Author Interview
Stephanie
Earls
Albany Times Union
Author Comments on "Lequan: The Lost Boy"
"Lequan: The Lost Boy" ran in our "Sunday Life Today" section. The series was introduced that day by a 60-inch A-1 component, also written by me, defining the problem of New York's "failure" to get its older kids adopted: hundreds of kids languish in the system each year with dismal odds of success. The story gave background, experts' quotes, numbers, etc., freeing us up to tell Lequan's story on its own. We hoped that, even if someone hadn't read the A-1 story, the hardships and struggles Lequan faced, and that the system faced (and had failed at), were evident without being restated in "expert-speak."
This is how the story came about: last year, a co-worker who was adopting a baby from the child-welfare system directed me to a Website of waiting children, which includes a searchable database, photos and a brief description of each child. I found it heart-wrenching. I knew I wanted to tell the story of one of the children, but I didn't know if I would be able to get access to one.
One of my first calls was to the media person at a local agency that has group homes for kids awaiting adoption. I met Lequan, a resident there, in October 2003. He was one of two teens the agency had designated as "OK to talk to press."
An interview was arranged, around a table, with two social workers, the agency's media relations person, and three county officials. It was pretty stilted and superficial. But Lequan clearly liked to talk, and he was lucid and articulate. I was surprised to find that the agency didn't try to hold him back, even when he shared complaints about his living situation. At first the photographer was instructed not to photograph the kids' faces (just silhouettes), but by the end of the two-hour interview the county commissioner for children, youth and families had given us permission, at the kids' prodding, to photograph them. That indicated the possibility of more and better access. I started gathering information on New York's hard-to-place kids. I knew it was going to be a huge topic, and one that was going to take weeks or months of background work, especially because I was coming at it utterly cold.
I continued collecting information on New York state adoptions. I also continued talking with Lequan. I wasn't yet sure how his story would fit into what was starting to look like an "adoption series." I met with Lequan for "interviews" four more times over the coming months, all in the agency setting, with the agency's media person present. Then, in April of 2004, we were allowed into Lequan's new foster home. From that point, access was pretty open. I spent, on average, several hours a week with Lequan, and many more hours on the phone with him, his foster family, his social worker and other people who had been significant in his life.
Lequan had already given his consent to use his name in the series. On the eve of publication, the commissioner finally gave her consent, too, saying it would give Lequan a sense of empowerment and "identity." We consulted with our lawyer before running both the Lequan story and the A-1 story.
In reconstructing his story, I relied most on sources close to Lequan. Lequan's one-time guardian, his social worker and the childcare worker at the agency where Lequan lived -- all corroborated information for the periods they'd been in Lequan's life. Lequan's "Grandma Shorty" helped with information about family that Lequan could not have known. The social worker also established for me a timeline of agencies where Lequan had lived, and dates he'd been institutionalized for depression. For reconstructed conversations, I verified quotes with both sides where possible. We also had his father's criminal records, and all dates matched up with the information Lequan and others had given us.
Though I had written narratives before, I had to refine my understanding of the style while working on this story. I came to understand narrative not just as a style of writing, but as a technique that required me to get into the head of my subject, Lequan, and to ask questions I was at first uncomfortable asking, and that Lequan wasn't sure how to answer. I kept at it, though, and eventually we got into a tempo we were both comfortable with. I learned how to direct our conversations, to steer him toward anecdotes that told his story; he began to reveal the kinds of information that opened a true window into his experiences. Eventually, all of our interactions were on this level, and I knew I was getting information that was very good, and that the story was going to be very long.
My editors were willing to let the story, and the series, evolve organically. They gave me enough time to thoroughly learn the subject matter before writing it. In the end, they were as enthusiastic about Lequan's story being told as narrative (long-form narrative, that is) as I was. Without issues like that to knock heads over, we all had a common goal: make Lequan's story the best it could be. Timing, too, was fortuitous: As things were drawing to a close with the series, my immediate editor and the features AME returned from the Nieman narrative seminar for editors. Come press-time, both editors fought for space for the story, so very little was whittled for the final version.