I’d always seen news and newspapers as these gargantuan entities with a “corporate monolith” air around them. Ever since I discovered the small town newspapers of America, my opinion has changed drastically.

More precisely, ever since I discovered I could write for a newspaper myself, I discovered that newspapers were only a more wide-ranging way of spreading word-of-mouth.

And that’s just what news is finally: word-of-mouth. So what is news, then? And how do you make it? Well, you have certain categories of news. Front page material is when something bizarre and rare occurs — like, say, when school’s closed because the weather’s nice. (I don’t know which is more bizarre and rare: that school’s closed or the weather’s nice in Iowa).

Alternatively, you can feature a story on the front page if you’ve been assassinated, assaulted (preferably sexually), or been involved in a scandal of some sort (preferably related to sex).

The next couple of inside pages of a newspaper is where you get down to some serious news. Like “What did you do this summer?” Or “Do you think the construction going on all over town is a nuisance to raccoons and chipmunks?” (Obviously you’re not going to ask this of the raccoons or chipmunks themselves. They won’t reply because they can’t talk, silly. Also, they’d probably want to consult with their lawyers and publicity managers before issuing a statement to the press).

Competing for space on these pages is some humor (in the form of debates between a comedy club called “The Democrats” and another called “The Republicans.” The funny thing is that the audience doesn’t think they’re funny. Or that they’re doing a good job of whatever they’re supposed to be doing.)

Some unimportant news like an ISU professor doing some groundbreaking research (maybe being nominated for the Grammys — I mean — the Nobel) is sandwiched between more important news.

Most newspapers then move on to what are officially called the space fillers: hot air — or opinion pages. The name “space fillers” suggests that opinionated people (like you-know-who) have gone where no man has gone before — to uncharted frontiers of the universe. So this bit of advice is for budding astronauts: Beware! Opinion writers ahead!

But what exactly is written to fill these pages?

Answer: What exactly can hot air fill?

Answer to answer: anything and everything — and nothing and nonsense, too. It doesn’t matter because it’s not everybody’s opinion — or anybody’s opinion. It’s just a lot of harmless hot air. Although some people get pretty heated up by it and send in some snappy, sarcastic responses to the unsuspecting, enthusiastic writers.

The thing to ask is: Where do you draw the line? Where does good writing end, and where does hot air begin? The next few pages are usually the moneyspinners for newspapers: the classifieds. That’s where people try to pawn off their books (“Like new. Untouched. Mint condition. Available for anybody foolish enough to have taken a statistics class. Call now.”) among other things.

Most newspapers also have some pages devoted to this creed who use the English alphabet but not the English language. I’m referring to the sports pages here. Sometimes some weak attempt will be made at infiltrating alien cultures into these pages. Like when an explanation of soccer as the world’s most popular sport is attempted.

All in all, it’s a very invigorating experience trying to make the news as well as reading it. Which reminds me, what’s new(s) with you these days? Done any front page stuff lately? Maybe you honked on Lincoln Way, or went out of the Library with un-checked books in your hands?

(This article intends to make no fun whatsoever of any newspaper and is a lighthearted view of the author’s encounter with small newspapers in America.)

Narayan Devanathan is a graduate student in journalism and mass communication from Hyderbad, India