As a graduate of the Georgia Institute of Technology with a M.S. degree in Earth and atmospheric science, I was accustomed to giving technical presentations.  The atmospheric dynamics research I conducted under Dr. Robert Dickerson and Dr. Rong Fu was easily conveyed to fellow scientists and researchers who were already familiar with the sometimes-complicated terminology.  I was certain that with an undergraduate degree in communications I would have absolutely no problem in relaying my scientific knowledge to the general public.  But as I began work as a science reporter for CNN, the dictates of academic presentation quickly vanished and were replaced by three simple media guidelines: Be Relevant, Be Creative, Be Brief.

Each day as I went to work, hundreds of articles on innovative new ideas or exciting scientific discoveries awaited my attention.  Every captivating story, from the latest trend in biotechnology to the inward working of fireflies, demanded the interest of my already-inquisitive mind.  Thus began the task of sifting through each topic—important in its own right—and deciding which ones were relevant to my audience.  The journalistic temptation to investigate every idea was eclipsed by the reality of limited time.  The chosen few ideas that were actually transformed into feature stories were ones that explicitly followed the three media guidelines.

The first guideline, being relevant, implies that science journalism not only has the responsibility of informing the public of new ideas, but also, that those ideas must be of benefit to the audience.  One story that I investigated was, in my opinion, extremely pertinent.  However, by the time the story actually went through the development process, the issue was no longer in the forefront of the public eye, thus losing its immediate significance.  The subject matter must be relevant to the time, place, and circumstances of the audience.

After establishing relevance, the next step was to present the subject in a creative manner.  My naturally analytical mind was forced to assume the dimension of finding appealing sights and sounds that would adequately illustrate my point.  The cliché, “a picture is worth a thousand words,” acquired new meaning.  Pictures replaced equations; captivating sounds replaced graphs; interviews replaced bibliographies.  I had to visualize how to best illustrate the concept while maintaining its scientific value.

The third guideline—that of brevity—was the most challenging one.  In the research field, we specialize in giving every detail of the scientific process.  It is almost perilous to omit any thread of evidence that leads to a conclusion.  But in science journalism, thirty pages of equations and details must be turned into thirty seconds of facts.  I would often find myself writing “just the facts” and still having to edit over two pages of script!  The joy of brevity is that in a moment, the audience is able to get an overview of the subject matter.  The obvious disadvantage is that important facts are sometimes omitted that would provide better understanding of the issue.

My experience at CNN was one that positively changed all my pre-conceived ideas about science communication.  It allowed me to see the extreme import of cooperation between scientists and journalists to provide accurate and timely information to the public.  This goal is the motivating force behind organizations such as AGU and others that support the AAAS Mass Media Fellowship each year.  In order to advance as a highly technological society, each of us must become educated on the issues that are employing our time and research efforts.  To be educated, we must continue to conduct programs that promote scientific awareness through the media.

Nyasha Morris, AGU Mass Media Fellow, 2001

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