Practice
Over 50% of my journal entries contain incomplete sentences. That is a conservative estimate. At least ten lack coherent thoughts. At first, I attributed these occurrences to a desire to vague or a shortage of time. Now, I see signs that it stems from a lack of practice. Analogy, observations of older adults' writing skills, and personal experience lend to this belief that my writing abilities will atrophy if they are not used routinely.
My short time in the working world has introduced me to many admirable professionals with work ethics and propensities toward learning that are--and were--very similar to my own, but these same professionals lament not having the skills they once possessed. My mother, for example, was once an outstanding clarinetist, but her love for the instrument, her recent acquisition of once as a birthday gift, and her past skill are not enough to allow her to simply pick it up and play now. She's starting all over again in beginners' lesson books. My supervisor at the coffee shop has her associate's degree in engineering and talks about days gone when she used to sit up for hours writing about and discussing philosophy. Recently, she had to ask someone else to repair a chair for her and John Dewey could very well be shelved with Stephen King. These adults' experiences shout that the warning "Use it or lose it!" could just as easily apply to my skills as theirs.
I do not need to depend solely on analogy to believe that the weakening of writing skills is possible; I have observed the decline of that skill myself. A hardworking and intelligent coworker of mine who used to be a teacher frequently visits my desk with grammar and punctuation questions. More profound than the loss of writing mechanics, though, is the loss of the ability to express oneself capably and concisely. While working as a writing tutor, I met a college student in her fifties. She seemed not only humbled but slightly humiliated by seeking my help and felt the need to share some of her life story. She had been an excellent high school student and a voracious reader and learner as a wife and mother, but she confessed that she did know where to start her latest assignment: a three-page paper. She felt overwhelmed by her own knowledge and couldn't limit and condense it into a singular argument or purpose.
I feel myself falling into the same path. I stray from topic when I feel like I have provided or omitted too much information and often fail to return. If I do, I rush to get a fragment of a message onto the page and neglect to form complete sentences. Then I stretch the meaning of punctuation marks and spacing beyond their reasonable limits to stretch those fragments beyond their reasonable limits. My writing becomes incomprehensible in haste, impatience, or assuming too much about my unknown audience's knowledge. Finally, not only is the message lost but the art is as well.
The withering of my own writing skills, the loss of those before me, and the decline of others' beloved abilities press me to this end: to practice. I dedicate myself to reinstating good writing habits in my journal entries. I endeavor to write four times a week. At least one of those writings will be a five-paragraph essay. On the occasions that I cannot accomplish this task, a single focused paragraph will do. I will not let a lack of practice diminish one of my more prized skills.
My short time in the working world has introduced me to many admirable professionals with work ethics and propensities toward learning that are--and were--very similar to my own, but these same professionals lament not having the skills they once possessed. My mother, for example, was once an outstanding clarinetist, but her love for the instrument, her recent acquisition of once as a birthday gift, and her past skill are not enough to allow her to simply pick it up and play now. She's starting all over again in beginners' lesson books. My supervisor at the coffee shop has her associate's degree in engineering and talks about days gone when she used to sit up for hours writing about and discussing philosophy. Recently, she had to ask someone else to repair a chair for her and John Dewey could very well be shelved with Stephen King. These adults' experiences shout that the warning "Use it or lose it!" could just as easily apply to my skills as theirs.
I do not need to depend solely on analogy to believe that the weakening of writing skills is possible; I have observed the decline of that skill myself. A hardworking and intelligent coworker of mine who used to be a teacher frequently visits my desk with grammar and punctuation questions. More profound than the loss of writing mechanics, though, is the loss of the ability to express oneself capably and concisely. While working as a writing tutor, I met a college student in her fifties. She seemed not only humbled but slightly humiliated by seeking my help and felt the need to share some of her life story. She had been an excellent high school student and a voracious reader and learner as a wife and mother, but she confessed that she did know where to start her latest assignment: a three-page paper. She felt overwhelmed by her own knowledge and couldn't limit and condense it into a singular argument or purpose.
I feel myself falling into the same path. I stray from topic when I feel like I have provided or omitted too much information and often fail to return. If I do, I rush to get a fragment of a message onto the page and neglect to form complete sentences. Then I stretch the meaning of punctuation marks and spacing beyond their reasonable limits to stretch those fragments beyond their reasonable limits. My writing becomes incomprehensible in haste, impatience, or assuming too much about my unknown audience's knowledge. Finally, not only is the message lost but the art is as well.
The withering of my own writing skills, the loss of those before me, and the decline of others' beloved abilities press me to this end: to practice. I dedicate myself to reinstating good writing habits in my journal entries. I endeavor to write four times a week. At least one of those writings will be a five-paragraph essay. On the occasions that I cannot accomplish this task, a single focused paragraph will do. I will not let a lack of practice diminish one of my more prized skills.