The Final (Countdown)
So a preface: I’ve never liked writing. Ever. Ever since grade school it has been a chore for me. Now, where does an extreme dislike for just about anything come from? Childhood. We’re young, impressionable, and if we encounter something that doesn’t quite appeal, we usually write it off as “not for me.” Just about anyone with an experience eating Brussels sprouts at a young age can sympathize—try it once and you’re done. But today, when my mom asks what vegetable I want to eat when I come home, I answer: Brussels sprouts. Has there ever been a more obvious lead up to a metaphor? Maybe, maybe not. It’s not to say that I necessarily like writing now, but the fact that I was not fond of it from a young age had a lasting impact on me, for in the time I spent avoiding writing—especially creative writing—like the plague, I failed to better myself, and three key areas suffered greatly, first of which was organization. For someone who prides themselves in organization in other facets of my life, my papers prior to this semester (and even throughout it at times) were a mess. If there was a style of writing I didn’t completely abhor, it was technical writing (namely research papers). But what do research papers require? Well yes, research, but how do you show you researched? Quotes! And while I was a master of finding quotes to support my arguments, I was but an apprentice when it came to actually explaining those quotes. And then there are those things that come at the start of papers: introductions. Perhaps not my weakest point, but certainly no strength. This was especially a frustration in high school, where teachers would often quit reading (not really, but I wondered sometimes) if the introduction wasn’t outstanding—a somewhat understandable practice with over two hundred papers to grade.
Do I let my high school teachers off the hook for not always reading my papers thoroughly, and thereby maybe not offering the best opportunity for growth? Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I didn’t think that all my writing was bad, but my teachers and I tended to have some differing opinions, especially when the topic was poetry. The issue was that I simply didn’t write strong introductions. I was bad at writing hooks, and when I tried…well…I’d rather just forget. **A disclaimer: I certainly don’t blame my issues on my English teachers, they have one of the hardest jobs in a high school. Can you imagine reading all those papers? Maybe you can, but I can’t, so kudos to them for even trying, I just like ribbing high school English because…well, it’s high school English.** Anyway! Take a look at this and tell me it isn’t bad: “Purgatory. Not quite heaven, but not quite hell” (“Ambraziejus” 1). Alright, so it’s not entirely bad yet. Coming into the paper, if the reader is only given the topic (that it’s a summary of a person and their culture), then they’re caught off guard—and hopefully intrigued—since this statement has nothing to do with the subject. And then it gets wordy: “Many would describe middle school—where a pseudo-freedom is given to students that provides a taste of high school to come—as such” (“Ambraziejus” 1). I take joy in calling out people’s pretentious writing, and even though this is my own work, I can’t help but chuckle at how painful it is to read this. Immediately I have in my head some mid-twenties Ivy Leaguer that thinks he’s all that and speaks in a British accent and pronounces the ‘æ’ thing in Encyclopædia. Maybe that last part is just me thinking of Ted Mosby. It’s not that it’s necessarily bad, it’s just not great. And that’s ok! But I don’t strive for ok. The kicker in this introduction, however, is the final sentence: “However, the experiences she gained growing up led her to become who she is today” (“Ambraziejus” 1). If the presence of ‘however’ didn’t clue you in, essentially what happened was a series of points describing the subject with the last sentence contradicting what I had just said. Not a bad lead in to the remainder of the paper, but rather than summarize the points I was going to make in the rest of the paper, I basically threw in a bunch of fluff and then used the last sentence to cover for the fact that I hadn’t really said anything up to that point. Not off to the greatest start here, but it gets better...I think.
Alright, now it’s time for a little bit of growth! The hook in the critique paper was perhaps not exciting, but certainly not my worst work: “The industrial power that is modern China halts for only one occasion each year: the Chinese New Year” (“Back and Forth” 1). Not mind-blowing, but not bad. If I do say so myself, though, the following hook did its job quite well: “One third of the United States population. That is how many classical western music practitioners are in China today, but how did such a thing come to pass?” (“Chord” 1). Both of these state facts, but the latter takes it a step further: it poses a question on top of that fact. Now the reader is really thinking! Unless they already have a thorough understanding of cultural exchange between China and the West as it pertains to the rise in popularity of classical music in the aforementioned country. Which I’m guessing they don’t. Hooks aren’t all that got better though! You know that thing introductions are for, introducing the reader to the subject of the paper? Yeah, the first paper, not so hot, but the research paper? Check this out: “This [Western influence on Chinese music] is evident in three ways:” (“Chord” 1). This sentence clearly states that there are three specific points I have to back up my thesis. Ms. Bone (I could probably just say you, there’s no way anyone reads this and makes it this far, but I’ll preserve some semblance of this being a public post) said of my initial draft of this paper that I “have good ideas, but they need to be fleshed out…” (Bone “Chord” 1). So the concepts were there in my early writing, but I often did a poor job of clearly stating what points I was trying to make…which can be a problem when writing a research paper! With the revised sentence, however, I set myself up nicely to spell out exactly what it was I was trying to say. Not bad if I do say so myself.
