McKay Coppins: Navigating Faith & Journalism

In this captivating episode, Guest Host Jenna Carson, a chaplain and captain in the U.S. Air Force, interviews McKay Coppins, a renowned staff writer at The Atlantic. McKay shares his experiences at The Atlantic, insights from his acclaimed articles and books, and the challenges and rewards of balancing skepticism and cynicism in political journalism. They also discuss the importance of diverse perspectives in media and offer valuable advice for aspiring writers and journalists.

00:00 Introduction and Guest Welcome
00:42 McKay Coppins' Career and Inspirations
01:58 Working at The Atlantic
05:33 Balancing Faith and Journalism
12:17 Navigating Cynicism in Politics
20:26 Writing Process and Daily Routine
27:05 Spirituality and Creative Work
32:37 Encouragement for Aspiring Creators
35:31 Conclusion and Farewell

#LDSPMA #Inspirtiation #CalledtoCreate #McKayCoppins #JennaCarson #Chaplain #Journalist 

Transcript

Jenna:  Hi, everyone! I'm Jenna Carson. I am a chaplain and captain in the United States Air Force, and some of you might recognize me from the last season of Call to Create, where I spoke a little bit about being the first woman endorsed by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints as a military chaplain. I'm so privileged to be back for season 5 interviewing the one and only McKay Coppins. McKay, thank you so much for being here today.

McKay: Thank you, Jenna. It's an honor, and I'm excited to talk to you.

Jenna:  So I joke that I have a professional Platonic crush on you, because in 2021, when I read your article in The Atlantic "The Most American Religion," I thought, I want to be like McKay. I want to be able to write and speak like this, and engage people in a relatively non-biased way. We can't be completely free of bias, right? But the way you write about your own religion for a secular audience really inspires me. If listeners have been hiding under a rock and don't know who you are, I want to read your bio.

Jenna:  McKay Coppins is a staff writer at The Atlantic, where he covers politics, religion, and national affairs. He is the author of The Wilderness, a book about the battle for the future of the Republican Party, and the author of the New York Times bestselling biography Romney: A Reckoning. He has been a visiting fellow at the University of Chicago's Institute of Politics. He won the Aldo Beckman Award from the White House Correspondents Association for his coverage of the Trump presidency and the Wilbur Award for religion journalism. He lives near Washington, D.C. with his wife and children.

Jenna:  McKay, I have to ask you, what is it like working at The Atlantic?

McKay: Well, first of all, thank you for that very nice introduction, and I don't think people will need to have been living under a rock to not know who I am, but I'm grateful to be in this conversation. You know, The Atlantic is kind of an amazing institution. Journalism is this weird industry, where, at least in my case, I've been bouncing between these kind of 100+ year old institutions and then brand new news startups. They have totally different vibes. I came to The Atlantic from one of those startups, and I remember the first thing I noticed was the offices were kind of musky, and a little dimly lit, with super old leather-bound books everywhere. I remember thinking, this is incredible. The Atlantic was founded in the 1850s, in the run-up to the Civil War, and it was an abolitionist publication. You really do have this sense of history when you're working there.

We now have a new office, but there's this one room, my favorite room in the office, which is an archive room. You can go in and it has every copy of The Atlantic all the way back to the 19th century. You can just peruse it and read about The Atlantic's coverage of World War I, or the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. You really get this incredible sense of being one small part of an institution that's been trying to provide light to the world for 160 years.

Jenna:  Did it feel at all intimidating when you started?

McKay: Oh, yeah, definitely. When I started, I think I began my conversations with the editors when I was 29 years old. I had covered a couple of presidential campaigns, and they had followed my work, but I was very much a relatively new political writer, someone with not a ton of experience compared to the many esteemed writers who were working there then, or have written there over the years. But also, I've gotten really lucky in my career to primarily work with people who are genuinely kind, generous people, and the climate at The Atlantic has been cultivated over the course of its history. The current regime of editors has really made it a collaborative and positive environment. It's geared toward helping younger writers develop skills and improve their writing.

