Personality profile example

Readers love reading about other people. They like to discover how other people think, talk, act and look. A successful personality profile, then, combines quotes, facts and descriptions to reveal your subject's true nature.

It will be dark when Rachel Horn jumps into the ocean off Anacapa Island early Saturday. Four-in-the-morning dark.

Horn will have no wetsuit. The sun will join her more than two and a half hours later.

By then, the 31-year-old swimmer will be slicing toward Silver Strand Beach near Oxnard. If all goes as planned, Horn will arrive around noon after muscling through 12.2 miles of open water.

Among the greeting party waiting beachside will be someone Horn hasn't seen in 16 years: Althea Barilone-Hayes, a Special Olympics athlete Horn coached as a Ventura High School student volunteer.

"This little girl I taught when I was 15 is now grown up," Horn said of the coming reunion brought about by her swim.

Horn is using her journey across the Santa Barbara Channel to raise funds for Special Olympics Southern California. The organization offers year-round athletic training and competition for children and adults with intellectual disabilities. About 600 Ventura County athletes take part.

Lisa Barilone, Althea's mother, remembers Horn.

"She was always so wonderful with the athletes," Barilone said.

As plans for the fundraiser went forward, Horn reached out to see if Althea, now 23, was still involved. She is.

"Every time I talk to Rachel, we both start crying on the phone," Lisa Barilone said of the deep connection formed during the volunteer work.

Horn's initial fundraising goal was $5,000. After recently exceeding that figure as word of her effort spread, she upped the figure to $10,000.

"We're really excited about Rachel taking on this great endeavor," said Gina Carbajal, regional director for Special Olympics in Santa Barbara County.

Carbajal will shuttle a group of Santa Barbara athletes to Silver Strand to cheer for Horn when she reaches the beach.

Horn grew up in Ventura and now lives in Santa Barbara, where she works for international shoe company Deckers Brands in Goleta. The company already supports Special Olympics, making Horn's fundraiser a natural fit.

Horn swam competitively in the pool through college. She has since been drawn to open-water swimming. Her longest ocean swim so far has been 6 miles.

"Being alone in the water with no one around for that distance is not something I've experienced yet," Horn said of the upcoming crossing.

She doesn't listen to music.

"It's meditative for me to swim these long distances," she said.

Mantras like "warm, calm, strong" help, as does an image her buddies at the Santa Barbara Swim Club tease her with: warm, buttery biscuits.

"I just keep repeating it until I feel warm," she said.

Saturday's effort will be conducted under the auspices of the Santa Barbara Channel Swimming Association, a group founded in 2006 that monitors channel crossings according to strict rules.

No wetsuits, for one. And no hanging onto boats or kayaks that accompany and observe crossings.

Swimmers can have food tossed to them, a process Horn likened to "feeding a seal." Her bagged mix will include carbohydrate powder and apple juice. Diced peaches and mashed potatoes are also on the menu — a savory and sweet combination sussed out through trial and error that doesn't require chewing when jaws are cold.

Marathon open-water routes are meant to test men and women against Mother Nature without physical assistance, said Scott Zornig, the channel swimming association's board president.

On average, the success rate for the Anacapa Island route is about 50 percent, he said. Assuming the swimmer has trained properly, the outcome depends on conditions.

For Anacapa, wind is the main enemy.

"If it gets windy, it almost becomes prohibitive," Zornig said. Wind speeds much above 7 mph can make for "a really rough swim."

Swimmers depart early in the morning to avoid afternoon winds, but night swimming adds a "spooky element" that requires mental and physical strength, he said. Swimmers wear LED lights or glow sticks during the dark hours.

Crossings typically cost a swimmer upward of $2,000 for an escort boat, crew and fees that include insurance costs.

Personality profile example

Readers love reading about other people. They like to discover how other people think, talk, act and look. A successful personality profile, then, combines quotes, facts and descriptions to reveal your subject's true nature.

KINGSLEY, Ia. — Kiana Phelps steps into the throwing ring and enters her own zone.

It’s an area that she alone controls. Phelps, 18, can focus on tossing the discus to a record-shattering distance, drawing gasps from a crowd.

It’s far from school hallways where she may be ignored or belittled, or social media battlegrounds where she can be insulted. It’s a place where Phelps can briefly put away haunting grief over her sister’s deadly struggle with anorexia.

