How to Write a Spec App

Hi, it’s me again! If you don’t remember, (cue shameless self-promotion) I was the guy who gave y’all the dirt on the inner workings of the Spectator (or as Features might put it, an “exposé”)! But if you still want to join The Spectator, your boi has your back with some critical tips!

Step 1: Think about which department to join

Everybody might tell you to join the department that you’re “most passionate about” or “is most compatible with your interest in writing,” but what’s actually most important is being tight with the editors. That’s right, not only do Jane Rhee and Sophie Watwood completely destr—I mean edit your articles, but there are also people such as Kerwin Chen and Gabrielle Umanova (who are amazing Humor editors. Amazing. [Make me Editor]), who will take their time to add “suggestions” in the writing process as well!

Step 2: Don’t waste your time at The Spectator’s interest meeting

The Spectator interest meeting is heavily advertised by the editorial board because they are desperately in need of attention and want to prove that they are in charge. So, you might think that you should go in order to network or charm their pants off. However, considering the number of people who do this and fail to submit applications, the chances that they will remember you in the face of their plummeting self-esteem are slim.

The better option is to conserve your energy and just find information and Spec app forms on Facebook. (Remember to leave an incredibly flattering comment and love reacc!)

Step 3: Take a break!

After finding the Spec app form, just take a break. You deserve it: those countless minutes of trying to find the form were some of your most exhausting efforts. Plus, the form is only due in a few weeks.

Step 4: You suddenly realize that you have an hour before the deadline

As weeks pass, you suddenly remember that the Spec app form closes in an hour. You now have a handful of options:

Step 5a: Cry

Deep panic sets in. You realize you have to give out deeply personal information such as your homeroom and OSIS number (why do they need this information?!). The multiple essays and example articles show no sign of writing themselves. Desperately trying to find a solution, you break down, cry, and fail to start the form. Your parents find you on the floor wailing and shake their heads in disappointment.

Step 5b: Finesse everything

Committing to completing the form, you can: a) load yourself with caffeine and attempt to write as much stuff as possible or b) use my comprehensive answer sheet to common questions asked on all forms.

1. Why do you want to be in this department?

1. Cause y’all are looking for applicants and I want the job.

1. What is your favorite article and what do you like about it?

1. They all suck, but I guarantee that if I were in your department rn, I’d make the entire thing so much better.

1. What experience do you have that makes you qualified?

1. I don’t: my lack of experience is one of my strongest features. I guarantee that I will be able to accomplish all of your tasks extremely creatively. (For example, note my ingenuity in using “extremely creatively” as a synonym for “incorrectly.”)

The sample article/artwork/photo is on you fam. #AcademicHonesty

Step 5c: Just don’t do it

You shrug your shoulders and continue your normal routine. This is easily the smartest choice because you’ll be avoiding future suffering in the form of overbearing and poorly colored e-mails.

Step 6a: Get rejected

With your completely incoherent application, the people who read it send you a rejection e-mail, filled with lies such as “We can only accept a limited number of members,” or “We received applications from so many talented people.” You then perform step 5a upon hearing this news.

Step 6b: Get accepted

You somehow get accepted, and you sacrifice your social life in gratitude to the deity who allowed this to happen, Peter Stuyvesant. Feeling incredibly accomplished, you proceed to contribute the absolute minimum to your department.