I was a victim of 'drugs in small towns'

When I took my first reporting job out of high school, I landed at the Vicksburg Post, covering crime and the regional beat, which spanned 6 counties and parishes in Mississippi and Louisiana. After a few weeks on the beat, I noticed a trend in what I was seeing in the small-town lockups, so I proposed an ambitious series to my managing editor.

"I want to write about the effects of drugs in small towns."

"Knock yourself out," she said.

I worked on this for weeks. Weeks. I scheduled interviews with sheriffs, addicts, district attorneys, anyone who touched this topic. Which, I soon realized, was a lot of people. I wrote exploratory essays -- I think I had 5,000 words at one point. And I still hadn't wrapped my mind around the scope of the issue. Each Tuesday in our reporters meeting, I mentioned that I was still working on the series. (I'm sure that behind my back, it became a running joke among the other reporters and editors.) It became an albatross -- I had told my boss that I was going to do something, but it just wasn't working out. The issue was so large, so hard to pinpoint themes beyond the obvious. (As Mr. Mackey from "South Park" frequently says, "Drugs are bad. Mmm-kay?") Not to mention that I had interviewed all of these people, yet no story had come forth. I was still seeing many of the sources on a daily basis (since, as my boss pointed out, "The newspaper is published every day," and it was my job to make a good chunk of it was filled with news under my byline). I felt awkward every time I called the Claiborne County sheriff, though he never asked me about the status of the story.

The stress got to be too much. I told my boss that the story wasn't going to come together.

"Of course," she said. "Drugs in small towns? Are you kidding me? But I thought it would be good for you to get out there and meet people."

I was 22 at the time, so forgive my naivete: "Haven't I hurt my relationship with these same people? What's going to happen when I don't publish anything from the interviews?"

"Nothing," she said. "They don't care about you. It was just another interview with an ignorant reporter for them. Get used to it."

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I think a lot of stuff about a lot of different topics. I keep telling myself that I should write about it, if nothing else, to help me sort out my thoughts. What's kept from it is the sheer size of many of the topics that interest me: How can we radically increase student achievement? What are the best structures for learning environments? Why is our country so polarized? Why are we cruel to each other?

These, and many others, are big topics. Therefore, expect a lot of commentary on country music, football, and bourbon. Not necessarily in that order.