T'i\

COMPOSITION

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EDITED BY;

S'USAN MILLERUNIVERSITY OF UTAH

~a()Cf

N E DAY acollege student stopped aprofessor in the' h;illand said, III have this terrible instructor who says I can't write. Therefore Ishouldn't teach English. He really grinds me. In another class I've been read­ipgJames Joyce', so I wrote this little' commenton the instructor, in Joyce'sstyle. Do you'think I should submit it to The 'Review?" ,

, l The professor looke~ ~t the'lines she had Written apout her instructor: ,

• '! the strid~ntslin his glass'Iisdyke him immersely. Day each that we tumble.into:dhe glass he sez to mee,,~'Eets tob badly-that you $omeday fright preach Engfish."

~ ' .. i . . .~,

and he knew the student had found a name for the phony, pretentious lan-guage .of the schools-Engfish. ' ,

Most English te~che~s hav~ heen trained to correct sti.dents' wr~ting, not~torea9 it; ~o they put doWn'th.o~e,bloodycorreGtion~arks,in the margin&. Whenthe students 'see' th~m; they think they mean th~t tea~hers dOll't care' ,vv.hatstudents write, only how they punctuate and spell. So students give them En­gt:J.sh. :T.:he teach€frs call the assign~~nts.,by th~ir traditio;n~I n8:me-~hen!es.

No one' outside schoolevet writes 'anything called themes. They're teachers'~xe.rcises;,no~ :really a ~nd 9f' cq~l1lunicati~n. On th~' first assig~n~ent in' acollege class, astl;lderit'begin~his~heme like t'h,is:.." \ • i : . , ,..... " , -" ~ '.., t \! • '_:: :: :. . "

J went downtown today for the first time. When J got there' J was completely as': :tonished by the hustle ana the'biIstlethat was going on.: My'first impression ofthe dov\'I1toWn ani!'!' was quite impressive: '

'!

Searc1'l.Pape;; (1988) each promoi~ the 11ses.of vvriting'as self-actualizing processes, Up­taught represented a revolution in writinginstruction by calling attention to the needfor unfettered br~instormingduring prev\/fit­ing and drafting processes. Ma~rQrie's workassociates a writer's 'successes with self­esteem, as these chapters from 'Telling Writ­i1zg (fourth ed., 1.985) show.

THE ,POISON FISH

A writer who does not speak out ofa full experience uses torpidwords, woode1't or lifeless words, such words as 1I1um~a11.itar)', 11

'whic11. have a paralysis in their tails:f'd

KEN '~cRo~iE recei~ed I1}s Ph.b.'from Co­lumbia University in 1955. He has served as 'editor of College Composition and COl1unu­1z~cation, 4as taugh~,at Michigan. St~~el SanFran~iscoState, aqd,Western Michigan uni­versities~ an4 'forthiit~~n suininers ~;as 1minstructor at the Bread Loaf School oPEn:'glish: Macrorie's" books' Uptat-tght (1970)"'Telling Writing (first ed. 1976), and The I '

TELLING, WRITING I ~99

From that p~s~~ge ~ reader 'le~rns wh~t "h~hwayu~".,music sOUl~ds' like!',~ . , :

Man's mat·urity: to have regained the seriousness that he l~ad as achild at play. . ' -FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE

J ;;'. ~'".'"; .'

Telling Truths

All goodwdters'sp~akin honest voices arid:tell·the truth. Forexairiple, hel~e's

Eudora Welty in het dovel Delta Wedding 'writing about India, a girl of n'irie,watching her Unele George make up with his wife after a quarrel:

t .' ". .' ;to : ";, • ~. '. ~. ", ~ ';; " ..'

Just now they kissed, with India co~ing up close on he~ to~s to see if she ~ouldtell yet what there was about a kiss.' '

WRITING FREELY

ire. told the. trutliii1~ ;o~der to se~:':""'GENE ,BARO'

fJllLdm, p.lay; huhwayun musi~ on.my gettar. It is like when grandma,topk a sick:..~.peIL Nowsh~ vv,az shut up,t,ght as ajar ;with a ltd on~ She gave a scre~m.When.

~h~ gave .that sf:r~f:l,ID' i~,W!=lS J:'1igh. But, it g9~ lower aDJl1~wer. Huhwaypn J.11l1sit;:~Qp.J?ds something ~ike when she ~as getting lower. . '

'.' ... , • • •• : .', f .' • ; " ~ ."

i ,students! thoroughly trained in Engfish are hard put' to,·find their ·naturalvoices, in the, classroom. ,'They've left them out in the hall. Much earlier inlife"though, they occasionally have· written'sharply and truly, as this·third­grad~r: did:

Asked what makes :students write badlYi Eudora Welty once said:. .• : • ~ \: •. .} ~ I " <' , ;, , •

The trouble with.bad student writing is the trouble with all bad writing; Itis 110tserious, and it does not tell the truth.

. The difference betw~~n ~he c.oll~ge students' writing and the third-gradechildls is simple.: One is dead, the other alive.' In "the child's comments the'Wort:ls speak, to each otlier--':'7~{gh sp~aks tol~wer.And the ideas and thingssp~ak.t6 ea'fh other~t4e'Hawaii~mguiJai is" like grandmother, and whep shew~s s'lck ~he '\IVas'lp<'e 'a)ar With alid ori:The whql~'passagespeaks' to the re-ilder.It's ~ot p~et~?~?,us ..It's',n~~'pho:ny. It's"no~'private, In'the Engfish paragraphsof'the student themes the words almost 'never speak to each other, arid whenthey do, they say only.ltBlah."

College students were mice third-grad~rsand occasionally wrote like that.Where did they lose tl;1at skHl?'Why?' .' . . "

They spend many hours in school mastering Engfish. The fact that theteacher and the textbook someti'q1es employ Engfish suggests to them thatit's the official lal1giIage' bf ,the schooV They're lef,lrning ~ language" that~~ev~l1ts':the:tri froin wbrl?ng toward ~thiths, ana SO" they slide into tellinglies. ' '-" ' ~, J:! l, .

.,' .In this empty ~irde,: 'teac;:Hei-s' "and. students wander "around boring each"other. 'But there is a way ·out. ," ( .. ".

Another kind of Engfish-not fancy, academic language, but simple every~4ay words that say ilOtping because th~y keep all the womanis experience pri­vate. Anyone else readIng that entry would forg~t it insta~tiybecause neitherthe writer n~r the person written about comes alive. A year hit~r the sentencewould mean almos~ nothing even to th~ writer. ,

Teachers become fed up with writing like that. They d911~t see that.most oft~e signals in the school are telling students; to write Engfish. Even the text­book begins with an Engfish sentence, and surely it should be a model ofwriting for students. Its first sentence is:

Engfish figain. Only tWQ teams play in a football game and then~ could be noreason in that sentence for uSfng the word respective. But it was, the sort ofword the writer thought Engfish teache~swanted.

