When I first began to write primarily for school, I carried the same writing process I was taught during middle school: brainstorm and write. I don’t even think editing was in my teachers’ curriculum at all during this time. There was just a ridiculous, cruel emphasis of thinking about and organizing what you want to say and putting those ideas in the best words possible (without having to go through the messy task of fixing the work you spent so much time planning out). However, these same rules didn’t apply in high school and college. Editing was mandatory and I learned it on my first major high school paper. At first, I did my whole unconventional writing method: I just kept thinking about what I wanted to say on this paper and how can I support what I want to say in a coherent way. Well, I was able to write the paper, although I did have to incorporate a few pre-writing tactics into my writing process, but my teacher informed me there was much editing needed to be done. I realized quickly, I couldn’t edit the same way I began to write. I needed to see my mistakes, to see the irrelevant data in front of me in order to make any changes. At this point, I didn’t have a firm grasp on editing, so I changed a few grammar mistakes, used a thesaurus to replace a couple words, but basically handed in the same paper. My grade reflected the lack of knowledge I had on the editing stage and I was determined to do better next time.
At this point, I was forced to start editing. Fortunately, for me, I loved it. I got a rush out of filling up a paper with red marks (even if it was my own). I started to get “edit-happy” and soon enough, my writing process began to develop. The minute I received a writing assignment, my brain would shoot, like a mechanism, ideas pertaining to the assignment and from there, support to these ideas. The ideas transitioned into words, which turned phrases, then sentences and paragraphs. By the time I finished thinking about the paper, the majority of the paper was done all in my head. This probably had much to do with the prominence my middle school teachers put on clarifying my thoughts before even organizing them on paper, but it worked. However, I became a lazy writer. The more I realized I can come up with a paper mentally, the longer I delayed the writing.
My favorite use of my new writing process came during last semester in my World Literature class. I had to write compare and contrast essay on Homer’s Odysseus moral character with that of Shakespeare’s Iago from Othello. The minute my professor handed out the assignment sheet, I automatically thought how Odysseus had a greater sense of moral because his actions of deceit were carried out for reasons of valor, love, and loyalty as compared to Iago, who’s actions were carried out just out of spite. By the end of that class period, my thesis and supporting paragraphs were set and all I had to do was get the words out of my and onto a sheet of paper. However, being such a lazy student, I waited until the night before to write the paper. I started to doubt what I originally thought and it took me a while to hit my stride when I wrote the paper. I proceeded to print out my paper and again, go crazy with a red pen. I saw mistake after mistake and I realized I couldn’t keep developing all of my ideas in my head. I needed to not only have the physical properties of my paper in the end of the process, but also in the beginning.
So, when I received my next paper in the same World Literature class, I pre-wrote like I’ve literally never done it before. In order to compare and contrast the theme of the individual versus society in the novels The Stranger and The Death of Ivan Ilych, I wrote down all my thoughts and made an outline based on those same concepts. I wrote the quotes I needed on index cards along with an explanation of these quotes. I did whatever I could to get organized and make it easier on myself. Whenever I went back and forth on my thesis, I always had a reference to look back on - what I needed was already there in concrete form. Being able to have a physical form stops me from editing during writing and allows my writing to flow more naturally.
I’d be a liar if I were to say my writing process is the same regardless of who my audience is. I don’t write for myself now, so my audience is primarily my educators. However, I use this specific writing process mostly with English teachers and teachers who I know I won’t be able to bullshit. More or less for my other assignments granted by any other professor, I stick to the basis of my writing process: brainstorm and write. I know editing is necessary, but I feel like I’m a good enough writer where I don’t have to go through the extraneous task of editing a paper the professor will probably just look over to make sure that it’s done. It’s a little lazy, but it hasn’t came back to bite me just yet. I try to be strict and disciplined with my process, but that can’t always be the case. I am a college student (and a sort of lazy one at that), so every now and then I tend to digress from my routine.
I realize there are flaws in my particular process, but as for now, it’s working. Fortunately for me, I’m able to see my mistakes during my process that can help adjust it for the next writing assignment. So, I’m constantly trying to change my process into one that is more dependable, efficient, and especially, one that works every time. One of the main reasons my whole writing process is so effective is because it’s turned into an innate characteristic. When I receive an assignment, my mind immediately starts racing, initiating the mental stage of my writing process. However, over time, I’ve realized I can’t develop a whole paper in my head and expect to remember it by the time I go to write a paper. It’s ludicrous and insensible. Organization is key to becoming a better writer and the more I work on my pre-writing stage and the more I write my thoughts and ideas down, the more developed my writing will become. Like everything else, my writing process is a work in progress.
