This summer, AGU sponsored my tightrope walk between scientists and media. I am a graduate student from the University of California, Riverside, in geochemistry and an American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) 1997 Mass Media Science and Engineering fellow. The fellowship program partners science grad students with news organizations all over the country, with the goal of shaking up the oil and water mixture of the two vastly different, but symbiotic disciplines. Instead of looking down a microscope as a scientist, I had the chance to look back up at scientists themselves. In the end, I came away with a journalist's perspective of scientists, and a few ideas to improve the relationship from the scientific side.

My fellowship took me to Portland and its only daily newspaper, The Oregonian. North-westerners are very aware of Portland's amazing regional geology, which made it a great place for me and The Oregonian, an easy sell for earth science stories. In the news room, I'd endlessly enlighten my fellow journalists on the nuances of rocks and minerals and the temperament of their neighboring nemesis, Mount Hood.

After spending the first two weeks at The Oregonian phone interviewing and creating stories without ever leaving the building, my editors sent me to Crater Lake for three days. I was hooked. "This is what it's all about," I thought. "This is the life.”

A day on the lake interviewing park limnologist Mark Buktennica and soaking up rays in a magnificent volcanic caldera, another day spent in the forest, on a guided tour of Crater Lake National Park's protected beauty. In the evening, photographer Rose Howerter and I dined on salmon entrees at the Crater Lake Lodge. Days later, back in the newsroom, I stared at a blank computer screen, cursing my left brain's impotence. "Why, this is no fun at all," I thought....

Diametrical Perception

Asking scientists to be savvy media specialists is no easy task. I know from personal experience that many geologists are far more at home in the lab or in the field than at a cocktail party discussing current international events. My master's field work took me to a fairly isolated basin on the flank of the Mount Rainier volcano in Washington. Occasionally, a train of climbers would trudge by my camp on their way to the volcano's summit. "Don't you get lonely?" I'd often be asked. "Lonely?" I'd say, annoyed by their disturbance. "With all these rocks?" It is a rare journalist who understands the attachment scientists feel to their work. But at The Oregonian I found-contrary to what some scientists think-news editors don't just pull people off the street and call them science writers. Actually, the science, health, and environmental writers are usually the brightest in the news room. Faced with the daunting task of covering Top Quarks one day and monkey cloning the next, most often they succeed.

In fact, here's an insider note: a group of Washington Post science journalists offered this advice to a group of gathered AAAS fellows: Play dumb. Often, they said, it's the only way to get a scientist to explain a subject in a way that will fit into news copy. I was fortunate to be mentored by Richard Hill, The Oregonian's science writer, who has a stellar reputation with scientists all over the Northwest and beyond. It was somewhat intimidating to hear scientists rave about Hill, with more than a hint of doubt in their voices about my own ability. But in the end, I don't think I lost any sources for him.

Once I got over the fear of dealing with "experts," I sat back and analyzed how the scientists were dealing with me. Some scientists were quite clever, feeding me excellent quotes that fit right into news copy. Others made me want to run and hide. For scientists who find themselves in the throes of a Mars media blitz, or simply defining earthquake magnitude to a local journalist, here are some helpful hints that I garnered from my stint as a science writer.

How To Be a Media-Friendly Scientist

Simplify. I once interviewed a fluid dynamic specialist who rambled high-speed about Stokes flow. The name Stokes tripped a neuron, but I had no idea what the guy was talking about. My brain turned to instant oatmeal and then shut down. I had scribbled some illegible notes, but it was too late. I turned the page in my notebook and went on to ask him about something I could cope with. It was probably a good bit of science he had there, but I had only an hour and he hadn't yet released a Sesame Street version- not a dumb version, just simplified and catchy.

On the other hand, there is Robert Watters, a geologic engineer from the University of Nevada in Reno. I chased him around Glacier Basin on Mount Rainier for a day as he pounded on and measured the strength of crumbling rocks. Watters has incredible enthusiasm and way too much energy, and it rubs off. He has also put some thought into explaining his work to nonscientists. "Mount Rainier is like a cake," he tells me of the mountain's stratigraphy. "There is icing, sponge, and cream filling. If you tilt the cake, it will slide along the cream filling, the area with the least strength." Instant quote. Beautiful analogy.