With all that fish smell permeating the room, teachers feel queasy. They tryother ways of getting rid of Engfish. They ask students to keep personal jour­nals. Maybe if they talk about themselves they'll find their natural voices. Thenext day one woman turns in a journal containing this entry:

It is hard to realize just how much you miss someone until you are away fromthis person. It seems that the time spent away from this 'person is wasted. Youseem to wait and wa'it till you can see th~s person again: Then when the timecomes', it passes far too quicldy. '

The co-captains of the respective teams ar~ going out to the middle qf the fieldfor the toss of the coin.

Pure Engfish undefiled, a tongue never spoken outside the walls. No studentwould stop a!10t~er,on campus and say, "l desire as~istanceinlocating San~gren Hall," or "Will you show me the mosteffectfve way to' write this paper?"Naturally the stud~nt thinks the textbook is a mode~ of the language teacherswant, so she gives that language to them.' '

If you are a student who desires assistance in order to write effectively and flu-ently, then this textbook is written for you. ., , "

B'ut wise men pierce this rotten d·iction and fasten 'tllords again tovisible things. -RALPH WALDO EMERSON

298 J KEN MACRORIE

Teachers don't want Engflsh, but they g~t it. Discou~aged, they otte~ try a dif­ferent tacl(. Ask the sty.dents to write about sports; then maybe they'll drop En­gfish ~ecause they care about what they're saying. One starts a theme like this:

Beautiful Engfish. The writer said not simply that he was astonished, butcompletely a~tonished, as if the word astonished had, n9 force of its own. Thestudent reported (pretended would be a truer' word) to' have observed hustleand bustle, and then explain~din true Engfish that the hustle a~d bustle wasgoing on. He managed to work in the academic word area} and finished pysaying the impression was impressive.

300 I KEN MACRORIE

This'is the ,first requirement for good writing: truth;: nbLthe;truth(whoeverknows 'surely what that is?), but some kind of truth--,-;-a connectio'n betweenthe things written about, the words used in the writing, anq the author's ex­perience in a world she knows well-whether in fact or dream or imagina-:,tion.

Part of growing. up is learning to tell lies, big and little, sophisticated andcrude, conscious and unconscious. The good writer differs from the bad onein constantly trying to shake the habit. She holds herself to the highest stan- 'dard of truth telling. Often she emulateschildren~'whotell the truth so easily,partly because they do not sense how truth will shock their elders.

A seventh-grade boy once wrote:' ,

I'd like to be a car. You get t~ g~ all over and get t'o go through mud puddleswithout getting yelled at ... that's what I'd like to be. '

The 'style of this passage is not disti~gufshed.Get is he~e not akey word andyet it's employed three times. The writer switches confu§ing!Yfrom I toyo~£~'The language of the pCls,sage is not yx~iting. No l11emorable pictures arepro~,je'ctecl. Yet the statemen't st.rikes with force because the boy speaks truly; hisshoe~ and the tires of the c~rdo become ~l,lddy.'lJe gets yelled at by his par,-'ents and the car does not. The comparison surprises.' lts candor eJraws a smilefrom the reader.' '" ,;, ,

I never think I have hit it hariuniess it ~ebmtnds,~SAMUELJOHNSOJ~~'

Any person trying to write honestly a!l? a,ccu~ately soon finds he has al­ready learned a hundred ways of writing f~l~ely,As a child he spoke and wrotehonestly most of the"time, but when he reaches fifteen, honesty and truthcome harder. The pressures on his; ego are greater. lJe re~ches for impres~ive

language; often it's pretentious and phony. He imitates the style of adults,who are often bad writers themselves. They ask q~estions. So he asks ques­tions in his writing: "Did you ever think what might have happened to SouthMrica if the Boer War had not been fought?" A false questiQl1': The writerkno,ws most-if not all-of his readers h~ve not thol,lght of this possibility.However well meant-a false question. In class this 'person is anxious to im­press the teacher, so he begins his paper by saying:

The automobile is a mechanism fascinating to everyon~ in, all its diy~rse ,mani­, fe~tQtions and in every conce~vable kin~, ofs.ituation ()r circufi,lstance.

His first remark is .simply untrue. Cars 'do not fascinate ev~ryone.In this paper the writer has placed J:lis vocabulary on exhibit (mecha­

nism, diverse, manifestations, conceivable, situation, ,c~rcumstance) ratherthan put it to work An honest writer makes every word pull its weight. Inthis writer's opening sentence, the' words kind of ar~ ,not worldng at alLThey could be dropped with no loss. What does he mean by Hall the diversemanifestations", of a car? Cars don't occu~ in'manifestations but in models.

TELLING WRITING I 301

!f the c~,rs he's referring to are custom-made and not stricti s eakinmo?els, then,he should say he's Writing about hybrid cars. At t~e: ening

of hIS paper, hIS reader has no inlding that he's talk' b I P g;~:siaAstnd

hnothin

tgh

-could be, more untrue than the l~~o~g~~tc~~~e;~a~yep rase- at everyone finds C' f ' . H'ki d' f ' " . ,". ars ascmatmg Il1 every conceivable

n ,0 sItuatIOn or CIrcumstance" Whe''n th 'I. e va ves need r 'd'1,7,000 miles at a cost of $125.00 even the 'I fi d h~grm mg atl"epulsive., , ' car over n s IS loved one

tbi'"~Compare this writer's pretentious, and untrue statement ,about cars wI't'h

s account: ' ,

'Thundering down a Northern Michi anh' h" "; Lthe rest ofthe world The wi d gf h Ig way at mght I am separated from

k . n ows,o t e' car are all rolled down and I'd:ma es a

hdeep.rumbling as the. car :rises and falls with the dips in t: le wm

ment. T e whIte center lines come out of the darkness h d' hle pave-~~:hl~ ~~adllights. °knly to dis~ppear :;tgain under the fro~t~:d;;~ftth: b~:::t

