How I learned to Write, and Love it

I was learning my letters around the same time I began piano lesson. What I remember most about learning to write, wasn’t the actual process but the struggle I went through trying to figure out which letter my teacher had written above the note on music, and then trying to find that key on the piano. There is a large gap from then to my first diary. I’m sure it’s still around somewhere, with a blank first page, some scribbled notes with a few tear stains, and then a lot more blank pages. From there, I had a blog I’d update sporadically. I always felt that I should try and write everyday, but I never really seemed to have the drive. Instead it would come out in random bouts. Usually when I was upset or depressed, occasionally when I was extremely excited. I started to post my writing on deviantart for comments. Since then, there have been a few more blogs, and I post my work to theheelpress. There are tons of unfinished and finished poems, and unfinished stories (no finished ones; I can never seem to complete a story) saved to the house computer. Even more are saved to my current computer, that I got when I started college.

I remember getting horrible scores on my practice MEAP tests in middle school. I’d write long, descriptive pieces that tended to stray from the intended topics. I have never done well with being forced to write on something specific. But I still remember the day my teacher handed back a creative writing assignment, and told me she loved my writing. I was the kid who had books stashed everywhere. I’d stay up late reading with a flashlight. My mom would frequently find me hidden somewhere, avoiding chores to read. As a punishment, she would take my books away. To say the least, I have always loved to read. But it wasn’t until my teacher complimented me that I realized that I loved to write, too. To be the one in charge of what was being said. It was a rush to be able to direct something in the way I thought it should go, instead of letting someone else do it for me.

In highschool, I wrote a few articles for my school newspaper. While it was fun, journalism clearly wasn’t my passion. Years later, I found out that my editors had kept from me the ‘hate mail’ I got in response to some of the more, uh, caustic things I’d written. It remains a large regret that I never knew about it back then. Maybe writing responses would’ve sparked a bigger interest in journalism.

Poetry, however, has always been a passion for me. Looking back on my earliest poems makes me cringe. They were melodramatic, riddled with cliches, and really just painfully bad. When I switched out of the business school to major in English at MSU, I was amazed at the classes I could take that would help me get my degree. Intro to Poetry seemed like a good fit, considering my poems had improved from the initial woe-is-me stage, and were somewhat decent. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. My teacher was horrifying. She would rank the poems for the day, then casually go through them, ripping them apart. There wasn’t a cliche she missed, or a mixed metaphors she didn’t point out. By the time the class was finished, I loved her. Unlike the people I’d had read my work before, she didn’t coddle me. Halfway through the semester, she wrote up individual evaluations. I have mine still, and I smile every time I read her words that say I’m a natural poet. My teacher? Diane Wakoski - author of more than 40 books, recipient of numerous grants and winner of the William Carlos Williams Award. She is even recorded on “In Their Own Voices: A Century of Recorded Poet” alongside Plath, Whitman and Bukowski. Had I known more about her before I started the class, I probably would’ve dropped. I was lucky, then, that I didn’t google her until the end of the semester. She is by far the most literate person I have ever met. I still find myself wondering what she would think of a poem, trying to look at it through her eyes.

My friend Maria recently had me review a personal essay she’d written for her application into nursing school. I obtained her permission to shred it to pieces, and by the time I’d slashed everything, and reworked it, I’d somehow managed to almost double the word count. I wish that was more common, but unfortunately when I write essays I usually tend to spit out what I want to say as precisely as possible, and then find myself scrambling to fulfill the word count. I also tend to find myself hurrying because I never write anything until the last minute. I like to claim that I’m really thinking about what I’m going to say, not actually procrastinating. But, to be honest, I’m probably just busy watching TV or hanging out with friends. Despite all the papers that I’ve had to write, I still haven’t gotten much better at writing when I don’t actually feel compelled to do so. Fortunately for me, since I love to write, I frequently feel the urge. The margins of my notes are filled with ideas, or poem segments. I love when get distracted by what I’ve written on the side, and end up writing instead of studying. I know, regardless of where the future takes me, writing will always be a large part of my life, and help define who I am.

I really should be doing homework...

I prefer to live dangerously...

I was shocked when I was recently told that I probably have ADD. Apparently I was the only one, because when I mentioned it to my friends, they all replied, "Of course you do."

But I've always been able to sit and read books for hours. From the moment I start a book, to the time I finish it, it's usually glued to my hand. Music playing, TV on, eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner... and the book would stay open. I'd be enthralled. It didn't make sense to me, then, that I could have ADD. Until I actually thought about it. Yes, I can read for hours - because it's constantly entertaining. There's never any need for my attention to wander very far, because every second amused by the story. So when Johnson, in his article “How the E-Book Will Change the Way We Read and Write,” mentioned the potential for wandering attention with e-books, I was kind of surprised. An e-book is still a book, which means it should have the same power to capture me.

