Advanced Essay Writing, Spring 2013

Hi all,

The information sheet for my presentation, which includes all the resources I’ve used, is attached here!

REVISION

“Look for the clutter in your writing and prune it ruthless. Be grateful for everything you can throw away. Reexamine each sentence you put on paper. Is every word doing new work? Can any though be expressed with more economy?…Simplify, simplify” (p.16). I love that part that “expressed with more economy”. I never though that clutter words were distracting. I though that clutter words around a sentence means sophistication. However, I was wrong and according to Zinsser, a great writer simplify and simplify every sentence.

Another advise from Zinsser that I like is “Never hesitate to imitate another writer”. (p.238). I complete agree with this and I try to do it. Every time I see a new word in a newspaper, I try to memorize the sentence and utilize later.

Below are your editing groups. Please check the personal blogs of the other writers in your group and read their drafts (due by tonight at 10 pm).  Just go to our class blog and click on the author’s first names; you will be redirected to their blogs.  Post your response(s) as a comment on the blog post containing the draft.

What do you have to do to get credit for the peer review process?

–Post your response letter(s) as a comment to the blog post(s) so I can see it.

–Post your response letter(s) BEFORE class on Wednesday, Feb. 13.

–Turn in your own draft on time so your editing group mates and I have time to read it and comment.

–Try to answer all the questions on the “Reader Response Letter” handout.

Directions for what to cover in your feedback can be found on the handout, “Reader Response Letter,” which I gave out in class last week. This handout is also available on the Assignments page of the class  blog.

Here are your editing groups for Essay 1. If you can’t find your name, it’s because I haven’t gotten a link to your blog.

Cass, Amzad, Alee

Andrea, Hutch, Rebecca

Avi, Jenny, Kris

Iordan, Jessica, Nakeisha

Darius, Meena, Sofia

Zhanna, Michelle, Javar, Tenzin

”There is a kind of writing that might be called journalese, and it’s the death of freshness in anybody’s style. It’s the common currency of newspaper and of magazines like people– a mixture of cheap words, made up words and cliches that have become so pervasive that a writer can hardly help using them. You must fight these phrases or you’ll sound like every hack. You’ll never make your mark as a writer unless you develop a respect for words and a curiosity about their shades of meaning that is almost obsessive” ( Zinsser 32).

For new writers who are eagerly working to sound like a writer, I think this is a very good idea. Words are all in all in writing that convey the messages of the writers to the readers. A writer writes for its readers and if he is not cautious in choosing the right words his readers will suffer for it and consequently, they will turn away. It’s very simple that when a reader takes a piece of writing and spends his/her time reading it, they only see the words quilted by the writer, not the writer himself.  As a result, choosing the right words is extremely important for a writer. What Zinsser means by it is use nouns to describe nouns, use verbs to describe verbs; we don’t need nouns to describe verbs, nor do we need verbs to describe nouns. If you as a writer do not respect words, you will not get respects from your readers.

The Zinsser lesson that I most appreciated and took to heart was from the Chapter 3 lessons on clarity. Improving clarity is something I’m trying to become better at and smoothing the flow of my writing is one of my major goals. I believe lack of clarity is a barrier to great writing because it usually correlates with wordiness and lack of rhythm.

On page 17 of my edition, it states “Look for the clutter in your writing and prune it ruthlessly.” This lesson resonated with me because we also learned that from master storyteller Ira Glass, someone I respect immensely. Zinsser goes on to share that “we should be grateful for everything we throw away”- a maxim that at first seems counter-intuitive but makes perfect sense in our cluttered world. I tried to apply it by stripping things down from my first essay, getting the point across without painstakingly describing every scene, such as the doctor’s office. I was hesitant in the past to cut my writing and it still is pretty painful (you are in effect, rejecting yourself), but I’m embracing it because I hope it will ultimately lead to a better outcome.

In general, I liked the authors advises on writing. I paid my attention to some of them (like “think broadly about your assignment”, “push the boundaries of your subject” or “bring some part of your life in it” (p.250). Still, I could not agree with this one: “Never hesitate to imitate another writer. Imitation is part of the creative process for anyone learning an art of a craft” (p.238). Yes, I agree, imitation is the key in learning, but this is something different. You will never find your own voice imitating someone else. Yes, you can read lots of books, but not imitate them, to my mind, this can kill your own voice which can be just being formed.

