Monday, March 4, 2013

The "Art" of Writing


            Writing as an art form is spoken about constantly: show don’t tell, show and tell, details, mystery, etc. This is commonly discussed in English courses, both writing and literature based. Recently I learned a lot about writing from a course I never thought I’d get tips about the “art” of writing from: Marketing Management – Neeley Fellows, Honors.

            One of the many sources of abnormality that I possess is my opposite interests: Math and Writing. Somehow this has turned into an Accounting degree (I won’t lay out here the formula I created to help me decide that), and an accidental Writing minor. Writing is a real passion of mine, and it has definitely lead to some teasing from some students in the Business School as well as some questions about my interest in Accounting. Let me say it plain here: I want to be an Accountant – a Forensic Accountant specifically. However, I also want to be a writer. The two aren’t mutually exclusive. Keep this information in mind – it’s key to understanding the experience.

            So, last semester in two of my business classes I learned a valuable lesson: in business classes details aren’t desired unless asked for. In my business plan I turned in, some adjectives were circled and points were taken off because they were details and thus unnecessary. I thought that was just good writing, but I made a note, and tried again. The next time my grammar was too good, so points were taken off. I pulled up Meriam-Webster’s online to show him that I had even looked up the rule, and he said it didn’t matter. It didn’t read like he thought it should, so the point deduction remained. Then on an essay I was told my answer was "too thorough" and that I should have just answered the question asked and only that – again, points deducted. I took note of this: English classes remember to have good grammar and details as needed, Business classes simply answer the question asked more with minimal details. I would not take grade cuts in the next semester – I had learned my lesson.

            Or so I thought. This semester I took my first purely essay based exam in a non-English course. Marketing, Fellows style. On this exam I consciously thought about the lessons I’d learned last semester. The first question was posed and I thought, “Perhaps I should outline all the phases in the last 100 years of marketing because I know them, so why not? Why not? It takes up precious time, that’s why not. You got points off last semester, that’s why not. If he wanted that information he would have asked for it, that’s why not.” Let me let you in on a little secret, friends: I found out why when the tests were returned. The details that had been my friends for 15 solid years of literacy and creative writing had been feeling neglected for a whole semester, and now – when their presence was desired most – I had not used them out of fear.

            Fear. “There is nothing to fear, but fear itself.” Thanks, FDR. While some books start out pointing out the hurt that was created in some lives by that quote, I will begin this paragraph commenting on the hurt that was created in my life by not remembering the moral from that quote. I should have not feared the consequence and went with my gut – my gut said, “Write the information,” and Fear said, “Remember last time?” Oh, Fear, well played this time. But I shan’t let you remain triumphant. I shall prevail. Writing is an art form – it’s a point that I’ve argued against many an Art and Business major. I am an artist with a pen, not a brush. But learning Business writing is proving to be rather difficult. There seems to be no hard and fast rule. I’m told one semester that my details make it inefficient and unprofessional, and the next semester I am told that writing is an art form that is more difficult than I think. I'd heard of Fear hurting writing and impeding the message. Guess I understand it fully now. Wish it hadn't affected by GPA, but still. Small points off on a GPA represent lessons learned, right? Maybe?

            Mistakes, mistakes. Writing is natural for me – even more so than breathing (I’m heavily asthmatic). But I believe my non-writing classes may be giving my writing a new kind of challenge: fitting into a undefined box that it has fought it has fought for years to be free from.

4 comments:

  1. Hi Rachel, wonderful post on the ambiguities of writing. Sorry for the frustrations. dw

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  2. I have endured similar experiences as a writer. I often feel so pressured by my teachers and professors to write the way they deem acceptable that I forget to just write. I get so caught up in technicalities that my writing feels forced and ingenuous. Good post.

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  3. Hey Rachel,
    Thank you for sharing! And wow—a forensic accountant? What exactly does that career entail? Will I see you on Bones someday? Ok, back to a more academically inclined blog response.
    Although math is certainly not a passionate pursuit of mine, I can relate in a somewhat similar fashion to the woes of a student with markedly diverse academic interests. Since childhood, I have wanted to be a pediatric doctor when I grew up. I always loved school and learning of all varieties (even math, although to a much lesser degree than English or science). I can honestly say that I have a hunger for knowledge and that I find delight in exploring and understanding academic subjects. When I enrolled at TCU, I embarked upon the pre-med track in order to fulfill the requirements for my potential career, yet was encouraged to pursue a liberal arts major by my mom and by my desire for a diverse, rewarding college experience. I had always enjoyed—or at least thought I enjoyed—the act of writing, and as a freshman, was uninterested in reading boring old English texts and writing boring essays as a traditional English major. I attempted to pursue a Writing major, yet as I continued to take empirical, fact-driven classes such as biology, chemistry, and organic chemistry, I began to more deeply comprehend my true God-given interests and unique abilities. Discovering that the pre-med in me thrived on understanding the details and comprehending the connections, as well as realizing that I truly enjoyed reading and analyzing formerly stereotyped “boring old literature” helped compel me to declare a traditional English major.

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  4. continued:
    Enough background on me. I do apologize—as an English major at heart, my written compositions tend to reflect the emphasis on detail and occasionally superfluous use of words that you allude to in your post. Like you, I have experienced issues as my English-major style of writing has clashed with the requirements and preferences of science professors. I took a biology seminar in which we were required to provide a response paper for a certain amount of hour-long lectures. How was I supposed to summarize and personally expound upon an hour’s worth of material in two or fewer double-spaced pages? This was a weekly struggle. In a virology course, I was required to write a paper that described the natural history, epidemiology, etiology, structure, and treatment specific to a particular virus based upon research drawn from a minimum of five recently published scientific journal articles. The paper was required to include multiple figures and could consist of a maximum of five pages. Five pages? My first draft, even without any figures, was significantly longer than the page limit and was immediately rejected by my professor as “too long,” too much to read, and obviously containing too much unnecessary information. Cutting down the article (in addition to formatting the pictures and textual spacing in the most space-economical methods possible) required a significant investment of time and involved a great deal of frustration. I could not share the wealth of pertinent information I had gathered on these aspects of the virus, and I was rather dissatisfied with the final product, as it allowed for the reader to gain only minimal knowledge because of the paper’s restricted length. Experiences such as these have certainly frustrated me, as they have you, but I do agree that they are all learning experiences. I have struggled to read a variety of scientific journal articles that have been assigned for my classes (if you think literary criticism is tough to comprehend, I could direct you to a few articles that make your eyes cross trying to figure out how experiments were conducted and what the results mean for the future of medical research) but I have admired the manner in which the authors are able to describe their main points, results, and inferences in a highly scientific, yet remarkably concise and generally grammatically correct manner. Throughout my college career, I have had unique opportunities to experience and participate in a variety of writing styles, and, like you, am thankful for these challenges.

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