If you want to know what was bad, just take a look at my supporting of evidence—or rather, lack thereof. Paramount in any research paper (or any paper where you rely on outside information, for that matter) are quotations from your outside sources. You’d think after writing a four thousand word paper on the Red Baron (and even having to translate parts of works from German) that I’d be thorough in my explanations of quotations. But, more often than not, I’d just stick those suckers in there and call it a day. Take the following:
Let me tell you about the westerner’s lifestyle. Take myself for example. If I make 2000 yuan a month, I need to save 1800 yuan. But when foreigners make 2000 a month, they will spend all 2000. If not more. (00:59:11)
This nice block quote comes from the movie The Last Train Home, which was the subject of my critique paper. It’s a great quote, rife with useful stuff. And what do I follow it up with? “There is certainly truth to what the man said, but such is the case with many stereotypes: there is often a grain of truth buried within.” Mkay, so it’s not awful, but it’s not great. I had a bad habit of contradicting what was said in quotes without actually looking deeper into them. Often I would just have one sentence to back up a quotation, if that. These quotes, that should be the foundation of all my argument, would quite often be merely a side salad to my dinner, whereas in actuality, they should be the 10 oz. steak on the plate of food that is my argument. And I simply wasn’t treating them as such. Which is sad. Because steak is delicious. And now I’ve gone and made myself hungry with a metaphor. Lovely. Moving on, here’s a better example from later in the same paper: “’Like a Barbie doll. Foreigners all look like that’ (00:37:11). Even amidst all the disdain for American culture, many Chinese are still influenced by western society’s ideas of beauty…” (“Back and Forth” 4). And that was pretty much it. It was merely a cursory analysis, it went no deeper; didn’t look at the quote in relation to the specific source from which it came.
Now, I’m not going to make the argument that I began providing deep and prolific analyses along with all of my quotations after the critique paper. But the research paper was certainly better. One of my favorites was:
However, in many ways it is seen as “speaking for ‘the people’ and their real needs” (Liu 228). This is largely because the genre is often adopted by the youth of a society. Elvis Presley was not met with applause from the upper echelons of society at the start of his career, but he struck a chord with the youth of the fifties and sixties in a way others, such as Frank Sinatra, didn’t. (“Chord” 2)
I baked the quote right into my argument, not letting it simply dominate its own sentence and stand apart from the rest of the writing. Then, on top of integrating it, I offered an analogy to American culture with names that might be more familiar to the reader (and if they aren’t…well…). I’ve gotta admit, I was pretty proud of that one. I must confess, though, that my inspiration for it came from the fact that there was a documentary on about the rise of rock and roll and its supplanting of jazz at the peak of popular music. All the same, I thought it was an improvement—time will tell whether or not you’re in agreement! Let’s hope so.