19 s a so pIC up trees, fenceposts and 'I ' ,standing by the roadside, but like the white lineasnt~~CaslOna, deer, or raccoona few seconds and then are lost in the blackness b : come mto VIew o~ly forhave th~t any world exists outside the range of the ~e:~dl' mhet · The hon1y sIg,ns Ious che ' , db .. f ' .' Ig S are t e contmu-h "ejIng ~n ~ZZIng 0 , the crickets and the smells from farms' and sul-

p ur pIts pass. But the rushmg wind soon clears h 'b~ myself again 'to liste~ to the qUicldy passing cr~~~~ ~se ~fors"leavmg mefaInt gree~ lights and the red bar ori'the dashbQard tell ~e ~I ~ever, see'hTh~at 90 m.p.h,; I put more pressure on the ed'al: d' ,m p ungIn~ a,eaup to 10<:)' 110 Th" I'.. ' fl: , ',P, un er my foot; the bar mov,es, , .. ,. , " e mes ash by faster and the ro 'f 1 'do~t the, n~ise of the crickets and the ni h1.' r am fl' ar. 0 t le WIll drownsVIbrations' of the road through th t ~ h IYJ.n~ thlou~h, I can feel theth,e gradual curve ahead and'then

e~a~~r:ng ,w /e 'hI tfrn the ~hf;!eJ slightly for

the pedal to the floor and 8't the s' a' ' t.gam

or ht de ong straIghtaway, I press; , me lme reac own t t h h' bon my left that will roll up the w' d f' 0 ouc t e uttons

120 buried With th' d" In ,owhs, Or m9re speed; the bar reads '115 . , ., , . e WIn ows up, t e only sourid is th h' h . h d

aIThOemadthlI,ek engine as it labors to keep the rest of the:ma'c~in~ghJ::l~nge b;:od~ny

e a runaway express tra' 0 1 I h h" ,on the brights to advailce iny sc~n~ '~~, a.ve ~ ehPow,e;to .~ontroI it. I flickthe black further up', ahead yet b p 0 VIsflo1n an t e whIte Imes Come out of

, ,ecause 0 t le speed the ' f . h 'faster than before: I am detached fr th f 'h' y re out 0 Sig t evenam alone. am e rest 0 t e world as it blurs past. I

-HENRY HALL JAMES

This boy may have been drivin t;': '. II h 'relat,ively uninhabited re'g' , b

ga1.:. an Imm~r~ y igh speed-:-even for a

IOn- ut ne was wntmg 'II b' hstaying true to the feel of his ' , ' , '.' ~ora y, ecause e was. 'h; expenence, Wntmg thIS way requires a' quickJU~.p In t e car and a zooming away before one remembers all hdrIvmg habits he has picked up watching bad older dr' 'l: .. t

fe

truth. ' ,: , Ivers. J.ry wntmg or

Neve; say that ~oufe~la thing unless you feel it distinctly; and ifrou °not feel # d'tSt1nctly, say at once that you do not as J1et quite'/trtOwyour awn mind. S

- AMUEL BUTLER

302 I KEN MACRORIE,

;;

,1 '. ,l l

Writing One Wrjte for ten minutes' as fast as, youcan,nev~~ stopping to pon-'del'.a though~'" Put,down whatever comes to your mind.. lfnothing comes,'write, "Nothing comes to my mind" until you get starte& Or. look-in front! oByou or out the window and begin describing whatever_:you',see. Let yourselfwander to any subject, feeling, or idea, but keep writing. When ten minutes/isup, you should' have,filled a largenotebook,:,sized page;-Remember you1re hit­ting practice shots. If what you write is bad or dull, no one will object., :.; ¥

Save all the writing which you produce while reading this book. Keep it ina manila filing .fQlder so .you can go, back ,to it· ~o ..rf3vi~ejtor look for para­graphs or-pages that m~y be combined ;or: expanded into stronger work. ~Astime passes, you'll see your words differently and sometimes learrrfrom themwithout doing further work. ' ,; ,.

Here's what one student'wrote in ten minutes:

~le,ctfical ~torlI1' the greate~t,~ho~ o~: ea~fh ~nd 'al~: ~~r; 'fr~e,. :~t I~9ks like, ~rc.welding, the h1liu~ arcon a torch. Lo.llg,d~y, c,oop~d lW in,~ark",dirty factory;welding g~s tat;lks, t~nks for tr1;lcks", hus~s,tract9r~ .. TweI!:ty~sey~p, ~n; I.'rY~J;y hQ~fday aft~f day., H.:ot sparks, blinding, fl~sh~~:. Lil<.e tfie, time, a ~an~ :ha~. b~eRcleaned with gas0li~eap~; the fumes nO(f.ein;C?ved:.,Jus~.o,:eimpr:ess~~:miw~s, ~heresult, not heat or light or sound-:-qll of th~rn rQlled into one ilIl,pactw~en t~ei

tqrc;h~e'~'off the fumes., No r~al:,da:rnag~,just a :lof ~~:sf!.1~~{~ and twi~teq,~~taLThere'was an electrical storm the ~ight before Iwas to quit the job. It's str~ng~

how ~uch'~o'r~ 'diffiqult it' ~~~ to get up thatrriorning qre~dli.g every h()tl~ of~~~~I).An;i~teresti~g'~otipi~ ki~sin.g wit~ reai p~~siQn 'in' front',bt23, ,piople in. asmail roo~ off the UniQIl; lmmg~. At any rate the el,~ctrical storm' had l~qsked:o~t the tian,sformer and there w~sn't any work tha(day. It didn't bother m:~~ bJ;1twl~at of the;r~gul~r w9rker~ w~o t~e loss of a d~Y's~ar could mean th~ ~~ssingQf a rent or car pa)1Ilen~?,T~rror is a r~t:~ thing in American life, tp.at, is ~he fearof.ac~ual ppys~c~l h~f~~,~utthat las~ d~y at,work I sa,w,real fe~r iI)., ~olPeo#e. All,the worker~ wert~ stapdi:pg in the yard w~it~ng to see i.f they were going to wqrkth~t day and a truck driver brough~ in a 19~q.()f'steeL fIe 'thought,we'we:re:'onstrike, a~cl industI1~1 'worker~ "arft 'not w~Il7l<howri fOf the ldndness'.they ,~e.etstrike .breakers'with,. And the d~iver had ~ lot to'los~7hi~ thIck arid, p~rh?ps ~few teeth:' , ' '" ' .. . . ' ..

. No En~fish in that ;writipg, No, ph?ntnes~, Qrpr~tensio~. ApR~reJ?tly t~ewriter pqt ,down words so fast h~ used, his own.,rn,atural lang1J~ge 'with~;u~

thinki~g of .l1is exPression. fIe gQt a lot said in;a short ~p,ace, ~J?d at,tim,e~,wrote skillfully, as wheJ?,he rendt;red exactly t1:J.e effect of th~expIQsiQ:q.: '"

',. ' ..,. , " . ',' .

Just one impression was the result, not heat or light or sound-all of theP1rolled into one impact when the torch set off the fumes.

