A Writing (R)evolution
Ideally, the title would've been written as "A Writing Revolution", to play off of WAC's marketing slogan. But, alas, we work with what we have.
Tomorrow (10/20) is National Day On Writing, and I am really excited about it. We're doing some flash fiction prompts, post secret, impromptu readings, and all sorts of awesome writing-related things. You may be asking why, therefore, I am posting this today instead of its proper day.
The answer is that tomorrow is a big day politics-wise, too, with Congressman Kratovil visiting our campus to make a speech. Obviously, that's big news, and so will take up a lot of space. Yet writing is such an integral part of my life, and of everything we do, it really deserved its own separate entry. Plus, this began churning in my head yesterday, and who am I to ignore inspiration?
So, what follows will be a discourse on writing, and specifically my growth as a writer, as I have noticed it. It is directly based off of this entry from approximately a year ago, right down to the title.
"Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountains; God composes, why shouldn't we?" ~Terri Guillemets
I love that quote. I'm also really fond of the image of God as "the author and perfecter of our faith" Being an author requires careful planning and consideration of all the details; authors have everything under control in their story's universe, just as God does in ours. There's also a tremendous amount of love involved; you get so invested in your characters (and settings, to a lesser extent) and come to care for them immensely, like God does for His creation.
Theological portion is done, I promise. Now, this essay will endeavor to show the tremendous impact writing has had in my life, and how it and I have grown together and as a result of each other:
I recently found a photograph a very old photograph of me. I am a small toddler, perhaps still a baby, sitting in my grandmother's arms. In front of us is the typewriter she used for her secretarial duties. Just a beaming baby, her grandmother, and a typewriter. Composition wise, it is by no means the best picture; it is rather dark, and the background is drab. But this has become my favorite picture nonetheless. I wonder if my grandmother knew something that the rest of us didn't.
One of my senior pictures features me with my trusty notebook and a pen. I'm looking upward at the camera, book tilted at a ridiculous angle as if the top half of it was lying flat in a table, waiting to be filled with ink. We ultimately rejected this photo, because it was unflattering compared to others. There was some quality of supplication in the way the paper was held to the light. "This is for you. Please."
Isn't writing supplication, though? We reveal our innermost thoughts and desires, the workings of our minds, and then throw it to the mongrels to be worshiped or torn to pieces. There's something terrifying about that. But it's also freeing. You don't have to check yourself. No one can tell you not to do it, and it's entirely in your control what comes out.
In this way- the constant threat of rejection- writing mandates self-confidence. Good writing cannot be apologetic; "I'm sorry I'm written like this; I don't like it either." I certainly have gained confidence from writing. Superficially, of course, I've gotten praise and validation from countless people. But, beyond that, internally, it has spiraled around my mind, those assured words that I wrote. Each poem or story knows what it is, that it has a right to be that way, and to say what it says, and to be liked by people, because it will be. And if not, who cares, because there's always the next batch of readers (or friends).
You can see the confidence growing, in essays especially. Originally they were formulaic, rigid. X leads to Y supported by A, B and C. Yet when those were praised, it left an odd taste in my mouth. I know that I can write much better than this, I thought. Why don't I?
So my essays began to take on a more informal tone. You can hear a person talking in them, instead of an automaton spouting off facts. Colloquialisms made a comeback. Proper grammar still reigned (no split infinitives or sentence-concluding prepositions), but it allowed varied structures to frolic, dynamic verbs to explore. And these essays became enjoyable to read, and thus enjoyable to write, anticipating the final product. Confidence in my abilities allowed me to stretch my comfort zone and develop a unique style for my essays. And that too has been rewarded.
Newspaper articles are allowed to have a tone! Contrary to what you are told in school, there's no need for rigid informational style. You can flow with the train of thought. You can invite the reader into the conversation, with just the words on the page. As I gain experience with this style of writing, they too began to take on a distinctly Emily flavor, and become easier to write, and more enjoyable to read.
Enjoyable reads: that's what the goal of fiction it, to write something that entertains others. Without conscious effort, my fiction prose style has evolved, too, somehow drawing the reader deeper into the story. I can't pinpoint exactly what has changed, or why, only that I like it. Writing across disciplines brings new aspects to each; scientific writing teaches you precision, summarizing sources teaches you concision, and so on.
The informal tone pervades these works, too. If you were to envision the author while reading my work chronologically, I'd imagine you'd see me gradually relax, breathe easier, smile more. No pins and needles, begging for approval, not now. Instead, I am trying to give to the reader, and myself.
They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps this is true; literally, it assuredly is. But, a picture is outside of you. Words conjure up an image within, in your own personal mind. Words are a part of us. Each person adds a little bit of themselves to what they write, and what the read, and together you have the human experience, or at least a bit of it. I don't know about you, but I'd take the thousand words any day.
-----------------
That certainly turned out differently than I was expecting. But words... I lovingly caress them, because of all they have done for me. It deserves my appreciation, especially in a society where people are devaluing writing more and more in exchange for numbers and video clips and sound bites, and little LCD graphics.
Of course, many of you probably know that already. You wouldn't be on here if you didn't feel something of an attachment to writing.
