Strobel School for Hacks

How do you spell Picasso, the French painter?

-- Burt Lancaster as columnist J.J. Hunsecker in Sweet Smell of Success

---

The U of T offers a shiny new course this fall called How To Write A Column.

The outline: "Good column-writing is rare, and it isn't easy."

(Oh, baby.)

"Find your distinct voice and style, and write in a clear, persuasive way."

(Damn straight.)

"You will be asked to write and polish one column per week."

(Slackers!)

The prof is Heather Mallick, one of the finest writers I know, and I'm sure it's worth every bit of $569 for the term.

But if you are on a budget, I am pleased to offer the following advice from the Strobel Correspondence School for Hacks.

You will be asked to write in Polish one column per week and find your distinct voice. Soprano, tenor, bass or squeaky.

But, first, don't be stupid. Why the hell do you want to be a columnist?

It's lonely. Everyone hates you. If you write about them. If you won't write about them. You can't win.

Reporters are jealous because your face appears in print. Editors think you have a swelled head. Your mom bemoans that you have thrown your life away.

But if you insist, here are some tips:

To start, drink heavily and shave weekly.

Readers love grizzled, semi-coherent sages who stumble off their barstools to file gin-soaked prose on deadline.

Michele Mandel, Barbara Amiel and Dear Abby are the only exceptions, though I suspect Dear Abby shaves.

Best to have an unhealthy lifestyle. No one wants to read about how you woke up at 7, ate your wheat germ, patted the neighbour's poodle and rode your bicycle to work.

No, they want to know which bars have banned you, how messy your desk is, how you quit sniffing glue.

It makes people feel better.

Specialize.

There is no area of life which does not have at least one columnist.

There are wine columnists, TV columnists, food columnists. At this very moment, some columnist somewhere is writing about stamps, bugs, fishing, cars, gossip, travel, beer, school, clothes, horses, fertilizer, sex, dating, date sex, date squares, you name it.

Sports columnists and fitness columnists are closely related, except in personal appearance. One is flabby.

Select an affectation.

Every columnist must have his own quirky trademark.

A groovy nickname is good. Dr. Foth. Bono. Scrawler. The Squire. The Moaner. Somehow "Strobe" doesn't cut it.

Or buy a fedora. A beret. A cigarette holder.

If you can't think of anything good, wear your sunglasses on your forehead.

The greats all knew the power of a gimmick.

In San Francisco, Herb Caen invented three-dot columnizing ... which everyone loved ... because it gave you time ... to breathe ... between thoughts.

The immortal Damon Runyon writes everything in the present tense. No matter when it happens. Neat trick, especially since he dies in 1946.

A working knowledge of English is useful, though not essential. It helps to know Picasso was Spanish, not French. Your spell checker won't catch that.

The real joy of columnizing is in trying to get as many typos as you can past the copy editors.

Know the value of a good headline writer. If your column, is about, say, softwood lumber, no one reads it. Except lumberjacks. But if the headline guy writes Orgy In The Trees! everyone reads it, especially lumberjacks.

Avoid cliches. Like the plague.

Say "you" at least as often as "I." In rural areas and parts of Scarborough, "youse" is acceptable.

NO-BRAINERS

Some topics are no-brainers for readership. Sex. Animals. BUT NOT IN THE SAME COLUMN.

Know your audience. For instance, as you are well aware, Sun readers are more fun. Anyway, that should get you started. Heather can take it from here.

Just what the world needs. More columnists.