A Writing Life (Part 14)

There was another odd effect with all of this reading. We had learned to create the structure of an essay in elementary school. A folder divided into different pockets for each stage of writing was given to each of us at the beginning of one class, and then we began to write. What I noticed was how difficult it was for me to put my own ideas down on paper. I could argue about how I felt about what we had read, but I could not put those arguments on paper with the same clarity. I already mentioned how schools fail to teach good writing, a much more serious problem now than before, especially at the university and college level. I remember how surprised I was the first time I saw a writing clinic at university (even the term “writing clinic” sounded strange to me). I should not have been that surprised. My classmates (not always English majors) often admitted that writing essays was the one thing they could not stand. I received a lot of interest from people who had difficulties with their papers. Money was offered for writing out papers and it was tempting. I do not think I could have handled the sour feeling I would have if I had written for the grades of someone else. Also, I did not trust myself to give them a high enough mark. My own essays, after encounters with difficult teaching assistants, improved and carried me through the semesters. It was like exercising a different muscle with those essays. To not write my own work would have seemed a private form of laziness. And that was how I thought of the people who wanted me to create their arguments for their essays.