Columnists are the worst

I’ve written enough columns to realize what a narcissistic venture I’ve gotten myself into. Who am I writing these for? Why even bother? As an editor, I get frustrated with how other columnists put opinions on pedestals as if to enlighten the hoards of impressionable readers. The truth is I don’t care how going home for winter break forever changed how you appreciate your friendships. But then, every two weeks, I preach how going home for winter break forever changed how I appreciate my friendships. The only difference between me and other columnists is sometimes they’ll use actual facts to support their claims.

I have a newfound admiration for the sports and news writers down the hall. Their sole purpose is to pay homage to important events or people deserving of recognition. I feel like my gang of columnists and I keep paying homage to ourselves. Check out this cool, nuanced idea I just thought of. My opinion on this controversial issue is pretty convincing, huh? I’m going to write a meta article on being a columnist. Bet you never would have thought of that? There’s something to be said for the art of writing to make the author invisible—the priority of news reporting and the antithesis of opinion writing. Then again, I wouldn’t touch news with a ten-foot pole. I don’t like being invisible.

So what’s the point of writing columns?

There are the obvious, selfish reasons and then there are the unobvious, selfish reasons. The obvious reason being that I bask in a consistent stream of validation from a tight knit fan base of which my mom may or may not be a significant member. It’s nice to get feedback on work outside of an academic context, and there’s a heightened pressure in writing for your peers compared to writing for a grade. A less intuitive self-serving benefit is that column writing forces me to think about what my opinions actually are. It provides a diary of sorts—allowing me to deconstruct my experiences—and I don’t have to call it a diary. When I finish a column, I feel like I taught myself more in the process of writing it than I could ever expect anyone else to learn in reading it. For example, after writing this one, maybe the next time I have to give up two hours of my day to write a stupid column, I’ll know why I’m doing it.

None of this explains why anyone would want to read a column. I could achieve the same effect by keeping a diary that I occasionally share with my mom. So a better question is what’s the point of reading columns, or from my perspective, what do I want the reader to get out of it?

To say that column writing is a venue for educating would assume I integrate factual content and consider relevant current events—really a job for the more ambitious columnists. Even taking responsibility for developing new perspective assumes the novelty of my opinions. Whatever limited entertainment a column provides, I would hope its value would reach deeper than that.

Personally, I found that deeper value when reading the column, “Pipe dreams.” The author said, “And that’s why I hate wanting to be a writer. Not only does it give me an attitude of annoying entitlement, it is this very ambition that makes me horribly, decidedly unhappy.” Not only do I share a similar aspiration, I suffer from that same ailment that has never been put into words for me. The piece translated my thoughts into words. To me, this is the essence of why we write columns. It’s overly ambitious to believe that a seven hundred-word essay will open every reader’s eyes to my way of seeing the world. But, it can validate what a reader already sees. The ultimate goal of a column isn’t to change people’s minds, or even to vaguely resonate with an audience. It’s to hit the nail on the head—maybe for just one person. It’s to write a piece where every word perfectly chronicles the thoughts that keep a single reader up at night, or crystallizes an argument already kindling inside them.

Don’t give columnists any credit for this. We just want to passionately argue issues we barely understand, and give you sage advice you never needed. But if we have any redeeming qualities—with an emphasis on the “if”— it’s that our words can connect two people without them ever seeing each other. For that reader, the author becomes freakishly visible—dare I say, human.