Author: Elaine Farah

Revision is the most repetitive thing. I’ll stare at my computer screen for hours, as I have been doing over the past few days, writing and rewriting a single paragraph until it comes out just the way I want it to. Sometimes that means changing one word what seems like a million times until it comes out in a way that is equal parts beautiful and articulate.

After changing the order of a sentence ten times, I find myself sitting back and wondering… is it really worth it? Is it worth writing and rewriting one sentence, spending five minutes finding the perfect adjective? Isn’t there something that would allow me to be more productive and efficient?

I then know that I have to trust myself and what I have learned about writing essays – that although revision seems repetitive and useless in the moment, it is worth it in the long run. I know that when I eventually read my many-times-revised paper and compare it to my original draft, the new and improved version will be much better than my initial draft.

As a class, we have discussed the process, art, and importance of revision. In previous English classes (especially in high school), my teachers did not stress revision as much as Dr. McCoy does. Initially, especially at the beginning of the semester, the amount of time I spent writing and rewriting various pieces seemed futile, but, as the semester has progressed, I have been able to better understand the reason for revision.

In the moment, revision, as encouraged in class throughout the semester, might seem pointless, but will ultimately lead to an end product that is far superior to my original creation.

And to future Elaine, who is inevitably reading this blog post in frustration later today, keep going. It’s worth it. Seriously.

It’s Sunday night, and here I am, reflecting on the essay and (obviously) stressing about its fast approaching due date. I’m thinking about other essay ideas my fellow classmates have shared with me over the past few weeks. I have had many of my own ideas, which have been corroborated by peers and professors, and other ideas that have been contradicted by other students, only to be replaced with other concepts that seem to be far better than anything I could have thought of. All of this (my own confidence and hesitation included) has been brought along, at least in part, by group work.

Working in groups has been a large part of our time in English 203. Dr. McCoy often puts us into groups to bounce ideas off one another about books, analysis, world events, etc. Over the course of the semester, I have noticed that these acts of conversation have improved my ability to reflect on my own ideas, listen to others in a constructive way, and learn new things (both English-related, and, honestly, not – did you know the sky used to be orange? And watermelons used to be the size of grapes? Does that count as interdisciplinary work?)

While all of these things have been incredibly helpful (especially the watermelon fact, which is actually true – who knew?), some of the most helpful conversations have happened in the past week. However, I’ve found that bouncing ideas off of my peers while working on this essay, can be just as harmful as it is helpful.

Last class, I spoke with Dr. McCoy on solidifying an idea for my essay. I was feeling very overwhelmed with the amount of feedback I had received, and had what seemed like 50 pages of good material to work with. I became overwhelmed, as every piece of evidence I had appeared to strengthen my essay. I realized that while discussing ideas with my peers can be helpful, there is also a moment when helpfulness can turn on a writer.

Now, I am forcing myself to sit with my ideas and condense them into one concise point with my strongest evidence. I know that by doing this, I will come out with a second essay that is thoughtful, concise, and less wordy than my first.

In the last few weeks of my senior year AP Literature class, my teacher, Ms. Goodman, talked for 40 minutes a day about how much she hated the passive voice. She went on and on about how students don’t understand the importance of the active voice and how the use of the active voice can strengthen both an argument and a writer’s voice overall.

Ms. Goodman, if you’re reading this for some reason, don’t read this paragraph. The whole lesson seemed unnecessary. I was a good writer. I received A’s in English my entire life without giving this “passive voice” a second thought. I didn’t get it, I was bored, I didn’t understand why I had to read anything by Tolstoy at age seventeen (unrelated, but I really didn’t), and I just wanted to graduate.

(You can start reading again, Ms. Goodman.) As I read Dr. McCoy’s suggestions to improve my most recent essay, my high school English teacher’s weeks of rants echoed in my mind. Suddenly, it clicked. I was finally, finally able to fully realize how important it is to write in an active voice. I could almost hear a sigh of relief coming all the way from Long Island.

The passive voice, which, as mentioned in class, can be explained with the example “Walker is saying” leads to wordiness – a lack of conciseness that makes a piece especially challenging to follow. Instead of using the phrase “Walker is saying,” one can use “Walker says,” or “Walker questions,” or “Walker claims.” Taking out passive state of being verbs does not only lead to cutting out a word or two, but, honestly, sounds smarter.

As an English major and a lover of the English language, my written voice is very important to me. I want to make sure I’m consistently putting my best foot forward in my writing and the way I am communicating with my readers. If working with the active voice and avoiding the passive voice at all costs will bring strength to my argument and my writing (and I’ve seen that happen), I know that I need to put as much time and energy as I can into developing my understanding of the active voice.

While my road to using the active voice will definitely be a journey and a learning experience, I understand now that active voice is an essential part of being a good writer and communicating in the most effective, accessible way.

Also, I’m very grateful that I had to read Tolstoy. Anna Karenina was so great.

 

Throughout the semester, our Reader and Text class has continued to come back to the importance of interdisciplinarity. Being aware of your world in an interdisciplinary sense means being able to connect what you are seeing, learning, or doing to fields that might not seem immediately relevant. In class on November 2, we were asked to look for archives around campus and, as a class, discuss what such archives might mean. People came back and talked about the science building, art building, bars off campus, and many other locations that have their own unique histories. Being able to connect locations that seem so different and are utilized very differently (the IB is definitely used differently from the ISC) to an English class discussion made me think about what it means to study something in a way that is interdisciplinary. Having the ability to pay attention to the way the world is interconnected helps me to have a better understanding of what each of these locations mean – not only to me, but what they could mean to others. The archives I found through sculptures in Brodie that I hadn’t noticed before, or the map I found in the ISC, forced me to think about how aware I am of my surroundings. I now realize that even though I’m not a science or art major, I can still appreciate different aspects of the places chemistry and art history majors call home.