Like any human being who wants to communicate, herecord'ed facts thatspeak: a couple kissing in front of 23 people, a day without work might meana worker missed a rent or car payment. Telling facts as true as those led him

TELLING WRITING, \ 303

to fl, strong qnd surprising generalization:· liTerror is a rare thing in Americanlife'." , " '

But~verall~ ·the paper is a jerky: pie~e of writing. The writ~~ frequentlychanges subject without warning and hi~ts that he realizes he's doing this bybeginning one sentence with the phrase:'"At any rate." He begins the papertalking about an unidentified storm, is reminded of welding, diverted by a<;ouple ,kissing nearby, jogged by the memory of astomi that affected his workin! a fa~tory, and led to discuss the' attitudes of industrial :workers towardsfiike-hrealdrig."He makes connections between some' of these subjects and'fails to do so with others. Apparently he doesn't develop the description of thest'ornithat he begins With. He doesn't present a full picture"of the kissing cou­ple or the reaction or lack of reaction from the: 23 people sitting nearby.

'les 'notafully realized bit of Writing, 'but it's h,on.'est and at moments strikesf~s ~ own .sparks and' sounds its :small eXplosions. The student who dashed offthfspaper ca;fi'write, no doubt about that~And he got ria of his Engfish onthefl~st try. He's'bn hi& way. ' ,

'Another student in tIle same· class turned il) this paper for her first fre,eWrIting: :' . .

Everyone wants to feel usefu~ to someone, anyone. They wapt to feel th'ey ar~

doing something to help;' even in a minor way. If you don't feel useful you be-'come depressed. You feel without. No friends, nothing to look forward to. Thereseems a loss of ambition and:concentration. The world ,seems against, you findunimportant matters to brood over.

'Whenever everything seems at its werst, yoa'find a person who is worse offthan you. Guilt runs through every pore, your petty worries become unimpor­tant to y,0u. The world se~ms much h~:ppier now,

Th~ :writer,~f that pass~gewas trying f'~11 Great Th6ughtsinstead o'f fo~ truth,Her language comes out flabby and her great thoughts obvious and th'ed, withnone of the surprise of the statement liTerror is a rare thing in American life."She doesn't really care what her words say, or she never would have wriUen'

., Whenever ~verythingseems at its worst, yotJ find a person who i!,i worse off thanyou.

The fact is that when ev~rythingseems at its w~rst for ~om~ of us, we some-times find, ~ perSPl1 better off than w~ are and we feel even worse. , I

In contrast, here's anotherpersQn, feeUI)g h~q. about, the' wqr!cl seemingagainst her, only she's trying to be true-to the world out there-the facts ofit, to what so,meone actuallY said to her, and to her o'Wn feelings, nQt to whatshe thinks the teacher wants. ' , ' : "

W >,1

. "Everyone ~r~~md, here is having ~n awful time getting alo;'g With me. I'm'b~ingpositively intolerabl~., MOIlJ is trying really hard not to sa~7 anything in the wrongtone of vo~ce, so that'! feendnd of--':'what's that 014::'fashioned word,:asl1.a1~ed ofmyself. One day I'm in a great :rhood~and you c'oilld yeBat me all you wantedwithoufmaking me mad or huit. lfhe next day (or the next hotit.for that matter)you could say llGood morning;>' then yawn, and I'd burst into tears. I suppose

304 I KEN MACRORIE

.:,that is not awfully abnormal (at least that's what Mom says--in her psychological"tone, "It's just a phase. You'll grow out of it.") By the way, that makes me maq, 'too. I don't like to .11ave my life s~mJ11ep up in a series of phases. It seems li~~~

. she's, saying, "You can't help acting like an idiot. It corp.es natural. at this ag~., i

. But don't wc:rry, you'll outgrow'it. It'll pass." . , ':

A good part of the time, w'riters m~st sense their readers out there. In a wa;they' become thetr own readers while they write. They talk to a reader a~d:hear that talk thems~ive&. When you acquire that knack, readers will com~'along with you. .'. . . .B~bind that terrible' piece of Engfish beginning HJ%veryone, wants to fe~l

useful to someone" may lie some.'good stories. But the writer never gave ~h~'

reader a Once. She never l;lega:p. to d~scrib~ the day on which she fOU119 a per-'son worse off than her, m~ch less showed the reader that person. The girlwhp, said, IIEveryone arou~d here is having an awful. time getting ~lonRwithme," didn't get down to aOnce either except when she quoted,'what M,~m,'ml,1st have said.once, Of-more accurately-:-many times. If she had, she.prob­ably would have produced a long valuable story. The writer who' tl1Inks of aOnce is almost sure to get going and say something that counts for her andher reader.

A profes~;or rece~ved these paragraph~ from identical twins'in her class.

I have not, had & bad day like that one for aJong time. I guess this Christmasseason was just too much. I feel like I have evolved. from ~ cocoon now. I Can

, see the light again. Things seem so funny when you see them, and it fs liketrying to loqk through cardboard. You are missing something.

The first day we got in the wrong math section. Wrong room-300 instead of2 309. Then Tuesday we' got stuck in the snow in the driveway, and we missed

the math class. Got"there in time to say good-bye to the instructor. See yoU'Th~~ ,

The first writer never got down to'revealing the day, only the. feelings she hadas a result of it. Her metaphor about trying to look through cardboard is good,but the day is nothing at all because she refused to once it even once. Thesecond writer let the reader know what happened, once, twice, and threetimes, and her paragraph swings a little.

When you write freely whatever comes" into your mind, remember thatmemory or thought is now coming to you as a once and it probably is based onmany ol~ces you need to put ,doWn for yourself and your reader.

Writing Two Write three or more of these absolutely free writings. Choosetimes when no one will disturb you, before breakfast or late at night perhaps.Go beyond ten minutes if the river keeps flowing. But don't expect anything.You're just 'warming up. Maybe none of your ten-minute writings will producean interesting sentence:. pon'~ worry. Write. And don't think about p.~nctua­tion or grammar or style. P~tdown on~ word. as a sentence if YOlf wish.Maybe your writing will be completely ~n~nteresting to others. As long asyou're trying t~ write honestly and you're writing fast and steadily to fill up apage or two without stopping, you're writing freely.

TELLING WRITING I 305

Writing Freely,With fiocus

Fre~,i.oi "sho~gun:"~itfIig'('as telfcher )oh,n Bennett at Central High School,Kal~l'naioo, iYIlcI1igan; 'tails .~t) .Involves no pressu.re; If the writer goofs hehasp't fgiled',' hu)tsiI1,1p~Y·fiJl~.d a page thilf can be thro~n away." .