A variation of this writing process was actually instilled in me throughout my youth. In elementary and middle school, I was taught the same method: pre-write and write. I don’t even think editing was in my teachers’ curriculum at all during this time. There was just a ridiculous, cruel emphasis of thinking about and organizing what you want to say and putting those ideas in the best words possible (without having to go through the messy task of fixing the work you spent so much time planning out). Unknowingly, my teachers set me up for failure. When I had to write my first research paper, in my freshman year of high school, it was a disaster. I followed the process I was taught the majority of my education and it failed me terribly. My teacher informed me I needed to “edit” it, but as far as I was concerned, it didn’t need to be edited. To satisfy her, I changed a few words and replaced a couple of sentences, but handed in, basically, the same paper. My grade reflected my lack of editing and I started to understand the importance of the final stage in the writing process.
At this point, I was forced to start editing. Fortunately, for me, I loved it. I realized thought, I couldn’t edit my writing the same way I began to write. In order for me to fix it, I needed a physical copy where I can see what was awkward and irrelevant. Additionally, my writing process began to develop. The minute I received a writing assignment, my brain would shoot, like a mechanism, ideas pertaining to the assignment and from there, support to these ideas. Soon enough the ideas transitioned into words, which turned phrases, then sentences and paragraphs. By the time I finished thinking about the paper, the majority of the paper was done all in my head. This probably had much to do with the prominence my middle school teachers put on clarifying my thoughts before even organizing them on paper, but it worked. However, I became a lazy writer. The more I realized I can come up with a paper mentally, the longer I delayed the writing.
My favorite use of this process came during last semester in my World Literature class. I had to write compare and contrast essay on Homer’s Odysseus moral character with that of Shakespeare’s Iago from Othello. The minute my professor handed out the assignment sheet, I automatically thought how Odysseus had a greater sense of moral because his actions of deceit were carried out for reasons of valor, love, and loyalty as compared to Iago, who’s actions were carried out just out of spite. By the end of that class period, my thesis and supporting paragraphs were set and all I had to do was get the words out of my and onto a sheet of paper. However, being such a lazy student, I waited until the night before to write the paper. I knew exactly what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get past the first sentence. It took me probably two hours to write just my introduction, because I can never proceed to write a proper paper without a great introduction. I spent another hour doing the paper, a couple more hours editing, and managed to get an A+ on the assignment.
This assignment, like previous assignments, reminded me how much pressure I put on my introduction. I know there are sidesteps where I can easily write the rest of the paper or essay and do the introduction, but I refuse (partially out of arrogance) to take the “easy” way out. When I write, I build the momentum off my introduction. So, I work my hardest and try to put my best in my introduction, because after that – after I write my thesis on the last sentence of the introduction – the words after just fall in place. All the ideas and thoughts that were once formed mentally, just flow like an electric current from my brain, to my fingers, onto paper. Although, it’s a hassle, the extraneous amount of time I spend on my introduction pays off.
I realize there are multiple flaws in my particular process, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s worked for me every single time. It’s only when I digress from my process, my grade drops. In my junior year of high school, my teacher forced us to make an outline and write note cards and do a shitload of prewriting before beginning the writing stage of my research paper. It completely threw me off balance. Getting in the habit of writing down my thoughts when they came to me became irritating and I started to distance myself away from the paper. It seems like it’ll be easier, right? I won’t have to struggle to remember what I thought or sit in front of the computer for hours trying to come up with a decent introduction. Well it was easier, but I hated it. The struggle and the complications are part of the fun, half of the reason I get a good grade when I write. When it’s too easy, I don’t put any thought in it and my grade reflects it. All the planning actually resulted me getting the lowest grade I’ve gotten on a paper in the past five years. This experience altered the way I proceed to write, depending on my audience.
I don’t write for myself anymore, so my audience is basically whatever teacher or professor that assigns the paper. Interestingly enough, I have a tendency to organize my assignments and get edit-happy depending on its level of intensity (it’s probably due to the fear my high school junior English teacher instilled on me. In my head, I think important papers require plenty prewriting and editing). The last time I went through the whole pre-writing process, (you know, develop an outline, create a pro/con list, etc.) it partially worked out for me. I actually made it when I argued pro-choice in my English Composition persuasive essay. In this case, I had to not only know the arguments to my side, but the arguments to the opposing, pro-life side. So, when I created the pro/con list, it allowed me to think of rebuttals that can easily rebuke the opposing side’s argument. Although, the outline was completely useless (I don’t even think I followed it), I did realize how handy a pro/con list is, especially when writing a persuasive essay. I also only edit if it’s an assignment for an English class. Mainly, I know the professor is definitely smart enough where I can’t bullshit and slack on the development and organization of the assignment, so I’m forced to continually make sure the whole paper flows coherently, with each point building up to another. The pre-writing and editing stage, I know, are both vital in writing a remarkable paper, but since they’re the “behind the scene” processes, I usually don’t put much effort into it, unless absolutely necessary.
