It Was a Chicago Bear Outside the Tower of London with the Candlestick

This is something I lifted from the pages of the current issue (June 08) of The Believer. It's from their montly advice column, Sedaritives, started by Amy Sedaris but contined often by guest Sedarises. This month, Paul Feig responds to young Lisa, dreamer, 18, and covers ground that we cover every day here in the DVWC.

Dear Sedaritives,
I just had a dream where I was in a prison tower and a large bear started attacking me because it was angry. I am concerned because in the dream, someone I don't know brought the bear to my house in a plastic igloo and said, "Look, it's my pet!" Is this an omen?
Liz, age 18

Dear Liz,
What kind of a bear was it? Grizzly? Polar? Teddy? Chicago? What kind of prison tower? An old one, like the Tower of London? Older, like the one Rapunzel tossed her hair out of? Or modern, like the kind the guards stand on at San Quentin? And what kind of igloo was it? One of those dog house igloos? If so, the bear couldn't have been that big. It wasn't an Igloo-brand cooler, was it? The bear would be even smaller if that was the case. If you want my help, I need details, girl. Maybe you eighteen-year-olds think this whole vague description thing is the bomb, but for us guys in our forties, we need specifics. You wouldn't be this ambiguous if I was Dr. Phil, now would you? Write be back and get that thesaurus out.
Paul

May Your Paper Be an Ant Colony

This week, I told a student in my class that a great detail is like an ant: it can heap a lot of information on its back, more than it seems a simple word or phrase can carry.

Then, today in the Writing Lab, a student was writing about an experience that involved her father rushing to the hospital to meet her injured sister. In the first sentence, she not only told us that her father hung up his phone and left, but that he left wearing only a pair of cutoff shorts, no shirt, and no shoes. That doesn't just tell me that he's underdressed for just about anywhere but an afternoon on a pontoon boat, but that he's more than hurried.

It's easy to tell when you aren't wearing enough clothes. You're cold and people stare. This father did not care about exposing his skin to the weather or incurring the whispered comments and strange looks from others. He had one priority: getting to the hospital immediately--that's key because he could have easily thrown on a shirt and slipped on some shoes and arrived at the hospital in a reasonable amount of time. But no. Speed was all that mattered. Any delay was too much a delay, even the basics of public attire. That's what that detail tells me as a reader. It lets me into his head so much that I am able to break down what he's thinking when he most likely did not even do so.

How Do I Start This?: Mario's Miracle, or Scott's Valid Reason to Discuss Kansas Basketball in Class

In my class last month, we talked about introductions. I didn't plan to include any self-gratifying discussion of the Kansas Jayhawks'* win in the national championship game of the NCAA tournament, but when good writing presented itself in the form of Grant Wahl's Sports Illustrated article on the Jayhawks, I couldn't help myself.



I showed a YouTube clip of the final ten seconds of overtime, shared the context of the game with the non-sports fans, and opened up a discussion of how they would choose to begin writing about the game: the beginning of the season, the beginning of the game, the missed free throws, the inbounds pass--one student even suggested starting from the perspective of a fan looking up at the scoreboard.

Then I shared what Wahl wrote:

"The ball floated through the air, its pebbled surface spinning softly, as serene and peaceful as a space capsule in a low-earth orbit. At 10:29 p.m. CDT on Monday at the Alamodome in San Antonio, the fate of a college basketball season rested on Kansas guard Mario Chalmers -- or, to be more precise, on his last-ditch three-pointer, a make-or-break heave with 2.1 seconds left that would either send the NCAA title game into overtime or give Memphis, clinging to a 63-60 lead, its first championship in school history."

A student said it was like Wahl was in The Matrix, slowing down time, letting the ball spin and spin and spin. Exactly. His entry into the subject wasn't the beginning of anything. It was a zoomed-in look at the middle of the most important moment of the game. In the article, he goes back to the season for both teams (and way back for Mario Chalmers), and he continues on to the future, into overtime and the post-game celebrations, but I love where he started and how he describes the ball itself--not even the teams or the shooter or the fans or the game, just the ball.

