I Coulda Been Someone...
The story of the NYTimes byline that almost was, and why it wasn't
I can't believe we're here again… Or, really, I absolutely can believe it, but I don’t want to.
For the past week, whenever anyone asks how I’m doing, my response has ranged from a wary “oh, hanging in there” to a more trusting “I’m a fucking wreck, you?”
You all know to what I am referring. The big orange monster, and — more monstrous — the tens of millions who voted for him.
My reaction to the election results will surprise no-one who knows me, whether IRL or through my writing, and many people have already written about it far more eloquently than I feel equipped for at the moment. So I’m actually not here to talk about that. I want to share a story that’s been resurfacing for me over the past week: the time I almost got a New York Times byline, but both-sides-ness ruined it for me.
In August of 2021, fed up with Trump and his voters and frustrated that we weren’t past it as a country (LOLSOB) even after he lost the 2020 election, I pitched an opinion piece to an editor at the New York Times:
Ever since I joined the Nextdoor app in our new small-town neighborhood, my marriage has been tested in new ways. Throughout the summer, more and more Trump-supporting neighbors crawled out of the woodwork, slinking out from between Biden/Harris-besigned craftsman houses and trampling their organic gardens to post QAnon-fueled rants about how the pandemic was a hoax or Governor Inslee was trying to stifle free speech with his mask mandate. My husband could always tell that one of these posts had appeared by my sharp intake of breath on the couch beside him; he’d stick out an arm, try to wrest the phone away. “Don’t engage.” It usually worked, because he was usually right: arguing with these people on a public forum is a one-way ticket to Fumingtown, population: me, while they seem to feed off the energy they’ve created. We all know this by now. Don’t feed the trolls, right? But there’s one major point against holding my tongue (or thumbs) that even my husband agrees with: sometimes there’s a collateral benefit to arguing with impossible people.
When Bob S. rants about his freedom being taken away by censorship because his post about 'the Chinese virus’ was removed for violating guidelines, it’s worth posting a measured comment to remind him that Nextdoor isn’t a public space but a private platform, with rules of engagement – he won’t listen or care, but how many other people are reading at any given time? Similarly, when a neighbor is called a snowflake and threatened with violence on an app that clearly displays where she lives within a few blocks, it’s worth speaking up to defend her – not because it’ll stop the bully, but because the attacked neighbor deserves solidarity, and anyone reading needs to be reminded that we sensible, humane neighbors outnumber the monsters.
Op-Eds about how to communicate calmly and rationally with people you disagree vehemently with are important, but there’s a part of the conversation we always seem to be missing: the witnesses. Whether it’s children listening to the way the adults around them interact, or ‘lurkers’ on a Facebook group watching a heated argument about racism unfold over a two-week period, or neighbors reading the opinions of the people among whom they live, closely – sometimes it’s worth stating your case clearly and in no uncertain terms for their sake, rather than in the often-futile hope of convincing your adversary.
Now, my rule about pitching is to aim high but keep my expectations low. So when I followed up to nudge the editor I was already planning my next target. But she replied — she liked the pitch! She asked for a draft on spec (which, for non-writers/-freelancers, means writing a draft with zero promise of publication or payment), and of course I was happy to comply.
Now, she asked for a draft involving interviews with experts and/or data, rather than simply my personal experience, which is an entirely fair ask but would be a heavy lift. So I asked for some guidance on that side (gave her a sense of my plan and asked if that was in line with her vision), and in the meantime I got started on a draft with what I had. I sent it over two weeks later, when I hadn’t heard back about the research side, with a note saying this was just an initial rough draft to be filled in with supporting evidence once I had a better idea of what they were looking for.
I had to follow up twice more before I got a reply, two and a half weeks later (any other publication and I probably would have dropped it). She liked the draft and had circulated it among the other editors, and they had notes. Like, so many notes. Nearly all of which were thoughtful and valid and would require a lot of work to address — but I was ready to do that work. Except… there were also these notes:
*two editors flagged that the tone is a bit ...arch. or even smug/condescending in a way that might turn off readers. could you express this differently: "I felt more reassured that I hadn’t been misled in thinking our neighborhood was mostly populated by left-leaning, science-believing, marginalized-community-supporting humans." Similarly noting that Trump supporting neighbors who "crawl" or "slink" between craftsman houses and tramp organic gardens sets us up in a way that leaves not much to the imagination. Can we build to it?
Look, that thing about building to it? At the time, I didn’t have the clarity through my rage to recognize the value in that comment. But I stand by the rage, because there was also this:
*what you're calling "troll" behavior: Is it all actual harassment, or mostly people whose political views you disagree with or Trump supporters? Are any/some of the people bullying or making offensive comments on these forums coming from the left?
