Should I submit this editorial to my school paper, or is the point too abstract?

As a small town girl, I know what it's like to dream. It's part of our definition; we dream like gravity is a sheer seven letter word and the least of all things that will keep us down.





And when she morphs into a designer and moves away to the big city in the fashion magazine she won't forget this place, there'll be a stainless steel-framed picture of her and her friends on a lifeguard stand in the top drawer of her dresser, the one beneath the window that spies the Eiffel Tower. Gravity won't keep her here.





And he from your math class with the Playboy, he who always has all the answers somehow, he's going straight to the West Coast to the top intensive neurological care hospital in the world where he'll perform hemispherectomies and lobectomies and spinal cord rejuvenations with a scalpel in his hand like he holds the wand to the world. And gravity tugs on him just enough to keep 508-457-8134 as number seven on his speed dial. She who dreams in the mirror at you, don't be fooled, she's not dreaming. She's wishing.





From Seaview Boulevard, Doctor looks out upon the ocean from the life that his Playboy built. The pages that dictated to him and the images that began to replace the valid figures in his life. The men on page after page became his friends, and then, no, his best enemies.





And, yes, Europe is treating her just fine, thank you for asking. Does she drink the fine wine? Occasionally, but the magazine doesn't really like that. And the croissants are fine as well, thank you, but the magazine doesn't really like that either. Why, you ask?





Well, does Miss Bonybrunettewearingafinepieceoftonimatic... eat croissants?





No, thank you, she does not.





Why, then they'd have to change her name.





Oh, but they look so buttery and flaky and good.





Tell that to Miss HauteCouturePariswearingafinepieceofskin...


She tried but the magazine didn't like that. Skin is enough for you, darling, but not too much, gorgeous, the clothes look much finer hanging on sticks.





Gravity lost hold around page three.





And from over the top of my Teen Vogue and your CosmoGIRL! and her Inquirer (headline: America's Next Top Waddle), the world looks quite small and quite beachscene and yes, she looks quite fabulous in that new bathing suit, thank you.





And the words creep off the page and into our hearts and souls thicker than seaweed and faster than a spilled bottle of ink – was it the spilled ink that made the words form on this page? Were these thoughts accidental, were these scrawls simply accidents caused by another one of gravity's abnormalities? Oh, no, darling, this blasphemy was created very much on purpose. Don't worry, just like Doctor knew he had to get off the Cape and out of the fridge and into someone's head, the pages are whispering you to sleep and becoming the lyrics of your lullabies…





Thin/Beautiful/Rich/ Famous/Shelookslikeafinepieceofleadwrapp...


The words are jumping off the sheen and into your head – oh, and so is his scalpel, so hold on tight.





The images are becoming your best friends, and then, no, your best enemies.





But we've heard this all before, and you know how this story ends.





Because you are the Paris-bound designer in her early stages, slurping up the images and captions like you've been starved of them for days.





I want to be something big like Doctor.





No, no, don't reach for that croissant or sausage or sandwich, now (it doesn't matter, they're all interchangeable), the magazine wouldn't like that.





Reach for the nail polish instead, I read last week the fumes make the urge to eat go away.





And when you look in the mirror, remember that you're not painting your nails and going hungry and reading the fashion magazines like Miss IlovedCapeCodbutnowIlovebeautybecausethe... because you're dreaming.





That's not dreaming. That's wishing and it's killing.





Please save the world with me. Please put down the magazine that tells little girls to take the jelly off their peanut butter and jelly to save those cals and eat jelly by the spoonful.





Please tell Tyra in Elle Magazine that she does not have the right to say that big is beautiful until we see the most beautiful girl who happens to be over 180 pounds win America's Top Model; Seventeen Magazine cannot tell us that every body type is perfect until I see a girl doing their "Get your flawless bikini body!" workout who doesn't dissapear when she turns sideways.





I know it's just a wish, but I wish and dream at the same time that one day mirrors will be nothing but sheets of glass to shoot back a smile. And that it's Miss Eliza and Miss Alexandrie wearing a fine olive green Marc Jacobs dress and oh! what's that? Ah, those there on the neckline are the crumbs from France's finest croissant; you know, they're so buttery and flakey and good.





Doctor became rich and famous because of his hemispherectomies and lobectomies and spinal cord rejuvenations, and not because of the excellent pieces of work his plastic surgeon friends did on his nose, eyes, wrinkles, stomach, oh, the models of which he saw in none other than Playboy.





I really, really hope the ink spilled by mistake and society didn't mean to emaciate us. But either way, they did and it's done and now it's just you and me. We've got to be the brave ones to pick up the rag and start to clean before the magazines take over and shut down every croissant shop in France.





No, we wouldn't want that.





They're so buttery and flakey and good.

Should I submit this editorial to my school paper, or is the point too abstract?
It depends on what your school paper is like, but I have to say that to me, this reads much more as literary magazine work than editorial (not a bad thing, by the way, but just very different).





Newspaper and magazine editorials have room for plenty of flair and writing devices, but ultimately, their main goal is to convey a specific point about ideas, beliefs, news, etc. This reads, to me, more like a work of fiction/poetry. I think you're correct in believing that it's a little abstract for a paper. It's also running a bit long for most editorial pieces.





If you have any way of submitting to a literary magazine, I'd clean it up and do that. However, if not, try your school paper anyhow - the worst that can happen is that they don't print it.





I think this is, overall, quite a compelling piece of work. Good luck!