Sunday, April 19, 2009

Back Alley Writing, Installment #1: Overcoming “Writer’s Shock”

Doesn’t he mean “writer’s block? No, that’s not a typo, but a variation of sorts. I came up with the sibling term one sleepless night, sitting tortured before a blank Microsoft Word Document on my computer screen, at a point where “block” just wasn’t going to cut it. Holed-up novelists may work in anguish for months before they find the words to begin the next chapter of their book, but at least they have a chapter; I, a mere high school student, couldn’t get one godforsaken word down. So if you’re anything like me, you know that starting an essay can be as much if not more of a challenge than the actual writing process. A debilitating case of Not-Knowing-What-to-Write-About-itis, or “writer’s shock” for short, would attack me in two separate occasions: when I simply hated the selected text (usually “dull” or “too girly”) or when its brilliance or even just its historical reputation in literature had me doubting I had anything worth saying (often summed up with a “whoa, doggy” or “yowza”). I expect that if you share this problem, you probably fall into one category or the other.

Distaste for a given reading is usually not emotionally-based, but more often stems from an inability to relate to the characters or events in the novel existing in a setting, time period or culture vastly dissimilar (or comparatively lacking) to our own. I remember thinking in high school, “How can my teacher expect me to respond to this? I’m a punk kid from the suburbs and he wants me to discuss my views of 15th century Victorian tea-parties?” If you find that you just can’t connect to the reading for any reason, try changing your outlook from analyzing the superficialities of a story to looking at everything in that story as part of a larger structure. For instance, the majority of characters are obviously supposed to be real in a story, but is important to be conscious in your interpretation that they are in actuality not at real at all. Even in non-fiction, a character may function as a tool for the author to make a point or as a metaphor for something below the surface. If you can start to see things in this way, you may be able to find new interest in the story. After all, history does indeed repeat itself and you are really not so different from anyone else—anything can be boiled down to the basics and made relatable. In that respect, there is a variety of ways to construe what you read and if you remember this, you can relate to anything and discuss it with genuine curiosity in your paper.

On the other hand, you may find a piece of writing to be compelling, but worry that it might be too complex or sophisticated for you to write an adequate response. The number of directions in which you can move with your thesis may overwhelm you before you even touch pen to paper, halting you right in your tracks. While you may agonize that you have nothing to say or no strong direction in which to move, this sense is deceptive: you are constantly reacting to what you read, relating it to your own beliefs, ideas and experiences, whether it’s something you find interesting or boring and whether you want to or not. These subconscious factors steer your writing in particular directions and make your writing yours. So relax. You always have ideas. You just have to learn the best ways to get these ideas out into the light. (On a side note, it's great to try to come up with original ideas in your writing; but if you can’t, don’t worry about it. You're still a student, so don’t feel like you have to write an entire book on it. Remember that your papers are meant to be exercises, not groundbreaking articles. It's OK to just fulfill the prompt.)

The most important thing to remember when facing writer's shock is to not underestimate your own mind. Next time, I will move into the actual writing process and discuss some techniques I use to get started and get my ideas out, including time management and free-writing. Thanks for reading and tune in next week!


-James

Monday, April 13, 2009

Invest in a Good Highlighter

Hey Readers,
As crunch time rolls around here on campus, are you feeling swamped? Maybe you have a lab report due in Chem., a test in Psyc., and a paper coming up in English. Time to prioritize! There's no worse feeling than trying to cram in that English paper the night before it's due (been there, done that). So, here's an insider tip on how to come up with an essay topic in advance ...

Step #1: Invest in a good highlighter (pink, blue, yellow--pick your fave)
Step #2: When reading your assigned pages for class, highlight sentences or passages that interest you. Maybe you're "going green," so highlight sections on nature or the environment. Interested in social networking? Highlight passages on friendship. Are you an artist? Highlight chapters on color imagery.
Step #3: After you've reached The End, flip through and see what kind of topics you highlighted.
Step #4: Combine your interest into a topic. How does color imagery reflect a deeper meaning in The Great Gatsby? What is Leslie Marmon Silko suggesting about nature's power in Ceremony?
Step #5: Focus. Finish your first draft.
Step #6: Sign up for an appointment at the Writing Center. Not sure if your thesis statement is strong enough? Having difficulty incorporating quotes? Struggling with topic sentences? We can help.

Good luck & Happy Highlighting!
~Mary

Monday, April 6, 2009

A Stroll Through the Back Alleys of Essay Writing: Introduction

I hate to admit it, but I came close to inadvertently reprising Judd Nelson’s classic Breakfast Club role in my own high school English years. Leaning back in my chair, arms crossed and feet up on the desk in a less than subtle display of defiance, I would watch the highly ritualized process of education transpiring before me with nothing but suspicion and contempt. Unlike Nelson’s character however, I was a bright kid with well-read opinions and a genuine interest in learning— I just found it hard to believe any “real-life” knowledge could develop in the ultra-sterile classroom environment that confined me.

My essays naturally represented my qualities better than my (lack of) class participation after I recognized them to be the closest to an unadulterated means of expressing myself as I was likely to get in school. And though I honestly didn’t care what grade I received as long as I felt personally fulfilled by my work, I would always start off my papers with a keen eye on the assignment sheet, perhaps in a meek last effort to appease my teacher. This courtesy would wear off quickly, however, as I would become more and more immersed in my writing.

Once I had sunken deep into my essay, the assigned topics I was instructed to consider would suddenly trigger a flood of new, more enticing concepts which would, in turn, inspire their own, and so on. This free associative way of thinking would produce a surplus of alluring raw material for me to explore, but like the children’s game of Telephone, as the concepts grew more creative and captivating, they would simultaneously wander further out of the sanctity of the original prompt. Blind to this grave issue by my own fascination, I would ultimately churn out a solid, compelling final product that hung only to the prompt by a token thread.

My teachers, witnessing this apparent disregard for instructions, could only lower my grades (and for good reason), but their handwritten annotations commended the dexterity and potency of my writing. I've come to realize since that I was unconsciously using my papers as an apparatus to flesh out, organize and cement my often chameleonic beliefs, opinions and ideas. After all, isn’t it true that any thought is really only half-baked until it can be written down and observed? The essay format, I discovered, is a perfect system for achieving one's intellectual actualization.

Looking back, I can say without hesitation that this was the best problem I could have faced in high school English. Without knowing it, I was compiling a mental set of personal writing practices which, when recognized, harnessed and energized would prove to be greatly advantageous in the self-sufficient world of college writing. I’ve found considerable success in these homegrown methods and want to share them with other students as a sort of back alley insight into the habitually over-produced essay (maybe even as a my final desperate stab at institutionalism).

For the next five weeks or so, I’ll be publishing a series of what I have found to be my most effective approaches to essay writing. The upcoming first installment will introduce the phenomenon I like to call “writer’s shock” and how you can go about avoiding it. Stay tuned!


-James