, • . •• * ' ( ~ ~ J'- .' • .' • ,

Writing Three Now try free writing with more purpose. Stay on one subject£9': fifte.ep; or. ~~ntY\!}l;~Iwt~s as the writer did when she said that everyonethoughtshe, was beingpositiv;ely intolerable!But if you find that subject takesYq!-,p.~.f!ltrd off to,~nothe.rFell;l.ted subject, let yourself go to tlIat. The one ne:­S~s~it:y in s"Hch s}Iptgunnjng is that.you keep wri~ing fre~ly and quickly.

Thotighfis 'an infectib'l'l.: lntlte case ofcertain tlwughts it becornesan epidemic.' i .. ', -WALLACE STEVENS

Here is a focused free writing:

r#as vvaUdng dowp-: the hill to t~e valley. Then all of a sudden, the girl in fro'ntof me tobk h fI~p. Ha! Hal If I didn't know better, I would have thought that shewas on the gymria~tfeteam:r took no more than h'VO steps. Wham! !here I lay:Hal.Ha! . " . '

"Reminds me of a time back home when my friends and I went to GarbageHill. A great place .to go tobogga~ing.· It was om- first time thef(~ and we didn'tIm'ow what the hill was like. DarJi"out, the sky '''''as clear, and the)night cold. Atthe bottom and about 150 feet out were the woods. We couldn't understandwhy people avoided~hem., i

'We starteHat theitop of the hill, art almost straight drop. I didn't think that wewould be;'able to make it. Have yoir ever been on' a vibrating machine? What a way,to lose weight; 'or:a few other t~ings. Hit a mound toward the bottom of the hilLThe toboggan flew through the air, along with a couple of my friends. There were.just two of us left. We landed and shot. Everything became blurry. The woodscame up fast. Whi~i:qg past. trees. Splashl There we sat, up to our heads in water,

This writing is so honest it reveals the writer twice making a fool of himself.He puts the're8;der there by once-iftg both i~cidents, .

Not every strong communication employs the secret of ol1~e. If writers arefaithful to,''f~i.¢jr feel~~gs 'a'~d tl~iie to the world they have experfenced or imag­ined, they'sometimes can write generalizations that carry the punch of partic­~lglr facts, ,f;lsdid :this student in a free writing;

When I was a kid I was fat. It's no fun to be' fat. I used to try to be jolly, but""that's hard to 'do when yo~ don'~ have a damn thing to be jolly about. How ca~

you laugh after yo'u spill your lunch tray all over the cafeteria floor? Or, evenworse, score the winning point in a tense intramural game at the wrong bas­ket. I couldn't run fast,which left out sports, and wasn't jolly enough to raisemyself in the social strata, so I became-I guess it was inevitable-a nothing.

But really, it's kind of fun to be nothing. You sit around with your nothing.' "friends and laugh at the ·cool kids as they try to keep up their image. I didn't

have to try, which relieved a lot of pressure, and was content in my nothingworld, a never-never land between social life and death. It's easier my way, since

01"

306 I KEN MACRORIE .

In a few minutes Mom and Dad are going out ,to eat. ,She's got on a long-sleevedyellow dress, black fish-net nylons and black heels. When she doesn't notice,Dad looks at her. Then he rests his head on the tJac:;k of the red chair and closeshis eyes.

Last night Bob brought me h9meat twelve o'clock. We h3;d been wrestlingand playing tag on the gras~, in back of Sangren. We were still laughing when helet me out of the car. I pinched his buns and ~h~~ ,he ,messed up my hair. Wegave each other a noisy kiss under o.u~ five'7watt PQrch light, and he left.

Mom and Dad were still up. I was relieved because I thought we might havewakened them. I started to go upstairs when Dad.·asl\e.d me to wait. I put mybooks down and sat at,~I1~ des!}..Moll}'s fac~ was t!ght and her frecldes were lit­tle red spots. Dad kept pltffing on his pipe. fie pegan. ~tyour mother and I havedecided to get a divorce. But even though I'm leaving, remember you're still mydaughter and you always will be."

Then he started to cry. Mo!U"a.nd I were q:ying' too. J ran over and put myarms around him. His ~ears fel~, ho~ on my neck, Then he said, lIGo to yourmother, she feels bad, to~." ,', . . ,

He left tonight-to his little apartment On Copper Stre~t., Mom helped himmove, and she cried when she saw it. The bedroorp ,is lavender with a purplebedspread. The furniture looks like Antique Barn,.A~ig crack funs up and downthe door. When he left, he took a lamp, four glasses, and an ash tray.

... what is always provocative in a W01-k ofart: roughness ofsuiface. \¥hile . . . [these writings] pass under our eyes tl~ey areft.£ll ofdents and grooves and htmps ap.dspikes which draw jr011J

us little cries ofapproval and disapproval., ,.-E. M. FORSTER

I just wish the city would plo~ the sidewalks out~ide ~ur apartment. They qowhere my folks live.

~ :.

, • :'.' 1 I ~qm~ti;';es begi1~ a (lra'wit1g with n'o p~~c~'nceived problem toJ , solve;with ~:nily ~he 4esire to u?e pencil on paper and make lines,'~ 'toneS'and:shdp'~s with no consc:i01.£s ai'ln;' hut as'my mind'takes in

wHat 'is' so' produced a point ari'ives where s(;nne idea hecomescons.cio'Us and crystallizes, and then a control and ordering heginsto;take.place.. ;, , -HENRY MOORE, SCULPTOR

TELLING WRITING I 307

You may wonder how these stu'dents couIdproduce such complete writingsin a quick rush. Actua~lyseveral of the :accounts ran longer, and their wastedwords and irrelevaiii 'parts were dropped. One or two papers came off thewriter'sp~nju~t as they are presented here, but that ~s a rar~ happe~ing evenfqr profes$i~ri~l,~it'ers.' " . ' , "

t .. . . ~ : . '. ~;. . ',' ~. ~

In the next foc'used ~ee Vvr'itfng, the effQ'rt'to tell truth paid'off more signifi-cantly. ' ' , ,' I· ".... '.

made is small and perh~ps trivial, put the habit she was developing was largeand 'valriable:' If sHe had6ccaslon to rewrite the account in which those sen­tgRt~s bcciIrre"d;"she: .JJb~l~r re~tat~ the fact arid not call attention to the c~r­rection:

.:- .] . ~,

";,1 ''.~ '",:

Ijt;tst wish' the citY Y;;o~lfl plow t,he iide':'Ya~l--s.:t4eyc;ip :where I:-:-:-weIl"wher~ myfolks live .... ' , ,

There must be no gap between expression and meaning; between':;real and declared aims . .'. It means not saying or thinking, ((I didn!tm,ean to hurt yqurfeelings, !~ when there r.eally existed, a desire tQ . :

h~£rt. It means not SfJYingnl~~nc,heonlJ"p.rIlho~lJfc!rth~ p'/;~rpo~~of..qpP{3~rff?~ uPPt:;r-:cl~s or't!'el~-ed·ucatii4: l~ ,me,aps ;11:C!~ using t~; '.passive mood to contribute to no one in partic'/;f1ar'opini.ons that cineiSl~n-iivilli1ig to c'all one~ own. ,,' ' '~ '-DoNAi.'n· HALL

~he ~lac~~ row 1sh~fte? ~gain. NO,t all together like an; Uabout face/' ~,u,t on,~ ~teran,other, in a ~hain reaction. Without raising his, hari~, one black.1:loy 'addressedthe white girl, "Listen babY, you just don't know wliat happened'. wJ'k.now: Itwasn't ~o bli~d pig that set off them rio'ts." Chorus~IIYeah,' w~ know." C "::: ';':', ~

Tht; girl's fat fa~e had two almost c~mpletely round red blotches on it; out'she 9,6ntin'uc:id, "Well, 'if you all kn~w, tn~n why don't~ yo,u tell llsTterI mer" .