The throwing ring is safety, security and unrivaled success. Kiana’s World.

Phelps will walk into the state track meet ring Friday at Drake Stadium to cap her career as the greatest high school discus thrower to ever compete in Iowa.

Phelps has the top girls discus throw in Iowa high school history and has a chance to become the only athlete to win four state and four Drake Relays championships in the event.

The determination and devotion that has earned her a scholarship to Oregon's elite college track program — and brought dreams of competing in the Olympics someday — will reach its final stage in prep competition.

That public spotlight, which has brought both pride and pain to her in high school, will fade.

Phelps has channeled her emotions into stardom, turning life's negatives into athletic positives.

"I chose track, and I chose to put everything into track," Phelps said.

Phelps' track skills put her in the Iowa record book and into a select group of elite athletes.

But it wasn't easy for her. There were long days of practicing her technique or lifting weights.

Her efforts resulted in throwing the discus 179-7, the state's all-time best. Phelps owns the state meet record of 166-4, set a year ago.

Like a Broadway-bound theater star or an academic wunderkind, she drew media attention like no other student at Kingsley-Pierson High School. But that wasn't always a blessing.

Phelps didn't run with the pack. Phelps decided that some of her friends were making bad choices. She had big goals in mind, even if it meant limiting her social life.

"There comes a point that you've got two paths to choose," Phelps said. "I kind of chose to be different. I chose to be a critical thinker."

Phelps has a strong personality: confident, ambitious and even flamboyant. She's traveled to more than half a dozen states and Cuba to compete in track and represent the United States. The media covered her success every spring.

This created resentment among some of her fellow students.

Some of the bullying Phelps and her family say she has encountered: Social media photos of her working out accompanied with rude and sarcastic comments; teases for holding a college letter of intent signing ceremony at her school and a social media post that suggested Phelps only gets attention because her older sister had died of anorexia.

The Phelps family never filed a formal report with the school concerning the bullying — and Scott Phelps, Kiana's father, said they have no complaints about how it was handled by the school district.

Still, the words stung.

"It's like crabs trapped in a bucket, trying to get out," Kiana said. "They try to grab you by the leg and bring you down."

The form of harassment she endured is called "social relational bullying" — when someone tries to say hurtful things to put down a victim's success, according to Penny Bisignano, the state coordinator for a national bullying prevention program.

Phelps had fame, but it was too much for some of her critics. Social relational bullying is on the rise in Iowa schools and workplaces, Bisignano said.

"They can really change the life of someone, no matter how well they're doing, no matter how successful they are," Bisignano said.

About a year ago, Kiana's family members contacted an attorney who specializes in cyber bullying. The family was advised to capture and print online insults, which ebbed away.

It isn't the first time an elite Iowa high school athlete has been bullied.

Alex Gochenour, a former Logan-Magnolia track star who is now a senior All-American on the Arkansas Razorbacks' women's track and field team, said she has similar experiences to Kiana's.

“As hard as it is, you have to look at the big picture. You have a whole life ahead of you.”

Gochenour chose to avoid alcohol as a high school student and was harassed because of it. When she focused on her goal of attending a big college or displaying a tireless work ethic in her sport, she was teased.

"You have to have a really thick skin," Gochenour said, who added she lost friends.

Her advice to others who are victims: "As hard as it is, you have to look at the big picture," she said. "You have a whole life ahead of you."

Kiana Phelps followed in the family's pursuit of throwing the discus and shot.

Her dad, Scott, was a Drake Relays discus champ in high school and went on to compete in college. All four of his kids became throwers, too.

Kiana, who competes for Kingsley-Pierson/Woodbury Central, will participate in both events at the state meet, which starts Thursday in Des Moines. One of her brothers, Nick, a sophomore, will contend to win titles in both, too.

An older brother, Colton, is a freshman member of Northern Iowa's track team.

Kiana says she looked up to her older sister, Krista, who died just two days after she finished sixth in the discus at the state track meet in 2010.

Krista was a sophomore who battled anorexia. It's a matter that still churns up emotions in the Phelps household.

"We went through about 10 months of hell," said Laura Phelps, Kiana's mother. "It's a terrible club that you don't want to be a member of."

The family has a collection of photographs of Krista stored in an envelope. Among the images of her is a shot of a rainbow the family spotted on a trip to the Black Hills not long after she died.