The thing I loved best about The Atlantic is that I had been on the political beat for 8 or 9 years by the time I came to The Atlantic, and they wanted me to cover politics, but they also said, "We want to create room for you to follow your curiosities." That's a very Atlantic phrase that we hear a lot. They want the writers to follow their curiosities—meaning, if there's something off your typical area of coverage that you're really passionate about or interested in, follow it and dig into it. They'll give you time and space to look into it because they generally believe that will produce the best writing and journalism. That's kind of how I've ended up writing about religion so much at The Atlantic.

Jenna:  That is so cool. This leads me to a question about keeping that creative, open, and curious mind as an intellectual and writer staying in a somewhat traditional, fixed-mindset church. I mean, I love that President Nelson is talking about this ongoing restoration. I think also, this church is steeped in tradition. So how do you navigate that balance of thinking for yourself while being part of something that's historically rigid?

McKay: Well, it's funny because I remember when I was, sorry to answer your question with a story about my teenage years, but I promise it’s relevant. I remember when I was 15 or 16, that's when I first took an interest in journalism. I had actually been writing since I was in first or second grade. I wanted to be a writer, but journalism became a point of fixation for me in high school. I was the editor of my high school newspaper.

I went to some kind of workshop for high school journalists where they had people from the Boston Globe—I grew up in Massachusetts—and I remember one of them saying, "To be a journalist, you have to be skeptical. You have to be the one who is kind of standing apart from the rest of the crowd and asking the annoying question that nobody else is asking."

And it's funny because, as an aspiring journalist, I found the appeal in that. But then, as a Latter-day Saint, I was like, "But I don’t want to be the one asking the annoying question." I had this sense of myself as needing to be the good, all-American, clean-cut, polite young man who makes people feel good and doesn’t rock the boat. I felt like there was a tension between those two identities.

I remember when I was going through this searching period, wondering if I could have a career in journalism while also staying true to my faith, I brought it up with my dad. My dad, who has nothing to do with journalism or the media, had a really good answer. He said, "One way you could think about it is that journalism, at its best, is about pursuing truth. And that’s also what the gospel is about."

It’s funny because I brought this up with him more recently, and he doesn’t remember this conversation at all. But it was one of those moments when the light bulb flicked on for me, and I realized, "Oh, I can do this. I can be both." And that's kind of how I've always thought about it.

You’re right that the church is steeped in tradition. Some people find that tradition rigid or constraining. I’ve never felt that way. I feel like the traditions are there to support a gospel that is about searching for truth. To the extent that I'm doing the best version of my work, it’s about the same thing. That’s how I’ve always reconciled those two ideas.

Jenna:  I love that. I'm thinking of a quote from that article I mentioned, The Most American Religion, where you quoted David Foster Wallace, who once wrote, "There’s always a Mormon around when you don’t want one, trying your patience with unsolicited kindness."

Do you feel like in your professional circle you are that unwanted Mormon in the room?

McKay: It’s an interesting question. No, I’ve never felt like I was unwanted because of my religion. In fact, and I think this is an important point to make, because there are probably people listening or watching who are wondering what it would be like to be in the national media as a practicing Latter-day Saint.

I’ll say that in my experience, I’ve been in mostly East Coast, highly secular newsrooms in New York City and Washington, D.C. In all the newsrooms I’ve worked in, with just a couple of small exceptions, people have been very gracious about my religion. They’re curious about it. For the most part, newsrooms are not very faith-filled places, so it is true that most of my colleagues have not been very religious people. But they’re interested. Journalists are generally curious, so they ask questions. They want to know more, but they always come at it from an open-minded place.

