Writing or Something Like It

Throughout highschool I had a livejournal and for a short period of time a xanga journal online.  I loved having the public forum that all my friends (and enemies) could see.  I posted random entries on my current life issues, some poetry, and I loved to comment on other peoples posts (I tend to be nosy).  I kept my livejournal through all of freshman year and some of sophomore year, but I was not as adamant about keeping it up.  During sophomore year I decided to graduate from the blogging phase and to find other forums of expression.  I thought that blogs were too public, people made them too personal, and it was more of a place to be passive agressive than a place to really network and connect with people. 

This blogging experience has been different in so many ways.  First of all this space has a more specific purpose.  While I liked that I was using this for a class and for posting my academic work, I never viewed it like I viewed my livejournal.  This was not a public place for me to show myself as a person, but was essentially the same as when the teachers in elementary school post student work in the hallway.  This was a space where others in my class, school, the academic network, could view my school work.  Perhaps since I’m a senior and won’t be using this space in the future to create an e-portfolio for getting myself out there as a writer I didn’t take it too seriously.

This was a class assignment.  I kept it up as much as I wanted to for the grade that I wanted to recieve.  I would actually have loved to see how the class blogging experience would have been different if it felt more like the environment of the livejournal: a place for the class to connect to each other as aspiring writers and scholars.  It would have been interesting to see if we could have used this space to post and comment on drafts (a sort of cyber-workshopping), really critique each other and converse about course material and our varying opinions on it.  To me, that is what blogging is all about.

Understanding that the purpose of the umwblogs is for students to get their work into real world context, I see the problems with allowing it to become a communication device as I have suggested, but that’s what the tags and categories are for.  I never quite got the hang of how this site really works, but if there was a way for the class to have access to certain posts (such as the suggested drafts) and for final products to be open to the academic public, that would be ideal for me. 

I will say that I felt a little more self-conscious about my work not only  knowing that my classmates would have opportunities in class to read my drafts, but knowing that my work would be posted on the internet.  I did try to be a little more professional and precise in my writing.  However, overall I don’t think it improved the caliber of my writing anymore than what we actually did in class did.  (plus, as I said, I’m a senior, which makes my perspective different). 

I think this blogging concept should work well in the future for English majors who really want their writing to become part of the academic community.  I’m going into teaching and so my work as an English major was mostly done for myself and my classes, but if I had some sort of incentive such as this to push me into academia a little more my choices may have been different.  Who knows? 

In looking through my classmates’ blogs (as well as re-reading my own) I had mixed feelings.  I tried to especially pay attention to the papers that we all posted.  Some of us came with a lot of writing experience and skill already under our belts.  Others started a little more from scratch.  But overall, I was impressed with the progression from the first paper to the last.  Many of our first papers were a little raw since we were experimenting with the whole “voice” thing for the first time.  But by the end of the semester we were still experimenting and putting our voices into our works, but to a whole new level.  We were able to really put that voice into academic discourse.  I was impressed.

I also thought it was really interesting to read all three papers in progression as a lot of people referred back to their past papers in the later ones.  Brandon’s struck me especially.  Reading the three papers in isolation would have left me missing some of the references in his final paper.  I really liked how the works were integrated together.  Since the blogs are meant to be a portfolio of sorts it would be interesting to see if we would group the papers in such a way that series like Brandon’s would be put together for the purpose of the portfolio (assuming that it would be kept over the course of the major, not just the semester).

A few of the blogs were disappointing because there was not a lot there.  Even a few didn’t have paper 3 posted.  But I did enjoy some of the ones with extra stuff.  Ashley M’s blog was nice because she is just an excellent writer and I was in the group to read the first drafts of the last paper and it was nice to see the finished product and she had some nice reflections posted. 

 Another thing that struck me was the blunt honesty in some of the papers that I read.  This is more of a comment on the way the class was run rather than the blogs themselves, but we really poured our hearts out, didn’t we?  I think of David and his memior especially.  I know Dr. Allen mentioned it in class, but reading it was completely different.  I appreciated the honesty and especially liked how he added the inspiration at the end, that way we got to see his work (which was really good in my opinion) but we weren’t influenced by it in any way while reading the paper.  I think there may have been preconcieved notions if the exerpt was before the content of the paper.  It was a smart move.

