An Exercise in Specific Word Choices and Empathetic Perception

In The Geography of Girlhood, a poetry novel by Kirsten Smith, a poem called "How My Father Sees Us" inspired me with the idea for a writing prompt that would use the opening words of each of Smith's four stanzas as an organizational tool to create an original work. After reading Smith's poem aloud, and discussing the word choices and structure, I presented to my students the following prompt: Write a poem, or a poetic piece of prose, titled "How My ____ Sees Me [or Us]," structuring the stanzas or paragraphs based on these opening lines from the stanzas of Smith's poem (but changing the pronouns--and making verb forms agree, of course--as needed):

To him, we are... (This could change to "To them, I am," or "To her, we are," or "To her, I am.")

Because of us, he's...

He tells us he hopes that...

We will be...

I explained that the exercise aimed to challenge their use of vivid images and details, as well as their empathetic ability to see themselves through others' eyes. Kirsten Smith's vivid details of the sisters identified as "we" and "us" in her poem, include "piles of lingerie," "dented fenders," "a trail of CDs," and "a chip in the paint." We discussed how such objects reveal a lot about a character, and I asked them to choose their own details based on their power to paint a persona. Not only were the resulting details from my students vivid, but their pieces were remarkably poignant.

Some examples of vivid details I recall from the notes I took during class:

"To her...I am never around to help, always working on 'less important things.'"
"To him, we are a pile of stinky gym shirts left on a bench."
"Because of me, she's always running out to the store to get more food because I 'never stop eating.'"
"She's given me a life full of lessons that will be appreciated later...even though I may not even give her credit today."
"To her, I am an excuse for her not to have to talk at the table."
"To her, I am a shopping spree and a 2-hour phone conversation with a friend."
"To her, I am a reason to be nervous."

I even wrote my own poetic response to the prompt while the kids were writing theirs. I've posted it on my other blog: www.susanllipson.blogspot.com. The title is "How My Kids See Me." Perhaps I should write "How My Students See Me"? I can already think of one detail: "Because of her, our words end up posted anonymously on a blog." I think they should all start their own blogs, and post their works in their entirety, like my student Erin does; check out her blog at www.howtooverscheduleyourchild.blogspot.com (Congrats to Erin, by the way, for winning a distinguished California Teachers of English award!)

About Similes

Similes in literature are like chocolate chips in cookie batter: too few make for bland, unsatisfying snacks; too many make you nauseated after a few bites; the wrong kind—bittersweet—can ruin the overall flavor and make you instantly trash the whole batch; and the perfect handful makes you devour every crumb!

One more cooking tip: mix similes with metaphors (as in the recipe directions above), for additional richness. And be sure to remove any half-baked cookies before serving.

My Roundtable Critique--as a STUDENT, Not a Teacher

At the annual Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators New York Conference last weekend, I participated in two round-table critique sessions, not as the moderator--my usual role--but as a student participant. Like the other 8 writers at my table, I prepared a 500-word sample from a current work-in-progress, distributed copies to everyone at the table, and then read my sample aloud to be critiqued by my table mates. I didn't feel nervous at all...I thought.

Until the person beside me was reading, and I knew I was next.

I felt stunned by my racing heart, and by the questions ricocheting in my head: "Should I read the pages in an Irish accent?"; "Should I read in my normal voice?"; "Should I ask someone else to read my words aloud?"; and "Should I read THIS opener to this group, or the one from my YA novel instead?" I reprimanded myself inwardly for my anxiety; after all, I, a published author and experienced public speaker, shouldn't be as nervous as one of the kids who enters my workshop for the first time! Absurd!

Once I got started--reading in an Irish accent, by the way--I felt my anxiety ebb away with each laugh my words elicited. I was liking this now... Hearing the laughter out loud, in the expected places, sounded like an enriching soundtrack to my earnest author ears. It's one thing to hear and see evidence of readers' engagement with your words when you read aloud an already published work; it's quite another thing to hear enthusiasm for a work that has yet to see print. I realize that I never "workshopped" my previous books, and I will never NOT "workshop" my manuscripts again, because the feedback gained can actually speed up the submission-to-publication process by taking some of the guesswork out of the revision process. Plus, in my case, with the reading of my newest humorous novel for ages 10 and up, the critique session made me feel as if I had around me the beginnings of a fan base--especially when two fellow writers told me they'd love to buy the book someday, based on what they read.

Relating this experience to the workshops I lead for young writers, I must note that some students hesitate at first to share their works aloud, probably because the only "communication" that has occurred in their writing process before coming to my workshops is usually between themselves and their school teachers. But these kids get hooked on feedback once they hear their first round of applause and hear comments and questions that specifically address the word choices they made, often painstakingly, and the thoughts that they transcribed.

As I like to explain to my students: when we write, we connect the DVD players in our brains to the DVD players in our readers' brains via the electricity of vivid words, thus transferring memorable word pictures.

My experience "on the other side" has made me an even more enthusiastic advocate for the workshop method as the only meaningful way to teach writing.

Making a Stand with an Essay

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote: "To be is to stand for." Well, to write is to stand for, too.

The other day, one of my tutorial students presented me with an essay full of what I call "DUH lines"--statements of obvious, unenlightening facts, without any new perspective. I asked, "But what do YOU think about the story? Where is YOUR interpretation? That's the only reason I want to read your essay. I already read the story myself; I don't need a simple summary. Teach me something new, or at least make me argue with you!"

"But this is a Response-to-Literature Essay, not a Personal Narrative Essay or an Editorial, so I don't think I'm supposed to write my opinion...."

