Today I performed most of the revisions Karin and I had discussed last Friday. Like yesterday, it was difficult to work from an already existing piece. Revising is a careful process, because you are altering something while trying not to destroy its existing structure.
I can’t help but think of the board game Operation, trying to pull the organ out while not hitting the sides. Perhaps that’s a lousy metaphor, but it seems appropriate.
The essays I worked on today were the church essay, the yard essay, and the library essay. The library essay is the toughest because I am trying to focus the essay on certain aspects of the subject, which means adding a lot of content about these aspects. It’s difficult to find where this content would be appropriate, where it wouldn’t disrupt the already established flow. This usually means altering some of the material around it so that it fits in. It’s just plain awkward trying to drop new material into the middle of things.
I’m not complaining about it. I actually enjoy the process. But it is a much slower process than writing in the uninhibited way I have been writing the drafts, so when the day winds to a close, I feel like I’ve been less productive.
Besides revision, I also spent some time today planning the rest of my project. I will be working on revision again tomorrow as well as meeting with Karin during lunch to discuss the three essays we did not discuss last week so that she can revise those essays with me. I will be spending time revising this weekend. I meet with Ms. Lemeris on Monday of next week for an extended period of time so that we can go over every essay and revise all of them. I will also be helping Ms. Lemeris around the classroom. I may be interviewing Mary Lynn Rae, depending on circumstances. In any case, I hope I will be getting a return letter from Donald Hall answering my questions about life as a writer. I will continue intense final revision, of course. On the last day of the week, I will meet with Mrs. Lemeris again to go over the final drafts of the essays and make sure nothing should be tweaked. Next week looks busy to say the least, and I hope I can prepare for it tomorrow and through the weekend.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
My Writing Process
Today I expanded on the classroom essay, although it still doesn’t have as much content as I would like it to have. I have lots of ideas for the essay, but it’s hard to fit them in because the structure is so tight-knit. I spent a lot of time figuring out where to fit the ideas in rather than writing them, so the content added was low although the time spent was high. I hope I can get this structural problem sorted out soon.
Despite this difficulty and the fact that abstract ideas seem to abound throughout the essay without concrete foundation, I really like this essay. Some of the writing is really awesome, and the idea behind it is cool. When it comes to demonstrating my development as a person, this essay shows one of the more interesting angles. Of course, I feel that way about every essay after I finish a day working on it.
Joan commented on a recent post asking about my writing process. To be honest, my writing process usually seems to be a mystery even to me. I’ll start with a sentence, a well-crafted, interesting sentence. Then I’ll expand on that idea. Then I usually realize that there’s more to say about this subject, something even more fundamental, so I’ll start writing in front of my original sentence. I just keep writing, expanding on what I wrote previously. I constantly rearrange and delete as I write. I am trying to establish an order, but I can’t do that until I create the materials that will be arranged. I just write and follow my instincts as to what else should be written. I can always delete something if it doesn’t make sense, but it’s good to write it anyway. Sometimes, my original sentence doesn’t even make it by the time the piece is done. I think Pablo Neruda described poetry as words arranged on a page. That’s how I would describe all writing. It’s about arrangement, and the process is about not being afraid to shift that arrangement around and play with it. At least, that’s what my process is like.
I plan on continuing to revise the essays for the rest of the week.
Despite this difficulty and the fact that abstract ideas seem to abound throughout the essay without concrete foundation, I really like this essay. Some of the writing is really awesome, and the idea behind it is cool. When it comes to demonstrating my development as a person, this essay shows one of the more interesting angles. Of course, I feel that way about every essay after I finish a day working on it.