So if it wasn’t evident, there’s a pretty clear pattern in my writing of this blog post: introduction, problem area one, growth one, problem two, growth two, and so on. This was by design. I knew this coming into writing this post. That…wasn’t always the case. Ms. Bone put it bluntly in the comments on my research paper rough draft: “Organization, particularly within the paragraphs, could use work. I do not understand how your information was building to a crescendo because the organization fell flat” (Bone “Chord” 9). Ouch. But you’re not wrong. In fact, it’s still something I’m working on (and will never be done working on haha). Introductions, admittedly, were already on this list of growths, but lack of organization is especially clear at the open and close of a paper due to the fact that there’s a lot going on. You’ve got theses, hooks, so-what statements, oh, and a description of what it is that’s actually being written about. And so we return to the head of the summary paper, where organization was…not present, to be honest. Let’s take a look:
She wore glasses, had braces for the better part of four years, and was a complete bookworm, shying away from social interactions in favor of sitting quietly and diving into her favorite story. However, the experiences she gained growing up led her to become who she is today. (“Ambraziejus” 1)
As I had previously stated, this was an abrupt end to the paragraph. That’s evident. Check out the sentence prior, though. Does it add anything? Sure, it tells about the subject, but it gives no real clues as to what’s coming next. In other words, Not much thought went into how the paper was going to be laid out, and as a result, I threw in some fluff, albeit relevant fluff, to cover for that fact. This became evident as the paper went on, especially considering I didn’t even meet the minimum word count. Here’s a look at part of the conclusion of the critique paper:
Again, the viewer is presented numerous times with Chinese citizens describing the ways in which they are superior to Americans, juxtaposed with those same people wearing clothes and sporting hair styles influenced by American ideals of fashion and beauty. The Last Train Home does a superb job in its use of American culture and Chinese responses to it. Though not always directly juxtaposed, the film gives many different views on the influence American culture has on Chinese society. (“Back and Forth” 4-5)
Maybe it’s the fact that I stupidly used the word juxtaposed twice in the same paragraph, but I’m not even sure what I was writing. I only say that partially in jest. There is no real idea of what the specific points from the argument were. This makes the conclusion feel rushed, and kills any momentum the paper may have had. Oh, the pains of poor organization.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the type that sits down and writes a detailed outline to organize my thoughts when starting the writing process. Maybe it, like writing as a whole, just didn’t appeal to my younger, more impatient self. Or maybe in the past I just procrastinated and as a result had to churn out papers at the last minute. It’s probably that last one, but all the same, it has hurt me. Now, like I said before, I knew how I was going to write this paper before I started. To me, that’s a step in the right direction. However, I did step my organization game up on the research paper as well. Where the prior two works looked hastily thrown together at the last minute (doesn’t mean they were, just saying), the research paper had a much more refined organizational approach, with three clear points supporting the main argument, bookended by an introduction (and historical context!) and a conclusion that highlighted said points. Take this passage from the introduction, for instance:
This is evident in three ways: first, through the examination of Chinese popular music and the piracy of Western music in China; second, by looking at shifts in Chinese governmental policies and societal views that resulted in the growth of Western classical music; third, through the examination of a piece of classical music from the Cultural Revolution period called the “Yellow River Piano Concerto.” (“Chord” 1)
There we go! Unlike the previous two papers, which tried to summarize all these points into one big mess (or just didn’t try at all—looking at you summary paper), here we have three clear points that let the reader know exactly what they’re looking for, and provide a solid foundation for further extrapolation (check out that rhyme!). Though perhaps not the most exciting thing to read, it doesn’t have to be—that’s the job of the hook. It does its job, and it does it well, and that’s something that I had gotten away from in the past few years of writing.
Years of writing and I still have a lot to work on. While I’ve certainly grown throughout the semester, there’s one area in particular that I still don’t feel so comfortable with: transitions. It’s odd for me that this is the case, because I can remember a distinct point in time where transitions were one of my strongest suits. I’m not really sure what happened (lack of practice, I only thought I was good at them, the world may never know), but they’ve taken a nosedive. Transitions were something that came up often in notes and meetings concerning my papers. Ms. Bone stated that my transitions were “underdeveloped” (Bone “Chord” 9). And if that one-word evaluation isn’t enough, here’s the last sentence of one of my paragraphs from the research paper:
The Chinese government, through the resurgence of Confucian ideals, has sought to produce a morally upright generation, and they have adopted Western classical music as a means of furthering this vision. (“Chord” 4)
And the response: “Transition?” (Bone “Chord” 4). Not my proudest moment. While I admittedly had shuffled around my paragraphs just prior to turning in the first draft, it was still an oversight that I’m bad about making. It’s not the worst area to be lacking in, but it kills the cohesiveness of a paper when the writer randomly cuts to the next topic.
Now to the conclusion. Was that transition forced? Yeah, well I’m working on it… Anyway! I must say, I’ve rather enjoyed this class. Far more than I had anticipated, in fact. I have gained a lot from the course, and I don’t just say that in hopes of a higher grade (though I’m sure there will be some cases of that). Introductions, support of evidence, and general organization all improved (in my opinion) markedly. And that’s not something that has happened in a long time for me. Probably the last time I saw improvement in myself as a writer was freshman year of high school. That’s a lot of stagnation. And yet, somehow, someway, I recovered. Ever so slightly, but it was growth, and that’s a good thing. And so, with that, I’m done with my last English class. I’ll admit, it’s a bit odd, but these are skills that I’ll (more than likely) be applying to all sorts of fun stuff (grants, letters, etc.) for years to come.
Word Count: 2964