McCloskey on Writing

I was never much in to composition theory. Sure, I enjoy teaching, talking about teaching, and learning how to become a better teacher, but early on I wasn’t too interested in the academics of it all. Over the last couple of years I’ve changed, though, and now I admit to being geeked out by the whole thing.

In particular I get geeked out by scholars in fields other than composition that talk about writing. To me it’s interesting to see what they hone in on, what kind of advice they give, and whether or not I agree with what they have to say. Needless to say these are pretty rare, but I’ve come across a few folks in the sciences who put a lot of emphasis on writing. (Though, I’ve also come across some who admit to writing dissertations for their graduate students, but that’s a whole different story).

What I’d like to highlight today is a little book call The Writing of Economics by Donald N. McCloskey. Humanities types who study political economy will know McCloskey (now Deidre) from her outstanding work TheRhetoric of Economics, which is theory-heavy and at times really tough to understand, but worth reading nonetheless.

The Writing of Economics is different. It’s short (54 pages), accessible, and immediately useful. It’s got a Strunk and White feel to it, but with more context (but less complete coverage), and provides the perspective of writing from an Economist.

McCloskey’s observations and instructions are valuable in themselves, and also useful for the writing teacher, because it provides some context on how to teach students outside the humanities. I can’t recommend this book enough, and I think I’m going to make an effort to excerpt it in some future works.

The Flip Side

It occurs to me that the casual reader of The Laundromat Blog would think me Negative Nancy and a nauseating grammar cop. That’s not really the case, though I do (as seen in my previous post) insist that people who study language professionally take the time to double-check their uses. In public writing, however, I really do feel that language is dynamic. This is not to suggest that flagrant misuses of language should be roundly tolerated, but a little evolution here and there never hurt anyone.

One of my favorite internet peeps, Karen from TrainWrite (who is herself an exceptionally elegant wordsmith), forwarded me this article from The Huffington Post wherein the author explains how and why people misuse the phrase “begs the question.”

Her analysis was interesting to me. Though I knew the term itself was a logical fallacy, I’d never heard the misuse described so well. (as an aside, maybe one day I’ll post on logical fallacies. Post hoc ergo propter hoc, anyone?). At the same time, though I found the article entertaining, I have to admit I didn’t really care. Though I’m not as impassioned on this topic as others (one way or the other), I think I tend to come down on the side of Stephen Fry, who wrote a couple of years ago:

“There is no right language or wrong language any more than are right or wrong clothes.”

 [[Note: This essay can be found online in several places, but the most interesting form is a dynamic typography piece put together by Matt Rogers: ]]

Again, I don’t go quite as far as Fry does, but his essay is worth checking out in its entirety nonetheless. What he claims does make sense to a certain extent. Much like President Obama is considered a great speaker because his language isn’t overly ornate, dressing it up to the point of arrogant misuse (as Triska talks about in her Huff Post article) isn’t necessary. But Fry also advocates language play, because English is such a rich language. Why not experiment? Such experimentation requires the speaker to be flexible, which means that rules can’t be overly rigid.

But there is, I admit, something inside me that wonders: can we chastise the people who write emails in mid-2000s text-speak?

R u @ wrk yet? Is it K if we meet 4 brkfst? Thx!

No thanks. But breakfast sounds great!

Inaccurate Language in Scholarly Work

A Recently Published Scholarly Article:
 

If Romeo and Juliet Had Mobile Phones

Barry Wellman (University of Toronto) and Lee Rainie (Pew Internet and American Life Project)

For Mobile Media & Communication, June 7, 2012

http://homes.chass.utoronto.ca/~wellman/publications/RomeoJuliet/Mobile2a1-final.pdf

 If only Romeo and Juliet had mobile phones, they’d be with us now. Remember Juliet’s cry, “Romeo, O Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” (II, 2, 33). Nowadays, she’d ask “where are you?” which is what we often do when we send or receive a call on our mobiles. It’s not like the old days when you called someone on their wired-in (“landline”) phone at home or work—you knew exactly where they were and had a pretty good idea of the social and physical context in which they were operating.

A Definition:

where·fore/ˈ(h)we(ə)rˌfôr/

Adverb:

For what reason: "she took an ill turn, but wherefore I cannot say". As a result of which: "truly he cared for me, wherefore I title him with all respect".

It’s all semantics, I agree. In a previous entry I poked some fun at Rick Perry and his claim that Iran will “literally” move at the speed of light to wreak havoc on the middle east once the US vacates the region. I’m bringing the topic up again, because it’s that important.

