How to write The “I” Lead?

The first-person “I” is the writer talking to the reader. This technique is often used in a personal column, but can be used in a participant article (“This is what I did when I ran the Boston Marathon”).

Here Steve Wilstein of the Associated Press uses the “I” form in a piece about how many players in the 1994 college basketball Final Four Tournament had tattoos. In addition to Corliss Williamson, who is mentioned in the lead, Lee Wilson, Corey Beck, and Darnell Robinson of Arkansas all had tattoos. Marty Clark of Duke and four members of the Purdue women’s team had tattoos.

I’m wondering how an ornery Arkansas Razorback, tusks and all, would look side by side with a Duke Blue Devil. Or maybe the Corliss Williamson looks: Tasmanian devil near his heart, his initials on the right side of his chest, and his nickname, “Nasty.”

I asked him why he did it and he said: “It’s just one of the wild things you do when you first get into college.”

Raoul Estlinbaum of The Houston Post went fishing for redfish in the Gulf of Mexico near Houston and not only came back with a big one (“maybe 35 pounds”) but also an “I” lead for a story, run September 23,1993, under the headline “With redfish, it’s a fight to the end.”

Estlinbaum omitted the “I” form after the first six paragraphs of the story.

The strike caught me off-guard, almost yanking the rod out of my hand. The line ripped sideways as a big redfish surfaced briefly, and then executed a power dive, taking out 30 yards of line.

For the next 15 minutes, the bronze brute and I engaged in a game of tug-of-war, a seesaw battle that went back and forth with neither side gaining much ground. Slowly, the battle started to swing my way, but not without considerable effort.

Finally, an exhausted red, maybe 35 pounds, came belly up, no longer able to resist. Mike Williams lifted the hardy fish out of the water, removed the hook and revived the weary warrior, sliding it gently back and forth to get water moving through its gills.

“These reds are big-time fighters,” Williams said, watching the fish swim away. “Like tarpon, they give it everything they’ve got.” (p. C-10)

Steve Howland, of The Houston Post, uses an appropriate “I” beginning in an article about deer hunting in east Texas. He also uses the “I” form throughout the article. His article was published December 2, 1993, under the headline “Patience pays off-big time for hunter.”

BRUSHY Cried EXPERIMENTAL FOREST-this place is definitely a successful experiment.

I’m sitting here in a ground blind, being eaten alive by a large family of mosquitoes, and not feeling a thing because I’m looking at the biggest deer I’ve ever seen in the flesh.

I haven’t been to Champion International’s 25,000-acre game and timber reserve since 1988, when Houston Post carpentry supervisor and master deer hunter Henry Duran and I made a visit to gather venison for his booth at The Post’s annual Chili Cook-off.

That was my first visit here and I got a nice nine-point, my best buck in seven years of deer hunting, on the first night out. (p. B-12)

Howland’s end paragraph refers to his colleague Henry Duran and Duran’s promise that Howland would get his deer.

The ending was:

Henry and I meet up in camp. He has harvested an antlerless for the chili pot. He will get the venison from my deer, and I’ll settle for the horns and a backstrap or two. Henry casually looks at the deer, congratulates me and sums it all up:

“I told you,” he says, shaking his finger my way, “I told you he’d be there.”

Fred King of The Houston Post uses and “I” lead to begin a story about how not to begin hunting season. The Houston Post ran this article under a headline “Abundance of game makes Hill Country hunt a snap” on November 18, 1993. (The Hill Country is a huge swatch of woodlands beginning west of Austin. Fredericksburg and Kerrville, Texas, are in the middle of the Hill Country.)

I breathe and exhale and the crosshairs settle exactly where I want them. Baalowww! . . . Damn!

I’ve drawn blood with my first shot. But the season’s not open yet. And it’s my blood.

I’m at Bayou Rifles checking my zero two days before the whitetail season starts in most of Texas. Since I got a hard case for my rifles, the zero has changed little. However, things happen. In my book, it is unethical to go hunting unless you have checked your zero.

And, this year, for the first time in many years, I’m not using my favorite hand load in the .264 Winchester Mag. I just ran out of time to reload and was lucky to find both my license and a box of 140-grain factory ammo in the same place.

I’m going with new ammo to a new place, Bill Carter’s Apache Springs Ranch at Hunt, in the Hill Country.

What was eagerness a moment ago feels like dumbness? The spots on my finger confirm it’s my blood, from just above my right eyebrow. Settling in on the bench, wearing the field jacket I’ll wear if it’s really cold at Carter’s, I’ve held the rifle too loosely and edged too close to the scope.