However, creating the pro-and-con list enabled me to see all the possible viewpoints. It is one tactic that I’ve actually integrated into my writing process. It didn’t take away my need to “challenge” myself when writing, but it simply just induced organization into the process. Instead of storing all my points in my head, I’m able to see it much more clearly on paper, before I even start writing. This small prewriting stage helps me write my paper a lot more effortlessly, which carries into a better grade. The same goes for editing. I know I only edit when I think I have to, but I completely see the difference between a paper that has been revised and improved on, than one that hasn’t.
One of the main reasons my whole writing process is so effective is because it’s turned into an innate characteristic. When I receive an assignment, my mind immediately starts racing, starting the whole mental stage of my writing process. It’s engraved in my system since middle school and (although this paper doesn’t reflect it), I’ve pretty much perfected it.
Throughout the years, small tweaks have been incorporated into my writing process, changing it for the better, while old habits remain. Occasionally, additional methods are thrown into my writing process, varying on my audience. However, the general idea of my process remains the same: it begins mentally and shifts, over time, into a physical process.
Andrea Neeranjan
Feb 18, 2009
Literacy Narrative
Eng 2020
Growing up in a somewhat-traditional sort-of-Indian household, education has always been my priority. When I was first introduced to writing, it seemed like it was just another subject to excel at. It was like math, but with letters instead of numbers. But, it was basic - too simple to be interesting. However, I continued to follow my teachers’ lessons on writing and grammar, but didn’t care about the content of the writing. At the same time, I didn’t speak. Maybe because I was too focused trying to become the “perfect” student, I never even bothered to expand my oral communication skills. I’d talk normally to my close friends and direct family, but mumbled when asked a question to anyone else. So, when I was given my first creative writing assignment, it was astonishing how much I had to say. When I failed to communicate orally, writing helped me reveal my thoughts and dreams onto paper. Now that I’m a more comfortable speaker, writing helps my inner perfectionist shine. Writing, interestingly enough has always been a reflection of my character.
I was incredibly shy as a kid. I’d hide behind my mom or dad when being introduced to someone, or whisper in my mom’s ear to have her say the words I didn’t have the confidence to say myself. I was considered the “mute” in my family and my class. The game ‘telephone’ always comes to my mind when I had to communicate to someone outside my circle of friends. I’d say something to someone to tell to someone else, which, in turn, told the message to the destined recipient. Of course, if you’ve played this game, the original message always was misinterpreted, so my form of communication was limited. I chose not to speak and I wasn’t too fond of writing. Eventually, something had to give.
My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Gilbert, asked our class to write a short story on, of what I recall, a rock. I thought it was incredibly dumb at first. Who can come up with an amazing story about a rock? Well, turns out, I could. When my idea hit me, I wrote and filled up not a page, not even two or three pages, but seven full pages about a schoolgirl who discovers a magical rock that grants her three wishes her heart desires. Probably due to my obsession with Disney movies as a child, the story was similar to the plot from Aladdin. In a way, this first story was my opportunity to put myself in those shoes and be the girl with the fairy-tale adventure. Regardless, I was exceptionally proud of myself and amazed at what I was able to do with only a few pieces of paper, a pen, and my thoughts. Mrs. Gilbert continued to give us creative writing assignments and I continued to write my stories. The more I wrote, the more I “spoke.” I found a comfort in writing, and as time progressed, I found “myself” in writing.
Writing immediately became my “me” time. It was a comfort, a consistency - it never changed, and it was and still is, always there. I kept diaries and journals, I wrote countless numbers of stories on wide-ruled loose-leaf paper, all stored away now in a big red box in my room. These small, overlooked forms of writing allowed me to develop both as a writer and as a being. Truly, the more I wrote, the greater my “voice” was becoming. Eventually, I had no problem communicating my writing through my real voice.