In academics we practice neologism quite a bit. That is, coining new terms. This is how we get books like Gyn-ecology, or articles with ( ) marks all over the place. But there is a difference between making up a new word to describe some snazzy idea you’ve coined and just plain being lazy about language.

Sure language evolves over time, and maybe words change meaning as a result. I wouldn’t be surprised, for example, if in 100 years “literally” meant exactly the opposite of its current meaning because the bone heads win out over the English majors (which, by the way, Forbes really seems to be in favor of: http://www.forbes.com/sites/petercohan/2012/05/29/to-boost-post-college-prospects-cut-humanities-departments/).

If there’s one thing we can do as humanities folks, it’s not misuse words. I’m not saying we all need to be hoity toity in our writing and speaking. In fact, I’d welcome a bit more use of words like “dude” and “hella” in academic work. But when you’re going to use a word, use it the right way.

On Rhetoric and the ‘So what?’ Question

 The only conference table in the English Department sat in a cramped space that some administrator once went to great pains to make look professional. This effort, while valiant, was ultimately hopeless. One of the handful of “statesman” scholars in the field of rhetoric sat at the head of the table; a classical rhetoric and composition heavy who was also my committee chair. Flanking him were two hard-hitting up-and-comers, one an applied linguist and the other a visual rhetorician. Lots of brain power in the room, and varying (if I were braver, I’d even say conflicting) opinions were flying.

One might say I planned it perfectly. Since all involved loved talking rhetoric, but none could agree on what should make up the field, my committee debated throughout my MA defense. It wasn’t until the last ten or so minutes that any really tough questions were heaved in my direction. Instead, it was a conversation, as these things are meant to be, but the zeal and superior knowledge of my mentors made me the quietest participant.

The classicist was also a political economic. He saw language as playing a major role in (you guessed it) hegemony. The only problem (said the applied linguist) is that such a vast base must be built to understand the issues at hand, that really what he studies is a kind of cultural studies or political science. Indeed, it almost seems as if the study of language is secondary when you have to understand the economic.

There’s a webtext that does a great job of explaining Victor Villanueva’s views on political economy and rhetoric (http://www.meatjournal.com/2_2/villa1.html). He states in this piece that:

“The role of rhetoric, according to Burke, is the demystification of the ideological. The role of political economy is the demystification of relations tied to the economic. If we’re to understand where we are and what is happening to us—and maybe even to affect it—we need the tools provided by both. But we think of “economics” as a numbers game. And we humanities types tend to fear numbers.”

The idea that he posits above would seem to support what I see as a problem with political economy as a field of study for rhetoricians. How, after all, can we be language experts if we have to become economics experts? Why not just study politics and economy? Villanueva clearly saw me coming, as he posits that “we might fear a little less if we come to regard economics as yet another instance of the rhetorical.” Diedre McClosky, who Villanueva goes on to quote, tends to agree, and so do I.

Think about our context as Americans. Privilege normalized. Whiteness normalized. From our framework, it’s common to be lacking in the language skills required to accurately have a conversation about the third world. The fact that we even have a term like “Third World” is telling. There’s a big difference between the culture and experience of a woman in Jamaica, and a man from rural China, and an infant in Tanzania.

Sure there’s knowledge beyond language craft. And a lot of it, at that. But if we’re going to study language, we’d better do it right. So on rhetoric and the ‘so what?’ question: read about politics and economy, but don’t forget to loop back to language. As rhetoricians, if we think this is the root of understanding social issues, we can’t forget to devote necessary space to it.

What do you think?

Talking Poetry

It has been three weeks since my last update, which is overall unacceptable. I have quite a bit of content planned for the coming weeks, so this most recent hiccup will not be repeated for some time. Or so I hope.

In any case, today’s entry nods once again to the world of creative writing. My friend and colleague over at TrainWrite posted a short essay of mine several months ago that, though at the time I loved, I am now very much not a fan of. I expect a similar self-critical slide related to my second TrainWrite piece, which is a poem entitled “Hurricane.”

This post highlights form. Many poets write in a single pattern with rhyme, stress, or number of syllables coordinating the entire text. This works, and often results in exceptional poetry. Other poets don’t do this. George Herbert was one who tried to spice things up by playing with form. Perhaps his most famous example is “Easter Wings” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concrete_poetry), where the shape of the text is related to the message found in the words (the stanzas look like wings…get it?).

Hurricane plays with form too, but not in the visual sense. Take the first two stanzas, for example:

THE CHAMP IS HERE!