I'd love to know what you guys think. Especially in light on the whole National Day Of Writing thing. :)
Tomorrow (10/20) is National Day On Writing, and I am really excited about it. We're doing some flash fiction prompts, post secret, impromptu readings, and all sorts of awesome writing-related things. You may be asking why, therefore, I am posting this today instead of its proper day.
The answer is that tomorrow is a big day politics-wise, too, with Congressman Kratovil visiting our campus to make a speech. Obviously, that's big news, and so will take up a lot of space. Yet writing is such an integral part of my life, and of everything we do, it really deserved its own separate entry. Plus, this began churning in my head yesterday, and who am I to ignore inspiration?
So, what follows will be a discourse on writing, and specifically my growth as a writer, as I have noticed it. It is directly based off of this entry from approximately a year ago, right down to the title.
"Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountains; God composes, why shouldn't we?" ~Terri Guillemets
I love that quote. I'm also really fond of the image of God as "the author and perfecter of our faith" Being an author requires careful planning and consideration of all the details; authors have everything under control in their story's universe, just as God does in ours. There's also a tremendous amount of love involved; you get so invested in your characters (and settings, to a lesser extent) and come to care for them immensely, like God does for His creation.
Theological portion is done, I promise. Now, this essay will endeavor to show the tremendous impact writing has had in my life, and how it and I have grown together and as a result of each other:
I recently found a photograph a very old photograph of me. I am a small toddler, perhaps still a baby, sitting in my grandmother's arms. In front of us is the typewriter she used for her secretarial duties. Just a beaming baby, her grandmother, and a typewriter. Composition wise, it is by no means the best picture; it is rather dark, and the background is drab. But this has become my favorite picture nonetheless. I wonder if my grandmother knew something that the rest of us didn't.
One of my senior pictures features me with my trusty notebook and a pen. I'm looking upward at the camera, book tilted at a ridiculous angle as if the top half of it was lying flat in a table, waiting to be filled with ink. We ultimately rejected this photo, because it was unflattering compared to others. There was some quality of supplication in the way the paper was held to the light. "This is for you. Please."
Isn't writing supplication, though? We reveal our innermost thoughts and desires, the workings of our minds, and then throw it to the mongrels to be worshiped or torn to pieces. There's something terrifying about that. But it's also freeing. You don't have to check yourself. No one can tell you not to do it, and it's entirely in your control what comes out.
In this way- the constant threat of rejection- writing mandates self-confidence. Good writing cannot be apologetic; "I'm sorry I'm written like this; I don't like it either." I certainly have gained confidence from writing. Superficially, of course, I've gotten praise and validation from countless people. But, beyond that, internally, it has spiraled around my mind, those assured words that I wrote. Each poem or story knows what it is, that it has a right to be that way, and to say what it says, and to be liked by people, because it will be. And if not, who cares, because there's always the next batch of readers (or friends).
You can see the confidence growing, in essays especially. Originally they were formulaic, rigid. X leads to Y supported by A, B and C. Yet when those were praised, it left an odd taste in my mouth. I know that I can write much better than this, I thought. Why don't I?
So my essays began to take on a more informal tone. You can hear a person talking in them, instead of an automaton spouting off facts. Colloquialisms made a comeback. Proper grammar still reigned (no split infinitives or sentence-concluding prepositions), but it allowed varied structures to frolic, dynamic verbs to explore. And these essays became enjoyable to read, and thus enjoyable to write, anticipating the final product. Confidence in my abilities allowed me to stretch my comfort zone and develop a unique style for my essays. And that too has been rewarded.
Newspaper articles are allowed to have a tone! Contrary to what you are told in school, there's no need for rigid informational style. You can flow with the train of thought. You can invite the reader into the conversation, with just the words on the page. As I gain experience with this style of writing, they too began to take on a distinctly Emily flavor, and become easier to write, and more enjoyable to read.
Enjoyable reads: that's what the goal of fiction it, to write something that entertains others. Without conscious effort, my fiction prose style has evolved, too, somehow drawing the reader deeper into the story. I can't pinpoint exactly what has changed, or why, only that I like it. Writing across disciplines brings new aspects to each; scientific writing teaches you precision, summarizing sources teaches you concision, and so on.
The informal tone pervades these works, too. If you were to envision the author while reading my work chronologically, I'd imagine you'd see me gradually relax, breathe easier, smile more. No pins and needles, begging for approval, not now. Instead, I am trying to give to the reader, and myself.
They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps this is true; literally, it assuredly is. But, a picture is outside of you. Words conjure up an image within, in your own personal mind. Words are a part of us. Each person adds a little bit of themselves to what they write, and what the read, and together you have the human experience, or at least a bit of it. I don't know about you, but I'd take the thousand words any day.
-----------------
That certainly turned out differently than I was expecting. But words... I lovingly caress them, because of all they have done for me. It deserves my appreciation, especially in a society where people are devaluing writing more and more in exchange for numbers and video clips and sound bites, and little LCD graphics.
Of course, many of you probably know that already. You wouldn't be on here if you didn't feel something of an attachment to writing.
I'd love to know what you guys think. Especially in light on the whole National Day Of Writing thing. :)