So in that way, I’ve never felt out of place because of my religion. I mean, I’ve certainly felt out of place, but not because anyone has been persecuting me. Dispositionally, though, the kind of thing that David Foster Wallace is describing, that I think is a stereotype but also kind of true, is that Mormons are conditioned to be overly earnest, smiley, friendly, and constantly nodding and laughing along to encourage people. It’s kind of like that missionary affect. I definitely have felt that part of my personality makes me stand out in certain circles.

I remember my first job was an internship at Newsweek Magazine in New York in 2010, and people who lived in New York in 2010 will remember this was the Mad Men era. So, Mad Men was on TV. Every young man in that newsroom, around my age or a little older, was wearing slim-cut suits, skinny ties, and speaking in kind of understated, quasi-ironic tones. I remember wanting so badly to be like them. I thought, "Those guys are so cool. They're great writers, so smart, and they're above it all." I probably tried to act like that a little bit but realized it just didn’t fit. My Mormonness probably comes through and makes me seem a little strange in certain circles. The media is a very cynical place. Washington and New York are, in some ways, very cynical places, but it hasn't held me back in my career. If anything, I think it’s actually helped me.

Jenna:  Sort of endearing, perhaps?

McKay: I hope so. You’d have to ask my coworkers. Maybe they’d say "annoying and endearing." But I don’t know.

Jenna:  Has some of that cynicism rubbed off on you?

McKay: Yeah, that actually is the hardest part. And I don’t think this is specific to being a person of faith in journalism. I think covering politics, especially in the period I’ve been covering it for the last 10 to 15 years, it’s hard not to get cynical. We’ve just seen a lot of bad behavior, a lot of hypocrisy, a lot of people sacrificing their principles and stated values in pursuit of cold, hard power.

There’s a temptation to be cynical. I think the nadir of my optimism about politics probably came 5 or 6 years ago, but I realized that I was at risk of becoming too cynical. I don’t think cynicism is a good trait in journalism, in writing, or in politics. I think skepticism is good, and I do think that especially if you're a journalist—really any kind of writer or observer of human life—you should try to put yourself somewhat at a remove and be skeptical. Ask those annoying questions that I was told to ask when I was 15 years old.

But there’s a difference between skepticism and cynicism. With cynicism, there’s a risk of becoming fatalistic about politics, American democracy, or whatever you cover. It curdles your writing and worldview and ends up turning you into a force that advances the things you don’t like. I’m speaking abstractly, so I’ll put this in more concrete terms.

One thing that’s happened to a lot of people who cover politics in the last 10 years is that we’ve collectively decided—whether consciously or subconsciously—that politicians are all at their core bad people. That if you really scraped away all the artifice and dug up all their secrets, you'd find that they’re all bad people, all snakes, all dishonest, all hypocrites. And because of that, you should just vote for the people closest to your preferred policies and not expect anything more from them.

That is a cynical attitude born from a lot of real data points. I understand why people feel that way, but I think what ends up happening if you adopt that attitude is you create a permission structure for people in power to behave badly. They look at this and say, "Oh, look, voters and journalists don’t expect me to be a good person, so I don’t need to try to be a good person. They don’t hold me to high ethical or moral standards, so I don’t need to hold myself to those standards."

I’ve tried really hard within my own work to not sacrifice my earnestness, idealism, and optimism about American politics and public servants at the altar of being "savvy." I think that’s a real epidemic in our industry, and it’s something I’ve tried to push back against.

Jenna:  How do you do that?

McKay: I don’t know. It starts with yourself and your own writing. Punditry, I guess, is part of my job too, but writing is the thing that I spend most of my time and energy on. I also go on podcasts, TV, and I’m on Twitter—unfortunately. I should definitely get off Twitter. If you're not already addicted to a social media platform, please, just don’t get addicted to one. It’s the source of so much distraction.

But, you know, I just try to check myself. You constantly have to examine your own premises. When I find myself slipping into cynicism, I try to catch myself before it takes over.

