Eventually, I assured Rory, the structure of the book would reveal itself.
Rory decided to give it a try and thus began several weeks of me sharing very personal, behind-the-scenes stories about the greatest film legend of the Golden Age of Hollywood. Not bad. In the end, she convinced me that I would have really enjoyed knowing her father -- though I am also pretty sure it would've been hard for me to keep up with him.
Rory also spent time debunking many of the scurrilous yarns that have been circulated about her dad over the years, the sorts of things that have always prevented his recognition by leading industry groups like the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, even long after they were proven to be complete fabrications.
"For one thing, they all said he chased every skirt in Hollywood -- Not so!" exclaimed Rory with a laugh, pulling out a close-up of the beatific Errol gazing off dreamily into the distance. "Look at that face. The truth was, my father never had to chase anyone. He had to beat them off with a stick!"
In my next post I'll share an excerpt about the advantages of living in the house that Flynn designed after a typical Australian ranch. More information on the book can be found on Rory's web site at http://www.inlikeflynn.com.
"Who's her father?" was, of course, the first question to ask.
"Errol Flynn."
"When can we meet?"
Flynn, eminent swashbuckler and bon vivant, film idol and under-appreciated classical actor, whose devil-may-care attitude and lust for life made him an easy target for contemporary morality boards, not to mention J. Edgar Hoover, has been the subject of more books than just about any other Hollywood personality.
And for good reason. While these days the announcement of each year's Number One Box Office personality usually means that an actor was lucky enough to be cast in that year's blockbuster hit, Flynn was Number One Box Office worldwide every year for nearly a decade. He presented a rather large target, especially to those looking to fling a handful of mud that might just stick long enough for their books to make the bestseller list.
When I learned that Rory had a large private collection of her father's writings along with numerous family photographs, I could hardly wait to help her mine the trove for treasure.
Rory I found to be intelligent and sophisticated, and with a great sense of humor -- well, we laughed at each other's jokes, at least -- and very much her father's strong-minded daughter. Rory made it clear that she wanted to write the book she wanted to write. When talks with publishers revealed that they were only interested in what as-yet-untold scandals Rory could share, those talks were short indeed.
"No one knows the story of my father as a family man," she said. "But he put a lot of energy and a great sense of adventure into that, too. That's the story I want to tell."
I proposed that we begin by meeting once a week for 3 or 4 hours and just sharing stories. Eventually, I assured Rory, the structure of the book would reveal itself.
Rory decided to give it a try and thus began several weeks of me sharing very personal, behind-the-scenes stories about the greatest film legend of the Golden Age of Hollywood. Not bad. In the end, she convinced me that I would have really enjoyed knowing her father -- though I am also pretty sure it would've been hard for me to keep up with him.
Rory also spent time debunking many of the scurrilous yarns that have been circulated about her dad over the years, the sorts of things that have always prevented his recognition by leading industry groups like the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, even long after they were proven to be complete fabrications.
"For one thing, they all said he chased every skirt in Hollywood -- Not so!" exclaimed Rory with a laugh, pulling out a close-up of the beatific Errol gazing off dreamily into the distance. "Look at that face. The truth was, my father never had to chase anyone. He had to beat them off with a stick!"
In my next post I'll share an excerpt about the advantages of living in the house that Flynn designed after a typical Australian ranch. More information on the book can be found on Rory's web site at http://www.inlikeflynn.com.
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