He ~16l.:lcQ.ed down in hi$, chair; half clQsed 'his .eyes arid flicked, his h~nging,wrist ltyoi.l'don't.'wanna lmow. That's all."" " ':" i, ',,'

" , ' , , ,.', ;, :': 1,; ':' "

Don't fool YOIlrseWinto' believing that the 'little 'paperS"pririted' here ;""'etei

Written lby'persons tlying to souhd inipressive. Th'ese Wtiterswe,te\l.writing' a~lfast as they' could for truth; and' these 'papersrep'reseht'io~lythe lmtnneritswhen theY' hit the tinget., Often ,they missed. Wheri'yo'l{s'it: down :tb~ ~ite;freely you must write as fast as you can. You're being asked to move far awayfrom EngQ$~ a~~ that fear~lnervqulji act of tryipg tc;> ,say~ttaf tf=(~cpers saidor what they vv,ant yOll to say. Speak for yourself here', If w4at.,you say is toopersonal or confessional, don't turn it in to the instructor, or ask to have yourname kept secret. Consider this free writing. , ;'

t:'

I can think about other things that are important to a kid-like grades. Every lit­tle ldd has to get good grades if he's a nothing, since' thert:'s: little eIse~,to; d()) j;)

1 .' .This peac:;e was sh9rt-livei1~ becau$~ I st~rred tq E1m,~~ge f~Oln}TI¥, p.gly q\lC~j, 1ling shell, ~l1d the, cool ones recognized that I had p.9tential. So r ~eca~e one',;of the c~orkidsbeing lau~hed 'at by ,t~~nothings. 'But at'leas(I1ow'they ·ap~:·'.;plaud when I spill my lunch tray alh~ver' the' cafeteria JI6or..':...-.:.i:he applau'se' .makes it cool.

: .. ' . .' :!>l.;.: ., ' ...

T4is paperlrepPft.s a:q l1JlcpmfortabJ~}~'4:th" Je~ .not, ple~~;aptl tq ,tJ1inl< thatsome. bll;lC;k and »,h~te per~~ms feel sl,lchhostility, toward:~~c,h, otQe:r,: bJl.~ thewriter puts down her truth.< It i$,more apt to,move people, to action,th?l,n Eng-fishy ,pleas' for kindness and: love. '., "., '

Telling our truths is hard. We allslip'e'asily'info deceptionci b10th 6f'6ui:selv~s;and oth~rs, But a continuing effort to tell truth when writing can become anexciting: habit, and often one truth b'reedsJ~mother.oIi both the' lowest andhigh:est'pl~ne,try t~ be l1onest.,f'bi·exa~ple;!?ne student 'wrote;" ,', '

" • t '. ¥, '" '. 1

She remem~erec:l she no long~rJived at hom:e, but in.aJ;1 ~partm~nt, andcouldn't validly say the city plowed the snow atiher place.. 1The poi~t,she

1'''

3CJ,8 I KEN MACRORIE, ,

Writing 'F.our;Wdt~ fr,eely for ~~e~ty' o~ th~r~ min~F~;s''~bout: s~~~f~in~A~.som;ebody yOll lmew.' ,L~t yourself re~ord the lumps,; find .~ropves, ~~e,~~~~s,and 'spikes. ",' ,

The poem speaks the girl's affection fo~ her fathe't With01it' hearts,'and '~ovvers::;It puts the reader on a real bicycle that is moving· over a real street witn'Fa­ther's hand on the rear fender. It doesn't take the reader down the road of lifeguided by some' mysterious spirit. !he n~rrator,does~'f~G~.~lerself~bo~tFa­ther. He ~n~01,lr~ged,her; but ~as .no s,hirilng lm~g~t, :ratl1~r ,3~anweann~anundershirt 'an~, unc~rtainty.She'll have.a hard tiqle keeping her ,b,ala:p,.ce WIth­out him, but she ImQws she'll have to ride ,on her own;s.om~d.aY""7':'7~veryday.

This is good writing: it doesn't waste words, it shows that the writer lmows

TElLING WRITING I 309

There is no wi1'/.g like m:eaning.-'WALLACE STEVENS

"Past the infield. , . past the infield past everybody." The Sears w!iter said"Becaus~ friction-fit Top stays on Because No Seams ... Because StCl:ndsBoiling Water ..."

J Dropped in mid-sl.lmmer from a helicopter when load~d with 25 pounds ofsand .. '. also dropped when frozen at 20° below zero ... IT BOUNCED. ButSears new exclusive Trash Can simply wouldn't break! (and because it's all'heavy-weight plastic, there was no noisy metallic clang).

. Sears Best ... because of these important reasons:Because Handy Bottom Grips plus side handles and lid handle for easy porta­

bility. No hand-cutting bail handle here.Because friction-fit Top stays on 'without twisting, fits snugly without getting

stuck., Be~ause Nq"Seams: Holds water, won't leak. The utility area stay'~clean~r ...won't be as likely to attract pests.

Because Stands Boiling Water, "boiling" hot sun ... IIboiling" hot concrete.Made to withstand the weather., ~reated' with 'SANI-GARD to retard odor and bacteria ... Won~t llpickup"

odors. : . resists the growth of fungi, mildew and bacteria that c'ausethem.

The barrage consisted of these consecutive elements: a triple to left by'RussSnyder (leading the Yankees to draw their infield in), a single pastthe infield by'Frank Robinson, a single past the irifield by Brooks Robinson and a horpe runpast everybody by Powell.

