"Don't dialogue with someone you can talk to. Don't interface with anybody."
This is just one of many amazing quotes in chapter three of Zinnser's book. I feel like this chapter could be the anthem of college students everywhere who suffer through the overly complicated textbooks they are forced to read. Just simplify! Speak in real language if you want me to learn something gosh darn it! Back to the point. I find that I am guilty of this complicated language by simply being a college student. In order to get a high grade in my English classes, I have to demonstrate a vast vocabulary that allows me to "explore the text fully". Why can't I just just talk about what I noticed in an intellectual way? I often don't feel smart enough to be writing a paper on a certain text. I bluff my way to the grade I think I deserve. And where did I learn these bluffing phrases? The media, other students, and even the teachers themselves. From reading this chapter I wonder if some of my professors even know what they are talking about at the core of their ideas.
I love how Zinnser creates images of his opinions for the reader. For example, he talks about people trying to figure out their writing style. He writes, "There is no style store; style is organic to the person doing the writing, as much a part of him as his hair, or, if he is bald, his lack of it." I picture myself in SaveMart, buying various groceries and then suddenly realizing that I have an article due soon! I had better hurry over to the style aisle (that rhymes!) and pick out some style so it isn't boring, I think to myself. I rush around the store frantically only to realize that I can't buy style. Now, I understand that Zinnser is trying to poke fun in this quote, but seriously I feel like sometimes I could just go out into the world somewhere and find my unique style. Him telling me that my idea is nonsensical takes a little wind out of my sails.
What if I don't know what's "organic" to me? I understand the hair concept but there are other things about myself that remain a mystery. How am I supposed to get in touch with the "organic" style within me when I still have no idea how vast the concept of "who I am" is? Peers of mine often tell me that they know my style of writing. I have had several teachers tell me that even if I didn't put my name on a paper, they would know it was mine. How is it that I wouldn't know? Zinnser says, "Some will go so badly that you'll despair of ever writing again." He is talking about how writing may not always go well. Will it ever go well if I'm constantly searching for my style? What if I write something that is filled with a unique style only to realize I don't remember how I accomplished it?
These are the deranged confessions of someone who writes with unneccesary words and without style (most of the time).
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Charged with: Committing an Act of Literature a.k.a Journal #2
On this charge I am guilty! Once again I feel as if Zinnser has crept into my brain and revealed my shameful writing habits. Each time I sit down to write something, whether it be an essay or short story or blog, I find myself trying to write something brilliant the first time. Even now, with the “delete” key only inches away from my fingers, I have contemplated my words before typing what I want to say.
What is an act of literature? It sounds so formal. Literature holds several connotations in my mind and each of them suggest that I am not capable of producing “literature.” Literature is for the person who thinks profoundly and has great things to say. I do not think of myself as profound and I definitely cannot find anything “great” to say. What Zinnser writes in chapters one and two challenge me to think better of myself as an author. Even though I have yet to be published, I do write and therefore can write profoundly if I am aware of myself and my surroundings.
I liked how chapter one discussed the variety of writing styles. I often find myself subscribing to that cliché idea of a writer. Actually, what comes to mind is the character portrayed by Diane Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun. She seems to effortlessly absorb the colorfulness of life and then spill it out onto paper in a witty yet thoughtful way. However, Zinnser discusses how writing is actually a job and must be worked at for some writers. I might just be one such writer. Too bad too, I kind of liked the idea that whatever I wrote would be sheer genius, loved by all.
I also connected with what chapter two had to say. Actually I feel as though I have read this piece in another class. Perhaps it was my Compositional Theory class last semester—that professor was very keen on keeping things simple. I digress. My favorite quote from that chapter is: “Every word that serves no function, every long word that could be a short word, every adverb that carries the same meaning that’s already in the verb, every passive construction that leaves the reader unsure of who is doing what—these are the thousand and one adulterants that weaken the strength of the sentence. And they usually occur in proportion to education and rank” (7). It is hard to miss how Zinnser feels about wordiness with word choices such as “adulterant.” I am guilty on this count too I suppose. As an English major I think it must be impossible to avoid wordiness. It is our job to explain a passage to death or at least until the professor is satisfied that we, the students, have exhausted every possible interpretation of the text.
For journalism and nonfiction, however, the story is different. I am enjoying this difference even though it means I must learn a new way to persuade, describe, and explain. Who knows, maybe I will get off for good behavior if I can go back through my work and slash away those adulterant words that might try and suffocate what I am really trying to say. Put away those handcuffs sheriff.
What is an act of literature? It sounds so formal. Literature holds several connotations in my mind and each of them suggest that I am not capable of producing “literature.” Literature is for the person who thinks profoundly and has great things to say. I do not think of myself as profound and I definitely cannot find anything “great” to say. What Zinnser writes in chapters one and two challenge me to think better of myself as an author. Even though I have yet to be published, I do write and therefore can write profoundly if I am aware of myself and my surroundings.