"It's kind of like our penny from heaven," Laura said.

Krista's death hurt Kiana. She has poured her pain into workouts and competition.

"I found throwing as my release," Kiana said. "That was my savior I guess.”

Kiana writes her goals next to a mirror in her bedroom, where she can look at them every day.

Some are lofty; some are more personal, in the case of those past online insults.

Her brother Nick said he uses an unconventional method of preparing for a meet, too: He takes a wooden stake, about five feet high, and marks the distance that a foe has thrown the shot. Then he attaches a photo of the rival. He tries to toss the weight past that mark.

B.J. Mulder, a Kingsley-Pierson physical education teacher who is a strength and conditioning coach at the school, says Kiana is a rare athlete.

​"She is the most mentally tough girl I've worked with," said Mulder, who has been at the school for more than 30 years. "She's a relentless, relentless athlete.

"I don't think people grasp what level of an athlete she is."

Kiana's last meet awaits while her final throws in Iowa high school competition are days away.

She'll step into that world she owns. None of the hurt and disappointment she's experienced will stop her.

"I am who I am," Kiana said.

Reaction feature story example

A "reaction feature story" is one of the most common types of features. You simply talk to people and get their reaction to an event in the news. Colin Kaepernick's controversial gesture has generated lots of reaction. Below is a feature story on how Kaepernick's hometown is reacting to the controversy. Give it a read.

TURLOCK, Calif. — When 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick dropped to his right knee before the national anthem Monday night, another protest commenced here in his hometown.

It took place inside Jura’s Pizza Parlor, about 100 miles east of Levi’s Stadium in Santa Clara, where the San Francisco 49ers played the Los Angeles Rams.

Two men, sitting side-by-side, rose to their feet in the busy restaurant. Then they crossed their arms and stared in silence at a big screen TV showing the image of Kaepernick, the 49ers’ backup quarterback.

While Kaepernick again refused to stand during The Star Spangled Banner to protest social injustice, the two men stood in the pizza parlor to protest Kaepernick.

At the same table, a third man, Jeremy Hibbs, sat in defiance across from the two others — even though one of the men was his father and the other was his brother.

“They got their opinion and I got mine,” Hibbs told USA TODAY Sports as his father and brother looked away. “I’m going to back Kap up.”

Debates and divisions like this have been going on throughout the country since Kaepernick first refused to stand for the national anthem before the 49ers' preseason game against the Green Bay Packers on Aug. 26.

 And although Kaepernick grew up in Turlock and once helped to unite his hometown, this city of 70,000 is just as conflicted as many others about his actions.

In the California’s Central Valley, Turlock is known for its almonds, dairy products and, according to Ripley's Believe It or Not, once having had more churches per capita than any city in the U.S.

But it was Kaepernick, also known as "Kap," who put Turlock on the national sports map when he helped lead the 49ers to the Super Bowl in 2013.

A 49ers flag hangs in front of Kaepernick’s boyhood home, but his parents have since moved to nearby Modesto and they have declined to comment.

The head football coach at John Pitman High School, where Kaepernick starred a decade ago, also refused to talk. “No comment’’ might as well be the motto among his former coaches, teammates and teachers in a city that gushed over him when he ended up in the Super Bowl.

His framed autographed jersey went up on the wall in Jura’s. Another restaurant named a hot dog in his honor. Turlock became “KAP TOWN.”

As Kaepernick’s protest continued on its biggest stage yet — Monday Night Football, during the regular-season opener for the 49ers and Rams — Papiola Aghassi, general manager of the pizza parlor her family opened 37 years ago, grinned nervously as kickoff approached.

“I don’t know what to expect,” she said, and the once-unfathomable is the new normal.

About two weeks earlier, after Kaepernick first took a knee, angry customers pointed to the framed Kaepernick jersey on the wall.

“Take that (expletive) down,’’ Aghassi said the customers demanded.

The next day, Aghassi said, she got a call from her brother, who also told her to take down the jersey.

“Absolutely not,’’ she recalled telling her brother. “We support him because he’s our hometown boy.”

But support him at a potential cost.

On Monday night, Aghassi noted the smaller-than-usual crowd — about 80 people in a restaurant that seats up to 300.