Joan commented on a recent post asking about my writing process. To be honest, my writing process usually seems to be a mystery even to me. I’ll start with a sentence, a well-crafted, interesting sentence. Then I’ll expand on that idea. Then I usually realize that there’s more to say about this subject, something even more fundamental, so I’ll start writing in front of my original sentence. I just keep writing, expanding on what I wrote previously. I constantly rearrange and delete as I write. I am trying to establish an order, but I can’t do that until I create the materials that will be arranged. I just write and follow my instincts as to what else should be written. I can always delete something if it doesn’t make sense, but it’s good to write it anyway. Sometimes, my original sentence doesn’t even make it by the time the piece is done. I think Pablo Neruda described poetry as words arranged on a page. That’s how I would describe all writing. It’s about arrangement, and the process is about not being afraid to shift that arrangement around and play with it. At least, that’s what my process is like.
I plan on continuing to revise the essays for the rest of the week.
A Summary
As I posted last night, yesterday’s blog was deleted. It was really well-written, and I was sad to see it go. I will summarize it here:
I spoke about how revising is a different process than writing. It’s like the difference between building a house from scratch or building an addition to it. When you’re writing a rough draft, there’s an intimidating liberty, because you are unrestricted in your process but also unguided. When you are revising or expanding on a piece, you are limited but also secure because you have to make sure that it fits with the rest of the piece but you have the same guidelines to help you decide what to write. Basically, it’s different now, because while I need to be more careful, it’s not like I’m wandering through the dark.
I wrote that it’s strange to revise and to return to a piece, when I’ve spent my entire project never looking back and pushing forward.
I then wrote something special about my writing process, how I avoid using clichés because I want people to see things differently. I want to show them, through my writing, that life can be seen through many angles, and I demonstrate this by describing things in ways they’ve never considered. Maybe that way people will experience their lives more attentively, so they will notice how unique and beautiful every moment is, and they will be grateful. It was a lot better than that, though.
So, that’s the basic summary. It was a great entry, and Blogger messed up. I will now be writing all of my entries in a word processor and then posting them.
I spoke about how revising is a different process than writing. It’s like the difference between building a house from scratch or building an addition to it. When you’re writing a rough draft, there’s an intimidating liberty, because you are unrestricted in your process but also unguided. When you are revising or expanding on a piece, you are limited but also secure because you have to make sure that it fits with the rest of the piece but you have the same guidelines to help you decide what to write. Basically, it’s different now, because while I need to be more careful, it’s not like I’m wandering through the dark.
I wrote that it’s strange to revise and to return to a piece, when I’ve spent my entire project never looking back and pushing forward.
I then wrote something special about my writing process, how I avoid using clichés because I want people to see things differently. I want to show them, through my writing, that life can be seen through many angles, and I demonstrate this by describing things in ways they’ve never considered. Maybe that way people will experience their lives more attentively, so they will notice how unique and beautiful every moment is, and they will be grateful. It was a lot better than that, though.
So, that’s the basic summary. It was a great entry, and Blogger messed up. I will now be writing all of my entries in a word processor and then posting them.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Upsetting
I could just cry. I wrote one of my favorite blog entries thus far. It took me an hour to write. It was a beautiful explanation of why I write. Sometime during my writing the entry, my computer signed me out, and so when I went to post, it all went away. For some reason, it wasn't saved. So I guess I'll re-write the entry sometime tomorrow. Now, I need some sleep.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Writing About Learning
Today I wrote about the classroom. Life has always been a giant classroom for me (don't worry, I don't use this cliché in the essay) because I really try in my everyday life to learn everything that my experiences can teach me.
I felt a bizarre sense of déjavu while writing this because I have spent the past year writing about my love of learning to colleges and to scholarship foundations, hoping that this passion could earn me a place at a good college. I faced the temptation of abstraction, because abstract writing is often what is found in the kind of persuasive writing that I would be doing for college applications. I needed to make this essay personal rather than persuasive. It was a strange experience, writing about something that I had just written about multiple times and having to look at it through a completely different lens. This was a challenge I had not yet faced. The only way to avoid clichés and abstraction was to ground the piece with concrete details. Tom Morgan taught me that. Being a naturally concrete writer, it was strange having to focus on concreteness.
