The show must go on

Everyone has a professional moment that shaped them in one way or another. Mine happened before I actually started getting paid to make words.

The year was 1997, and the two new faculty advisers of The Pilot, Gardner- Webb’s student newspaper, needed a new editor.

Since there were no other upperclassmen available, they chose a classmate and me as co-editors in an oddly breezy staff meeting.

This, as I recall, was a Monday. Everyone’s copy, including my singlehanded production of a beefy sports section, was due Friday, and the paper had to be sent to the printer by lunch the following Monday.

The young staff turned in the work one might expect from freshmen and sophomores, while the new co-editors struggled with their new duties. Since my partner was handling the photography, I drew the short straw of page design.

That means I had to learn a program, Quark, and design all the pages in two days. I spent a glorious Labor Day weekend chained to my desk in the newspaper office, fumbling through pages and drinking unhealthy amounts of caffeine.

On Sunday, I slept in, hit the cafeteria for lunch, worked until dinner, ate at the cafeteria again and went back to the newspaper office. I worked all night, but when I left at 9:45 Monday morning to go to class, a very ugly newspaper was ready for press.

I thought of that when we were putting this issue together, since I spent the last week of our cycle coping with the flu. Work comes a little more slowly when you’re on cold medication, but as I learned in college, deadlines don’t care about your problems.

The show really must go on.