McKay: You know, starting from a cynical premise, you question yourself. It’s also a matter of looking for good or complicated examples. I write a lot of profiles, and that’s one of my main things at The Atlantic. I profile people in power, and I always find I’m not really drawn to subjects who seem like heroes. I don’t really love profiling straightforward villains either.

I guess this probably comes from my faith, but I don’t really believe anyone is just a hero or a villain. We’re all very complicated people, so I try to find that complexity in my writing. I tend to be drawn to subjects caught in the tension between their ambitions and their principles, and examining that tension is really important—the conditions that create it, the incentives that create it.

But also, finding people who end up on the right side of that tension, who make the right choice, is really important. That’s part of what made Mitt Romney an interesting subject for me. He’s not perfect. He’s very complicated, and he’d be the first to admit he’s made mistakes in his life. But at key moments in the last chapter of his career, he did what he thought was right, even when all the political incentives were pulling him in the other direction.

Spending time writing a book about someone like that really helps cure you of your cynicism.

Jenna:  Was it your idea to write that book?

McKay: It was. I approached him about it. He’s a weird character in my journalism career because I feel like I’ve been writing about Mitt Romney forever. In fact, I forgot about this until last year, as I was doing interviews for my book, but I wrote about him in 2004. When I was in high school, I went to cover the Republican National Convention in New York City, where Romney gave a speech, so I covered his speech there. So, I’ve really been covering him my entire journalism career—his 2012 presidential campaign, then, when he became a senator, I profiled him for The Atlantic.

That’s when I started to get to know him. So I approached him in 2021, not long after January 6th, the riot at the Capitol. I had a sense he might be in an interesting headspace, ready to talk about what he had experienced and the lessons he had learned. To my luck, he was in that headspace, and he decided he was ready to tell his whole story. He hadn’t really written a full, proper political memoir about his time in office.

So, I basically said, "Instead of writing your own book, why don’t you let me write a biography of you and give me full access and editorial control over the book?" It was a bit of an audacious ask, but as a journalist, I felt it wouldn’t be right to write an authorized biography where he could edit it and take things out. To his credit, he agreed, saying, "I thought about this, and I don’t think I can be objective about my own life. I’m going to trust you to write this story."

I ended up spending two, two and a half years working on it. It was my idea, but it was very much a collaboration because we spent so much time together over those two years. I think I did over 40 interviews by the end.

Jenna:  What was your daily process like for that? Do you have certain disciplines, certain windows of time you reserve for writing? Do you cut out distractions like social media?

McKay: Yeah, my wife would laugh at that question because she probably wishes I had more discipline in my process. Writing a book is slightly different because, at least in my case, I take a leave from The Atlantic to write it. The Atlantic is very generous about that; they basically say, "Tell us how many months you need. You can leave, and we’ll hold your spot while you’re writing, and then you can come back."

But really, whether it's writing a long-form article or a book, the process is kind of the same for me. I know writers who wake up at 5 AM, go for a run, and then write for six hours uninterrupted, and I wish I could do that, but I just can’t. I’m a late-night writer.

I spend the day making phone calls, attending meetings, responding to emails, doing podcasts and TV, whatever. Sometimes, I can really get going in the late afternoon if I can put my phone elsewhere and turn off the internet. But I probably get most of my productive writing done after I put my kids to bed. So around 9 PM, I sit down at my desk and write from 9 to about 1 in the morning. That’s when I get most of my writing done.

It’s terrible. I wish I could figure out some other system, but I’ve never reliably gotten into the habit of writing during the day. I think my brain is too distracted. But there’s something about late at night—everyone else is asleep, there’s nothing else you can attend to, and the desire to go to bed but thinking, "I just need to finish this section or write this many more words," that forces me to focus and get the writing done.

McKay: What’s your process?

Jenna:  Okay, this is giving me so much hope! I’m a late-night writer too.

So just to fill people in, I’m an aspiring writer. I’ve written a manuscript that’s with an agent right now. It’s a memoir about my work as a prison chaplain.