I liked how chapter one discussed the variety of writing styles. I often find myself subscribing to that cliché idea of a writer. Actually, what comes to mind is the character portrayed by Diane Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun. She seems to effortlessly absorb the colorfulness of life and then spill it out onto paper in a witty yet thoughtful way. However, Zinnser discusses how writing is actually a job and must be worked at for some writers. I might just be one such writer. Too bad too, I kind of liked the idea that whatever I wrote would be sheer genius, loved by all.
I also connected with what chapter two had to say. Actually I feel as though I have read this piece in another class. Perhaps it was my Compositional Theory class last semester—that professor was very keen on keeping things simple. I digress. My favorite quote from that chapter is: “Every word that serves no function, every long word that could be a short word, every adverb that carries the same meaning that’s already in the verb, every passive construction that leaves the reader unsure of who is doing what—these are the thousand and one adulterants that weaken the strength of the sentence. And they usually occur in proportion to education and rank” (7). It is hard to miss how Zinnser feels about wordiness with word choices such as “adulterant.” I am guilty on this count too I suppose. As an English major I think it must be impossible to avoid wordiness. It is our job to explain a passage to death or at least until the professor is satisfied that we, the students, have exhausted every possible interpretation of the text.
For journalism and nonfiction, however, the story is different. I am enjoying this difference even though it means I must learn a new way to persuade, describe, and explain. Who knows, maybe I will get off for good behavior if I can go back through my work and slash away those adulterant words that might try and suffocate what I am really trying to say. Put away those handcuffs sheriff.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Ponderings of "The Interview" a.k.a. Journal #1
After reading chapters nine and twelve in "On Writing Well", I find the author's voice to be mildly sarcastic and basic. I enjoyed his everyday choice of language because the basic and simplistic qualities meant that my brain didn't have to dig deep to understand the true meaning of the text. The meaning was simply there for me to take in.
In chapter twelve I felt as though Zinnser knew how I would deal with conducting an interview. All of those things I thought to myself during the first class meeting he had written on paper. He said, "You'll be tempted to use all the words that are in your notes because you performed the laborious chore of getting them all down. But that's a self-indulgence--no excuse for putting the reader to the same effort. Your job is to distill the essence." This was exactly my problem during our first in-class project and I interviewed Vanessa. When I was trying to capture everything that she said, I found myself trying to figure out how I could possibly use all that I was writing in the future article that would come out of our time together. However, according to Zinnser, this idea is actually a mental laziness that could (and most likely would have) come to being in my writing.
But my question is: how does one distill the essence? For me, whenever I speak about an event in my life I feel that it is important otherwise, why share it? I feel the same for what Vanessa shared with me. Her time spent over the summer was wildly interesting to me and I wanted to be fair to her in my upcoming article about her. Being fair meant to put into words everything she said. How can I take the essence of her summer if I didn't experience it for myself? Is the "essence" simply a summation of the event? I don't think so but that is how my brain is processing the word "essence". This will be difficult for me to accomplish in my writing--a goal that will run the length of the class I'm sure.
Another quote that struck me was when Zinnser said, "You are dealing with a person's honor and reputation--and also with your own." I had never thought about writing in journalistic style as holding someones honor or reputation in my hands. Sure, I thought about how my reputation might be affected by what I wrote but that was because it was a work of my own. That is a huge burden on a writer, to know that you hold some form of control over someones good name when you write about them. Actually, this thought was scary to me. What if I misrepresent someone unintentionally? Holy Cow.
In chapter twelve I felt as though Zinnser knew how I would deal with conducting an interview. All of those things I thought to myself during the first class meeting he had written on paper. He said, "You'll be tempted to use all the words that are in your notes because you performed the laborious chore of getting them all down. But that's a self-indulgence--no excuse for putting the reader to the same effort. Your job is to distill the essence." This was exactly my problem during our first in-class project and I interviewed Vanessa. When I was trying to capture everything that she said, I found myself trying to figure out how I could possibly use all that I was writing in the future article that would come out of our time together. However, according to Zinnser, this idea is actually a mental laziness that could (and most likely would have) come to being in my writing.
But my question is: how does one distill the essence? For me, whenever I speak about an event in my life I feel that it is important otherwise, why share it? I feel the same for what Vanessa shared with me. Her time spent over the summer was wildly interesting to me and I wanted to be fair to her in my upcoming article about her. Being fair meant to put into words everything she said. How can I take the essence of her summer if I didn't experience it for myself? Is the "essence" simply a summation of the event? I don't think so but that is how my brain is processing the word "essence". This will be difficult for me to accomplish in my writing--a goal that will run the length of the class I'm sure.
Another quote that struck me was when Zinnser said, "You are dealing with a person's honor and reputation--and also with your own." I had never thought about writing in journalistic style as holding someones honor or reputation in my hands. Sure, I thought about how my reputation might be affected by what I wrote but that was because it was a work of my own. That is a huge burden on a writer, to know that you hold some form of control over someones good name when you write about them. Actually, this thought was scary to me. What if I misrepresent someone unintentionally? Holy Cow.
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