 I wish that there had been more interaction among the blogs.  As I read things that I really liked or disliked I looked to see if there were comments to go along with them, and there never was.  :(  I guess I could have commented, but it just didn’t seem like that was something we used this space for as much as we could have. 

            The boundaries of “academic discourse” are extremely blurry.  Not all “school” work counts.  In fact, as a student, I have never really considered my work as a part of the conversations taking place in academia.  My term papers were written for grades.  Often they simply supported some other argument I found in an article on the topic I had chosen.  Until now, with the assignment of joining in on the scholarly fun, it did not even seem like my works were a part of academia, but rather a part of my academic career, aside from all the real scholars and their journal articles. 

            As I reconsider what is considered as academic discourse (since I doubt my work is) I wonder what does count.  Who gets to join the conversation and what are they saying?  I think I need to break this down.  Let’s start with “what is a discourse community?” (since academia is one).  Luckily, Patricia Bizzell has written an article answering that very question.  In her article “What Is a Discourse Community,” Bizzell points out that there have been no clear definitions of what constitutes a discourse community.  Her “tentative definition” calls discourse community “a group of people who share certain language-using practices (Bizzell, 222).”  That phrasing brings me back to last semester’s Introduction to Sociolinguistics where I looked at and studied speech communities (even before Bizzell mentions the connection).

            That is a good start, but I sense that academic discourse has more to it.  It is true that the members of a discourse community must share common language practices, of course, but what do they talk about?  Bizzell refers to John Swales and seems to answer this question as well.  Swales’ definition of discourse community, as paraphrased by Bizzell, is “a social group using language to accomplish work in the world (Bizzell, 225)” (my emphasis).  Whether this is true of all discourse communities, I am unsure, but what becomes clear is that it rings true of academic discourse.  Academic discourse is not only a style of writing shared among scholars, but is a conversation among scholars who are all striving to find the best, truest, or most effective theories in their fields. 

            In the case of Bizzell, Swales, and Peter Elbow (who I will get to soon), the theories apply to composition.  The scholars in the field of composition studies converse about discourse.  They strive to find the best, truest, and most effective ways to write both outside of and within academic discourse.  This is obviously problematic.  Remember in high school and certain college courses when papers were down-graded for using non-Standard English, not “developing” your argument or using enough supporting details?  The composition scholars argue whether or not those constraints are vital to “good” writing in the ways English teachers claim they are.  The views of what constitutes “good” writing are being challenged and new ideas about how and what to write are being placed on the table.  People are eating it up, too. 

            While these scholars argue about the ways in which writing should be taught, I am being introduced to both ends of the spectrum.  My entire academic career through my junior year in college consisted of being presented with the various ways to build an effective persuasive paper.  In the past two semesters, however, I have been exposed to these composition scholars who have turned my thoughts in all directions.  Now I have received my first formal invitation into the conversation; in fact, I am being forced to by an assignment.  The question is, how can someone like me, not even a part of the academic discourse community, now confused about what counts as “good” writing, even begin to join in?  After some reviewing of the material I have to work with, I made a decision that even surprised myself.  I am going to work against my recent instincts, against much of what I have read from the conversation, and argue for making clear and concise arguments the “it” factor for writing well.

—

            It has always been my understanding that academic discourse is one in which authors write with purpose; the goal is to make a point or opinion to sway the audience (other scholars and the general society).  While I must admit I was fascinated by the composition scholars and their deviant theories, I still hold that a well designed argument is what will persuade the masses.  In reading the various opinions on what should be taught in writing classes I found that the more “alternative” a discourse or style was, the more I wondered how credible the author was.  It was the fanciful language, outrageous ideas and vigor with which they wrote that drew me in, but those same qualities left me with the sense that I had not learned anything from their pieces.  I was unable to take meaning and understanding from the essays.  There are negative consequences that come with experimentation, pushing the boundaries, and being innovative, the most glaring of which is not being able to connect with your audience and make the point you are striving for.

            As this realizations surfaced, I immediately thought of Peter Elbow’s “Writing With Power,” especially the chapter titled Power in Writing.  His theory of voice seems to eliminate all the rules and opens the floor to all possible variation, which I am cautioning against.  Voice is “words that capture the sounds of the individual on the page (Elbow, 287).”  Essentially, it is the written form of what would otherwise be spoken.  Voice theory invites you to integrate all other discourse communities to which you belong, even including speech communities, into your writing, be it academic or otherwise.  There is a peculiarity to the voice Elbow describes in that it sparks something in the reader, but is a product of the relationship between the words and their author.  I struggle with this concept not because I do not understand it - as an English major I have read many excellent works chock full of voice - but I do not believe that voice holds the value Elbow places on it in all contexts. 

