Covering the spreads.

• Author: Lynch, Michael W.

Back from my honeymoon in the fall of 1997, I noted two things. I had produced very few articles for the magazine. Yet the UPS man continued to knock on my door every two weeks with my paycheck; my expense reports kept eliciting reimbursements; my office rent seemed to be paid; and my key to the building's health club continued to unlock the door. I wanted to maintain this arrangement. But less than a year on the job, I was unconvinced it was sustainable.

I could easily explain my lack of productivity. Who, after all, could be expected to knock out insightful feature stories with a schedule packed with retreats in Williamsburg, first-class junkets to Switzerland, Saturdays at the races, master's degree finals in San Francisco, a wedding in Connecticut, and a honeymoon in Italy? And that's just the stuff that distracted me from my inside-the-Beltway beat. Even when I was in town, I found that mornings in meetings, lunches with friends - I mean, sources (journalists don't have friends, only sources) - afternoons in the gym, and evenings at receptions or other events tended to cut into my time for thoughtful reflection, intrepid investigating, and lucid writing. One of the first lessons I learned from my father - who would ask why I did something stupid and then scold me for giving excuses when I explained why - is that one person's explanation is another person's excuse. This explanation worked for me, but I thought it might sound like an excuse to Virginia.

Washington is a town of inputs, not outputs, so I set out to focus on the former. I work awfully hard, so long as I include everything I do in a day and night as work. My challenge was to convince others of this, which I set out to do by sending my REASON colleagues e-mail memos reporting on my Washington meanderings, the people I met, and the impact the ideas expressed in our magazine were having on this town's power elite.

Over the last nine months, I have reported to my colleagues on such things as a book party for Esther Dyson at Washington Post publisher Kay Graham's house, which I attended with my lovely wife, Diana:

Esther's party was a well-attended gathering of the media elite. I would have to watch TV 24-7 just to identify all the writing heads at the reception. While Diana and I were well situated next to the door through which the waiters toted the appetizers and beverages - we stuck to sparkling water and found the paper chicken to be our favorite morsels - we had a hard time deciding how to approach some of Washington's most unapproachable. For example, Diana asked me if it would be appropriate for her to go ask David Gergen what his outside income was on speeches, since he was the only U.S. Newser who didn't have that information revealed in a recent self-congratulatory editorial which stated that he would be happy to disclose it to anyone who asked. I told her it might be touchy, but if she was going to do it, she should also inquire about his eyelid-dropping book interviews on the Lehrer News Hour.

While Diana pondered the pros and cons of such an approach, I spotted Margaret Carlson of Time, to whom I have been dying to put a question. No, Chuck [Freund], not who does her hair and why doesn't she cash one of those TV checks and buy a decent pair of glasses. I wanted to ask her if, as she proclaimed on the Capital Gang, it wasn't speech ira working stiff spends $5 on a candidate while an executive spends $5,000 on party building, would she mind shutting up since her magazine enjoys afar higher circulation than those of us who...