In the following example, the journalist inappropriately appears as a character. That sort of writing is fine for a social media post, but it’s an unnecessary distraction in a news story.

	When I climbed the stairs to John Smith’s apartment, I heard a strange, rhythmic thumping. Could it be bongo drums? I opened the door, and saw Smith sitting on the floor, banging away. He smiled at me and told me to come in.
Too personal and self-referential. The main character in this paragraph is the reporter, which leaves little room for the reader to connect with Smith.

	“Outside John Smith’s apartment, a strange thumping could be heard. Could it be bongo drums? When the door was opened, Smith could be seen sitting on the floor, banging away.  A visitor is smiled at and welcomed.
A little better, but “could be heard” by whom? And “could be seen” by whom? This revision sort of puts a paper bag over the head of the reporter, but the reporter is still part of the story. Structurally, this passage overuses passive verbs, which makes writing impersonal and vague.

	Rhythmic thumping fills the stairwell outside John Smith’s apartment. Pounding away on the bongo drums he inherited from a Cuban uncle, Smith welcomes a visitor without missing a beat.
The revision captures the energy of the setting; instead of focusing on the reporter, it aims to insert the reader directly into the scene, while also enriching the description of an experience with precise, relevant details (such as the reference to the Cuban uncle) that would not be obvious to a visitor who just happened upon the scene.

The combination of vivid description (powerfully conveying what is happening at the moment) and background details (that provide context for the experience) is how journalists use their creativity to create an emotional effect for the reader.

In a human interest story, the reporter isn’t supposed to be the interesting human.

Traditional journalism expects the reporter to stay out of the way, so the reader can experience an event as directly as possible.

	Sophomore Rita Jones said she copes with stress by baking cookies. When I asked what kind of cookies she baked, she laughed and said that her favorite kind is chocolate chip, which makes her okay in my book. I agree with her — no other kind of cookie really matters.
Phrases like “when I asked” and “I agree” insert the reporter into the story. But writing from the perspective of an invisible observer is not as simple as removing the word “I”. See the following example:

	Sophomore Rita Jones said she copes with stress by baking  cookies. When this reporter asked her what kind of cookies, Jones laughed and said that she doesn’t think any cookie exists other than chocolate chip.
In the above revision, the motion away from “I” is helpful, but “this reporter” is about as invisible as a guy with a bag over his head. (Besides, this English professor has never heard any journalist use the phrase “this reporter” except in movies from the 1940s.)

	If you ask sophomore Rita Jones how she copes with holiday stress, she might bake you some cookies. When asked what kind of cookies, she said, “Chocolate chip! What other kind are there?”
We’ve made some progress on the Rita Jones story…  but now there’s a tension between the imaginary conversation (“If you ask Rita… she might”) and the real conversation the reporter did have with Rita (“When asked… she said.”)

Usually, you should avoid phrases like “When asked about…” — unless the omission paints a misleading picture of the event.

To polish up our cookie story, let’s go back to basics. What are the facts?

	Rita Jones is a sophomore at Seton Hill University, who likes to bake cookies when she is stressed.
This story is not exactly hard-hitting investigative reporting, but it might appeal to students who are stressed as the end of fall term approaches. So, let’s try to introduce the reader to Rita’s stress-release tip as quickly as possible, giving them a reason to keep reading. The trick is to keep yourself — the trustworthy reporter — out of it.