Starting a story is like the moment of standing in the open door of a plane, with the wind and cold behind you, not yet known because they’re outside and you’re still in the door, but tearing at you. They take hold. The wind tugs at the parachute pack, almost ripping you out. The moment comes when you let go of the doorway and fall backwards in an inverted swan dive.

You packed your chute. You’re pretty sure it will open, but you don’t absolutely know for sure. Falling, half flying, you take what comes.

Or maybe it’s like what harpooners must have felt as the harpoon struck home and the line went smoking through the chocks and the boat lurched forward. That’s what working on a long story is like. You fly on and on, dashing the waves aside.

Both of those examples make me sound braver than I am. In fact, I’m timid. Often when I have to ask questions I know the interview subject won’t want to answer, my hands shake as I write down the answers. I considered naming this site newscoward.com, but the domain’s been claimed by somebody in Asia. Not being able to read the characters on the home screen, I have no idea why. I only stayed a second, and didn’t check. Maybe it’s a porn site, the private made public. Here’s some news for you. Maybe it’s pictures from crime scenes, or war.