Sometimes, I wish everyone is gifted with the superpower of mind-reading, so that there will be no knowledge barriers and that we won’t have to go through all the trouble to translate our apparent thoughts into a universal language. I used to regard the prolonged process of writing as a mere medium of communication, just like speaking, singing, and reading, until it was proved otherwise. A world with superpowers is filled with first-order thinking, where “we don’t reflect on what we are doing and hence we are more likely to be steered by our unaware assumptions, our unconscious prejudices, our unexamined point of view.” (Elbow, 57) It is a world of irrationality and impulse, two deadly factors that undermine our civilization. If we take a thread of idea at its raw form, we slay the ever possibility that the idea may be carved into a masterpiece with later revisions and second-order thinking. Instead, writing gives us power over our thinking. “By writing down our thoughts we can put them aside and come back to them with renewed critical energy and a fresh point of view” (Elbow, 58). Through the composition and revision of the writing projects, I realized that, rather, writing is a process of integration and consolidation of thoughts, which filters out the intuitions and grasps the quality, disciplined thinkings. 

 

Easily said than done, this integrating process is no simple task. Since the first sentence ever constructed, I had quantified writing like a machine. I had regarded modifiers as variables in brackets and punctuations as mathematical operators that link these modifiers. When combined with my admiration of the succinctness and efficiency of sentences, it can lead to stuffing every related phrase into a single sentence. The grammar is, of course, perfect, but it can be painful to read. This constitutes my circuitous writing style ever since, until I learned how to write like an actual reader in these writing projects. The ultimate goal of being articulate in my writing style never changes, but I began to make conscious choices that allow the audience to read with comfort and interest: breaking the sentence down into sub-ideas with effective transitions to ease the reading, deliberately use a short sentence after a lengthy one to create emphasis, and avert using the same choice of words twice to keep the readers entertained. In terms of the topics and form of writing, I discard the first ever thought I have; in fact, I often start searching from the improbable and ridiculous possibilities: for instance, I have considered presenting a scholarly conversation with a spy report assuming the talk is bugged. This is all to avoid cliches and mundaneness, the two killers who may leave a piece of writing drowning in the forgotten seas with millions of others.

 

“Looking for trouble can be an effective approach” (Savini, 54), even for revision. I am essentially finding fault with myself. The speech Antidote to Racism — Excellence itself is an elegant firework show. It starts with the unification of humanity and attempts to provide the audience a brand new perspective to fighting racism, but the grand finale seems to peter out: the feeble ending fails to call the audience to action. This is fatal for an aural genre, since what most of the audience will take home with them are the mere last words of the speech. I have, thus, made drastic changes to the ending of this speech. I stood on the shoulder of Martin Luther King Jr., borrowing his ever-lasting influence in the issue of racism by alluding the powerful ending of this speech to I Have a Dream. Such technique can hopefully remind the audience of the decades of civil rights struggle and allows the last words of this speech to echo beyond the speech itself. In the reflection of this speech, I had failed to “juxtapose texts on the same topic and identify tensions or contradictions in terms of their ideas” (Savini, 57) and thus, failed to take account of how this speech has evolved from the original academic article. To provide a more complete picture of the linkage between the two, I provided a sophisticated comparative analysis of the purpose, the use of pronouns, and the proportion of reasoning in the two pieces, followed by a justification of how my modifications made during the construction of the speech effectively express the original values of the article in a different form. 

 

Adjustments were also made during the revision for Inside the Decision Room. I had learned to fully harness the function of the Director, a made-up character whose existence aids the flow of the conversation between the characters. By taking a clear opposite stand to that of all the other characters in the play, the Director prompts valuable discussions and debates involving the other characters, whose goal is to convince the Director to switch his ground. The setting of the Director, who is of the highest pay grade amongst all, not only allows him to pose questions that elevate or shift the focus of the conversation but also grants him the authority to start and end the conversation conveniently. Revision, however, is not merely about changes: it can also be standing by and justifying one’s original choices. I decided to stick to my vivid character developments even though this is meant to be a summary of a scholarly conversation, which should be free of personalities that may sway the readers’ judgment. Portraying the characters and depicting their interactions enlivens the play from being a mere transcript of the conversation. Such revision of the characters highlights the particular aspect of a play — a literary piece that relies as heavily on the mood and atmosphere as its content.

 

These two pieces illustrate how identical core ideas can result in distinct messages or achieve disparate effects through different genres. To construct these compositions, neither of which I had touched on before, I read several famous speeches and plays to grasp the elements that make a speech a speech and a play a play. Mimicking these elements in my own composition is what I enjoyed the most and what must be improved the most, for they are far from being professional. Nevertheless, these two pieces had led me to explore paths never taken. If there is a quality that defines my metamorphosis during the writing projects and the strongest feature of my writing now, it will be “reflective boldness”. Ultimately, it is not just about taking unexpected steps but daring to make calculated differences that target and refine my inadequacy. As Sandra Giles puts it best, “reflection helps you to develop your intentions, figure out your relation to your audience, uncover possible problems with your individual writing processes, set goals for revision, and make decisions about language and style” (Giles, 193). This habit of self-reflective thinking is what will be powering my later writing projects, my education, my career, and my life. I hope you, my dearest readers, can also find the essential key that pushes your writing forward.

 

Cordially,

William Chang                                                                                                            

 

June 1, 2021

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Bibliography 

 

Elbow, Peter. “Teaching Two Kinds of Thinking by Teaching Writing.” Embracing Contraries: Explorations in Learning and Teaching, Oxford University Press, 1987, pp. 54–63.

 

Giles, Sandra L. “Reflective Writing and the Revision Process: What Were You Thinking?” Writing Spaces: Readings on Writing, edited by Pavel Zemliansky and Charles Lowe, Illustrated, vol. 1, Parlor Press, 2010, pp. 191–204.

 

Savini, Catherine. “Looking for Trouble: Finding Your Way into a Writing Assignment.” Writing Spaces: Readings on Writing, edited by Pavel Zemliansky and Charles Lowe, vol. 2, Parlor Press, 2010, pp. 52–70.