The Observer, December 8, 2006
Volume XXXIX, Issue 13
Worst Case Scenario: Ask the copy editor
I know how it goes. You trudge out of your Friday 8:30 a.m. class, cursing the day you thought it would be "a good idea" to pick up a second major. On the way to your next class, you grab a copy of the campus rag. Physics may have been a total loss, but doing the word search (or the crossword, for you freakish overachievers) will present at least the appearance of concentration and note-taking during the next lecture.
Once again, The Observer has made your Friday classes bearable. But have you ever pondered the question of how this…illustrious…publication appears in bins across campus? I don't mean the actual physical distribution of the paper. (We all know magical flying unicorns handle that.) I mean the drudgery of putting together ads, words, pictures, and headlines into a form recognizable as "newspaper."
Of course you haven't. Luckily for you, The Observer's senior copy editor is ready to explain.
Each Wednesday, I drag myself away from a nap or the Internet, descend into the bowels of Thwing, and enter The Observer office.
7:05 p.m. – Since there's no clock in this pit, nobody can prove my tardiness. I saunter over to a battered table, flip through the pile of waiting copy, and decide to scope out the pizza.
7:23 p.m. – There's a slice of cold, congealed pepperoni left, and I'm not quite that desperate (yet). I finish the first page of copy, handing it to the other copy editor with a sarcastic comment about a) our writers' abilities or b) the content. The most important part of the copy process, I should note, is not the correction of style, grammar, spelling, or even the achievement of cogency. It's signing my initials at the bottom of the page. At this point in the evening, they're still semi-legible, but by the end of the evening, I'll qualify for an honorary M.D.
8:01 p.m. – I use the dictionary to verify spelling. Thanks to what our business manager calls "realistic assessment of our needs in relation to our finances," I have to use a paperback Oxford American Dictionary, instead of the gold standard of the unabridged Oxford English Dictionary (OED). I call this unabashed stinginess, and the fact that the OED is accessible online does nothing to stem my bitterness.
9:23 p.m. – I know people like to express themselves, and that I should be glad they have opinions, and that occasionally those opinions are informed. I understand the centrality of free speech and a free press to American values and the free world. But the Editorial section has so many words. I hate words.
10:04 p.m. – While proofing The Buzz, I wonder for the thousandth time what "Spot Night" is like. Since production takes place on Wednesday evenings, none of us at The Observer understand or have attended this campus tradition. The blurb says it features "$1 mystery drinks" and "wings," but I truly believe that in order to fulfill the "spotness" of Spot Night, Dalmatians must be involved.
10:52 p.m. – I hate The Observer. I hate words. I hate the world. And most of all, dear reader, I hate you.
11:04 p.m. – If Sports doesn't finish soon, I'm going to kill someone.
11:26 p.m. – Last call. Any more copy? No, I will not proofread your homework for you!
