Essay and Cover Letter 1: Thirty Minutes and One Hundred Dollars
The Letter: ThirtyMinutesCL
Dear Reader,
It was definitely hard to get back into the writing process. I put a lot of time and thought into revising my first blog post (had to make a good first impression, right?) and felt that a lot of the voice that I wanted to carry out in the actual essay came across in how I wrote for the blog post. I know that one of my biggest issues this semester will be editing my own writing, as I feel that I do a good job the first time and can’t figure out how to improve upon what is already there. One thing that came easy was finding a topic to write about for this project; after our brainstorming session, I found that I had written down a variety of personal events ranging from the most depressing occurrences to trivial nights out with friends that left a lasting impression on me. As a “glass half full” kind of person, I try to find the best in the people I surround myself as well as the experiences that I go through during life and I can appreciate most everything, regardless of how positive or negative that “something” happens to be.
I had a ton of doubts when I first picked up the Zinsser book; “On Writing” could not have been more of a bland and generic title and I would have normally glanced at the cover and walked by that entire shelf of books. However, I began to read for the homework assignment and found that I absolutely love his voice as well as the content of his writing. One piece of advice that I had underlined during my reading was the quote with which he closes the book. As an avid baseball fan, anything Joe DiMaggio says or does is automatically brilliant, but Zinsser’s incorporation of Joe’s words into his own closing truly brings out his main reason for writing: “Write what is yours and nobody else’s” (302). This piece of advice inspired me to believe in what I was writing and to put effort into how I told my story. I know that the experiences that I wrote down during class had all left a lasting impression on me for a reason, and that my thoughts on what happened are valid and important. Only I can see the world and my experiences through my eyes, and only I can write about my thoughts and feelings in my voice. Instead of taking a backseat to great writers of seemingly unreachable success, I should be putting my thoughts down with authority, challenging preconceived notions of creative non-fiction by injecting my own voice and words into the genre. That’s what I want to do this semester.
Hutch
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The Essay: ThirtyMinutesEssay
THIRTY MINUTES AND ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS
“You lying sack of shit”, he murmured under his breath as he throw my newly printed driver’s license back across the rotting bar. I looked at him with my deep green eyes and smiled the most charming smile I could muster as I slowly pocketed the card. He looked me up and down a few times, trying to figure out if there was the slightest chance that I was born in the decade that I had claimed before pulling two shot glasses out from behind the bar and placing them in front of me. Filling them to the brim with the cheapest Irish whiskey in the joint, he smiled at us and pushed the booze across the bar. I beamed and turned around right into a warm embrace from my best friend. I was no longer a sixteen year old girl celebrating her birthday, but a young woman turning twenty-two surrounded by her old college roommates. At least that’s what we told Patrick that night.
*
Earlier in 2004, same-sex marriage had become legal in Massachusetts, a huge step in the country’s continuing battle towards equality and a bright moment for young liberals during the Bush administration. The majority of my peers at the time were at the very least left wing leaning, though we functioned day in and day out under the strict law of an all-girls private Catholic establishment. That fall, my junior year, had been a particularly mild season, filled with morning coffee and cigarettes on the steps of the Met and illicit walks through the park during lunch. My friends and I were quickly growing up, welcoming the changes of the world with the changes that were going on in our personal lives and moving forward as strong and independent young women.
The administration did a very good job of monitoring the school-wide assemblies discussions, for the most part excluding LGBT issues from the board and making the legalization of same-sex marriage a hot topic of hushed discussion around school throughout the year. During my years spent at this school, I learned which teachers were as progressive as the teenagers they surrounded themselves with, encouraging deep and emotional discussions on topics untouched by other professors. I learned when to bite my tongue and how to wait for the most ideal and appropriate time to bring points of contention to the attention of those who could enact positive and radical change in our local environment. Though I spent my days challenging my intellect and shaping my morals through interpersonal relationships and experiences, my nights were soon to become a completely different story.
While other girls dreamt of sweet sixteens spent ice skating at Rockefeller Center or gorging themselves in an oversized ice cream sundae at Serendipity, I had only one goal in mind: to indulge in the reckless lifestyle of a young New Yorker. I had always looked up to the upperclassmen who would cluster around the senior table in the basement of our Fifth Avenue mansion of a high school, poring over blurry pictures on digital cameras and recapping the events of the previous weekend between intermittent rages of laughter. Their tales of debauchery seemed to be nothing but a pipe dream to me, a baby-faced fifteen year old with little pull in terms of getting parental permission to spend a night out on the town. And then, one brisk night in late October 2004, everything changed.