*I grew up in Kansas, where basketball=Jayhawks.

A Real Writer Really Said This: The Novelist Richard Price is Intimidated and Likes It

I read this quote in a recent Believer interview with novelist and screenwriter Richard Price:

"I have to be a little intimidated by what I’m writing about. I have to feel a little bit like I don’t think I can do this, I don’t think I can master this, I don’t think I can get under the skin of this, because when you’re a little scared, you’re bringing everything to the table because you’re not sure you can do it unless you . . . really, really get into it. Terror keeps you slender. I need a sense of awe."

He makes a living as a writer and here he is, admitting that being intimidated by his projects (the equivalent of writing assignments) is a positive. A Positive! He likes to be bullied by projects that are menacing, that are like avalanches or rockslides or men with thick necks and enormous, meaty fists. He's like the scrawny underdog in a sports movie who wins in the end because of perseverence and stick-to-it-iveness.

Argument Analysis: Join So I Can Take Your Loot

Sabrina, a student, and I, were working on arguments. She was writing one about government childcare benefits, and Adam, a Writing tutor, stopped by. Here is what happened:

Sabrina types her essay. Scott sits, waiting to answer her next question. Adam enters, sits down, and pulls up a website with some sort of virtual island on it.

Adam: You have to join this.

Scott: What is it?

Adam: You have to join it.

Scott: Again, what is it?

Adam: You have to get on here. Then I can take your loot.

Scott leans down to Sabrina, who is still typing

Scott: See, this is not a good argument. He's giving me no information about what I'm supposed to join, and the only information I have tells me that he will steal from me when I do join. That benefits him, not me.

Sabrina laughs a little, looks at Adam, and keeps typing.
Scene.

You should tell people basic information like what you want them to join pretty early in your argument. Also, you should tell the person you are trying to convince why joining will benefit them not you (especially if you plan on stealing from them once they do what you ask).

In Adam's defense, he was very excited because of the online pirate game he discovered (who wouldn't be excited about commanding tiny, virtual ships on virtual seas, firing virtual cannons and destroying other virtual pirates?). When he calmed down, he explained. Maybe that should is something you should do, too: calm down before you argue.

We're So Very Proud

Vija, one of our tutors, was chosen as the speaker for this year's graduation convocation. She was very nervous during the week or so leading up to the ceremony: even though she applied for the opportunity, she still realized that it involved speaking in front of many, many people.

As if that didn't make her nervous enough, she received a call here at the Learning Center from The Aztec Press asking if she would mind if they did a little piece on her. They also asked if she would mind if they sent a photographer down to Desert Vista to catch her in her natural tutoring habitat. Vija wrangled a student/friend into sitting down with her in a manufactured (but still very real and helpful) tutoring session. They discussed the finer points of an essay while the photographer snapped pictures from across the table.

The resulting story-plus-photo can be found in the newest edition of the Aztec Press (or right here). Pick up a print copy and bring it by for Vija to sign for you. She'll love that.

Where This is Going

Here's the thing: I see good writing everywhere. Because of that, I'm going to put links to articles here. I'm going to publish quotes from magazine articles, books, other blogs--anything written, even student thoughts from work done on our campus.

Here's another thing: I think like a writer. All the time I have spent playing with words has led me to process the world like writers process their work: they generate all the ideas they can and then pick the ones the make connections, break down everyday conversations into rhetoric and arguments and effect on readers, and think of everything in terms of how it could be revised and improved. I'll put thoughts like those here, too (look for analysis of two conversations, one with a Writing Center tutor and one with a well-meaning police officer).

Who knows what else will pop up in this space: Potluck announcements, contests, tutor bios, random quoatations overheard while tutoring, and so on. If something interesting happens in the Writing Center, then I'll mention it here.