Jenna:  Yeah, I work during the day as a chaplain, and it’s so consuming in a good way. I love it. All my energy goes into that, and when I get home, I try to reset, have some dinner, maybe take a short nap. That’s when, in the evening, the writing has to happen. I keep thinking there’s got to be a way I can go to bed at 9 and wake up at 4 before my work as a chaplain, but it just hasn’t happened for me. So hearing this from you gives me hope!

McKay: Well, it’s funny because I have an editor at The Atlantic who has edited some of the great writers to come through the magazine in the last 10 years. I remember telling her early on that I was going to try changing my process—getting up super early to write or something like that. And she said, "Look, try whatever you want, but in my experience, writers know when the best time is to write, and if you're a good writer—or even just someone who’s producing writing—don’t mess with it too much. Your default setting is probably what’s going to work best."

Jenna:  That’s so helpful, and I’ve noticed that, too. For me, whenever I try to go to bed early and follow what I think is the “right” routine, that’s when all the ideas hit. It feels like this divine download of creativity. In some ways, it feels sacred. So I’m like, “Okay, I must get out of bed and write this down!”

McKay: Yeah, I really do think whatever works for you, works. I’ll say, though, once you start having other people—like I’ve got 4 kids and a wife—it complicates things. That’s why late-night writing works for me because it accommodates any living situation. You know, whether you have a job or a family, at some point, everyone goes to sleep. Your boss goes to sleep, your family goes to sleep, so late-night is a great time to write.

Jenna:  Do you get sleep, though? I mean, if you're up till 1 a.m., do you still get enough sleep?

McKay: Yeah, I’ll say this: When I was younger, I’d pull all-nighters. That’s the danger of writing late—I’d get going at 9 or 10 p.m., and get into this manic state where I'd look up and it’s 4:30 in the morning. At that point I’d think, “Well, I’ve got to wake up in a couple hours, so I might as well just stay up.” I don’t recommend that. Doctors don’t recommend that. It’s not good for your health. And I realized the writing I was doing at 4 or 5 in the morning wasn’t my best work, plus I was exhausted. But eventually, I got too old for that. By the time I hit my thirties, my body was like, "No, you can’t do this anymore." Now, I try to be done by 1 a.m. and get some sleep, maybe wake up at 7 or 8. That’s enough.

Jenna:  I love hearing that! That’s so comforting. I hope I can get to that place too, where I stop pushing myself to write in the “right” way.

McKay: Yeah, and my wife’s really supportive. We have a routine now, where I’ll send her a text when I’m getting to bed—usually like 2:30 or 1:30 a.m.—and she tries to let me sleep in a bit. But we’ve got a baby now, so sleep isn’t as plentiful as we’d like, but we try to savor it while we can. It’s a short season in life when your kids are young and want to wake you up at 6 a.m. So, you just roll with it.

Jenna:  Yes! Savor the season. And the writing will come as you keep showing up.

Jenna:  I’d love to ask you about the spiritual side of your work. How does your relationship with God influence the work you do as an artist?

McKay: I love the way you described inspiration as a “divine download” because I think there’s a real connection between creative inspiration and spiritual or divine inspiration. Before I sit down to write, I say a prayer. I ask for help—help thinking clearly, and that I can channel the gifts I’ve been given in the best way possible. Before speeches, or TV appearances, or podcasts, I’ll pray to be able to tell the truth. Journalism is so wrapped up in truth for me—it’s also a core part of my religious life.

I’ve made a habit of praying because I feel that divine inspiration is part of my work, and the truth is always the goal. And, of course, my relationship with God is central to my work in ways that go beyond just the mechanics of writing.

McKay: Also, one thing I’ve been lucky to do is write about my faith, Mormonism, from a perspective not many people in the faith have access to—writing for a national magazine. I’ve had editors who’ve really encouraged me to explore that, and I’ve been grateful for that. The Atlantic has a long history of championing diverse perspectives. When the magazine was founded, the founders said they would be "of no party or clique." Today, we try to translate that idea by having writers from all walks of life, from different political and religious perspectives.

