21,117 founders and comms leaders start their weekend with The Colab Brief.
Join them to receive weekly insights into the media, communications, and PR industry, written by journalists themselves.

The room was spinning when I woke up.

This wasn’t the kind of spinning that comes from waking up not entirely sober  – although, sure, there’d been some drinking the night before. No, this was the kind of spinning you get when you’ve been invaded by a microscopic biological and your body has declared – quite indiscriminately – that everything must go. The sort of spinning you definitely don’t want when you’re someone’s guest and you really must be going, lest you miss that 6-hour cross-country flight back home.

There’s something distinctly disturbing about falling ill far from home. Especially when the faraway city is Manhattan and the fanciness of the hotel is inversely proportional to the grossness of your illness. I felt without resources. Nothing was familiar. My brain was literally cooking under fever. I didn’t know what to do. 

I knew before I picked up the phone receiver and pressed the “front desk” button that my plight was not likely to fall on sympathetic ears. The front desk manager’s attitude was about as foul as a New York City street on a summer garbage night. 

“No, Mr. Denison. I’m sorry, we are completely booked this weekend and need to turn over the room. I’m afraid late checkout isn’t an option. Perhaps if you had Marriott Bonvoy Ultra Titanium status?” 

I did not. I also couldn’t feel my ears. This was bad. Real bad. And the front desk just thought I was whining about a bad hangover. 

Desperate, I called the PR professional who had convinced me to fly 5.5 hours to witness in person – alongside hors d'oeuvres and cocktails – what could arguably have been an email. I was relatively new to the tech journalism game and, near as I could tell, Teddy was pretty new to the PR gig. 

I didn’t really know Teddy, and Teddy didn’t really know me. At best, I figured he might make a quick call to the front desk — after all, helping me was technically his job. But what I got wasn’t just duty, it was friendship in action.

I told Teddy I was sick and assured him it wasn’t tequila. Ok, it wasn’t just the tequila. I also didn’t mention that I thought the sashimi was sus because that seemed like a rude thing to say, but also I needed Teddy’s help and I wasn’t trying to guilt-trip anyone. Teddy said he would see what he could do and hung up the phone rather abruptly – as if he’d just realized himself that sashimi was pretty sus. 

Fifteen minutes later, the hotel phone rang. It was the front desk manager, who sounded as if she’d just respawned with an empathy expansion pack.

“Mr. Denison, we’re so sorry you’re not feeling well. I just wanted to let you know that we’ve managed to clear the room for you and you can stay as long as you need. I’m also having room service bring up some ice, water, some electrolytes, and some light snacks for when you feel up to eating. Whenever you’re ready to go, please let us know, and we’ll come gather your luggage. We’ll even help you pack if need be. Until then, please rest and don’t worry about a thing.” 

I hadn’t yet had the time to wipe the look of disbelief (and flop sweat) from my face when my cell phone rang. It was Teddy. 

“Hey, Caleb. I’ve rebooked you on a later flight, going out this evening. If you can’t make that one, let me know and I’ll rebook you for tomorrow and extend your hotel stay by one more day. Just let me know what you need and I’ll handle it. Also, I don’t want to see your byline on a story about what we showed you last night anywhere close to embargo. Get well. The story can wait. Maybe we can even think of a way to make it a little different since it won’t go out at embargo. Actually, just don’t worry about that right now. Get better, and let me know if you need anything.” 

Teddy had my back that day, and I’ve had Teddy’s ever since. In fact, not three years later, I’d get the chance to pay Teddy back when the firm he represented faced a potential PR nightmare. But that’s a story for another time.

That experience taught me that PR doesn’t have to be transactional. Teddy could have treated me like a line item on his to-do list. Instead, he treated me like a friend. And that changed everything about how I saw this business.

Teddy and I are still friends, and that’s exactly how it should be; because in this work, the best stories don’t just come from pitches; they come from friendships.

I can get over a hundred emails a day, and sometimes even the best pitches get lost in the inbox. Don’t be afraid to follow up. 

Sometimes a pitch piques my interest, but before I can flag, forward to an editor, reply, etc. I’m hopping on a source call or assigned a quick turnaround story. By the time I return to my inbox, the initial email is buried beneath the ever-accumulating list of unread messages -  and we all know how hard it is to find anything in Outlook. In those cases, it’s a relief to receive, “just following up…” 

That being said, there’s an art to the follow-up.

Only follow up once. If I saw your pitch a second time and didn’t reply, it’s safe to assume it isn’t a fit. 