            As with many of the composition scholars I have been studying, I quickly fell in love with Elbow’s voice theory.  I wanted my writing to be powerful; I wanted people to recognize my writing as mine.  So I free-wrote and I tried to be myself as much as possible.  Not sure of how well I had done, I looked over my returned and graded paper and was mortified to find the phrase “run-on” scribbled on the page.  Only a few semesters ago I taught a lesson to a group of sixth graders on how to avoid run-on sentences.  Now I am writing them in college papers.  Something went wrong here. 

            While I think there is more to voice theory than “writing the way you talk,” this common conception of Elbow’s work causes problems.  My “voice” when speaking is quick-paced, jumps from topic to topic easily and is often not well thought out.  This is not what I like to portray in my writing, though.  I am fully capable of thinking before producing language and filling in the gaps of my half-baked thoughts with outside support and I show this through academic writing.  In trying to find my voice (which I hoped would increase the quality with which I wrote) I ended up losing several of the writing skills that I have prided myself on for years.  Having a run-on sentence in a formal paper is not my voice.

            Despite my personal experiences with voice, I find that there are other ways in which the theory hinders a writer’s ability to give a clear argument.  There is a fine line between putting your voice on the page in order to make a valid point and putting your voice on the page and calling it a valid point.  Entitlement is something that all published authors no doubt feel from time to time, however, voice theory tells us that every person who writes is entitled to get their thoughts into the discussion.  Not all opinions are useful in a conversation, no matter how real they are to the speaker.  Likewise, not all voices are convincing, no matter how true or logical the points they make may be.  In  academic discourse, one that strives to build arguments for betterment, personal voices are not necessary and can prove to be detrimental to building a solid argument. 

            The power that Elbow feels when reading a work composed with voice is one of fascination, similar to my fascination when reading Elbow and his colleagues.  He is drawn in by the linguistic elements (which he cannot even describe).  While reading language that is used masterfully, the reader is left with a sense of awe that is engaging, interesting, even fun; it is also distracting.  Fanciful language can draw attention away from the meaning, the point.  Think of the classic novels you have read and consider whether you found the underlying meanings on the first time through.  If you are anything like me, it takes a couple readings (or a skilled literature professor) to pull the non-literal points from the text.  Voice can be distracting in the same way.  You read and appreciate the language without even realizing that you have missed the bigger picture, the statement the author was making. 

            Voice does have a place in writing, even within academic discourse.  However, it should not be on the top of the “what to do to be a ‘good’ writer” totem pole.  A well laid-out argument can absolutely be enhanced with a splash of voice, and, as I noted above, great literature cannot be found without it.  But it is important to realize that enjoyment is not the point of reading academic discourse and it is not persuasive.  When writing within an academic conversation you want people to side with you, meaning they must believe in what you write.  Believing does not step from enjoyment.  I personally enjoy murder/mystery novels.  The stories draw me in and I can read for hours without even realizing it.  Nevertheless, I am never disappointed when the story does not make the front-page news.  No matter how entrenched in a book I get, I do not believe in what the author has written.  When reading the scholarly works on composition theory, despite the fact that I was often sucked in, it was hard to apply what I had read because I either simply could not remember what the point was or I was unconvinced of the practicality when I actually attempted to follow the theories. 

            The power necessary to engage in the scholarly conversations of academia lies in the construction of text, not the fanciful use of language.  By layering and converging bits of an argument, opinions, textual references, and new ideas, a clear and concise point can be displayed.  Persuasive writing works in making the reader understand first, then believe.  A good argument does both, but not every argument is good.  There is a level of skill required to convince a challenging audience.  The scholars of composition theory could argue about how to build the best argument until the end of time and never converge on one single answer.  Still, when discussing academic discourse, I stick by traditional argument building as the best form of communication.  Everyone will hear you clearly, whether they agree with you or not. 

