If I ever go back to language teaching, I think I've just come up with an engaging and rewarding lesson:
* assign students the task of writing an N-word or -page paper and explicitly instruct them to use as much fluff as possible (creatively, i.e. not using "really" x100)
* allow them to read each other's papers and vote on the most vapid essays
* assign a follow-up task to ruthlessly edit a partner's paper to distill the real content
* never attach a word or page count to any future assignment, preferring complete coverage of assigned topic, and hold students accountable for use of fluff
Hands-on experience is a great learning aid. A frank acknowledgement and analysis of filler content (instead of just discouraging it in the abstract) coupled with an educator's willingness to forgo artificial targets or limits could go a long way in improving this aspect of writing style.
The notion of "complete coverage" is fantastically subjective and contextual. The Civil War is, in various scopes, completely covered in several page articles and several volume sets. Word count ranges are a good way to convey expected scope.
Perhaps "complete" is not the right adjective -- something along the lines of "appropriate" might be more fitting. I was driving at "complete" with respect to the purpose of a given assignment.
I think that the article makes a strong case, which meshes with my personal experience as both student and teacher, that word count ranges aren't always a good way to convey the expected scope. If you're a regular contributor to a magazine, with a well-defined and professional style, then a target length can be a reasonable metric. For students in their formative years, such a metric can lead them astray.
As mentioned in the other reply, it's not about humiliation; succeeding in the overt task of writing badly doesn't directly imply failure in the task of writing well. In fact, I would expect some of the brightest students -- especially the ones who are already adept in gaming the essay-writing system -- to be ranked highly if previous academic courses implicitly rewarded fluff. Students with a simple, clear writing style, on the other hand, may find writing intentionally overwrought language to be a challenge; because past assignments with artificial word or page counts may have punished them for their clarity (as the article suggests), they may find it refreshing to score low. Getting the incentives framed properly would be crucial but far from impossible.
I don't see a problem with it: being vapid is the stated purpose of the exercise. Cyranix did not propose blindsiding the students with this exercise by applying this criteria to essays the students wrote in earnest.
> never attach a word or page count to any future assignment
Whenever I teach English writing, I never attach word counts. I tell them to write on one side of an A4 sheet. The students use less fluffy language, handwrite more legibly, and leave plenty of whitespace for me to write comments. It's easier to mark, as I just need to scan the sheets without turning them over, sorting them into order from best to worst.
There is a second part to it. The text may be better when edited, but that is not what they get paid for.
You also should teach aspiring writers about the new digital ways of earning money. I still see so many people who are in the "I am a journalist / I am a writer" and so on camp relying on old thinking about 'but I only get paid by that'.
This advice, as with much other good advice, should be taken and understood in context. It is an essay about how to write a good essay, and there are times when you want to break some of these rules.
As one example, expressions like "I think that" and "in my opinion" can be useful if used purposefully. When reading an argument, we have a tendency to fixate on the points that we take issue with personally. By saying "I think X is true" instead of just "X is true", you make it easier for someone to disagree with your specific point rather than your entire argument. In some contexts (like HN comments), this can help to reduce animosity and get much more of your point across to people who don't fully agree with you.
That's the point. If something is an established fact, I simply state it. Often these are uncontroversial things that have been demonstrated in some way. If I qualify my statement, that's because it deserves qualification. "I think" implies "I believe this to be true, but I do not know it to be true." So, yes, I lack total confidence in such statements.
It's also a way to differentiate objective statements from subjective statements: I think Metallica is a great band.
No, because the 'I think' does not mean what you think it means. You can't take it out of its social context, which is to inform people that you assign a lower certainty to the next thing you are going to say. (Of course, you could say all that, but that would make most conversations very pointless and annoying, as I can say from personal experience.)
You could say "I think the economy will be the most important issue in the next election", but you could also say "The economy will probably be the most important issue in the next election," which sounds clearer, as well as less refutable.
Because how are people supposed to know you are making a subjective/qualitative judgement? It's too easy to mislead people, and too many people profit from taking advantage of that.
They know by context. "Metallica is a great band" is obviously a subjective opinion and unprovable. It's the same as "I think Metallica is a great band" but with fewer useless words. This isn't misleading.
If I say something potentially provable that I am unsure of but claim is a fact ("Metallica is the best-selling band of all time"), this would be misleading, and I would be taking advantage of my audience.