He’s boarding the Braintree train at Harvard,

Neglected dreadlocks hanging almost jaggedly.

Hallelujah

MADISON SQUARE GARDEN. 1963.

His voice is mammoth,

it pops from his lips.

Hallelujah

There are clearly three “sections” in each stanza. There’s the part in all caps, two lines in normal font, then a line in italics. This can be a little confusing at first, but, really, poetry was made to be read over and over again. Anyone who understands the intricacies of this kind of text, even one written by an amateur poet such as myself, after one pass, is decidedly brilliant.

As you read through the poem, it becomes clear that the lines in all caps are being spoken by the main character in the story, “The Champ.” The middle two lines are from the narrator/bystander, and the last line is a song that was stuck in the author’s head while this whole thing went down.

That last part may or may not be an easy one to figure out. But that’s not really the point. What’s important to remember is that poetry, like all art, is something that can be played with and molded to fit what you think is best. Sure there are names for certain trends and techniques, like Herbert’s poem which some people very inventively call “Shape Poetry,” but each work is unique. Each work provides an opportunity to try something new. So what if it confuses the reader. Maybe that just means you’re an especially gifted poet!

Sifting Through Difficult Texts

I don’t think this is a topic that ever ceases to be a concern. No matter how much you read, how well-educated you are, or how much you think you know about the world, there will always be texts that are difficult to wade through. Often times when reading something difficult people begin to skim and just skip words or phrases they don’t understand altogether. This is a problem because these denser parts of text could (and often do) contain essential information.

Think about it. Let’s say you’re reading a lease agreement on a new apartment and you come to a passage you don’t completely understand. If you sign your name to that document, you could be authorizing the landlord to keep goats in the bathtub for all you know. That’s something to avoid.

In the spirit of helping you call keep goats out of your bathtub, I’ve come up with three guidelines to follow when reading difficult passages (or texts that are even longer!).

1. 1. Make the fuzzy crystal clear.

This is a personal peeve of mine. In a given context it’s pretty easy to understand what a certain phrase means. Often times, your gut reaction (if you’re a native speaker) is right on. But this isn’t always the case. English is a complex language and can therefore throw you for a loop every now and then. So keep on your toes.

Here’s an example of what I mean: Today I saw a mother get on the subway with her two kids. One was about 7 or 8, the other 10 or 11.

The smaller kid says to his mother: “Wow, after all that walking I’m hungry!”

Older brother exclaims: “He’s hungry again!”

Mother replies: “Well we have been walking a lot. He built up an appetite.”

Older brother notes: “Well, at least we made the train!”

Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “he’s just a kid, give him a break!” Yeah, this is true. But the kid said “At least we made train.” There’s no counter point wherein making the train causes the situation to require a silver lining. His parents are probably to blame for not explaining the finer points of the phrase "at least." But I digress.

I don’t bring this up to be fussy or to make the kid feel bad (sorry, kid). I bring it up to provide an example of what can happen if people take what they think something means, and run on without making sure. When I read, if I come across a word or phrase that I’m not sure about, I check my gut by looking in the dictionary. It makes a difference.

The dictionary method works with words you have no idea about, too, by the way. I recommend it because this is not a difficult step to take, and it ensures that you’re not ill-informed or the subject of a Laundromat blog post. Plus, if your lease reads "The bathtub shall at all times house Capra aegagrus hircus" it would be a good idea to double-check what the crazy Latin is referring to. And, no, it doesn't mean "shower curtain."

2. 2. Keep a Journal

One thing that I love to do, but honestly have a little trouble keeping up with, is keeping a word and phrase journal. I used to tell my ELL students to do this, and it worked out nicely because we got to spend the first fifteen or so minutes of each class clarifying and talking about funny quirks in the English language. It helped them very much, and opened my eyes to a lot of absurdities as well.

Since English is so complicated, the crazy words don’t stop once you’re fluent. Try keeping a list of cool, tough, random, or funny words and their definitions (and maybe a sample sentence using it), and reference that list when you write. It’ll make you sound snazzy, but also drill in phrases you're naturally unsure about, thus helping you keep the goats out of your bathtub.

3. 3. Go Slow and Write a Summary

Taking your time is essential when reading a legal document, a French philosopher, Kenneth Burke, and maybe even an email from your Uncle Mortimore. If you go too fast, you will miss things. To avoid this, try taking your time, circling words you don’t understand, and keeping track of their definitions. Then, at the end of each paragraph (or sentence if need be), try writing a summary of what you just read in plain language. That way you won’t have to return to the piece later and decode it all over again. This is especially handy if you’re a student and you don’t want to lose those reading epiphanies you had while doing your homework.