Follow-ups aren’t just helpful after an initial pitch. Let’s say I express interest in covering something, so you reply with more details, and then it’s crickets from me. Chances are there’s a lot on my plate and I could use the reminder - and email bump -  to get the ball rolling on coverage. Many times, that second email (or should I say fourth) has taken the guesswork out of my to-do list and made a story my top priority. 

So follow up, circle back, check in, bump, etc. I know you want to. 

Sincerely,

Journalists

I’ve never been entirely comfortable with the PR–journalist dynamic. Too often it feels skewed, with one side trying a little too hard to win over the other. I see it all the time, comms people tiptoeing around reporters, peppering emails with apologies for “bothering” us, agonizing over whether it’s too soon to follow up, and generally behaving as though they’re asking permission to exist in our inboxes.

This kind of deference, while well-intentioned, is problematic. I’ve worked with hundreds of PRs over the last fifteen years, and again and again I detect the same hesitation, the same anxiety that by offering too much input — a suggested angle, some context, a sense of where the story might land — they may come across as patronizing. As if providing that kind of guidance is the same as saying, “You don’t know how to do your job”. So they hold back.

Research withheld 

Not long ago, I reported on a story involving a promising green-tech start-up. Their press officer was helpful, enthusiastic, and responsive. But after I’d had a sit-down with the founder, they offered little beyond a bare-bones press release. I took that to mean there wasn’t much more to work with.

I was wrong. In a follow-up conversation after the piece had run, it turned out they’d known of some new and relevant research material that would’ve influenced not only the interview but also the shape of the finished piece. When I asked (politely) why it hadn’t been shared earlier, the answer was telling: they hadn’t wanted to overstep, assuming I’d already seen the report.

Could I have been clearer in asking for all the background they had? Probably. But if I hesitated, it was because I didn’t want to slip into the stereotype of the pushy, demanding journalist. And let’s be honest, reporters like that do exist. We’ve all met the conceited types who think the byline makes them superior, who treat PRs as a nuisance to be tolerated rather than as professional equals. That attitude feeds the very culture that holds good stories back — PRs second-guessing themselves, afraid that sharing too much will be seen as meddling.

Simply ask

The truth is, reporting isn’t a solitary exercise; it’s a collaboration. Journalists and PRs are pulling in the same direction. We both want to produce an article that is accurate, engaging, and worth the reader’s time.

Good communication is the key. PRs don’t need to dump a 40-page media kit in a journalist’s inbox, nor do they need to ration their material like contraband. The best approach is simply to ask, “What do you need?” “Would you like a suggested angle?” “Would a case study help?” These are simple questions, but they carry weight. They give the journalist agency to say yes or no, while reassuring the PR pro they’re not crossing a line.

When that kind of open exchange happens, the relationship feels less transactional and more like a partnership. And at its best, that’s exactly what it is — mutually beneficial, built on respect and a shared purpose. Journalists bring the skepticism and the storytelling. PRs bring the access and the insight. Put those together and you end up with the best outcome of all, a story that matters.

Want your pitch analyzed by a real, top-tier journalist? Submit your pitch at the form below, and we’ll pick one or two weekly for our writers to assess. 

— > Submit your pitch < —-

Who's going where and why it matters. Not just job shifts - power dynamics, layoffs, and who's headed out. 

🧳 Alex Heath departed from The Verge after a decade breaking tech news to go independent, launching Sources (Substack publication on tech's inside conversation) and co-hosting Access (tech interview show with Vox Media).

🧳 Jeremy Barr departed from The Washington Post after 5.25 years as media reporter to join The Guardian as its first U.S. media reporter covering the industry's intersection with power, starting October 6 and based in D.C.

🧳 Brian Lowry joined Status (Oliver Darcy's media newsletter) as a reporter; previously at The Wrap.

🧳 Natalie Korach joined Status as a reporter; previously at Vanity Fair.

Something else on your mind? Say hello. 

Automation’s the future, but 71% of execs say upfront costs prevent its adoption. That’s why Miso Robotics’ new $25M hardware financing facility for customers turned heads. Miso’s AI-powered kitchen robots have logged 200k+ hours for brands like White Castle. With this $25M line and partnerships with NVIDIA, Amazon, it’s unlocking quick, flexible adoption of cutting-edge automation. Invest before Miso’s bonus shares change on 10/9.

_{This is a paid advertisement for Miso Robotics’ Regulation A offering. Please read the offering circular at invest.misorobotics.com.}

Like The Colab Brief?