In Miller’s article, she discusses her “self” in an interesting way.  Instead of following Elbow’s argument that one needs to put their “self” into their writing, she believes that the process and product of writing helps to form the “self.”  In her writing process, she finds that the role she takes as a writer determines who she is at that moment.  The pieces themselves define her as one thing or another, partly because they are her works and reflect who she is, and partly because of the ways in which people interpret her works.  In one example, a critic told her that she couldn’t be Miller (the author of her works) because she wasn’t old enough.  The works she produced obviously portrayed this part of her that is “older” or mature, while she herself may not have the appearance to portray this aspect of her “self.” 

Am I a “Writer?”

            I have always been what my mom calls an “English person,” as opposed to a “math person” like my brother or a “history person” like my step-dad.  While I would like to consider myself well-rounded (wouldn’t we all?), I can’t help but agreeing with my mom’s label.  Reading came to me at a young age due to my brother’s learning disability-my mom used our nightly bedtime stories to teach him reading and I paid more attention than I was expected to.  I never particularly loved to read, though, unless I was in the right mood with the right book.  My greater passion within the English field was with writing.  As an English major, my intention was to take as many writing electives as possible (and to choose the literature classes that would be the least painful to suffer through).

            Between writing workshop and writing process I’ve encountered writing in every one of my English classes, but it hasn’t always been what I was looking for.  Research and analytical papers often came back to me with grades of B or below; even my short stories in creative writing were lackluster.  I said my passion was with writing, but in college it seemed that I couldn’t do it.  Something inside me continued to push me toward writing classes, though, which is part of the reason I landed here, in the writing process, writing a memoir.  It had never occurred to me before that maybe I wasn’t a writer.  The quality of my products was never in question in my mind-what came back graded were assignments that were commentary on how I was as a student, not a writer.  But shouldn’t a writer at least be able to write well?

            I suppose I would have to argue no unless I want to go with the whole “quality is in the eye of the beholder” argument.  The bulk of what I have written in my life cannot be found in any file labeled “school stuff.”  It is scattered across pages with varying penmanship depending on my mood and the phase I was going through when it was written.  Some of it is lost on the internet and others are in a computer I haven’t used in years (but still works).  I had not read through my old journals in several years until I started to assess myself as a writer.  What my journals told me is a mixed bag: I was an angry but surprisingly rational teenager; Boys had a huge influence on my life during high school; I write a lot.

            There is a five subject notebook that was my main journal for my sophomore and junior years of high school.  Originally I had sectioned it off into “every day writings,” “lyrics,” “notes,” “drawing,” and “other stuff.”  There are only four drawings, one of which my nephew drew.  There are some class notes, homework that was obviously never handed in, and lists of my class schedules.  Most of this journal, however, is a journal, a place where I wrote my everyday thoughts, no matter how irrational or pointless.  There are accounts of my feelings and the days events, letters to loved ones that I never intended on giving, and some scarily bad song lyrics. 

            I wrote to get my emotions out in a healthy way.  My inclination when life wasn’t going my way was to scream, break things, and basically throw temper tantrums.  While this almost never actually happened, it was always running through my head at times when my emotions were out of control.  One of the ways I reigned in these feelings was through writing.  The main source of this excessive rage was my step-father.

            When I was ten my single mother remarried.  If there was one thing in the world that I was sure about, it was that I did not need and did not want a step-father.  Reflecting on my teenage years, I think the problems between my step-dad and I were rooted in our similarities, even though we outwardly were at odds over our differences.  He claimed I didn’t respect him and I said he needed to give respect to get it, but what caused the arguments wasn’t a lack of respect, but the fact that we were both too stubborn to give in.  Our arguments often turned into screaming matches that, believe it or not, usually were one-sided-he screamed while I refused to respond in order to keep myself from screaming (which was interpreted as me either not listening or not caring).  I thought I was being the better person my keeping my thoughts to myself which made it easy for me to blame him for all the problems.  He, on the other hand, perceived me as an ungrateful and disrespectful child with no rights.  My journal received my side of the arguments, and the entries were rated R.      

Disclaimer #1:  All teenagers feel excessive anger, right?  So don’t judge.  Reader discretion is advised.

[My parents are] always lecturing me on how I need to respect [my step-dad], but they have yet to tell me why.  He doesn’t respect or trust me.  He makes stupid, wrong assumptions that make me look like a damn whore or something.  I know the rules, and I almost always follow them.  But I guess he thinks I’m a stupid ho who can’t do anything right because I’m 15 and I shop at “Hot Topic.”