This quote from the Zinssers “On Writing Well” was my favorite: “Dying is no big deal. Living is the trick” (p.247).

All essays (draft and revision) should be submitted with a cover letter. Your cover letter is your chance to reflect on, defend, explain, and “go meta” on your writing. It’s your chance to direct your reader’s thinking and responses–to get the kind of feedback you most want and/or need. Your cover letters help me understand what you’re thinking & feeling about your writing and respond to it more effectively.

If you haven’t included a cover letter with your Essay 1 draft, please add one right away.

The first funeral I attended taught me the fragility of life, to cherish my life every day, and that one’s presence is truly present enough because one does not know when it will end. On the sixteenth of February 2003, I attended my Grandpa’s funeral. He, Vasili, was an immigrant to this country. In 1939, he left behind 12 brothers and sisters and both his mother and father, who specifically told him to flee, as Germany began to invade Poland in the beginning of WW2. In both the Ukraine and Germany, he studied to be a veterinarian but his degrees did not uphold in this country, in order to practice veterinary medicine. Also, his English was not without heavy accent, nor grammatically correct, and always over pronounced. This did not help his job prospectus. English was the last of seven languages he acquired throughout his lifetime, including Russian, Ukrainian, German, Polish, Czechoslovakian and Latin.

He was a no nonsense man. My fondest memory of him was the way he taught me to blow my nose correctly. Grandpa did well for himself overall, despite his difficult circumstances, which is why I revere him. I have always respected him not only for his intellect and discipline but also because he basically reincarnated himself, began a new life, all alone in New York.

Accompanied by my Grandma and my father’s brother’s family, he moved from New York to Seattle, then San Francisco, where he passed away. He suffered a severe stroke and several years later died peacefully in his sleep. The first mumbling utterance of his mouth, post-incident, was my full first name, Alexandra. This always made me feel connected to him, in a very special, almost spiritual, way. I still can recall the feeling I discovered when I found out that information. I feel I would do it injustice to even attempt trying to communicate something so indescribable. I was his first conscious concern and his first grandchild.

My immediate family and I flew out to San Francisco for his funeral, although his remains are buried in New Jersey, along with many ancestors, all of whom I never knew in this lifetime. My Grandpa’s funeral was my first funeral, as I declined to attend my Nana’s funeral, which was held at the church directly across the street from my first school, because I really did not want to miss class. At such a naïve age, I did not comprehend the greater significance of these types of events and still regret to this day that choice. A funeral is the one last opportunity to see one’s face in person, the last chance to celebrate and remember one’s life surrounded by people he or she knew, each person having a different perspective on the deceased.

During the solemn ceremony, I vividly recall approaching my grandfather’s casket, prostrating, and kissing the center of his forehead. Something within me changed. I felt an immediate uncharacteristically overwhelming explosion of emotion, which I had never experienced. Instantaneously, after removing my lips from his cold skin, I began to cry. I cried on that day. Oh boy, did I ball. I could not stop. It was incredibly loud but not disruptive. The tears were steaming so smoothly down my face, I couldn’t even see out of my own eyeballs, or wipe the river away from my face fast enough. I crossed myself several times while walking away from the casket, staring down at the tan floor. I could not even acknowledge anyone, especially in the eye. I turned to face the altar, perpendicular to Grandpa’s casket, just like I was taught, still balling. I had never felt that type of uncontrollable discomfort and could not keep it together to save my life. The old women gave me relatively consoling looks like I was the most depressing thing they had ever seen considering their stature in life. I was so young and so miserable.

I relate the loss of Grandpa to the loss of Columbia, NASA’s space shuttle. Approximately two weeks prior to Vasili’s death, seven astronauts were killed in the bizarrely unclear explosion of an American space shuttle. Neither the pieces of my grandfather’s life or the ridiculous governmental problems that led to the demise of Columbia are ever going to be able to be pieced together precisely. The occupation of Poland is similar to the administrative problems of NASA. Much of the documentation was destroyed or appears never have existed, but the lives involved will be cherished, remembered, respected, and revered by friends, fans and family. The uncertainty of when one’s life is going to end will forever preside for all of humankind, regardless of what he or she accomplished during his or her lifetime. It is not a choice; it is inevitable.