That's not to say that I wasn't a little abstract sometimes, but this emotional writing was built on the foundation of specific details. Here's a piece of the abstract part that seems strong even out of context:
"I felt a deep sense of belonging when I was in the classroom. Since as long as I could remember, I had attacked the process of learning with an intense enthusiasm. I constantly attempted to crawl out of my crib as an infant, sometimes successfully, so that I could further explore my room. I had learned the alphabet, both upper case and lower case, by the time I was eighteen months old. At three, my mother hid all the magazines and books in the house because I would cry when I read about a natural disaster. Of course learning was encouraged and fostered at home, but at the school, that passion became my purpose.
"When I say learn, I’m not speaking of memorizing or consuming facts. I’m speaking of something a lot more fundamental and sacred: expressing your gratitude for this magnificent experience of life by just being an observant and active part of it. Learning is a way of communicating with the universe. From each piece of knowledge that is revealed, several questions emerge, to which I find the answers, only to be met by several more questions. As I acquire answers, I realize that the little bits of knowledge were not separate. I recognize connections between them. Learning is my way of crossing the immense web of life."
I felt a bizarre sense of déjavu while writing this because I have spent the past year writing about my love of learning to colleges and to scholarship foundations, hoping that this passion could earn me a place at a good college. I faced the temptation of abstraction, because abstract writing is often what is found in the kind of persuasive writing that I would be doing for college applications. I needed to make this essay personal rather than persuasive. It was a strange experience, writing about something that I had just written about multiple times and having to look at it through a completely different lens. This was a challenge I had not yet faced. The only way to avoid clichés and abstraction was to ground the piece with concrete details. Tom Morgan taught me that. Being a naturally concrete writer, it was strange having to focus on concreteness.
That's not to say that I wasn't a little abstract sometimes, but this emotional writing was built on the foundation of specific details. Here's a piece of the abstract part that seems strong even out of context:
"I felt a deep sense of belonging when I was in the classroom. Since as long as I could remember, I had attacked the process of learning with an intense enthusiasm. I constantly attempted to crawl out of my crib as an infant, sometimes successfully, so that I could further explore my room. I had learned the alphabet, both upper case and lower case, by the time I was eighteen months old. At three, my mother hid all the magazines and books in the house because I would cry when I read about a natural disaster. Of course learning was encouraged and fostered at home, but at the school, that passion became my purpose.
"When I say learn, I’m not speaking of memorizing or consuming facts. I’m speaking of something a lot more fundamental and sacred: expressing your gratitude for this magnificent experience of life by just being an observant and active part of it. Learning is a way of communicating with the universe. From each piece of knowledge that is revealed, several questions emerge, to which I find the answers, only to be met by several more questions. As I acquire answers, I realize that the little bits of knowledge were not separate. I recognize connections between them. Learning is my way of crossing the immense web of life."
Week One Reflection
It’s true that hands-on experience teaches more than theory or discussion ever could. By spending a week writing rough drafts for a collection of essays, I have had my endurance and writer’s vision tested, and I have learned about how to meet these challenges effectively as a writer.
The first challenge I met was against my endurance. I am a person who likes to finish pieces in one sitting, completely intellectually investing myself in an idea for a few hours and then leaving it. When I wrote my play, I literally sat down, opened my computer, and wrote it without taking a single break. Writing this collection of rough drafts over the span of a week has been challenging for me because not only do I have to stop from writing each individual essay so I can take my lunch break, but I also have to stop from writing the entire piece each day as I head home and then start again the next morning. At the beginning, I felt like this manner of writing broke my concentration, but there was no way that I could sit down and simply write the entire collection of essays in one sitting. I’ve actually learned that by allowing my mind respite, I come back to the piece mentally rejuvenated, and while I may not be in the same mindset that I was before, returning to the piece several times gives it more texture. Breaking my concentration doesn’t ruin the mood of the piece as I thought it did; returning to a piece to re-write, revise, or continue gives it a deeper character, making for a more interesting and vibrant piece.