In some senses, Lois Berg's bicycle poem can't be compared with an ad­verti$ement for a trash canj its intention is different, its achievement greater.But the Sears "writer comescl,oser to creating good literature than many advyriters.. She doe'sn't shoot off,a\'roman candle of ~lIlsuppori:ed adjectives­~agriificent! Unheard-of! Stupendous! Instef;ld she tells clearly how the ca11was tested' for durability. Like Lois Berg she makes the r,e~der'believe, J:>e­cause the details she presents suggest that she knows what she's talltingabout.W~it{ng a ~ports report, HOrioles' .16 Hits Rout Yanks" 9-4," for Th~ New

¥orh. Times, August II, 1996: Joseph Durso shows that like ~ poet h~ Imowshow to make his words speak to each ,other 3;S well as to the reader:

Any kind of writing improves as it approaches the skills with wl~ich MissBe~g wrote her·poem. For e~ample, economy. People who must 'write direc­tions for opening and storing a jar of peanut butter improveas writers if theylear~ to say more with fewer words. The writer for the Sears Roebuck c~talogimpr.oves. as she learns to dramatize more fully the product in use-to put theread~r there, seeing and feeling what he will buy. Here's a good piece of writ­ing from the Sears Spring Th1'ough Summer Catalog, 1966:'

what she's talking about-the pedals come up from behind-cits facts· speakmore than their literal significance.

'; .

;:,.

"

Around 'the~driveway ,and down our side of the block

'm}' father's hand was on the back fender. , and he was runn'ing behind and beside!> '

giving 111.e safesp~ed' ,so Icould:concentrate on steering.Just coasting"I avoided the big trees;mane~wel'edaro'Hnd people on tIle sidewalk,

,,' and began to see the cracks i11. paveme1it, ahead.He saidI was doing fine.B1-{t :the 'peda'ls came up from behind "reminding-my legs they were 10ng8noughand nudged mJ' heels to cooperateto push 'my OllJn weight·dO'ttm and aro'undunmercifully fasterlaughinglyleaving hif,.! behind.rf'l.trned a cornerand for a' moment loo~ed backat'l'/.i1n on the'frout porch .'wearing an undershirt and'/.{ncertainty.Too soon:way 0"," the far~i.deofsom~ bloc1tI try to keep, ":ny'balance.

-LOIS BE;RG

Here's a poem written by a college woman.. '

WHAT IS GOOD WRITING?'

T1~e vital tlifference between a writer and someone who merely isp~£blished is that the writer ~ee'm.s ;alwa);s to be saying to, himse~ asStendhal act~{allydid, IIIf Iam:not 'clear, the 'World ato~md mecollapses." -ALFRED KAZIN

310;;1 KEN MACRORIE

Steve Smith begins his column ;IISport" -in Car and'.Driver, September,;1966, with this paragraph: ";f",.!;!

After completing our six-car comparison road test {elsewhere in this-issue), westarted back to the city on the Long Island Expressway; known variously as theL.I. Di~~ressway; and the world's l~n~est parkiJ?g h?t~ I~ was a quiet Tue~d~y after-

, noon, so we weren't ~ecting much traffic. Soon, however, the three'westboiuldlanes reached the saturation point, slowed to a crawl and then to a stop. Temper:'atures and tempersro~e:' Some of the traffic bled off-onto the two-lane parltllel'service road~ 'allowing ,about half-a-mile of progresS .before clotting. Somebodyhad the bright idea of trying three abreast, and traffic telescoped another few

;hundred yards. In desperation, drivers veered off the roadwayofito the centermall and the outside verge, becoming trapped by cars that had pulled off.to let ra- ,diators cool. Finally, those that were able inched north and south the width of theisland, then turned east. Within three hours, every major artery into the city washopele~sly snarled. Nothing moved. The System had broke~ down once again.'

Mr. Smith cites two humorous. names for the Long)~l~nd,Expre~swa;" em­ploys sound beautifully in ending his sentence "slowed to a crawl and,then toa stop" and makes the words bled, an'd clot speak to each other in a metaphor.Like Miss Berg he seldom uses dull and empty verbs like have, mal~e; is, andcome. .Instead he 'says telescoped, veered, trapped; pulled off, inched, snarled,and brolten dawn.

In The Field Book ofPonds and Streams (G. P. Pl1thani's'Sons"1930), An~eHaven Mor~an wri~es: ' ,

Mayfly nymp~s are of many sh,apes and sjzes; ,some, have Hattened h~ads,andbodie~ ~n~ tl;IeiJ;' sprawJing legs are held aki:qIbo as in 'Heptagenia. Active.~:Q:­ners, like Calliboetis, are set high on spindling legs, ~hile the little creeper, i~p-tophlehia, almost drags its low slung body. '. '

Like: ~iss:Berg, Dr: Mor~an employs' adjectives that ar~n't vague and,inert,but preci~e'and active: ftatt~#ed, sprawling,'spindling, 'low slung.' . , '

GUh;lebooks are usually crammed :with 'fact but written without flavor.T1ieNew, York Guidebook ~dited:bYJohn'A. Kouwenhoveri(Dell ~ltblishingCom-pany, 1964) includes a chapter by Jean Shepherd,' who writes: :,

Mter midn,ight you can fuel up for your ,stroll at Riker's Corner House on thenorthe~st corner of Sixtp and 57th. By day it'i{nlled with quick~lunch officetypes,bilt after midriight{it's an all-night, seven-day-a":week operation) there's asmotley a crew as 'you can find this side of an average painting by Hieronymus'Bosch. Good guys and bad guys, reverends and chicks, all assembled for a plate .of ~crarpbled eggs with onions, or a slab of chocolate cream pie. There are no ta~

bles, only q horse~hoe-shaped counter, ~hich is. served frqm sqmewhere.in thekitchen by an ~ndle~s belt, o~ a high podium, inthe ,center. At Christmastime thepodium is covered with elves, brownies, ~nd a tiny electric train th~t I.once saw

l

derail and crash into seven banana splits. The applause was deafening. In thespring, ,this same treadmill is decorated witq plastic daffodils and rubber tulips,.and so each succeeding season is celebrated amid the hamburgers. It's'the only'way some of the customers can tell what time of year it is. Many of them havenot seen the sun since they were kids. '

TElliNG WRITING I 311

l~i ,Before you start 'east On 57th;.1001<.. up Sixth Avepue. Two blocks north youwill see, the darkmass, ,of Central Park; unfortunately an excellent p,lace to stayout of after dark. There are romantics who will disagree with this. B.l:lt there areequally large numbers of experienced patrolmen and unfortunates who havebeen mugged, who will tell you the truth.