It was a typical lazy morning as I got out of bed and got ready for school. My tiny apartment was abuzz with my cousins Sarah and Danny getting ready for school, and my brother throwing yet another tantrum about not wanting to go to school. My grandmother was making Turkish coffee in the kitchen and my grandfather was watching the news on the Russian channel. I remember this routine so clearly because although we weren’t what you would call ‘routine’ people, our mornings started off about the same way. My mother put our lunches in out bright colored bags as she yelled at us to hurry out the door before we were late for school.

We had only been in America for about several months and I had hardly known English, but as the events of that day unfolded, I came to realize that for some things, language is not a barrier. I remember sitting in my third grade class when someone knocked on the door and barged in telling my teacher to turn on the tv (I am guessing that is what she said because I can’t say I understood her, but right after she left, Mrs. Levinson turned the TV on). This day was not a memorable one just for me, but for many as people all around the world watched the Towers fall with hundreds of people inside. This event caused a lot of turmoil for me, because I was a child living in my own little world, oblivious to everything going on around me. Although everyone in my family did not directly suffer from the attack, I did experience a loss with the realization that the world was not as bright in reality as it was in my mind. This event that affects us to this day in ways I could not have predicted as a third grader opened my eyes and woke me up from a dream. It was the first time that I was a part of history in the big picture- the first time I understood it anyway. It’s not that I suffered for a personal loss, but I did feel pain for all those who had; in a way, this was the event that darkened the colors in the room I had created in the little cubicle of my mind.

I remember coming home, still not having understood what exactly had happened. I walked into the room, my grandfather had the TV volume turned up to a deafening level and my grandma was sitting at the dining room table folding laundry. I asked my mother what was going on, as she responded in Russian, “Don’t worry honey. Go do your homework.” But I was relentless, because having seen what I saw in my class, I wanted to know what had happened and how. Then, my grandma told my mom I was old enough to know, and she recited to me what was reported on the news. It wasn’t just confusion that I felt; it was anger and this feeling like I was weak in the world where even the highest buildings could crumble. I don’t think I understood it at the time, because I was too busy feeling things I could not comprehend. But looking back at it, I realize that this was the event (or at least the event I am conscience of) that started my cynical views on the world and humanity- it didn’t happen on that specific day or the day after, but it was the seed that somehow veered me into being who I am now.

Thinking about what was the most important life scene of my life, I realize that it is difficult to choose one because it comes to my mind many things that have been important and have marked my path, my desires and hopes. But I can say that the most important day was the one where I first decided to go on a trip with my friend Yuri, to Florida.  That happened on April of 2002.

We were nineteen, the age at which every girl wants to make new experiences, explore the world, learn something different from their culture. Yuri and I share the same desires. The fact that my parents give me their authorization to make this trip was for me a satisfaction because I realized they had put a lot of trust on me.

I organized the trip. I booked the flights, I chose excursions, did everything with enthusiasm. The city in which the plane had to land was Miami. My friend Yuri had family living down there and they provided us a place during our stay in Miami.

Yuri and I flew from Guayaquil, Ecuador, a small town in South America. The flight took four hours. We arrived at Miami International Airport, here began the funniest situation because neither Yuri nor I speak English. The only sentence that we memorized when we were at the plane was “ I need somebody that speak Spanish”. Fortunately, the immigration agent was bilingual. Yuri’s relatives were at the airport waiting for us. “Great city!” I said. My intention was to visit and collect everything from that city. The fifteen days trip, had to be exploited until the last minute.

While Yuri and I were having fun in a host city, more than half a million people march on the streets of Caracas, Venezuela, protesting against the Venezuelan government. The protest last two days when Chavez returned to power. After learning about that difficult situation in Venezuela, I started thinking about my future in my own country, Ecuador, where similar situations could happen. Nothing positive comes to my mind, so I realized that here in the States I could be more secure and have more opportunities to success. At that moment I decided to stay in the States because I felt that this adventure would fill my soul with security and with opportunities to success.

So, those fifteen days vacation time turned into eleven years of my life since I decided to stay. Now I am in New York City, the city that has brought me fun, adventure, love, job, and education. Only brave people takes vital decision and risk. I took it on 2002 and I proud of myself that I did.