I also faced the test of writer’s vision, being able to see the whole collection while focusing on a part of it. When I began, I felt overwhelmed, wondering how I could write a whole book of individual essays that made sense together as one. As I wrote the second piece, however, the connections between it and the first piece seemed to come naturally because the first piece was kept in my mind while I wrote the second. And with the third piece, connections formed between the first and second. By the time I began the fourth essay, I understood what my collection was about, what fundamental feature bounded them all together. They all characterize my personal development as a human being from different angles. Because I had kept the previous essays in mind while I was writing each essay, because I opened my vision to include both the essay I was writing and its companions, I was able to form them as a whole. It is important, when writing a longer piece, to be able to look closely at what I am doing while focusing on how that will fit into the whole. This takes practice -- the kind of practice I am receiving through this exercise.
I have read books on how to write a longer work, but I never have written a long piece before. This week has taught me about endurance and vision through experience, and now I know how to achieve these qualities as I continue to write throughout my life.
The first challenge I met was against my endurance. I am a person who likes to finish pieces in one sitting, completely intellectually investing myself in an idea for a few hours and then leaving it. When I wrote my play, I literally sat down, opened my computer, and wrote it without taking a single break. Writing this collection of rough drafts over the span of a week has been challenging for me because not only do I have to stop from writing each individual essay so I can take my lunch break, but I also have to stop from writing the entire piece each day as I head home and then start again the next morning. At the beginning, I felt like this manner of writing broke my concentration, but there was no way that I could sit down and simply write the entire collection of essays in one sitting. I’ve actually learned that by allowing my mind respite, I come back to the piece mentally rejuvenated, and while I may not be in the same mindset that I was before, returning to the piece several times gives it more texture. Breaking my concentration doesn’t ruin the mood of the piece as I thought it did; returning to a piece to re-write, revise, or continue gives it a deeper character, making for a more interesting and vibrant piece.
I also faced the test of writer’s vision, being able to see the whole collection while focusing on a part of it. When I began, I felt overwhelmed, wondering how I could write a whole book of individual essays that made sense together as one. As I wrote the second piece, however, the connections between it and the first piece seemed to come naturally because the first piece was kept in my mind while I wrote the second. And with the third piece, connections formed between the first and second. By the time I began the fourth essay, I understood what my collection was about, what fundamental feature bounded them all together. They all characterize my personal development as a human being from different angles. Because I had kept the previous essays in mind while I was writing each essay, because I opened my vision to include both the essay I was writing and its companions, I was able to form them as a whole. It is important, when writing a longer piece, to be able to look closely at what I am doing while focusing on how that will fit into the whole. This takes practice -- the kind of practice I am receiving through this exercise.
I have read books on how to write a longer work, but I never have written a long piece before. This week has taught me about endurance and vision through experience, and now I know how to achieve these qualities as I continue to write throughout my life.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Looking Forward to Next Week
Today was a fairly good day. I didn't finish the whole car essay, but I wasn't expecting to because it's the biggest and most important essay. I plan on finishing it and doing the final one this weekend and on Monday, which puts me only slightly behind schedule.
The car is an important essay because all of these essays are about my experience with the world around me and how these experiences taught me to look beyond myself. The car was the vehicle that transported me to the world beyond. To get to all of the subjects of my essays except the yard, I had to be driven in the car. The car isn't quite like the other essays because rather than being any one place in particular, it was the gateway to other places. Besides the car's role in my childhood, I'll also be discussing my more recent experiences with the car, including my fear of learning to drive, learning to drive, the independence of being able to drive, and the recent car crash; this essay goes a bit further into my current life than the other essays, making it almost act as a reader's vehicle to my present self.
I'm excited to finish this essay.
Next week, I plan on finishing this essay, writing the next, revising my pieces, and deciding on an order for the whole collection. I'll be focusing on bringing out each individual piece while also fitting them together.
I met with Karin today, and we discussed the first three pieces. She gave very specific advice for each piece, and we discussed, mostly, focus, since the pieces I wrote were often a little broad, which is to be expected of a rough draft. We also discussed endings. My pieces did not have endings, really, because it's hard to write an ending while still figuring out the focus. But these bugs should be sorted out next week.
