When readers of The Daily Tar Heel applaud my articles for their profoundness, I am reminded of why I write for the Opinion Desk. It’s a selfless thing to do. But, admittedly, the pride that I feel only materializes when my article is in print format. My opinions fall second-hand to the gnawing need to see my article in its flesh form — I don’t really care much about what my article says, as long as it’s in the paper.
I do enjoy the formalities of boasting my opinions on varying political and social issues that pertain to Chapel Hill, but there is nothing more rewarding than seeing my name in the physical paper. The adrenaline rush I feel slicing through the grainy article with my scissors and piercing the final cutout with a thumbtack to my corkboard is the reason why I write columns. Marveling at that sweet, sweet “By Delaney Broderick” and the collage of timeless, controversial papers on my wall serve as a reminder of my grand intelligence.
Opinion articles are far enough removed from the methodological reporting of other news that I consider it a transition from journalistic property into that of an intellectual savior. I feel a rush of passion for whatever it is the editors decide to mutilate my article into. Ultimately, in order to reach print, I often double down on my own personal thoughts and humbly sustain very little backbone when presenting my articles.
Sure, I’m opinionated, but that isn’t always profitable when my ultimate goal is to be in the physical edition. If my article is labeled “ONLINE,” I enter into a fit of hysterics with the editors, proposing that they alter anything they see fit to obtain a potential slot on The DTH Instagram so I can repost to my story later.
Sometimes, I even engage in a healthy hint of narcissism and indulge in conversing about my articles. Although, in these moments I turn to defense tactics as I attempt to formulate an author's persona to opinions that were written as a result of edits rather than my own thoughts. When I receive backlash, I restrain myself from exclaiming that “it’s not really my opinion!” Those people are just envious that I am being published in print and they are stuck in the online comment sections beneath me.
There is no greater feeling than Wednesday morning when I stride toward a blue box on campus. I brandish the paper for the remainder of the day, subtly flailing it onto my desk, hiding the thrill I get when someone glances at my byline. I message my family and friends a photo of the paper with a meek smile to summarize my incredibly influential contributions to society.
It’s the reason I write. Powerful critical articles are of utmost importance to my journalistic agenda, and trust me, when it comes time to pitch an article, I’m the first in line. But only if it means I can add it to the collection on my wall.
Don’t even get me started on why I write for the Editorial Board.