After my birthday dinner at one of our favorite Mexican haunts, my best friends and I headed downtown into the uncharted waters of Greenwich Village, our eyes set on a sketchy basement clothing shop somewhere on MacDougal Street. I looked both ways before entering the store, wondering what I would say if someone recognized me before being quickly ushered behind a rack of jackets and seated in a cold metal chair. Thirty minutes and one hundred dollars later, I walked back out onto the street and lit a cigarette, exhaling a breath of smoke with a sigh of relief as we walked under the lights crosstown towards our next destination: Desmond’s Tavern. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, but we had finally done it.
*
My first successful trip to a legendary high school bar was one surrounded with a ton of emotion, much as the legalization inspired me and my borderline rebellious youth with whom I surrounded myself. A nervous excitement mixed with the novelty of the respective situations, creating a sense of hope for the years to come as a thrilling adventure into unfamiliar territory had just begun. The recognition of same-sex marriage was an affirmation in itself, as traditions were questioned and forward progress was made in our lives just as I “came of age” and began to learn more and more about the world that now lay at my fingertips. These issues were a big deal to us at the time, as they both exemplified an acceptance into a new social circle that had been previously unattainable.
Hutch,
I really enjoyed reading your first draft. I noted the addition of the first paragraph to the additional summary which you had posted on the class blog. I making that addition to your essay I feel you succeeded in transporting me as a reader into your story. Additionally, the experience which you noted in that first paragraph is something which I related to. As someone who is actually old enough to drink and uses my actual ID I have gotten that same reaction from bartenders who seem to think I’m sixteen.
I also really like the connection you chose to make. It in no way seemed forced or cliche due to the way you chose to tell your story (something which I struggled with in writing my own since the connection was so direct.)
I identified your essay as being about yourself, as a teenager, functioning in a largely liberal city while attending an institution preaching conservative values. I felt that you handled these two aspects of your life and incorporated pretty seamlessly and your story and “historical event” to be relevant and written in a voice which seemed genuine and I felt showed through most in your final paragraph.
In terms of identifying a sentence which I felt could be written more effectively I would point to the first sentence of your last paragraph. Perhaps, divide it into two sentences or employ different punctuation.
Overall, I think you did a great job at delivering your story and relating it to an event without having it sound forced and maintaining a genuine voice.
Hutch,
I really enjoyed reading your first draft. I noted the addition of the first paragraph to the original summary which you had posted on the class blog. I making that addition to your essay I feel you succeeded in transporting me as a reader into your story. Additionally, the experience which you noted in that first paragraph is something which I related to. As someone who is actually old enough to drink and uses my actual ID I have gotten that same reaction from bartenders who seem to think I’m sixteen.
I also really like the connection you chose to make. It in no way seemed forced or cliche due to the way you chose to tell your story (something which I struggled with in writing my own since the connection was so direct.)
I identified your essay as being about yourself, as a teenager, functioning in a largely liberal city while attending an institution preaching conservative values. I felt that you handled these two aspects of your life and incorporated pretty seamlessly and your story and “historical event” to be relevant and written in a voice which seemed genuine and I felt showed through most in your final paragraph.
In terms of identifying a sentence which I felt could be written more effectively I would point to the first sentence of your last paragraph. Perhaps, divide it into two sentences or employ different punctuation.
Overall, I think you did a great job at delivering your story and relating it to an event without having it sound forced and maintaining a genuine voice.
Hutch,
What a way to capture your audience with your first sentence! Kudos! Your story is fascinating. I am not going to lie, I did have to read it a second time and that was when it clicked and I had that, “OHHHH” moment. Your rebellious side truly shines through your writing. And anyone can relate to having a “fake” ID. Your essay shows that you are a strong girl who is above these “rules and regulations.” You truly showed your independence and growth when slapping that bartender with your ID.
You provide great detail especially when connecting your story with a historical event. In my perspective your story is about acceptance. Being accepted in society and something as small as a bar. You give concrete examples and details such as the type of school you attended, the type of people you were surrounded by, the group of friends you had. It was very much “real.”
In terms of Zinsser, I felt as though your story sounded relaxed and genuine. The detail of the bar left such a crisp image. You were had a steady rhythm. Your beginning sentence set the whole mood of the paper and it was great. I couldn’t help but smirk reading it and truly relating to your actions.
A sentence that can be written more effectively would be, “These issues were a big deal to us at the time, as they both exemplified an acceptance into a new social circle that had been previously unattainable.” (Your last sentence). It is honestly a great sentence but you started with such a powerful introduction. It was like *BOOM*! So maybe you can create a sort of *BOOM* in your conclusion.
Overall, this is a great piece of writing. You can go so far with it. It was honestly very pleasant to read!
Andrea