Although it was premature to know if customers boycotted Jura’s because of Kaepernick’s jersey another restaurateur acted on similar fears.

The day after Kaepernick sat during the national anthem before the 49ers-Packers game, a local TV crew showed up at Main Street Footers, a popular sandwich shop.

The reporter wanted to know if the owners intended to continue serving a hot dog named in Kaepernick’s honor.

Main Street Footers promptly sacked the hot dog known as CK7, Kaepernick’s initials followed by his jersey number.

Glenn Newsum said he and his partner anticipated the outrage from customers who think Kaepernick disrespected the American flag and the military.

Axing the CK7 prompted more than a dozen calls, most from people who supported the decision, said one of Newsum’s employees.

“The reason we did it was to stop any disruption in our business,’’ Newsum said.

Jolynn DiGrazia, executive director of an after-school program for disadvantaged children, said she feared speaking up for Kaepernick might cost her donations on which she depends.

But it was Kaepernick who gave her the right to use his name on T-shirts that raised about $30,000 for her program, Westside Ministries.

Eventually, she decided to voice her support and said she thinks half of the backlash stems from Kaepernick being biracial and his changed image. In high school, Kaepernick, adopted by white parents, was widely viewed as quiet, respectful and clean cut.

On Monday he took the field wearing cornrows and often wears his hair Afro style — which DiGrazia said is seen as an affront by some of his former classmates and other Turlock residents.

Eventually, she decided to voice her support and said she thinks half of the backlash stems from Kaepernick being biracial and his changed image.

In high school, Kaepernick, adopted by white parents, was widely viewed as quiet, respectful and clean cut. On Monday he took the field wearing cornrows and often wears his hair Afro style — which DiGrazia said is seen as an affront by some of his former classmates and other Turlock residents.

“I see it as saying, ‘Boy, we thought you were white,’ ” DiGrazia said.

African Americans comprise only 2% of the population of Turlock compared to about 13% of the U.S. population.

After the silent protest at the pizza parlor Monday night, the Hibbses addressed the question of whether race has contributed to their sentiments.

“All of a sudden he has an Afro and it’s like, ‘No, dude, that’s not you,’ ” George Hibbs said.

Added his son, Anthony, “The whole racism thing, it doesn’t exist here. …You’ve got a sitting African-American president. What more do you want?’’

Aghassi, keeping an eye on the patrons, encountered another disagreement in the bar area. Monica Campos and Veronica Mora, good friends who usually sit side-by-side on football nights, were sitting apart.

Mora, who served in the Navy, said she was furious when Campos showed up wearing a Kaepernick jersey.

Mora said she thinks Kaepernick is disrespecting the military by refusing to stand for the flag, and she found her friend wearing the No. 7 49ers jersey unforgivable — well, for about an hour.

Late in the first half of the 49ers-Rams game, Mora may have given Turlock the blueprint to repair its divide when she sidled over to her friend and spread her arms.

“Let’s hug it out,’’ she said.

Trend feature example

Trend features are engaging to readers because they focus on social issues. Trend stories keep readers plugged in to the people, places, things and ideas affecting today's culture---from fads and fashion to lifestyles and entertainment.

Brian Branco is not a tattoo type of a guy.

The 50-year-old technology consultant normally wouldn't have wanted someone to pierce ink into his skin. Yet each upper arm is marked with prominent images that include the twin towers and the Pentagon, as well as the number 93 to symbolize the hijacked Flight93 that crashed in Shanksville, Pa., and the World Trade Center attack in 1993.

His ink includes the words "Never Forget," the phrase "No day shall erase you from the memory of time" and the names Bob, Jill and Steve.

Those are his colleagues who died when the towers crumbled.

"I would have never gotten any tattoos if it wasn't for Sept. 11 and my need to keep the memory alive of my friends who died that day," he says.

"Never Forget" is the mantra of many affected by those terrorist attacks -- and Branco is among the scores of people who have done just that by putting a permanent reminder on their skin.

Broken hearts, eagles, the twin towers, the Pentagon, American flags and the names of the deceased are among the wide array of tattoos that mark that day.

Some are small, such as a delicate "never forget" written in tiny script on a wrist of survivor Evelyn Lugo. Others are bold designs covering large swaths of skin.

