Each year, graduating editors are given 30 final column inches – “30” was historically used to signify the end of a story – to reflect on their time at The Hatchet, published in the final issues of the year.
The pink moon this weekend reminded me of an artist who kept me company during the long hours I spent holed up in the basement of The Hatchet townhouse. Akin to Nick Drake’s artistry in the “Day is Done,” which became the background noise to my many editing sessions, I learned to contain an emotional fatigue I possessed as I worked again and again to publish my most refined work for The Hatchet. As I listened to the musician’s appeal to share his answers with the world through an outstretched hand, I realized that I was doing the same: answering questions for myself through the act of writing.
It started out after I built up the courage to approach Lia, the former editor in chief, during the fall conference of my first year. She probably didn’t appreciate the sudden ambush at the snack station after so much running around on her part, but all I knew in that moment was that I had to get my face known in a paper I read front to back and quickly admired.
From the minute I stepped foot in the basement of the townhouse a semester later, I heard about the responsibilities that would come with being a copy editor, and I was all in. I put on my best collared shirt and interviewed with the solitary occupant of copy, Jaden, and incoming Editor in Chief Jarrod about my former experience and the expectations.
I cherished the moments between management and copy when we shared our varied understandings about covering subcommunities, which ultimately make an impact on those we write about. I learned new ways to provide context for our readers by clarifying turns of phrase relating to topical issues for those living on campus, in encampments around campus, in shelters or about the commissioners voting on shelter budgets.
Many AP Style debates later and I was feeling fulfilled with the job I had taken up. I remember seeing the dedication of Jared Gans, who had a hold on the section until the other seniors had to cast him out of the basement during transition day.
It was a nonlinear progression of emotional fatigue from living to produce well-rounded stories and ensuring I asked enough follow-up questions with fleeting moments to think. Weeks became time-warped marathons while taking a story or two plus editing.
About a semester into being on staff, I took a podcast story with my editor Sarah Sachs that surprised me in many ways. We wrote about people who worked as Santa. I did an interview with a local jolly cheer-spreader and learned about the vast expenses of his beard, outfits and how intentional he was with children with autism. I learned to love to sit with a story that you might not see the deeper parts of at first glance.
I morphed myself into someone who can recognize my achievements but can also move along with the pace of the next round of stories post-completion. However, being on the back-of-house team, I found gratification from being immediately attuned to what is a purely student-driven undertaking.
As a reporter, I learned to take chances on myself — especially when interviewing faculty and department heads, a skill I hadn’t always possessed. I nervously attended protests on behalf of the paper. Much of my growth as a contributor has been positioning myself to be vigilant to details like I was for the copy that I edited.
The ways of the paper may be old school, but I have learned from many fruitful talks how the stylebook has been a guide for us to navigate morality as we see it as members of the community, too.
Without a doubt, the energy in the basement kept me coming back each year. I’ve collaborated with incredibly talented people, working on multiple volumes to see the unfaltering physique of the papers through. I could not be more grateful for the tenacity I learned from all of you. So as my Day is Done, I’m proud of the work I’ve accomplished, albeit through sleepless nights, and I want to thank the people who helped to make this possible:
Anna and Lindsay: To my copy team, the ones who have kept me reading and rereading until it all becomes grammatically intact. We’ve all been spending hours working as hard as we can, and it’s great to see your strengths shine through during long nights on the job. Anna, I can’t wait to see you rock that copy chief position next year — I know you will direct it like it’s nothing.
Cristina: We were brought up together, endured Jaden’s double clicking habits through graf run throughs, I watched Glee for the first time with you at your fervent behest and I’ve learned a lot from you about standing firm in my convictions. I’m happy to have been a part of so many heated chats and debates whether that be on state pride, where a girl can get a good meal around here or the many details that go into punctuation and second checks on stories. Can’t wait to see where your stalwart energy takes you next.
