That number don't mean a thing (if it ain't got that bling)

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That number don't mean a thing
(if it ain't got that bling)

Data seem so innocent and pure, so straightforward. So...unbiased. And perhaps they are.

Numbers without context--without story--are essentially meaningless. Five is just five.

But add a label - a touch of bling - and meaning begins to emerge. scarf detail stripe 2

5 degrees

Better--but are we talking about temperature or angles or perhaps even a metaphor, like five degrees of separation?

5 degrees Fahrenheit

Now we're getting somewhere. That little extra bauble lets us know five what.

Five degrees F; that's bitter cold.

Is it?

If you're an ice-dwelling bacterium at the bottom of a glacier, 5 degrees F might feel just right. If you're a mote of space dust, 5 degrees F might be downright hot.

So is 5 degrees F too hot, too cold, or just right?

It depends on the context--the bling we select as we tell the story.

This is where it gets tricky, because bling brings bias.

This morning, I glanced at the thermometer display that sits on a shelf near my front door. It claimed that it was 5 degrees F outside, 65 inside. I slid on my old, starting-to-crack boots, pushed open the frost-crusted storm door,

and walk-skated to the end of the drive to retrieve the newspaper. It had snowed during the night, the kind of extremely dry snow that falls when it's fiercely cold. It was deep enough to get into my boots and melt on the skin of my shins, soaking my socks. My fingers and the tip of my nose were numb by the time I reached the end of the drive. I remembered the Jack London story we'd read back in junior high and considered spitting, just to see what would happen. I wondered how long it would take for someone to notice if I wiped out on my way back to the house and knocked myself unconscious. (I worry about these things.) I made it back to the porch without falling and happened to glance toward the thermometer sensor on the siding, near the downspout. The downspout and most of the corner of the house were encased in ice. Pale amber light reflected dully here and there. In the dark, I couldn't tell if the sensor was inside the ice or not, couldn't remember if it would make a difference in the reading. I fumbled with the door, dropped the paper, picked it up, got the door open, kicked off my boots, and headed toward the kitchen. The thermometer read-out smugly proclaimed it was now 67 inside, and I could hear the furnace huffing air through the ductwork. I thought about July, when it seemed so hot that I'd suffocate and I'd promised myself that when winter came, I would remember 90 degrees F., but how now, fingers stinging as warmth returned, I couldn't remember what July felt like, had a hard time convincing myself that July had ever existed or that warm weather would ever come again.

This morning, I glanced at the thermometer display: 5 degrees F. I bundled into longjohns, thick socks, heavy coat, lined boots with decent traction, and my favorite scarf. I pushed the door open, jammed my hands into mittens, and scarf detail 1

headed out for a pre-dawn walk. My glasses steamed up as I walked through the tiny clouds of my breath. I love the dark early morning, especially after snowfall. On this morning, the new snow was so light you could have swept it away with a broom, if it weren't so deep. I slid through the new drifts, imagining myself as an early explorer, discovering the world for the first time. I glanced up, automatically seeking the north star, and gasped: the sky was so clear it would be invisible if not for the sharp miracle of stars. The tip of my nose was numb; I wrapped my scarf more tightly, knowing it was time to head for home. I scooped up the newspaper from the end of the drive, glancing at my neighbors' houses, all still dark. I wondered why no one else was up and about, why no one else noticed this quiet beauty, and whether I'd really want to share the

peaceful solitude. I stomped the snow off my boots, tugged the door open, left my gear in a heap in the hallway, and headed to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

Both of these stories happen on the same morning, in the same place, to the same person. In both stories, we get a sense of what "5" means. Yet, because of the bling, they are not the same story at all, and the meaning of "5 degrees Fahrenheit" that we come away with is not the same, either. The bling in each version, from verb choice to which details are included, reflect and reveal a particular bias.

And that's with just one data point.

Add more data and the potential for bias increases. Which bits of

data--which numbers, which facts--do you include? These decisions aren't trivial, yet we tend to discount them. We must understand why particular data are important, why we are including them and excluding others, and the consequences of these choices.

Only then can we know what bling those numbers need to bring authentic and legitimate meaning to our readers.

Judy

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Make this the year:
Interpretive Writing Intensive
2012

Only one more Interp Writing Intensive in 2012

The Interp Writing Intensive

returns to

San Geronimo Lodge

in Taos, New Mexico

August 5-10, 2012

Save $200 when you register by April 15, 2012.
Register yourself and two or more friends (even if you're not from the same site) and save an additional fifty bucks each.

Don't wait--register today!

Can't make it to this one? Here are some options:

Bring Greenfire Creative to you: We offer 1- to 4-day writing workshops for interpreters and others for your site or organization.
Sign up for one-on-one writing coaching with Judy.
Delegate writing, editing, and related tasks: We're a full-service freelance company, from concept development and research to final proofreading.
Wait until 2013 and hope for the best.

Call 888/886-9289 (toll-free in the U.S.) or email us for details and pricing.

For more info about the Taos workshop, call (888/886-9289), email (judyb@greenfire-creative.com), or visit our website (http://www.greenfire-creative.com).

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Improve your writing this summer with the
Interpretive Writing Intensive

August 5-10, 2012

San Geronimo Lodge, Taos, NM

Freeman Tilden said interpretive writing should be

"concise, focused, inspirational, and engaging."

Lofty goals for any writer!

But not to worry--during the Interpretive Writing Intensive, we'll guide you through the challenges. You'll learn:

What makes interpretive writing interpretive;

How to create writing that connects with the reader;

Techniques for strengthening language, including pacing, language use, and word choice;

Strategies for organizing;

How to write for any length or space;

How to write for different media, different audiences, and different uses;

How to write for maximum impact;

How to write even if you think you can't;

How to take your writing "off-site";

Humble punctuation;

Accessing--and improving--creativity (or, the Muse will visit if chocolate is involved);

Dealing with writer's block (or, how to get the Muse to visit if you're out of chocolate);

and MORE.

Improve your writing this summer at the Interpretive Writing Intensive, August 5-10, 2012 at San Geronimo Lodge, Taos, New Mexico.

Extra-Early Bird Registration Now Open
Register today and save!

Register today to take advantage of the Extra-Early Bird discount--$200.00 off the regular registration! Register three or more people at the same time and save another $50 per person! Extra-Early Bird Registration prices effective through midnight, April 15, 2012 or until workshop is full, whichever happens first. To ensure a quality experience with plenty of individual attention, workshop size is limited to 15 people. Registration is first-come, first-served.

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Join us at historic

San Geronimo Lodge

August 5-10, 2012

Taos, New Mexico

Built in 1925, the San Geronimo lodge was one of the first hotels in Taos, and the first "resort" hotel. This enchanting inn offers historic charm with all the comfort and convenience of modern day lodging.

we help you tell the story

San Geronimo Lodge photographs courtesy San Geronimo Lodge. All other photographs and content copyright � Judy Fort Brenneman. Request reprint permission through Greenfire Creative, LLC.