And this:
*we like the central argument, for actively engaging and responding thoughtfully with our neighbors, rather than just rubbernecking. But can you go a step further than arguing for it as a way to kind of police and push back against views you find offensive, and perhaps explore how active engagement and respectful listening to the views of others in the community could also help neighbors find common ground and understanding and perhaps shift views and create more openness on both sides.... Maybe that's overly idealistic?
Yes, NYT editors, that’s overly idealistic. That’s EXACTLY the point of this pitch: to push back against the constant listening-to-the-crazies-will-do-us-any-good, both-sides-are-valid bullshit you guys seem so attached to pumping into the brains of your readers.
While these comments may seem innocuous to anyone who’s less fired up than I was (and am, even more so, now) about how dangerous it is to validate hate, that’s part of the problem. This attachment to respectability and ‘hearing them out’ has been driving me up the wall since before 2016, and at this point I’m so far up that the floor is a dot to me. And guys, I don’t like heights.1
I fretted and angsted so much over that feedback and my reaction to it. I forwarded it to my friend Rachel, whose reading habits and politics are closely aligned with mine; I knew she’d understand how important this potential byline was to me, and also how impossible it was for me to give even an inch to the other side in my writing. As I said to her:
A) I am indeed smug af, and toning that down will be a bummer but B) I also don't believe that both sides deserve to have their opinions. And that's not the point of the piece. As for the demographic questions, I just don't have that info and I'm not sure if I could find it. And I do think her final point is overly idealistic/the NYT is generally known for being kind of wussy about Trump voters and pandering to the right/centrists, and I kind of hate them for that...
I gave it a day. Well, a night. In a classic example of the power imbalance between freelancers and editors, I didn’t feel I could take any longer to respond without risking losing the editor’s attention. Here’s what I landed on:
Thanks so much for all this feedback! I think a lot of it makes sense and is actionable, but I do have one major concern: I don't actually believe that active engagement and listening will change any minds. The point of this piece was to oppose that theory, gently – not to say that people shouldn't try, but rather to point out that there's an alternative value to standing up for what you believe is right and important, beyond the (likely futile) attempt to convince your opponent.
So, while I'm happy to ratchet down the snark in my tone, it would be impossible for me to write something that presents the far right/Trump voters as having equally valid opinions to those on the left. If that's not a dealbreaker, please let me know and I will work on incorporating the rest of your feedback/addressing the questions you asked within a revised draft.
I followed up a week later to see if she had any thoughts about whether I should keep working on the piece. I never heard back.
With most of my pitches, that would mean I moved on to the next publication on my list. But this one hurt. Not because I was ghosted (that’s to be expected, and now that I’m an editor I have a LOT more empathy for their inbox woes), but because this pitch felt like it needed to be in the New York Times. As if, had they let me write it the way I wanted to, the piece would have somehow redeemed them in my (and hopefully other readers’) eyes, shown that despite their wishy-washy coverage they did actually understand the difference between the two sides, and the importance of that distinction.
And I think that’s why this story pops up for me so often. I use it as an example when I talk to journalism students about journalistic ethics, how they’ll almost certainly compromise more often than they expected once they enter the workforce but they’ll also run up against their own personal red line at some point. And that’s a good thing. I also tell this story when I talk to other freelancers about ‘dream bylines’ — my dream was dashed, but I’m actually kind of fine with that. And I talked about it just yesterday at the pool, standing in my lane next to a fellow swimmer who was ranting about how the New York Times (and various other publications) have continuously let readers and voters down with their refusal to speak truth to power (and perceived power).
In some ways, the fact that this pitch didn’t work out — and more specifically the way it didn’t work out — has held more value for me than the byline ever could have. It showed me that my values have a stronger currency than journalistic clout, and I’m not going to lie: I didn’t necessarily think that would be the case, until I was tested.
I haven’t felt the need to re-pitch this one anywhere else. The original pitch itself feels less relevant to me (although it could definitely be reworked into a sort of ‘respectability politics had a hand in Trump’s second win’ piece), and I don’t use Nextdoor anymore so the anchor would have to change. And my focus has shifted: I’m moving on to pitches about motherhood under a fascist regime.
Maybe a big publication will commission one of those pitches. Maybe a little one. Or maybe I’ll just write about it here. As long as I get to say what’s important, the venue is secondary.
PS No recent writing/reading/random joy this time. Sorry, friends. We’ll get back to our regularly scheduled programming next time.
Yeah, I know I took the metaphor too far…but sometimes I just gotta be me, you know?