Grace: I knew you’d be coming down to the basement because you’d be the fastest steps clacking down, ready to rattle off new ideas you cooked up. Your sharp intuition has changed the paper for the better and has helped me grow as a writer immensely. I really appreciate all that you do with stern composure and have never doubted any work that you touch becomes pristine (my favorite word that you use).
Faith and Ianne: The backbones of this paper, two people who I could always rely on. No matter what ungodly hour it was, you both had coherent answers like walking encyclopedias for all things campus related. Faith, I have appreciated your endearing humor throughout all editing hours. I remember writing a story with you in Kogan about commuter students taking naps between classes, and you marched through our document with polished writing straight off the dome. I’m impressed by the handle the two of you have on the depths of this paper, both current and archival.
Diana and Carly: Your free spirits are contagious and I have loved having two little Hatchet sisters to pore over the latest chatter with, especially on our little walkies, D. You’re gonna be one heck of a team next year and I can’t wait to see the fresh eyes and ears you both bring to the culture section.
Molly St. Clair: You’re a ball of lovely energy, ready to tackle Student Government Association like it’s been your full-time GW gig. I have loved every second of hearing the ideas you bring to story pitches and how you interview your sources with such finesse. You’ve worked your arse off, and you deserve everything that comes your way in the future because of it.
Josh: I’m so glad you were around for this last semester. As seniors, we talk about how this is such a reminiscent last semester, but it’s been fun to make new memories with you on staff. You have such great energy and Newsday is so lucky to have you — can’t wait to see all that you do.
Hannah: Oh what a joy it is to work alongside you and learn from your edits. I’ve really appreciated the ways you have walked me through the Board of Trustees’ deep pockets of unchecked lore to unpack. You craft emails like an art form, and I’m amazed to see the hold you have on source relationships and the dedication you bring, which adds so much to the paper. I couldn’t be happier to know you’ll be overseeing more next year with your sharp eyes.
Izzy: I’m really glad I talked to you after a silly Hatchet kickball game and took the time to get to know you, which opened the door for such a lovely friendship. I always love to hear your acute observations about the goings on. You always made InDesign look so easy. I can’t imagine my time on staff without you and your sunny disposition. I looked forward to Hatchet shindigs to be shameless wallflowers together and can’t wait for our next catchup.
Nuria: To the immeasurable connection I gained from this paper, to the person I look up to starry-eyed as I continue to witness you doing incredibly fulfilling work. You have shown me the many ways that I can reach farther than expected in my journalism life, too. I still remember you running those sports stories up until 3 a.m. finishes with nothing but sheer firepower. You exude confidence and you’ve taught me how to have fun while reaching the calamity that is weekly deadlines.
Maura: My saving grace, someone who will unapologetically keep me in check, maybe some unsolicited comments mixed in there — but all out of love, I know. I miss seeing your hippo cartoons and the clever design decorations you had in store for us, truly working like a mad man while juggling a whole cherry tree of a hefty yearbook. I appreciate you more than you know!
Sejal: I really appreciate the talks we had about being in journalism and silly side quests and the ebbs and flows of college in D.C. You girlboss effortlessly, ready for any deadline that hits you, and I manifest your superpowers in my times of immense dread.
Ethan B: Thank you for being a friend to all. D&D was a way for me to try something I didn’t think I would in college with people who understood the reckless escape necessary to balance a heavy grindset. You put an abundance of thought in your columns, a benchmark of clean-cut writing, and your role as an editor. I didn’t think was possible for someone still yearning to create more with endless creative side hustling.
Dad: Thanks for being on call for me when I waltzed into the sports arena filled with pure adrenaline, and dread, to make something of myself that might resemble the impeccable storytelling that you actualize. Not just in print but also the stories you utter in your every day, which provide me with so much joy.
Mom: A salute to the most staunch Hatchet app user and advocate. You know how to provide the exact encouragement I always need without having to bat an eye. I appreciate you immensely and couldn’t have gotten this far without you.
– 30 –
