I do not have any misconceptions about writing I'm just very out of practice and I'm sure with time it will become a lot easier and feel more natural. I need to focus on staying on topic, grammar and punctuation. I tend to go off topic once I get another idea something similar but not part of the idea I was going for in my paper. In order to improve this weakness is by keeping my ideas organize will help me stay on topic After reading chapter one it gave me a new motivation to learn about writing. I have always just gave myself the excuse that I am not a good writer and that’s how I am going to live.
FreeWriting In the article, “FreeWriting”, Mr. Elbow states,” next time you write, notice how often you stop yourself from writing down something you were gonna write down. Or else cross out what’s been written. “Naturally” you say, “it wasn’t any good”. I can definitely relate to the view Peter Elbow takes in his article. Starting an assignment is always the hardest step for me .Like in the very beginning, when you are digging for words to tie your point together; it’s always a struggle building that creative momentum.
The tone of Pages 27-28 is procrastination. Simon was given ample time to complete the paper he was given but he didn’t. Instead he drifted off into a daydream and was appalled at himself for not completing his task. This creates conflict. Although when Miss Mac called him, he was rather surprised that all that time had passed.
Every time I walked out for a break, the tension was eased, and I reminded myself why I was there. I kept thinking in my head “you are here to get better, and to understand yourself, and no longer have moments like English ever again.” When it was over, I was so relieved. I felt like the razor edges that I has been sitting on was removed. I could breathe again. Once all my anxiety had finally subsided, I was excited to know my results and understand the way I worked.
He really breathes life through all of the objects that he talks about and makes the reader feel like they're actually there with him. Through the simplest of activities he can make it seem like it's the hardest task he's ever had to go through as he describes, “I would set my dictionary next to me, prop my paper on my knees, sharpen my pencil with my teeth…I would try to write the thoughts going through my mind, but they didn’t come out right. They lacked reality. A stream of ideas flowed through me, but they lost their strength as soon as I put them down”. Taking an idea as abstract as thinking, it's animated as he describes them like a flowing river that has lost the strength of its current.
I sat at my desk petrified by the announcement of the in-class essay, a three page rhetorical analysis. How was I supposed to write a rhetorical analysis when I had never written something that did not start with "My dear diary.." or "Once upon a time.."? I felt hopelessly lost. My entire life I had viewed that being homeschooled was a great advantage, in many ways it was, but now I needed some writing skills that I clearly lacked. I sat staring at the blank computer screen, scraping my brain for the right words.
What a punishment this paper was, I thought. If I didn’t like writing before I damn sure didn’t now. With the thought of losing recess ever present on my mind, I continued to work on my paper. It was during this time that I started to view writing, not as something fun or a chance to be creative, but as a chore. It was something I was forced to do as a punishment.
As I journeyed through high school I struggled to find motivation to read even the assigned novels and reading. Eventually, I fell victim to the allure of spark notes and the time it saved. After sports were over for me the distraction became a job. Working six days a week at Zaxbys left no time for trivial pleasures such as reading. My saving grace became AP English IV my senior year.
I’m allowing myself to fall in love with life, especially right now. For far too long I’ve made myself upset over small things. I let small, pointless things control my attitude towards life. If I felt like I was pinching too much skin on my thighs, or that my hair that was a million shades darker than I wish it was, or some guy cheated on me, or I hadn’t prayed or read my Bible in a few days, or I’m not a part of any group at school, then I simply had no reason to be happy. In other words, if my life wasn’t perfect then I wasn’t allowed to be happy.
Academically, of course, it was much more difficult. The feel, routine, and flow of college life, however, bore little resemblance to what I had always associated with school. Classes no longer proceeded one after another, and the schedule each day varied.