“They’re too busy for existentialism. It’s something I envy about them.”
-Sean Cole, who ponders the creativity of animals
Hi, I’m Aaron Henkin, curator for the NPR Station Showcase with PRX. This weekly podcast gives some well-deserved recognition to the great work being produced at the hundreds of different public radio stations around the country. A lot of the familiar reporters we’re used to hearing on nationally syndicated programs are people who started out working jobs at their local NPR affiliates. They’re journalists who honed their chops every day in careers at places like WBUR in Boston, Massachusetts. That’s where the talented Sean Cole blossomed as a radio storyteller before moving to American Public Media and becoming a regular contributor to the programs Weekend America and Marketplace. This week, we’re listening to a recent report from Sean, one that asks the question: “Are Animals Creative?” Here’s a brief Q & A with Sean about the story:
What was it that inspired you to look into this question of animals and creativity?
David Krasnow at Studio 360 inspired me. He called me up and said “Sean, are animals creative?” I started talking around the idea as if I knew anything about animals or creativity. Or anything else. And he said “Great. Can you do four minutes on it?”
It’s suggested by people in your story that creativity could be a sort of mating ritual, or just the result of boredom… those ideas aren’t so different from the possible origins of human creativity, no?
Yes. But like we say in the piece, the problem with the word “creativity” is that it means different things to different people. The average person on the street might assume you’re talking about artistic creativity. But to scientists, or at least to the scientist I talked to, “creativity” was more a synonym for “problem solving” — coming up with creative ways to survive and perpetuate the species. The question of the piece is really “can/do animals express themselves through abstraction and representation like we do.” And while the piece doesn’t answer that question, and the ending is tongue-in-cheek, I believe the answer is no. Maybe they can. But they don’t. They’re too busy for existentialism. It’s something I envy about them. Then again, another definition of artistic creativity, in humans, is simply “play.” And I believe that the elephants might be having fun when they jam on the instruments, or when they paint. But I have no idea what I’m talking about.
By the end of this piece, I’m almost left wondering more about the question, “How uncreative are humans?” Was this corollary already in your mind when you started out putting the story together?
Interesting. I actually didn’t think of that.
There’s a great moment when you surprise your neurological researcher with a question about elephants improvising on percussion instruments, and as she stammers with a response, you cut away to the sounds of… elephants improvising on percussion instruments. I guess this leads me to ask: How much do you think ahead about your story structure in advance of actually doing your interviews?
That was a stroke of luck, the way she answered that question and the way it fit in with the music. How much I structure beforehand varies from story to story. In this case, I knew who I wanted to talk to: the scientist, the man who taught the elephants to play music (who is also a scientist), and the woman who owns the dog who plays the piano (and who didn’t end up in the story — I’ve been meaning to apologize to her for that). The tape of Tillamook Cheddar and her owner is actually from another Studio 360 story. But it was a good illustration. Anyway, in this case I knew which order I wanted those people in. But I would have asked the scientist about the elephants in any case. Just because I knew I was using both of those elements. I’m worried that I’ve started structuring stories beforehand too much, and not allowing enough room for accident and inspiration. In this case it was really a necessity because we had to turn the story around pretty quickly.
The simple, tongue-in-cheek ending of your story is a nice antidote to the expansive ‘we-may-never-really-know’ conclusion of so many public radio science stories… are there particular story-making pitfalls that you’re especially conscientious about avoiding?
Thank you. Yeah. Stephen Smith at American Radio Works talks about those pitfalls. He came to WBUR twice to do a writing workshop with the reporters there. I attended both times. Just because he’s so great and explains the importance of writing and structure (and what good writing and structure is and isn’t) so well. There’s this great bit he does where he’s imitating a reporter on deadline, throwing a piece together, and he says something like “You write for a while and then you say ‘Whoop, it’s about time for another piece of tape.’ So you throw another piece of tape in there and then you write some more and say ‘Better get some more tape in.’ And then you get to the end of the story and you’ve said everything you want to say (which means you structured the story wrong). And so you end up writing, ‘No one knows what will happen. But one thing is for sure. Only time will tell.’ Done.” So that’s one pitfall I try to avoid. That said, David, my editor, sent me back to the drawing board with that ending two or three times. Until I finally just wrote that one out of frustration. He’s good like that. He doesn’t let you get away with faking it. I can’t overemphasize the importance of good editing in what we do.
You’ve been making stories for some time now with a very original narrative delivery – one that results in you sounding genuinely spontaneous, natural, and accessible… any advice for radio-makers on what you’ve learned along the way about writing for radio?
Thank you for saying that. I always feel like I’m no one to give advice to anyone. In part because I’m incredibly superstitious and feel like I’m going to wake up one day and have no idea how to do any of this. If I haven’t already. (Knock wood.) But there’s the advice reporters hear all the time — writing as though you’re telling the story to someone at a dinner party. Trying not to use cliches, or jargon, or formal language. All of which are very handy crutches, begging you to shove them under your arms. Another part of it is imitating reporters you really admire and love. I’m still an incorrigible rip-off artist. For example, I got the thing about imitating reporters you really admire and love from Ira Glass, whom I probably imitate way too much still. I also feel like I’m always ripping off Robert Krulwich. Talk about spontaneous and natural and accessible! And then he’ll turn around and write this gorgeous, sophisticated, elevating sentence like, “In science, there is such a thing as a too dangerously beautiful idea.” Just drop that in like a pearl in the middle of this flurry of excited, chatty, fluid conversation with his tape. He makes the job seem very easy and fun. It’s a gift that distinguishes him. I don’t know whether he finds it easy at this point. I find it to be very, very hard and fun. That’s the funny thing, it’s easier to sound formal and official and academic. And it’s immensely hard, at least for me, to sound informal and like you’re just talking. And every time up I’m like, “Oh no. How do I do this again?”
…Sean Cole currently works for American Public Media, contributing to both Marketplace and Weekend America. He comes from a career at WBUR, where he produced the documentary series Inside Out. You can hear more work from Sean on-line at The Public Radio Exchange. That’s where producers from around the world share their work. Log on, write your own reviews and help influence what ends up on the radio at www.prx.org.
[...] Are Animals Creative?, by Sean Cole [...]