LikeJallgoodwriters'Mr. Shepherd cho,oses from 'his' experience what sur­prises 'hini' mi.d' will 'stlrprise his reader, and 'he de\ivers' it "iI1senterices thathammer ,the surprise: H • .' ~ a tiny" electric train th~f i once s,aw derail andcra~h' into s,~ve1? ,ban~n~ ~,p'lhs.': tie knows the strategy of'using,unexpectedwords together: ."each succeedingse~s,onis celebrated ~J11id the liamburgers."And he's not williitg to gloss over truth to make CentralPark at night seem ro-mantic to tourist~. "';:'Wdtihg is good riot b~~atise or-who Writes it or' Where it ~ppears. Sh~ke­

speare and William Faulkner wrote bailly'at times, and good puplishersha\lemar1).eted bad work. Writing is: good because ofwhat it 'says; :how it opens upa'worIaof ideas or fact for re~ders. And how accuta'~ely and memorab.lY it'speaks'~ ~i'-v:oice'issuing from i:i human beiI\g,wlW Is fa~cin~ting, surprising, il~lumiriating~ But '~tilrahUPlan being and a writer who doesn't alWays stl:ike~:pci~ks. :,';" ;:, : ""., ,' .. ,:' , ;' ", ." , ,

, r. . ." ~ . ~ , . • .: [ : ~ • .. , .. .'". ~ f~ilui'e .' .. is the poees only real business. The one 'l~ope is f01: '

'a better a14dbetter faihwe . .. ' " ~J~~-IN CI~R1~~

Most good writing is clear, vigorous, honest, alive, sensuous, appropriate,unsentimental, rhythmic~ without pretension, fresh,' :inetaphorical,' evocativein sound, economical,· authoritativ~,"surprisi~g,memorable, and light.. If youset ouf td'colled examples 'of good· -writing you'll be surprised to find howmany.writersyou admire are humordus or light. Hamlet; 'a storY:ofdecadenceand tragedy, is at the same time one.of the lightest plays' ever wtitteli: MarkVan Doren; a' profe~sor: at Columbia University who encouraged many youngpersons in America ,to 'keep writing until they' became 'successful authors,usedto say'in his'literature classes that a great"virork ofart possesses a qualityof lightness. It's never like a ponderous public building that looks as if it's go­ing to: 'sink into the 'gfoUl'fd. Lightness c:ail be achieved-'in many ways'="":'byvarying style;' by iconfinually lifting 'the reader With genuine; rather than trick,surprises;· by riot taking oneself too seriously for the circumsnmces':'For' ex­ample, directions fC?r cooking needn't be boring and deadly: Irma S. Rombauerand 'Marion Rombauer Becker take 'space in TheJo), of Cooldng to pulsomejoy into their opening ~iscussionof salads:

I remember the final scene of a medieval Maeterlinck play: ;The st~ge is strewedWith those' d~ad {ir dying: The sweet young heroine whimp'ers, III am'not ha'ppyhere." Then the head of the house: or what remains of it, an ancierit'ilOblei asksquaveringly, 'Will there be a salad for supper?"

This. in a,cookbook. Here's a college ,teacher's .. dittoed, instructions' for herstudents:

312 I KEN MACRORIE

Trippers will meet at 7: 15 (Kalamazoo time) in front of the Union. The bus'will. leave promptly at: 7:30 a.m. There will be no watering stops between Kalamazooand Chicago, so I strongly recommend that you all eat something vaguely re­sembling breakfast before we· start-something substantial and comforting likea Hershey bar.

At II :15 (Chicago time) we will go en masse to the Berghoff for lunch. TheBerghoff is a marvelous old German place where the food is good and the pricesare low. I think:that the $1.50 lunch will make you all feel geni!:ll anQ broad-'minded about Chicago, the museum, and modern art. '. .

After lunch everyone is on his own in the museum. Museuin fatigue is a very .real phenomenon and I caution you to use some restraint in your viewing, tak­ing the 20~h century first and whatever else you can manage after that.

The teacher who wrote these direct~ons didn't strain to be fumiYi she simplylet her own voice take over instead of the voice of doom we often take onwhen we fe~l ~urselves in ~ position of authority.. .. ' .',

If you fe~l yo~can neverwrite as well asJoh~ Steinbeck, Cha~les nIckens,or th~ writ~rs quot~d in this chapter, you may be right. But you ~,an write aswell as yOl~ spoke ~t your brilliant best when you were five years old, and youcan write as well a~ some of the catalog or guide book writ~rs'presented'inthis chapter-if you find a voice that rings true to you and you learn to recordthe surprises of the world faithfully. The free writing by beginning writersquoted in the preceding chapters displays 'many of the characteristics of goodwriting discussed here; for example:

, Opposition betweenfa~ts that creates tension: '... his little apartmen~ ...The b~droom is lavender with a purple bedspread. '"

Surprising ~appening" told 'with appropriate sound effect: We fanded a.ndshot; Everytl:J.ing became blurry. The woods came up fast. Whizzing pasttrees. $plash! There we sat, up to our heads in water.

Author, speaking in authentic voice: I used to try to be jolly, but that's hardto do when you don't have a damn thing to be jolly about. ,

Character speaking in, a~£thentic voice: f'WeIl, if you alUmow, then .whYdon't-you tell us~tell,me?J) ,

Economical use ofwords: The next day (or the next hour for that matter)you could say "Good morning," then yawn, and I'd burst into tear~.

Apt metaphor: Electrical storm ... like arc welding, the helium arc ~n atorch,

Surprising expression: And the driver had a lot to lose-his truck and per­haps a few teeth.

Strong verbs: He slouched down in his chair, half closed his eyes andflicked his hanging wrist,

Strong repetition: But really it's kind of fun to be nothing. y~u sit aroundwith your nothing friends ... content in my nothin.g world....

The persons who produced these free writings may need to master addi­tional slalls, but they have already written many sentences that ring true andstay in the reader's ear.

TElLING WRITING I 313

Th: best:writing, both prose and poetry, as Shakespeare pre-.emtnently shows, makes use, with condensation and selection of:playful, impassioned, i1n:~gin~tive talk. -SIDNE~ Cox

. You may wonder how I can be'so sure what good writing·is. Not everyonelIkes the same authors or reporters, When you sit in the circle of writers andresponders ~is~ussed in Chapter 9 of this book, you'll devise your own stan­d~rds, They II dIffer somewhat from those of others in your circle and in otherCIrcles, but probably not on certain fundamentals. Those who have worked in~he circ~e have studied the reactions of the members as they listened to writ­mgs bemg read aloud, From the expressions on faces grunts of approvalsig~s, actions signifying boredom, and spoken comment~, they slowly came t~belIeve that :most good, writing~ gain their power in these ways: .

1. They don't waste words..2. They speak in an authentic voice.

3. They put readers there, make them believe.

4. They c~use things to happen for them as they happened for the writer(or narrator). , . '.

5.· They create oppositions which payoff in surprise.6. They build.

7. They ask something of readers.8. They.reward' them with,meaning.