THE FIRST THING they’ll teach you in newswriting is to lead with the who, what, where, and when, then support with the how. It isn’t until one is barely two paragraphs in and only three hours from the deadline that a sixth idea comes up: why. Why am I doing this? Nobody reads this. Why did this subject do that predicate? Why do I have to report it, and frankly, why should anyone care?

I should make them care. This misplaced conviction kickstarted the series of well meaning mistakes I made as a student-journalist, a word I now repackage as experience. 

“Write, because there are stories that must be told. Write like democracy depended on it. Write like it’s the only way to understand how you think. And if you don’t end up being a journalist, live the story worth writing about.”

First, I instructed hard-hitting angles to articles. Activism has no place in journalism, a field that must remain impartial and unbiased. But the audacious 20yo me would find that statement abhorrent. All I knew then is that I wanted to fight for something. I wanted to effect change in a centennial institution disregarding what held it together for a hundred years. I wanted to etch my name where the likes of Rene Saguisag first wrote his. I then launched an inter-campus journalism seminar with the Daily Inquirer called Get It! Write!—I got most of it wrong. It was a hit with the participants, but a financial and mental hit for me and my staff. Lastly, I was Lady Justice with my mighty pen for a sword, blindfolded, holding the scales for whatever two adversarial points I made sure to clash that month: student vs faculty, San Bigkis vs NYPD, San Beda vs that season’s NCAA finalist. In the end, it was all me vs my editors over my ambitious but superfluous ideas. It was just me vs myself, writing, still not knowing why. All I wanted was to be read. And so after graduating, I discovered SEO writing. 

The first thing they’ll teach you in SEO writing is to bury the lead as deeply as you can. Who cares what happened where, when I can get you to read anything?—here’s how. It isn’t until the 27th spin that you realize writing simply to be read is a pathetic reason why. 

So, why write? I learned, after writing for an assortment of publications from college, law review, and law firms, to media-monitoring companies, magazines, and internet meme pages, that writing means telling stories about the world as you know it. Before joining The Bedan, my entire world was just myself, and that was all I knew to write about. Once I joined, my world expanded to my university; in law school, it grew to encompass the country; and when I began working, only then did I learn about the world as it is.

Equally important but often overlooked is the sequel to writing: editing. Why edit? Edit, because not all stories matter, but all sides to each of them do. Borrowing from The Imperfectionists, my favorite novel about journalism: “News is often a polite way of saying ‘editor’s whim.” The press may not be made to tell the people what to think, but it’s stunningly successful in telling them what it is worth thinking about.

Write, because there are stories that must be told. Write like democracy depended on it. Write like it’s the only way to understand how you think. And if you don’t end up being a journalist, live the story worth writing about. 

All this I learned looking back at 10 years worth of life since The Bedan. After all, a newspaper is a miniature scale of life: a bombardment of assorted events made up of who, what, when, where, and how’s. Then there’s features, where you highlight the fun, poignant, intriguing accounts you deem define that time. If news is slow, there’s always gossip on page 6. It’s up to you to make sense of it all and arrive at the “why.”

The rest of life are all fluff. These lighter accounts offer amusement to balance an often chaotic news landscape. They have clickbait-y premises to win your attention. Some will waste your time, some will use the hook as a lead towards a more profound insight. These stories will not make the newspaper headlines, but they sometimes make it to stuff like The Bedan 83rd Anniversary: Reflecting on a Decade of Growth. 

 I joined The Bedan years back. What did I discover that is insane? I discovered I’m insane. I discovered the meaningless philosophy of how making newspapers is a miniature scale of life. Jokes aside, I discovered the incredibly enriching experience of networking, interviewing and people skills, narrative-crafting, fact-checking, adaptability, integrity, and the ability to understand perspective from both sides, left and right, within and without. These are tools applicable in nearly any career. I discovered lifelong friends out of colleagues. I discovered my niche. Don’t let anyone vicariously experience anything for you. I joined The Bedan, and you should, too. You might just discover something insane. 

Editor’s Note: In celebration of The Bedan‘s 83rd anniversary, the Board published a series of unabridged, unedited pieces from editors of previous volumes, highlighting the publication’s rich history and its impact in shaping the voice of the Bedan community.