HOW TO
Alegitimate ambition of any aspiring analyst is to get his or her name in the paper, as a byline to an “opinion editorial” or op-ed, voicing strong personal views to the world. Established pundits will all have kept in a drawer, somewhere, that first paper edition bearing their patronym, as a trophy marking a significant achievement in life.
The market,
therefore, is a competitive one. Prominent dailies and other major platforms
publish only a handful of the hundreds—and, in some cases, thousands—of
submissions they receive every week. Placing a non-commissioned op-ed can
easily turn into an Odyssey. Conventional etiquette holds that it should be
proposed to only one editor at a time—to avoid the embarrassment of having it
accepted by several of them simultaneously. Yet most editors are overwhelmed
and take time to respond—if they respond at all. As such, a piece of writing
can meander from newspaper to magazine to digital portal over weeks, leaving
its author to agonize at the perceived lack of recognition.
Cultivating
relationships with editors is essential to receiving an answer sooner rather
than later, but doesn’t necessarily guarantee results. Alternatively, such
relationships might prompt commissioned op-eds, but these aren’t always the
cruise they promise to be. Editors often reach out to authors not so much to
solicit their original views, but to fill what they discern as a gap in the
ongoing public debate; in other words, they would like you to conform to a role
they ascribe to you, which only works out if you happen to share exactly their
perspective.
As a rule, op-eds
are an unusually formulaic exercise, which makes them both frustrating and
extraordinarily useful as writing practice. The more prestigious the
publication platform, the less freedom you tend to enjoy. The archetype of a
New York Times opinion piece, for example, boils down to a clear-cut position
within the accepted boundaries of an ongoing debate. Authors sporting nuanced
or ambivalent reflections, an unconventionally radical take, or a preoccupation
with important topics that are not already in the news, will likely stay in
limbo.
Another critical
factor is your perceived legitimacy to express the position in question; for
many, an “opinion” is virtually devoid of value unless it is tagged to a
recognizable function in society. Your name, indeed, never means much in and of
itself—unless you have already reached stardom. Your “qualifications” must be
explicit, even if contrived. Sometimes having an Arabic sounding name is enough
to take a stance on Islam. Having penned a book, or belonging to a think-tank,
may be enough to establish you as an “expert.”
Concision is the point of the exercise
Constraints extend
to form. Editors usually reserve the right to choose the title. Prestigious
platforms may go as far as publishing a partially rewritten text without
running changes by the author. Length will rarely exceed 800 words, and market
pressures are growing to push the word count still lower. Concision, though, is
precisely the point of the exercise, and the reason why op-eds are such an
efficient way of improving your writing.
The opinion piece,
by nature, consists in convincing other people: your views must therefore be,
above all, clear, compact and compelling. From this imperative flows the basic
structure of an op-ed, which typically contains one powerful idea only,
expounded in three parts: a hook, a body and a punchline.
The hook is the
first paragraph, which must be both explicit and catchy: this is where you
immediately specify what argument you are about to make and why. The need to do
so in impactful ways, in a sentence or two, helps explain why op-eds are
typically confined to familiar intellectual terrain—it takes far more
explaining to engage an audience on entirely new ground. That is no excuse to
shun the exercise: spelling out from the get-go, simply and effectively, what
one is going to talk about is an extremely difficult and useful task in itself.
Your op-eds will transform you into a much better writer
The body is a
string of very short paragraphs that each contains one sub-idea, laid out in
support of your core argument. They function almost like a set of bullet
points, ticking off notions that are distinct but interrelated, and which
together form a multidimensional discussion of the topic you announced in the
hook. Unlike bony bullet points, they comprise just enough flesh—notably
evidence, illustrations and transitions—to make for fluid reading.
The punchline
appears in the last paragraph: in essence, having developed and proved your
views, you circle back to the opinion expressed in the hook and nail it in with
some dramatic reformulation. In other words, in an op-ed you state your case.
You make your case. You rest your case. And that is a punchline right there.
Although opinion
pieces are often romanticized as a lever for “shaping public debate” or
“influencing policy-making,” it is hard to think of any example that
meaningfully changed the course of history. Views expressed in an op-ed rarely
are entirely novel: generally, they reflect relatively widespread positions
that are constructed and disseminated over long periods of time. The
transformative powers of an op-ed should not be exaggerated, in all but one
way: your op-eds will transform you into a much better writer.
23 April 2017
Illustration credit: Wartuba on Wikipedia / public domain.