             My step-dad didn’t trust me, at least not when it came to boys, and I can now understand the logic behind it.  My “Hot Topic” phase was centered around a boy named Will who I dated for the duration of the life of this journal.  “Hot Topic” is a store that sells a lot of “gothic” clothing (the teenage fad, not the literary style).  I was never considered “a goth,” but I had several pieces of jewelry (all with a star motif), t-shirts (many with fairies or stars), and pants (which are too embarrassing to give further detail) from the store.  It was a classic case of rebellion, to a relatively minor degree, but my parents did not understand me at this phase of my life. 

            Will is an artist; he paints, writes poetry and songs, plays the guitar, and most recently has been majoring in photography at a Virginia college.  He saw talent in me and always pushed me to let it out-he bought me a sketch book with high quality colored pencils, persuaded me to take writing courses, and shared all of his artistic endeavors with me.  My journal is filled with “Will this…” and “Will that…”  Everything from how we met to how I handled our break up is captured in this journal, but mostly through entries written as if I was talking with my best secret-keeping friend.  After Will and I broke up I went through a phase during which I like to believe I wrote some of my best, though also rawest, pieces.  Unfortunately my forum for those works was a livejournal that I deleted years ago.  To the best of my knowledge, those poems were not saved anywhere else and cannot be retrieved.  Honestly, it’s probably best that I can’t read those works again.  The things I wrote in response to having been cheated on, lied to about it, and conned into trying to “take our relationship to the next level” in order to fix things would undoubtedly bring back emotions I don’t care to revisit. 

Disclaimer #2:   I truly don’t have any of the worthwhile works directly inspired by my relationship with Will, but I’m not so sure I would have included one anyway.

            A part of me wonders why I have given so much attention to Will if I don’t even have an example of what he inspired, but I know it is because he is the sole person that inspired me the most, even when I wasn’t writing about him.  His encouragement and the life I had while with him lead me to producing some of the best things I ever wrote without being in a classroom.  The girl who unintentionally set Will and I up was one of the most insecure people I have ever met.  Sharon and I were friends on and off for the four years of high school in which we knew each other, but our most dynamic ups and downs coincided with my relationship with Will.  She went back and forth between wanting to be my closest companion to seemingly hating everything about me (the way teenagers do).  I eventually got fed up and put our friendship in the past, but in the meantime I wrote about her. 

 Disclaimer #3: I used to want to be a pop/rock star, like Gwen Stefani.  Many of my  poems were written to be songs and I’m sure I used to sing this one in the shower.

                        I know you only want our love

                        You need someone to give you hugs

                        I understand your need to be

                        But sometimes you’re confusing me.                       

                        So smile at me everyday

                        And tell me that you love me

                        I’ll smile and respond the same

                        But then just let me be

                        One day you’re my best friend

                                    The next you’re my enemy

                        Make up your mind

                                    The turnarounds are killing me

                        I don’t know what to say

                                    When you’re always sending signs

                        Do you love me or despise me?

                                    Make up your mind.

                        I only want to know the truth

                        I’ll love you if you want me to

                        I’ll never talk to you again

                        If that’s the message that you send

                        So turn your back when you see me

                        And talk behind my back

                        I’ll do the same and then you’ll see

                        How it feels to be attacked.

                        One day you’re my best friend

                                    The next you’re my enemy

                        Make up your mind

                                    The turnarounds are killing me

                        I don’t know what to say

                                    When you’re always sending signs

                        Do you love me or despise me?

                                    Make up your mind.

            This was not the best or the worst of the song-like poetry I created during high school.  I wanted to be a writer, better than my journal entries, so in my junior year, I took a creative writing class.  I absolutely loved it.  The teacher had us write greatly varying works including a fairy tale,  SLAM poem, and a poem made of magazine cut outs.  It allowed me to take my creativity to a constructive level, beyond getting out my emotions, beyond trying to write pop music (which I must admit was pretty terrible).  At the end of the class, I actually got a poem published in the school literary magazine, the Erudite.  As I read over the poem chosen for publication, I am disappointed.  I remember that class being a vital step in my progression toward being a writer, and all I produced was this:

 Disclaimer #4:   This was written as an assignment, and I honestly have only a vague memory of ever writing it at all.

In My Mind                       

Close your eyes

What do you see?

Do you see what I see?