The tattoos represent grief, anger, courage, patriotism, frustration, hope and resilience. They pay tribute. They invite observers to ask questions and allow a story about terrorism, death, heroism and healing to be retold.

They are akin to "putting our heart on our sleeves, so to speak," says Susan Salluce, a death, dying and bereavement specialist and author of GriefINK: Tattoo as the Language of Grief.

After the terrorist attacks, people took solace in tattoo studios.

Josh Everett estimates he and his fellow tattoo artists at a now-closed shop in downtown Manhattan inked at least 1,000 people after offering free tattoos as a way to give back.

"We worked with police officers, firefighters, EMS, paramedics, civilians and the military," he says. New Yorkers, as well out-of-town visitors, lined up for their services. Some patrons exuded anger, others would break down and cry. Throughout, the artists often served as "armchair psychiatrists," Everett says.

"It was a heavy, emotional time," he says. "It was probably the most significant thing I did as a tattoo artist."

Fifteen years later, people still pay homage via their skin.

This spring, Michael Anthony Cascio III -- who was 4 years old when the attacks happened -- got a 9-inch-by-11-inch tattoo on his right torso. It shows the New York City skyline with two beams of light representing the twin towers and is set against an American flag.

 Underneath, it says, "Strong men stand up for themselves. Stronger men stand up for others."

Cascio, 19, says the events of Sept. 11 are his earliest childhood memory. Upon hearing stories of firefighters heading into buildings to save others as people were running out, he decided that was the job for him. He is on the waiting list to join the New Rochelle, N.Y., fire department.

This summer, New York City Police Department officer Steven Waldron, 41, tattooed the names of 23 NYPD officers who died Sept. 11 down his right arm.

He added the names of two friends who died that day, a firefighter and emergency services worker.

"I always wanted something" he says, and when the 15-year mark loomed, he decided to act. "I wanted to get it done for the anniversary."

Waldron, who was off-duty and in the area assisting on 9/11, says he was buried in the debris and didn't know whether he would live. He still has bouts of survivor's guilt and feelings of frustration.

The tattoo helps to deal with that.

It's a way to "honor these guys," he says. "They are a part of my life."

People stop to ask him about the names that cascade down his arm, and "it's good to talk about it," he says.

Retired New York City Fire Department captain Thomas O'Brien says he welcomes inquiries about the large, intricate design on his left arm.

 It's in remembrance of the nearly 3,000 lives lost that day, he says, "especially the sacrifice made by 343 firefighters, 95 which I knew personally."

O'Brien, 54, was off-duty that morning but rushed to the scene, arriving after the second tower collapsed.

"The phoenix rises from hell to heaven," he says in describing the artwork on his arm. "Hell was the World Trade Center that day."

Max Giaccone's tattoos honor his father, Joseph Giaccone, who died while working on the 103rd floor of the north tower.

"Getting the tattoos was definitely a coping mechanism in some ways for me," he says.

Max, 25, got the first tattoo at age 16. It shows the New York City skyline in a broken heart, a nod to the logo of the punk rock band The Bouncing Souls. Above the heart are the Roman numerals IXXI for 911. Below is the word "DAD."

"I wasn't sure if 9/11 was something I wanted to look at in the mirror every day," he says. "The Roman numerals were a bit more of a subtle reminder."

His second tattoo -- on his back -- is a replica of one of Max's favorite photos. It shows his father holding him as a baby.

"I don't see it all the time, but when I do, it's nice to be reminded that he's got my back, and he's always there with me," he says. "I get to carry him with me wherever I go."

Mystery character example

A mixture of seasonal flowers adorn my headdress.

I mostly prefer roses, though.

Burgundy lipstick lines my almost smile.

My thick black hair is usually braided in a crown around my head, always with a center part.

I have a strong face and centering eyes that are indicative of a hardship-filled life.

I tend to favor wearing elaborate jewelry and bright, cultural colors in clothing.

Skirts are primarily what I wear on my lower half.

In portraits of myself, I prefer to look straight on or slightly to one side.

You will not find a photo or painting of me slouching.

As a confident person by nature, I refuse to be submissive.

You will often find me with a paintbrush in my hand.

Self-portraits are where I excel.

The hair on my upper brow tends to create one complete unibrow.

This is something I was never ashamed of, in fact, I was rather proud of it.

I am in-tune with myself and happy to be who I am.

“I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best.”