"Think again!" I interjected. "Remember what I told you about how a thesis must be arguable--not a DUH line? Well, you have to prove your argument with the rest of the sentences. Each one builds upon the one before it, to convince the reader of your perspective. I can understand the story just by reading it. But I can't understand YOUR perspective on the story unless you share it with me. Again, the only reason I want to read your essay is to find out what YOU think about the story."

I could see a light bulb popping on over my student's head. And then opinions, in the form of commentary, flowed like electricity. Essays should turn on readers, not turn them off!

List-making

A friend of mine brought me a Hanukah gift today: a mostly blank book of prompts to make me start lists--lists of favorite activities, music, books; lists of valued experiences and intangible treasures; lists that can define who I am in a minimum number of words. What a great gift for a poet who values conciseness and meaningful word choices! I have written "list poems," as well as assigned them to my students. A list of groceries, or the contents of one's desk, has the power to reveal a personality. I have coached young writers to get to know their own characters by devising highly specific lists of their favorite activities or possessions, their passions, their most embarrassing and proudest moments, etc. Lists offer tools for learning about people and the worlds in which they reside. As a tool for introspection--which is what the book/journal gift aims to be--list-making provides insights for personal growth.

But the greatest growth potential posed by list-making lies in its ONGOING NATURE. Never finish a list, for it will always change as you age. Leave blank spaces to fill in, and contemplate the shifting values evidenced by the changes in your lists over the years. Likewise, as a writer, you may ask yourself how one of your character's lists might change over time, and in reaction to certain experiences. Characters, like their authors themselves, must evolve, and sometimes a great way to study their evolution is via list-making.

Thanks, Tina, for the gift. I like it because:
It will force me to put pen to paper (not fingers to keys) when I'm NOT teaching;
It will provide me with insights into myself at THIS age, later, when I'm an octogenarian;
It will remind me of you every time I write in it;
It will help me practice my specific word choices to show, not tell, who I am;
It will make me think about who I was, who I am, and who I plan to be.

How's that for a list?

I think the best way that high school and college English teachers can counteract the product-oriented influence of the education system, which precludes in-depth self-analysis and revision of writings, is to assign a final paper about the student's own evolution as a writer. The paper would require that they cite examples from their own previous works as evidence of their progress. I call this the "Introspective Analysis of Writing Progress" essay, which doubles as a comparative literature paper. Using literature THEY have created, students can find new meaning in the typical comparative essay, by comparing their skills and style from one essay to another. They could address issues such as:

~strength and clarity of thesis
~strength and clarity of main points in support of thesis
~conciseness/elimination of superfluous words
~logical progression of points
~effectiveness of concrete details as illustrations of main points
~evocative quality of commentary
~specificity (versus vagueness) in word choices
~smoothness of transitions
~subtlety in expressing opinions
~quality of technical details, such as grammar, punctuation, spelling
~liveliness of writing style (active vs. passive phrasing, vivid words)
~the degree to which the opening entices reading
~the degree to which the conclusion leaves readers thinking.

I think that assigning that kind of essay, toward the end of a semester, or even as a final, can allow students to leave a writing or literature class understanding their overall growth. But they do need to know about the introspective analysis essay from the beginning of the semester, which will heighten their consciousness as they write. The most meaningful means of progress is introspection.

How To Get the Most out of Your Child's Writing with the Least Amount of Hair-Pulling

ALWAYS:
1. Listen to the student read the entire work before making comments. Better yet, read the work aloud to the student. By listening, you will focus more on substance than on mere proofreading errors that catch your eye.

2. Ask questions about what the work conveyed (what you ask will also show what the piece has NOT conveyed.) Read only what appears on the page, without “filling in the blanks” for the student, even if you DO know what he/she meant to say. Address questions line by line, as needed. Rephrase Q’s if the writer seems exasperated.

3. Offer to help the child come up with a better line, as needed, based on the explanations he/she provides in Step 2, above. Suggest alternative words ONLY if your child has accepted your offer.

4. Ask the child to reword lines you suggest, so he/she can own the revised words.

5. Separate substance from form, if possible. In other words, leave proofreading (corrections of spelling, grammar, format, and punctuation) for the final editing phase. Focus first on meaning, flow, power of language, clarity--how the piece touches you, as a reader, overall. Focus on writing as a means of verbal communication between the author and the reader.

6. Suggest that the student double-space all writings (to allow room for editing and revisions), and type the work, if s/he can.

7. Proofread the revision with the author by your side, asking the child to identify errors and omissions, before you correct them.


NEVER:
1. Never interrupt the first reading of the child’s work, whether you read it or he/she does. (Often the author will stop him/herself during this initial reading to self-edit.) Never disrespect a young author by rushing the editing process.

2. Never tell the child what’s wrong; SHOW it subtly via your questions (see “Always” column), which help the student discover necessary revisions on his/her own. Never say “That made no sense!” or “What were you SUPPOSED to write?” or “You can’t turn in something so sloppy to your teacher!”

3. Never dictate: “I think you should say...,” or “You need to add this…,” or “Change that…,” or “Why don’t you write...;” and never make any suggestions until your child answers “yes” to your offer of help.

4. Never let the writer simply transcribe your words. It’s not your homework.

5. Never focus on form or proofreading before substantive editing. Never say, “What kind of grade do you expect, with all those misspelled words, and such a messy presentation?!” Your child will think of writing as filling a paper with neatly printed words, and revising as fixing misspellings and errors in punctuation and grammar. Grades will take precedence over clear communication.

6. Never recopy or retype the student’s work without your child asking you to do so. AND, if you do recopy or retype, never edit as you go; rather, preserve the errors for him/her to catch on the next revision.

7. Never mark up the paper and say, “Here.”