During this time, writing helped me transition speech into my main form of communication within the next couple of years. It doesn’t count for much, but being unable to talk to my best friend during class, we wrote ridiculously long notes to one another. And since I wasn’t able to convey my personality through speech, it had to shine through my writing. In these notes, my sense of humor appeared quirkier and all my stories seemed more dramatic than they originally were (which explains why I’m such a drama queen today). I was no longer the shy, quiet girl in my writing, but rather an obnoxious, quite humorous teenager (or preteen at that time). Oddly enough, the personality in my writing was carried into reality. Writing helped me bring out the other side of my personality and in essence, induced another source of communication.
At this time, I had the opportunity to see the writer I was, meaning, I had a clearer perception to the person I wanted to be. Being able to distance myself from my writing and see not only the content, but also my style and tone, helped me transition that into my speech. My writing (at that time) had an obvious charisma and charm, which I strangely admired. I wanted to portray my same “self” in my writing to my “self” in reality. Soon enough, life imitated art and I took on the same personality my writing carried. Writing was no longer a source of communication for me, but rather, a reflection of myself.
Others began to notice this change in my character. Over time, people were able to visualize me when reading one of my texts, or even an essay for English class. I’ve heard it on more than a few occasions where peers and teachers would say, “I could definitely see you saying what you wrote.” In that sense, my transition from verbal communication to oral communication was ultimately successful. My personality was able to shine through two mediums, a feat that was nearly impossible for me a few years back. Now that I was a comfortable speaker, I didn’t need writing to help me state my thoughts and feelings, it now had another purpose: becoming perfect.
When I was younger (really young, like age five or six), my parents (mostly my dad) sat down with my brother, sister and I and informed us that without an education, our lives were virtually meaningless (who tortures five-year old kids with these things? My parents are sick, I know). I remember coming home with a 99 on a Social Studies test in the third grade, feeling ridiculously proud of myself (especially since I got the highest grade in the class) and my dad just looked at it and asked, “Why didn’t you get a 100?” That day, my dad turned me into a perfectionist. I checked and double-checked everything. There was absolutely no room for any margin and error. Years and years later, I realized it’s virtually impossible to be perfect. I saw I was able to be perfect in writing, through editing. In editing, I had the ability to go back over and over again, checking, fixing, deleting, adding – you name it, I was able to do it, without any repercussions. No one even had to know you made a mistake in the first place. Editing fascinated me in this way, because it was the only chance in life you had to erase your mistakes.
The major turning point in writing came to me my junior year of high school. I was taught by the most amazing English teacher, who’s every little writing peeve was embossed and engraved in my head and subconscious. Because of her, writing became an act of achieving perfection – both in the editing stage and writing stage. She taught me one lesson I will never ever forget: you can’t assume your reader knows what you’re trying to say. I made sure to be as simple and precise as possibly, without being redundant and babbly. This small advice made me start edit papers constantly and I loved it. I cut words, phrases, sentences, and paragraphs that weren’t necessary relative and replaced them with words that were sweet and clear. My writing was logical and short, while still maintaining its charisma and it helped develop my on-growing love for editing.
Being such a critical person (there’s no way you can be a perfectionist without being critical), it was an easy way of taking a negative aspect of my personality and bringing it to a positive light. Instead of hurting people by telling them their obvious flaws, I offended them in a less apparent and more effective way. It was my way of taking control of a situation. In a sense, editing was my form of rehearsing. I didn’t get to edit what comes out of my mouth (which has always been a problem for me), but I did get to decide what goes on a piece of paper. I had the ability to do it over and over again repeatedly until it’s right - until it’s finally perfect. The control in editing was more appealing than the editing itself. I was able to fix everything with a cross out and replace it with words a bit more powerful.
It was only a few days ago when I edited one of my friend’s papers. I was actually having a pretty terrible day and being able to make right of all these wrongs on a piece of paper made me overwhelmingly happy. The paper was appalling when I first read it. It had no focus, an extreme lack of organization, and it was filled with irrelevant evidence. After spending a good amount of hours fixing it up, I managed to get my friend an A-. He wasn’t entirely happy when he saw the amount of scratch-marks and red ink, but when he received his grade, he was more than pleased. Editing allowed me to take my negative energy and turn it into one that’s beneficial, for the writer and myself. It coincided and relaxed my need to criticize and perfect a universe full of chaos.
Seemingly, writing is just a take of my personality. It’s my words, my voice, and my personality. It’s my way of finding out my heart’s desires for a magical rock to grant or my way of appeasing my constant need for perfection. Whether it’s imitating childhood dreams or quirky personality traits, my writing is who I am. Writing, essentially, is part of who I am and who I aspire to be.
