In personal work it is necessary to step back and evaluate oneself; this can be to gauge progress, efficiency, or to simply measure how on task one is. To find these faults and note them as areas of improvement is arguably essential to writing especially, a media based entirely on process and purpose. In recent composition I have struggled to focus on building content rather than vary word choice; this might be due to a lack of initiative to shift from rigid, school-taught formulas to personal creativity. To work through this and grow as a writer I actively reduce wordiness and simplify my argument, so that an essay is better understood by readers and better reflective of my position.
Though no two writers think the same, it could be fair to say that many younger writers share problems with essay composition. During my introduction to college-level writing in Fall 2021, I was made aware by an instructor that I wrote with too much “fluff,” or unnecessary and lengthy word choice; this has also been said by teachers from high school—though my writing was aligned to with the outline, the line of reasoning was hindered because of this. Looking to the past, this issue can be seen in my first essay from the first semester. When explaining the writing process “taught” in grade school, I claimed the conclusion as being “in sum… a pirated introductory paragraph to tie the knot on the essay,” followed by referring to the process in whole as “the strict code that my classmates and I had to abide by through high school, and it played a key part in the death of creative and stylistic writing, restricting the flow and malleability of every paper” (“Literacy Narrative” 3). Though indicative of my position and voice, the excerpt is a lot more complicated than need be. Albeit ironic, it was in this paper I mentioned my history of “bull****ing” through high school English, as well as claimed that my problem with words ended in the twelfth grade (“Literacy Narrative” 4)— unfortunately, this is not the case. For some, a critical self-reflection of one’s work suggests the issue is not ongoing, and that a writer has grown past it— for me, this is not true. Though this might read differently than earlier works, I still have to work to revise each sentence. See, I just did it again. If one reads over my first paper of both Fall 2021 and Spring 2022 semesters, there is a clear difference in diction. In the former, “The Literacy Narrative,” I detailed my journey to develop my literacy; the latter, “The Red Threat: The Harm Caused by Modern Communists and a Response by the West,” was intended to explore my understanding of a choice topic, though it became more argumentative than exploratory. To see this change one can compare the first sentence of each. “The Literacy Narrative” opens with “In growing older, the content of English classes became less fantastical and more so analyzing bitter nonfiction, or digging through ancient, complex poems with little to no interest to all” (“Literacy Narrative” 1), whereas the exploratory essay does with “The world in which mankind lives is one of many problems, seemingly magnified and multiplied by modern communication technologies; by extension, the United States, a major world power and an eventful history of involvement with foreign nations of similar interest, has a gross number of issues which have become world news” (“Red Threat” 1). The second is longer but provides a smooth introduction without excess adjectives that distract from the topic. Because both essays covered topics of interest content was not hard to produce, but the “fluff” found throughout the earlier essay hurts the paper’s flow and ability to resonate with the reader.
Like many young modern writers, the writing process was introduced to me very early on; this came in the form of “the teaching of the one-to-two sentence thesis with three to four reasons, at least three body paragraphs… and a conclusion… this is what is also referred to as the ‘standard essay format’” (“Literacy Narrative” 3). My first college writing project, cited in both this paragraph and the prior, described the struggle to move away from this method as my literacy developed. It was not until I came upon “Problem-Solving Strategies and the Writing Process,” an article published by Linda Flower and John Hayes through the National Council of Teachers of English, that I gained a deeper understanding of this issue. The way in which my peers and I learned to write is known as “prescription,” or “how the textbooks pretend people do it,” infamous for its correlation with writer’s block due to its constriction of one’s thought process (Flower and Hayes 8). The article put into words a concept I recognized earlier in my career but was unable to completely explain: “the method is simple: name the topic, generate an outline… and elaborate to fill in the blanks… the result will probably bore the writer… he followed the rules… teachers are supposed to like that sort of thing” (Flower and Hayes 9). Even now, as this piece discusses moving away from prescription, my writing is still reflective of it. This may be the result of following the format for nearly seven years—after all, breaking bad habits takes more time than building them. In the late Fall 2021 semester I wrote an essay titled “Originals vs. Sequels: How They Compare,” contrasting how two secondary articles used information from a single primary source for different purposes. During Spring 2022, I was tasked with analyzing the rhetoric of an article about a topic of choice in a piece called “Tracking Tensions and Rhetoric: A Critique of Nitoiu’s Analysis.” Both are based the content around the work of others, and for both I am confident in my performance, indicating that this way of writing better suits my process than the traditional textbook style. Additionally, there is a lack of unnecessary word choice, perhaps due to the objectiveness of the prompts. Arguably the improvement of my writing in processes than the “standard” method indicates a need to discard that way of thinking all together. A one-dimensional plan to write that limits creativity of style and boxes one into focusing on word output is no plan to write at all.
By analyzing possible areas of improvement for one’s writing it is assumed necessary, but it is important to know why it is necessary, too. An element of college education that is ironically overlooked is its real-world practicality. If one is paying to learn and achieve a degree, should there not be a way to apply the education to future work? It could be argued that education is lifelong and healthy for the mind, but this can be performed in other ways than at a university. By building my writing process up I am more aware of what is required in situations of concern, applicable to being both an International Studies major and to-be officer in the US Army. International Studies is a writing-intensive field in which policy, historical texts, and other forms of media are examined and reported on; continuing from the major into IS-related jobs requires these areas of proficiency. The same can be said of a career as a commissioned Army officer; much of one’s job is based on observing and documenting actions and needs of one’s subordinates. These two sides of my future require different styles and standards, and thus warrant higher level writing abilities. This difference in formats warrants the literary agility mentioned above, so that one is not restricted by a single process. The reduction of “fluff” in my writing might prove beneficial to both fields, however. The optimal After-Action Report (AAR) for a military operation explains events that have occurred thoroughly without room for misinterpretation. Similarly, when one is publishing public policy embellishing with terminology is likely less effective.
In order to improve one must first know where improvement is needed. An effective way to do this is through a written critical self-reflection, which allows one to explore issues and possible change in those areas over time. By doing this I have realized how much I struggle with complicated word choice that, instead of sounding “intellectual,” muddies up my line of reasoning. In addition to that, I also find following a creative writing process difficult because of how frequently I have used “prescription” (Flower and Hayes 8) in my writing over the years. Not only do these problems inhibit my thinking, and therefore the content of my work, but they also interfere with how readers see my writing. Despite potentially presenting a strong argument, the overuse of lengthy words and a disorganized paper is problematic. As previously mentioned, to “fix” my writing is an ongoing process and will happen in the form of good habits, rather than a complete style change.
Works Cited
Flower, Linda, and Hayes, John. “Problem-Solving Strategies and the Writing Process.” College English, vol. 39, No. 4, Dec. 1977, pp. 449-461. National Council of Teachers of English, https://www.jstor.org/stable/375768. Accessed 02 May 2022.
—. “Originals vs. Sequels: How They Compare.” Virginia Military Institute. 10-November-2021.
—. “The Literacy Narrative Essay.” 13 Oct. 2021. Writing and Rhetoric II, Virginia Military Institute, student essay.
—. “The Red Threat: The Harm Caused by Modern Communists and a Response by the West.” 8 February 2022. Writing and Rhetoric II, Virginia Military Institute, student essay.
—. “Tracking Tensions and Rhetoric: A Critique of Nitoiu’s Analysis.” 7 March 2022. Writing and Rhetoric II, Virginia Military Institute, student essay.