Lighten Up. For a story on dating Kennewick Man, a 9,300-year-old skeleton found along the Columbia River, I interviewed a radiocarbon specialist. He spoke so quickly and technically that I was unable to process what he was saying. This was one of my first interviews, and I fell victim to a technical paralysis that can afflict a reporter when an expert source fails to translate the science.

In the end, I used almost nothing from that hour-long interview, and instead interviewed Donna Kirner, another scientist in the field who was far more journalist-friendly. Kirner had actually done the work on Kennewick Man, and slowly walked me though the process.

Slow Down. During an interview, journalists need time to absorb what you are saying while they take notes, mentally file important facts, and discard others. Then, they will need to ask questions to make sure they are getting what you're saying. Encourage the journalist to interrupt you. And try not to appear too irritated. Also, encourage the journalist to contact you for further information. Often, a call-back is intimidating. This is especially so for me because I've witnessed the disdain that scientists hold for journalists who don't seem to get it the first time.

But I'm sure most scientists would rather be bothered than have their science misrepresented.
It helps to have graphics and photos ready for the journalist. Anything you can offer to the publication's art department helps ensure the accuracy of the article's accompanying graphics.

Get Excited! Explain what you do with enthusiasm. If you are bored by your work, imagine how a journalist will feel interviewing you. This summer David Kestenbaum, an AAAS fellow working for a radio station in Columbus, Ohio, interviewed an ornithologist who actually yawned on tape throughout the entire interview. Office interviews I conducted seldom produced the excitement and enthusiasm my article might show if I'd actually been in the field with the scientist. But Seth Moran, a seismologist from the University of Washington was ready for me when I arrived in his basement office. With maps and seismographs, he excitedly explained the seismic network set up in the Cascades. He even took the time to set up a projector full of field slides.

Try Interviewing Someone Out of Your Field. In my career as a student, I've often been amazed how deeply divided different earth sciences are. Imagine interviewing someone in another earth science field. Magnify the frustration by a factor of 10, and you've got the beginning science writer view on your work.

I've often heard scientists grumbling down the halls of academia, "But I gave them all that good science. They must be too ... to get it." Whenever a reporter uses a quote like, "This will be the big one for sure!" it's usually because the source failed to provide much that the journalist could understand and identify as newsworthy.

Deadlines. Think of the pressure you're under to turn in a meeting abstract or a grant proposal. Journalists are under this kind of pressure daily. When a journalist is covering your work, if you don't return messages promptly, the reporter will have to do the best he or she can, which may not be in the article's best interest. The publication's editor, like the folks running meetings or dishing out grant dollars, will not wait for the piece.

Granted, I've heard legitimate complaints about the overzealous reporter who sinks canines into one entirely speculative sentence in your paper's discussion section and bases the whole article around it. But overall, placing the blame for bad mainstream science reporting solely on the journalists is ignoring at least half of the problem.

Recently, I had lunch with Patrick O'Neill, an Oregonian health reporter. Missing my life as a journalist, I inquired about his current work. "Oh," he said, looking exhausted and leaning into his lunch plate, "I've been working on this story that I've researched to the nth degree....I've worked on this thing for nearly two weeks." Having spent the previous day with David Zimbelman, my mentor volcanologist who is into his fifth season climbing and collecting in the Cascades, I realized that scientists and journalists are not meant to act as one or even have a complete understanding of one another's work. And I realized the fundamental division between scientists and journalists: time.

My very supportive team members at The Oregonian regularly told me I wrote in geologic time. At some point, they said-preferably today than in a millennium-I had to give it up and let it go. After all, tomorrow would bring another day and another deadline.

Scientists and journalists will never live by the same clock, and those of us who try to bring the two together are in for a great challenge. This past year, 1997, marks the first year of AGU sponsorship in the AAAS Mass Media Science and Engineering Fellows Program. Continuing to link earth scientists to mainstream media is in the best interest of both scientists and society and the responsibility of all who have the great fortune of working to uncover the Earth's endless mysteries.

Victoria Bruce, AGU Mass Media Fellow, 1997

Visit Victoria's website to read her biography and learn more about her book, No Apparent Danger.

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