Chris Jones couldn't say exactly why he is obsessed with writing. However, it is the question he most often asks others who are obsessed with a particular thing. To learn more about the inexplicable instinct that drives us toward the things we love.
A non-fiction author best known for his articles in Esquire magazine, Chris has been a guest at The Power of Storytelling several times and is thrilled to return for the March 21–22 edition. He has also written for The Atlantic, The New York Times Magazine, WIRED, The Wall Street Journal Magazine, and ESPN.
"My favourite stories are stories about obsessives, especially if they’re deeply in love with something strange", says Chris.
"Hope Is a Choice" is the theme of this year's The Power of Storytelling conference. Taking place on March 21–22, the event will bring together over 550 participants from Romania and the region, alongside Pulitzer Prize winners, bestselling authors, and world-class storytellers.
In anticipation of the conference, we spoke with Chris about how writing has changed his relationship with the idea of hope and what kind of stories the crazy world we live in truly needs.
What drove you towards writing
Well, I’m quite old now, which explains part of it — my childhood was filled with books, because there wasn’t that much else to do on a cold winter’s day. My mum taught English, and she always encouraged me to read and write. I was probably seven or eight when I became one of the editors of my elementary school paper. I never really stopped writing after that.
I’ve asked a lot of obsessives over the years why they love what they love. None of them can answer that question. Some inexplicable instinct drew them to whatever it is they love. That’s true of me, too. I lived in a house of books, and my mum especially made sure I engaged with them, but mostly I just fell in love with words and their shapes and meanings. I don’t know why. All I know is, I never fell out of love with them.
The biggest strength of a writer
It’s hard to answer a question like this without sounding vain. But I do think I understand why certain stories matter. A good story has an idea behind it, what the story is about. But it also has a theme, what the story is really about. So a story about astronauts, for instance, might really be about homesickness. I’m good at seeing what someone’s experience might say about all of our experiences. I can find the thing that makes even extraordinary people relatable to the rest of us.
How has your perspective changed on what makes a story worth passing on
I’m not sure it has, honestly. I think experience has made it easier for me to figure out why stories matter, but I always knew that a good story explains something about the reader to themselves. Stories work when readers connect with the subject. I feel like I always knew that. I’m just better at seeing why they might connect.
The hardest part of writing narrative journalism today
I mean, it’s the industry — it’s society as a whole. It’s getting someone’s attention and keeping someone’s attention. I try to be an optimist, but I do worry about the audience and its capacity for sitting with something worthwhile. One of my sons reads, and the other doesn’t. I worry that more and more people look at the world the way the one who doesn’t read looks at it.
When do you know that you have the beginning of a story
I don’t write from the beginning to the end. I write in chunks, whatever scene or moment I’m feeling the strongest when I sit down at my desk. I usually write my ending first, or at least I’ll have some idea of where I want the story to go, the way you need a destination before you start a journey.
The beginning usually surfaces at some point during that process. Once I know the ending, I try to find a beginning that will grab the reader and that helps make the ending both surprising and inevitable. That’s the key to a great ending for me. At first you’re stunned by it, and then you sit with it for a second and think: But of course. Like, the ending of The Sixth Sense is a good example of that. For me, the beginning is whatever moment will most help deliver on that promise.
The tribe of storytellers & the responsibilities they carry
I love storytellers. I love feeling like I’m not alone in my mania. The responsibilities are the same as they ever were: to deliver good stories, about compelling people and circumstances, that are well-reported, written, and edited, and that leave the reader feeling glad they read whatever it is you wrote. It’s a kind of magic trick, making strangers feel things. I do believe at its most basic level, storytelling is about making the audience feel whatever it is you hope they might feel.
Storytelling in the age of AI
I’ve ignored AI. Never used it. Will never use it. So I’ve noticed no shifts in my tiny little universe. I’m sure there will be titanic changes to the industry of storytelling, and some of them will be negative, and some of them will be positive. Tools are neutral. What matters is how we use them, for good or evil. Rockets can deliver us to the moon or deliver warheads into a child’s bedroom. I’m sure some people will use AI to create something new and beautiful. I’m also sure that I won’t be one of them.
The first story that fascinated you
I remember very clearly reading a story called “Resurrecting the Champ” by JR Moehringer. I was already a newspaper journalist, doing my early version of my work. I read that and thought: Oh, shit. I didn’t know we could do that. It radically changed my idea of what was possible in terms of form. I imagine it was something like what happened when Martin Scorsese’s first tracking shot showed up and film students were like, WHAT? That’s how I felt reading that story. It was like a door opened.
What stories fascinate you now
My favourite stories are stories about obsessives, especially if they’re deeply in love with something strange. I was at the Olympics last month and talked to a speed skater for thirty minutes about his skates. He was so happy to share his passion. It made me feel good about everything. People are still capable of great love.
What kind of stories does the world need right now
Maybe some version of that speed skater story. I don’t need to hear about how shitty people are to each other. That’s what the news is for. (And that’s important, by the way. I’m not advocating ignorance.) For me, at least, I want to read stories that make me feel like we’re going to be okay, that most people are good. Which they are.
Has your work changed the way you think about hope
I’m still a hopeful person, despite some evidence to the contrary, and I think that’s honestly because of how many cool and interesting people I’ve met through my work. I’ve been very lucky in many ways, and that’s one of them. I’ve met hundreds of people who’ve inspired me, who do beautiful things, who want to make positive change. They’re out there. They always have been and always are. Sometimes we don’t see them, but I remember the ones I’ve met, and if I need a psychic boost, I try to focus on someone who I’ve met who makes me happy that they exist.
What still surprises you about human beings
That’s a lovely question. I’m still surprised at how incredible we are when we decide to be incredible. We take too much for granted. Once I was sitting in a Burger King, and a group of old men were eating beside me, a bunch of old buddies, hanging out. And they were talking about electric light and how incredible it is. It made me think about how we walk into a room and flip a switch and it fills with light. That’s fucking crazy when you think about it. It’s a miracle. Those old men reminded me of that, and I think about that, and things like it, all the time. We’re surrounded by reminders of how ridiculously awesome we are. Sometimes we just forget to remember that.