I see angels above me

With golden wings

I see the devil below me

Spitting fire

I see my family and friends

Pulling me apart

I see the wind and rain

And fire and ice

All living in harmony

In my head

I see prismatic colors

And blinding light

Bound by darkness

Surrounding my dreams

I see my life

Spinning out of control

But landing safely

On a pile of doubts

I see my faults

And insecurities

But there is light

Down the road.

There is hope

In this strange hell

So it is safe

To close your eyes.

So tell me now

What do you see?

            Even though my published work was not my greatest, I definitely took a lot from that creative writing class.  It helped me to continue to look at myself as a writer.  It widened my thoughts on what I could write and how to write it.  Poetry didn’t have to be song-like, prose didn’t have to be journal entries.  I now had the confidence to attempt story writing and all other forms.  I continued to write in my journals to release my emotions, but my repertoire was expanded and I was more likely to try new things after taking the course.

            My journal writing still fluctuates between being a source of potentially publishable work (usually poetry) and angry rants (like the one about my step-dad).  Even as a college student I used my private writing space to complain about roommates, situations I got myself into, and continuing problems with my parents, my ex-boyfriend Will, and the boyfriend I’ve had all through college, my now fiancé.  After being introduced to Peter Elbow, I look at these entries slightly differently.  The seemingly unproductive “I just need to get these emotions out before I burst” journal entries serve a purpose, if not one of production, then one of clearing the way for it.  I have also tried to use my journals as a place I feel comfortable for freewriting.  It is unclear whether freewriting is really helping me to better myself as a writer, but it isn’t hurting.  My journals are still getting good use, and I am still a writer. 

Make-Over

            “My writing process is…” I don’t really know how to finish that statement.  I could discuss my routine of thinking about my papers for days before actually working on them, staring at the screen for hours before writing anything, having to take a pen and paper to another room to actually produce some thoughts, but that doesn’t really describe what I think of when I think about my writing process.  What I think of is how my writing process seems to be failing.  The traditional 5-paragraph-style essay is essentially what I’ve been writing since elementary school, just with theses and a few extra paragraphs: choose a topic/thesis, research topic/thesis, outline 3 or more supporting details and conclude with a summary or extension.  It isn’t good enough.  I remember cranking out “A” papers on a regular basis in high school, but in the last couple of semesters, either my abilities have diminished or the bar has risen without me following.  Either way, I’m not impressed with myself like I used to be.  My writing process needs a make-over.

            I recognized the problem with my writing process, so I decided to approach this paper differently; Elbow style.  I started by reading over old journal entries of mine, and while I would classify them mostly as random venting, they really seemed to have something that my typical papers lacked.  I’m not quite sure if that something is voice, but I’ll go ahead and call it that because they had something of me, my essence, in them that I’ve never found in my writing before.  The journal entries expressed some of my most vulnerable thoughts and feelings in an extremely honest way.  To me, I think that is what gives them voice.  I was excited to recognize voice in writing that I have done,  but I still needed to start my paper.  So I tried actually applying Elbow’s suggestions.

            Three freewriting sessions allowed me to expand the idea of “my writing process,” which initially seemed limited to my past academic writings, into several areas of my writing experience, including my journals, short stories and poetry (both from classes and my personal collection), as well as traditional academic papers.  I have always been called an “English person,” and writing felt like a natural flow to me, so I did a lot of it.  I’ve had the goal of being a writer for years.  Now, when I say I want to be a writer, it sounds a little silly to me, because being a writer isn’t a “real world” job, and it isn’t just something you can decide to be.  Honestly, my few attempts to write a good story haven’t been all that successful (but I haven’t completely bombed either).  I realize, though, that a writer doesn’t have to be a novelist, even if that would be an amazing (and ideal) accomplishment.  There are plenty of options that fall under “writer,” such as journalist, poet, researcher, and so on.  I’d like to have an open mind about what my future self will write.

            But how can I become a writer in the first place?  There are two textbook answers I’ve encountered.  Option one: read and write a lot; by exposing yourself to a plethora of written material and practicing, writing will become easier and your works will be better.  Option two (partially taken from Flannery O’Connor essays that I’m reading for another class): Not everyone can be a writer; writers have natural abilities and qualities that allow them to produce quality work, and the average person that publishes is not actually a writer.  While option two is a little discouraging, there’s nothing to say that I’m not a natural writer.  There is also no proof that O’Connor was correct in her beliefs about writing.  For now, it is my job to do what I can to improve my writing process, and thereby, my writing products.  I need to get a handle on my voice and figure out what works for me, then do it.        