Here's an excerpt about when the car took me to the planetarium:
"The first time I went to the planetarium, I was sitting in the backseat on the driver’s side of the Toyota. I had no idea what a planetarium was, but its name sounded strange, and so I was thrilled to be there. It was the Christa McCauliff Planetarium, which is in Concord. As we were waiting, I made my first purchase at the dark blue star-spangled gift shop: a patch that said the planetarium’s name on it beneath a white star. I tried to put it on, but that back wasn’t sticky like a sticker’s back was. I had no patience for this unexpected complication and threw it away. When we entered the planetarium, the dome ceiling was a shining graceful combination of pink and yellow. The sky’s color gradually shifted to a lavender, then to a purple, slowly becoming deep and blue, until finally, I was looking at the night sky. A man standing next to the projector told us the story of stars. They weren’t scattered across a flat sky. They were giant balls of burning gas scattered across three-dimensional space, each billions of light-years apart from the other. A light-year - now that was an idea. That night, I tried to outrun light by flicking on my room’s light switch and running to the end of the room before the room was lit up. I failed. Now if I were to maintain the impossible speed of light for billions of years, I would have run as far as one star is from the other. And that’s not even a fraction of the size of a galaxy, and a galaxy isn’t even a fraction of the universe. That’s how much space is out there. I was so amazed that I lived in such a place that was so vast and diverse that it could never, ever bore me. There would always be something else to explore."
The car is an important essay because all of these essays are about my experience with the world around me and how these experiences taught me to look beyond myself. The car was the vehicle that transported me to the world beyond. To get to all of the subjects of my essays except the yard, I had to be driven in the car. The car isn't quite like the other essays because rather than being any one place in particular, it was the gateway to other places. Besides the car's role in my childhood, I'll also be discussing my more recent experiences with the car, including my fear of learning to drive, learning to drive, the independence of being able to drive, and the recent car crash; this essay goes a bit further into my current life than the other essays, making it almost act as a reader's vehicle to my present self.
I'm excited to finish this essay.
Next week, I plan on finishing this essay, writing the next, revising my pieces, and deciding on an order for the whole collection. I'll be focusing on bringing out each individual piece while also fitting them together.
I met with Karin today, and we discussed the first three pieces. She gave very specific advice for each piece, and we discussed, mostly, focus, since the pieces I wrote were often a little broad, which is to be expected of a rough draft. We also discussed endings. My pieces did not have endings, really, because it's hard to write an ending while still figuring out the focus. But these bugs should be sorted out next week.
Here's an excerpt about when the car took me to the planetarium:
"The first time I went to the planetarium, I was sitting in the backseat on the driver’s side of the Toyota. I had no idea what a planetarium was, but its name sounded strange, and so I was thrilled to be there. It was the Christa McCauliff Planetarium, which is in Concord. As we were waiting, I made my first purchase at the dark blue star-spangled gift shop: a patch that said the planetarium’s name on it beneath a white star. I tried to put it on, but that back wasn’t sticky like a sticker’s back was. I had no patience for this unexpected complication and threw it away. When we entered the planetarium, the dome ceiling was a shining graceful combination of pink and yellow. The sky’s color gradually shifted to a lavender, then to a purple, slowly becoming deep and blue, until finally, I was looking at the night sky. A man standing next to the projector told us the story of stars. They weren’t scattered across a flat sky. They were giant balls of burning gas scattered across three-dimensional space, each billions of light-years apart from the other. A light-year - now that was an idea. That night, I tried to outrun light by flicking on my room’s light switch and running to the end of the room before the room was lit up. I failed. Now if I were to maintain the impossible speed of light for billions of years, I would have run as far as one star is from the other. And that’s not even a fraction of the size of a galaxy, and a galaxy isn’t even a fraction of the universe. That’s how much space is out there. I was so amazed that I lived in such a place that was so vast and diverse that it could never, ever bore me. There would always be something else to explore."
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