Last night, although it held on until 2 this morning, was glorious. There’s so much more to copy editing than quiet and the flick of thumb or pen against paper, even more than the good-natured debate about the merits of the Oxford Comma.
Copy editing, at least in the context of the University Register, of the University of Minnesota, Morris, means piles of musty papers leaning against one another in all corners of the office. It means the smell of stale popcorn and the occasional crunch of the occasional SweeTart underfoot (leftover from the Activities Fair). Copy editing means an office like a sauna; it means the main office and the smaller one take the fan in shifts, grudgingly lugging it back after two hours have passed. It means ordering a pizza at 10 pm because we’re hungry and because all of E-Quality’s extra pizza was eaten before we knew it had been offered. It means trooping to Higbies for coffee, for smoothies, for fresh air. It means barely stifling moans of anguish at the appearance of another NASCAR article. It means AP is God. It means the combination of people’s surnames, scrawled across a whiteboard to uproarious delight. It means actually finding an earring that, lacking a back, slipped onto the floor of the Student Center without my knowledge.
Eventually, perhaps, if you care to wait up until the tired paperboy walks the campus, depositing a pile of newspapers at every building, copy editing means a publication we can all read without cringing.