Jenna:  I loved your piece The Most American Religion. It really resonated with me.

McKay: I’m so glad to hear that. It was a real labor of love for me. Jeff Goldberg, the editor-in-chief, had been wanting me to write a long-form piece about Mormonism for years. He was fascinated by it, and after a while, I realized if I didn’t write it, someone else would—probably someone from outside our faith who wouldn’t have the same lived experience.

I grew up in the faith, went to early morning seminary, served a mission, went to sweaty youth stake dances... All of that was part of my story, and I knew I could bring those lived experiences to the table. And so, when I started writing it, my editors encouraged me to lean into the personal—because it would be more authentic. They told me, “Don’t hide your biases. Lean into your truth, even the parts that are complicated.”

So that’s what I did. I didn’t try to hide the tensions within our faith, and I wrote about the history and the challenges, including how the Church is grappling with issues like LGBTQ+ inclusion and race. But I also wrote about it from a place of hope, not cynicism. I think you can approach complex subjects with both skepticism and hope, and that’s what I aimed to do.

I’m grateful to my editors for pushing me to write in that way, and for helping me integrate my personal experience and spiritual perspective into the work. I don’t claim to represent everyone’s experience in the Church, but I’m thankful I was able to bring a little of my own into the conversation. And I hope that, by sharing my journey and my faith, others feel seen and heard in theirs.

McKay: And, really, I think my ability to do all this comes from my relationship with God. He’s given me the gifts to write and to share these stories.

Jenna:  Amen to that.

Jenna:  McKay, I could talk to you all day, but I know you have to leave in two minutes. I’ve got one last question for you.

Jenna:  What would you say to someone who feels called to do something similar to what you’re doing—coming from an LDS perspective, but speaking to a mostly non-LDS audience?

McKay: I would strongly encourage them to follow that instinct. If there’s one complaint I have about being a Latter-day Saint in this environment, it’s that there just aren’t enough of us.

Part of what makes me hesitate to write about Mormonism and Mormon issues is that I don’t always feel like I’m the right voice to take on every issue. Sometimes I worry that people will read what I’ve written and think that it’s the definitive Mormon take on a particular topic. But the reality is, the Church is diverse, and there are so many people with different perspectives and experiences. I’d love to see all of those perspectives reflected in the national media—whether that’s through journalism, literature, Hollywood, or music.

I mean, Hollywood could certainly use more representation of our voices in that space! But really, I just encourage anyone with that call to go for it. For those of us who are already here, we’d be lucky to have more voices.

McKay: One other thing I want to address, because I remember having this concern when I was younger—especially when I was studying journalism at BYU—is whether you can live a traditionally Latter-day Saint life while pursuing a field like journalism or writing. There was a lot of concern around whether you can support a family, have time for church callings, go to church, and still have a career in something like the arts.

In my experience, the answer has been yes. People tend to overestimate how impossible it is to balance family life and work in the arts. I think you can absolutely do both. But also, I want to add that you don’t have to make the arts your full-time career. You can work on a book while holding down a day job. You can create podcasts, write a screenplay, or whatever it is, while having another job.

The great thing about the creative economy is that it doesn’t have to be a 9 to 5 for you to find fulfillment and success in it. I’d encourage anyone who feels called to this path to take it seriously, explore it, and reach out. I’m always happy to offer advice or help however I can.

Jenna:  McKay, thank you so much. Thank you for your trailblazing work, for your bridge-building, and for your time today. To everyone listening, thank you for joining us and being part of this creative community. I want to thank the LDSPMA podcast team for giving me the opportunity to host and interview one of my very favorite role models.

If you enjoyed this interview, be sure to tune into more episodes of season 5, where a variety of guest hosts will be interviewing their favorite creators, who have a wealth of wisdom to share about their creative journeys. Thank you so much, and until next time!