Sadly, I don't have a goat joke for this one.

I hope these suggestions are helpful. What strategies do you use when reading a difficult text?

Also, what kind of topics would you like the Laundromat to cover in the future?

Writing a Novel

I recently finished reading a novel for someone who is hoping to whip the pages in to publishable condition. While I don’t often write about fiction here, I thought I’d offer a little advice for those of you who have a rough manuscript or outline sitting in your desk drawer. There is a lot to writing a novel, so please don’t expect this to be the seminal “How To” work on novel writing. The following, however, should be enough to get you started.

The Truth

Writing a novel is difficult: Anyone who’s ever been to a garage sale has seen dozens of really bad novels piled in a corner, the owner of which are desperate to get the things out of their home to free up space. But just because the world is overflowing with poorly written books (and extremely well-written ones, for that matter), publishing a novel is still difficult. In fact, most of those grocery store numbers you see with Fabio on the cover weren’t written by a shoe salesman from Nashua who always wanted to write a book. No, they’re usually written by a team of people whose job it is to crank those babies out. In many cases, the author is little more than a brand, and the book itself is akin to your Nikes (put together by a bunch of different people who are often underpaid for their work).
You’ve usually got to know somebody. Or have an agent: Because there are teams of people writing books like it’s their job (well…okay, it actually is their job), the market is pretty well saturated, so it’s tough to get in. But not impossible. There’s a book you can get at most any major library called The Writer’s Market. It’s published every year and lists just about every publishing house in the country – large or small – and provides a brief description of what kind of books each publisher is looking to work on over the coming year or two. It will also tell you whether or not the publisher is willing to accept an unsolicited manuscript from the shoe salesman in Nashua. It’s probably 50/50 as to whether or not a publisher will accept unsolicited manuscripts, but a whole other conversation as to whether or it will end up anywhere but the trash can. Here’s a tip, though: smaller publishers will typically read each submission, so don’t send your firs work off to Penguin because that’s a waste of 44 cents if you get my meaning.
You need to know how to write: I’ve met a lot of people who have great stories to tell. But I’ve also read manuscripts from those individuals that are confusing, poorly organized, and generally not entertaining. Writing well takes practice. Even if you got an A in English 101 and your prof loved your work, it’s a good bet you’re not ready to take on a novel. Writing takes a lot of work and time, but it also requires developing of a skill. Being a “good writer” is no easy thing. The following section provides a few tips on this – but be prepared to put the work in. Or, if you’re really impatient, find a friend who is a good writer, and ask them to co-write or ghostwrite the thing.

How do I make this pile of paper in to a good book?

Organize: The most annoying thing to me is reading a story that has clearly not been thoughtfully organized. Just as you would be told to write an outline for an essay, do this for your novel in order to get a macro view of whether or not the flow of the story makes sense and represents a natural progression.
Read: Another great idea is to steal ideas from– I mean read – books that are similar to the one you want to write. Look at the way chapters are organized. For example, do they jump from one character’s perspective to another? Do they jump timeslines? Do they provide much background knowledge on the fictional society you’re inventing? Certainly don’t copy another author’s work, but you can adapt, adjust, or just get your brainstorming jumpstarted by reading an accomplished writer’s work.
Do Research: To provide vivid details or to incorporate believable dialogue, do some research. There’s nothing worse than a book that doesn’t paint a picture in your head, or features page after page of dialogue that makes the character feel like a character from Family Matters or Step By Step. This means eavesdropping in the coffee shop for a while, or if you’re writing a passage on someone who is running through the woods, lace up the sneakers and take a jog. Imagine your novel describing “John’s footballs dully tapping the dirt trail, and the newly arrived Spring sun warming his face as he closed his eyes and felt his body glide through the wood” as opposed to “It was April and John ran in the woods.” Details and avoiding vague language make a big difference. Research is the way to make your details sound natural. (Just don’t go jumping off the top of a building or something in the name of art, okay?)

As I mentioned above, writing a novel is great, but it also takes a lot of work. The tips mentioned above are by no means a complete guide to novel writing, but it’s my hope that they can help you get started. Once you get in to the writing, planning, and researching groove, you’ll come up with some tricks that work for you specifically. But rest assured, there are a few things you can do to get past the initial terror of wondering how to begin.

Happy writing!