            There is still the mystery of how to incorporate my voice into more traditional (or more generally, shared) writing.  After the freewriting sessions, I also realized how much I dislike writing academic papers.  Maybe that is why my writing capabilities seem to have left me.  Maybe I’m just bored writing in the same voiceless style over and over again with different theses.  It’s boring to write, and I’m sure my professors get bored reading it.  That may be giving me too much credit, though; boredom shouldn’t be an excuse for not producing my best, it should push me to try harder or change something.  Perhaps it’s more of a combination of boredom, the higher standards of upper-level college courses (especially as an English major), and being in the academic rut of the argumentative paper that are stifling the real writer inside me.  Which begs the question, who is the “real writer” inside me, if there even is one? I’m not sure, so I return to Elbow and my freewrites.

            I looked for the center of gravity.  What I came to was that my writing experiences need to be personal in order to have any meaning to me, which ultimately is required if I want my writing to have voice.  For example, I have taken two creative writing courses, one in high school, the other last year at Mary Washington.  Both of these classes included some poetry and some short story writing.  In thinking back to these classes, I realized that I enjoyed and did better with the poetry than the short stories, despite my expectations and intentions when taking the courses (remember that I dream of becoming a novelist).  My poems were very personal, about people and events in my actual life, and therefore allowed for more of my voice to be heard.  The stories, on the other hand, seemed too distant and unrelated to me.  How could I have put my voice into a piece that had nothing to do with me, such as a fictional piece (let alone an academic paper)? 

            Therein lies the challenge.  How can I put my voice, which I’d like to believe I’ve seen in my informal and most personal writings, into college papers or fictional stories?  I suppose that is what Elbow is trying to accomplish through the growing and cooking processes.  That is what I have been trying to do with this paper via Elbow’s techniques, but this is still a very personal work, and might not be the best example.  If this paper had of been about some less personal topic, like say, the history of the writing process in general, would freewriting have gotten me anywhere?  It would have generated ideas, as in the case of this paper, but I’m not convinced it would have exposed my voice.  I made the effort, now I need to push the envelope, use Elbow in other courses, test his theories further, or just accept that maybe I need to find my own way.  Bottom line: I need a make-over.

 In the Corbett article, he talks about how he had to write verbatim chunks of works from authors that he was studying as a beginning of class exercise.  At first I read that and thought, “what kind of crap is that.”  Thinking back to high school and forward to my career as a teacher, it sounded absurd.  But I really liked his explanation.  By imitating others word-for-word, you are given an opportunity to step into their shoes in a way; you actually experience writing in their form, in their voice, in a way.  After a while of writing what the great authors actually wrote, it makes sense that you’d be able to pick up some of the aspects of their writing that makes it great.  He also mentions that he added some of his own “extension” to the style he was picking up from others, hence making his work better by imitation, but his by including his own twists.

I also completely agreed with his comments about not imitating the same person/voice too much.  Even when I’m taking a literature class and a writing class together, I find myself writing in the style of whatever literature I am studying (to a certain extent).  I can imagine it would be a much easier hole to fall into if you were actually tryingto imitate.  However, I think that taking bits and pieces from different authors that you find to be great writers, especially if they have some connection to your actual voice, can serve to enhance your voice by improving the quality of it.  Not that one voice is necessarily better than another, but there are definitely certain aspects of writing that make one piece better than another, and including the better of those aspects into your voice (which would be influenced, theoretically, by reading those great works anyway), your voice may be able to make a bigger impact on your readers.

Please post your comments to my participation in the workshop groups here.

As noted in the prompt, I’m one of the people that never thinks about race when writing. I don’t consciously think about race much at all, at least I don’t think I do. My race affects my writing somewhat in the sense that my race is a huge part of my culture. Most of the people that I know, all of my family, and much of the images around me are of people of my race. That’s not to say that I don’t know, aren’t friends with or haven’t been exposed to other races, but they are not as prominent in my life, and therefore are less prominent in my thinking. When writing I assume that any characters or subjects live in a world like my own, and are of my race. I have always been under the impression that people are supposed to write about what they know about, which leads directly into me writing about people of my race living in a space similar to what I think of as my space. I hope I’m not giving the wrong impression (as I just read over what I just wrote). It isn’t that I specifically choose to keep to my own race in my writing, or in my life for that matter; I just end up sticking to what is most familiar to me, and that is myself.