Theory of Writing

Access: LimitedShow Details
  • This Doc can be read by: Anyone
  • This Doc can be edited by: The Doc author only
  • Comments are visible to: Anyone
  • Comments can be posted by: Logged-in Users
  • History can be viewed by: Anyone
Hide Details

Dear Jack,

I am writing to you from the situation you will find yourself in in one year’s time. I am nearing the end of my first semester at City College (yes, you were accepted) and I imagine you are sitting at your desk in Neumire’s English class, efficiently poking Eloise with a pencil. I am not here to lecture you about future mistakes you will make, but rather to enlighten you on the things you will discover.

I am writing to you about writing. Not the kind of writing that comes from assignments that you’ve been taught your whole life, I mean real writing. The writing you scarcely have time for that comes from you but won’t get you credit in grade school. The truth is, writing is not so much about the point you are trying to argue, but rather the way you argue it. The way you fight the battle. You will never win if you don’t strategize. Your topic will not be important to you or anyone for that matter, if you are unable to make it important to someone else through your writing.

Believe it or not, speeches count as writing! And we both know how much you love speeches. You understand the ways that variants in pitch and volume, sentence variety and parallel structure, eye contact and gestures, repetition and effective pauses all contribute to the strength of your speech… IF you wield them properly. You may not realize it, but you’ve always been this way, even in middle school. Remember that poem you wrote in 11th Grade in memory of the September 11th Terrorist Attacks? And how you wouldn’t let anyone read it, instead you insisted on reading it to the class. This is because you understand how a poem’s effect on someone depends on the way it is read. You understand how the way each line flows, the way each word trickles off your tongue contributes to others’ perception of your work. Your purpose in your writing has always been to have a voice! You want others to read your work and hear it in their minds exactly the way you heard it in your head when you wrote it. You want them to hear where you paused, which parts you wanted to scream at your audience and which words you wanted to whisper, softly; the parts where you intended to slow down, catch your breath, sooth your stressed eyes and gather your thoughts. You may pretend you hate writing, but you love it, that is, when you succeed. Time after time you feel you have failed to inject your voice into each and every word, but when you do, you are helplessly proud of the outcome. You care about your work and your successes because you know you have left a part of yourself in there. You want others to care just as much as you did when you brought that piece to life.

One thing you may be curious about is where you draw your inspiration. Well, I think I may have figured it out. The genre you write in usually takes after the author you read the most in that genre. For example, when you write in fiction, you usually tell a well rounded tale the likes of which Christopher Paolini told in his Inheritance Cycle. As for poetry, you enjoy the way the lines piece together each stanza like a puzzle. Your favorite poets were Langston Hughes, Robert Frost, and Maya Angelou to name a few. And of course, with your love of speech and creativity, you never wrote a poem without a coherent rhyme scheme.

Basically what I’m trying to say is don’t hate writing so much. There will come a time when you can be graded on work that’s truly yours. You will have full control over the genre, over the structure, the topic, the soul of your work. Enjoy high school while it lasts, and take comfort in knowing you’re going to enjoy what comes next even more.

Best of luck,

You.