Don't get me wrong -I habitually check my e-mail, and Facebook. All the time. I feel anxious when away from my phone for long periods. And I know many, many people who suffer from the same problems. But even when I'm reading a book that's printed, and actually in my hand, I still have the potential to be online. Hell, all you have to do is have a phone with internet access near you while you’re reading, and you’ll have that same constant temptation. Would it really be that different to have it combined?

I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that the people who like to read will still be able to have the same attention span for reading, regardless of its format. I do find his reference to Middlemarch highly amusing, though, since it’s one of the very few books that I was never able to make it all the way through. I still shudder when people mention it. And Dickens? Ew. Hate him.

Anyways, in the end, while I’m not against e-books, I don’t really agree with Johnson that they’ll have such a large impact on the finished product that we actually call a book. But I’d much rather read something that’s been printed, I like the danger associated - I mean, you never know when you’ll get a paper cut.

Define 'Traditional Writing Skills,' please. Oh, and 'classically trained English student,' too...

Reading McGovern’s article “Traditional Writing Skills Don't Work on the Web” made me want to punch him in the face. (Don’t worry, I’m really only violent in theory.) His article hinges on the belief that we’re taught to write “too much content, too much context, not nearly enough focus on the action.” Granted, as an English major my love of reading is pretty much an assumed fact. And it is true that I’ll read almost anything in front of me. (My mom used to joke about how I would re-read the back of the cereal box every morning.) My point is, while I might be more likely to excuse over writing than someone who enjoys reading less, I also know what is taught in writing classes. And a fundamental part of writing is to know your audience. “Tell them what you're going to tell them, tell them, then tell them what you've told them” is the formula I learned - in middle school. The older I got, the more in-depth I got. Had I used that formula on a paper written in college, I never would’ve gotten any A’s in my English classes.

His comment about a “classically trained English student” had me furiously googling him, and finding out what degree he earned in college. According to his website, he got a Management Science degree from Trinity College. It didn’t surprise me at all that he didn’t have an English degree. Maybe he’s taken enough English classes to claim he knows that it means to be a “classically trained English student,” but as someone with an English degree, I find his views misguided, if not totally false. The written word is always changing. Poets don’t always write sonnets anymore (thank god). Hell, most no longer feel compelled to rhyme (again, thanks god). A news article isn’t written the same way a story in a book is, even if it happens to be a non-fiction book. Inverted triangle, anyone? The who, what, where, when and why of journalism seem to parallel exactly what McGovern is implying is needed in Web content - quick, precise information that’s been pared down to the bare bones. He seems to ignore that writers adapt to their time, and their medium, and he takes for granted that the Web is the only place where people are attacked by their ADD.

Anyways, if I were to write web based content for a company, I would want to “show off all the clever things [I] know.” Mainly, that I’m clever enough to understand my audience.

But thanks for tweeting about Kanye's VMA behavior...

In Boutin’s article “Twitter, Flickr, Facebook Make Blogs Look So 2004" he quotes a retired blogger who complains that “Blogging is simply too big, too impersonal, and lacks the intimacy that drew [him] to it.” Maybe I’m missing something, but I thought the purpose of most writers (journalists aside) was the ability to express themselves, or tell a story through words. As Reid points out in his blog, a blog can simply be “blogging is essentially a place where one can hone one's skill as a writer.” So what if you get trolls that post inane comments? The fact that it’s your blog allows you the power to play god; just hit delete. And if your ego is torn up, and you’re upset about some anonymous poster, consider it a growth opportunity and get some thicker skin.

Puente’s article, “There’s an art to writing on Facebook or Twitter – really” only seems to show that the internet reflects real life. Yes, you’re going to read that boring status that tells you that Jane has spent her day doing laundry, or one that lets you know John is really excited that football season has started - but aren’t those similar to the conversations you have in real life? People go out of their way to be funny or clever in their status updates. This is surprising because? I don’t know about you, but even in the most basic conversations my friends tend to, well, make me laugh by saying funny and clever things. That’s why I like them. If there’s an art to writing a good status update, it’s the same art as being a clever conversationalist.

And, while Manaugh makes the interesting comparison between a ballpoint pen and twitter, he ignores one important difference between the two - things written with a ballpoint pen can be eradicated. However, once you place something on the internet, you’re offering it up to the hands of the masses. So those teenage girls, instead of writing in diaries, are posting infamous “MySpace pics” that have the potential to haunt them for the rest of their lives. Or offering up other aspects of their lives to the public, instead of in a private space, without thought to the consequence because Twitter is trendy. So, even though twitter and my ballpoint pen both have the potential to assist me in taking notes, I can put the paper I’ve written on through a paper shredder, or throw it in a fire. But, even if I delete my twitter post, or attempt to erase my blog, it’s still highly probable that someone would be able to find it, or even that someone has made a copy. One of my favorite bloggers, who I read frequently, is still haunted by a post she made while she was extremely emotional state. Considering she’s in her mid-thirty’s and should be much more mature than potential twitter users, I’m surprised that so many people seem to ignore the harmful effects these new technologies can have and instead defend against the insult that most posts are too mundane to matter.

First Post!

Gahhhh. I don't have time to do this right now!