There are other ways to achieve the same distinction. Consider "I conclude / posit / propose that ..." In general though, that distinction can be made from context. I would usually assume that content is an original thought unless stated otherwise, e.g. with a citation.
I go for "I assert" because it sounds aggressive, but it shows that I know that I haven't made my case yet. In the case of "Metallica is a great band," I'd just say it, though. Musical taste is obviously subjective.
I wish that were true, but it's not. People will flame mildly stated opinions as much as they will blunt statements. I think your point is more valid in less technical contexts, where being blunt can cause personal offense. But around here, the offense is a given -- it's driven by the technical content, not the tone. You can be as deferential an Apple fan as you like and the Android posse will still attack.
On balance, I don't even think this is a bad thing. Keep it short.
Well put. However, one suggestion of his, as related to college writing, that I feel is always valid is throwing away the common ideas.
The best advice I ever received for writing essays was very similar to what the author suggested. Every essay I write, before I begin, I come up with five ideas, or approaches to a subject or argument, and then I cross all of those off the list of things that I will use.
Since you can't hide within the "common thought floating in the community soup," it really does force you to tackle a direct, and often in-depth line of argument.
It takes a little more work at the beginning, but ever since employing the practice, I've yet to get anything other than an A on an essay.
Grammar quizzes however.. Oh, lord.. If only there were a trick for those.. My high essay grades subsidize my lack of anything resembling grammatical competence.
This article reminded me of "Thank You For Smoking" where the young kid asks his dad what he should write about on the topic of "Why is the American government the best government in the world". Aaron Eckhart's character ends up explaining that the question is ridiculous because it carries implicit assumptions (America is the best government in the world, 'best' can somehow be measured) without explaining them. He follows that with an explanation that this is basically an invitation to write whatever you want - write about tariffs, write about executing felons, write about our appeal system. It's not about the question, it's about the writing.
I guess I had really good English teachers, then, because I never worried about using unique arguments. I simply wrote the most obvious thoughts on the subject and called it a day. And I always got good grades.
However, I did follow a lot of advice from the post without knowing it, other than the 'don't be obvious' bit. For instance, I didn't use a lot of filler words. I simply wrote out my ideas, explained them, and then opened and closed it with a summary paragraph, as we were taught repeatedly. 5-3-5 and all that. It never failed to get a good grade.
If I was short of my 500 (or however many) words, I didn't start adding useless words. I added more content. Obviously it wasn't a good argument if I didn't say enough to meet that requirement yet. However, I think this only happened a few times. I was more likely to go over the maximum number instead, if there was one.
College's basic courses were simple if you knew the rules and followed them. I found out later that they were harder for others because they didn't know the rules, like the 5-3-5 pattern. Everyone that I have introduced that to has loved it and it helped them tremendously. Why isn't that taught everywhere? It seems awful obvious in retrospect.
I went through hight school and university without using that pattern (not that I wrote many essays, and when I did I made a point of writing against the topic) and was only introduced to it in ESL class I took after immigrating to canada. I'm not a very creative person -- I rather like rigid structures and perfect formatting of my code -- but I hated this immediately. It is probably just me, but somehow the idea of making an "essay" according to the rules of making essays as defined just highlights the utter pointlessness of the process and saps all energy and dispels any delusions about making meaningful arguments I might have had...
My wife is going through an intensive one-year college ESL course with an emphasis on writing. This was my first encounter with the rigid structure of American college essays. Initially I found it silly and counterproductive, but I have since softened my stance. My wife, despite having a degree from a top university in her country, had hardly any practice writing essays even in her native language. Because of that, she has had her hands full just worrying about her ideas and how to express them in correct and idiomatic English, so the fixed structure has been invaluable for her--it helps organize her thoughts and removes one whole class of tricky decisions from the writing process.
Think of it as training wheels. Once you don't need the formal structure anymore, you can and probably should stop using it.
While it is somewhat arbitrary and specious to presume that any given argument can be boiled down to an arguable thesis, three supporting points, and a restatement, I think the value of the exercise of writing a formal essay is not so much in slavishly adhering to the form, but in using the form to help you build your case.
If I only had one or two points in support of my thesis, I recognized that I was not yet fully prepared to write the essay: either I needed to dig out more distinct points in support of my position, or find a way to split a point into two, or simply devise a new thesis. If I had more than three points, this could mean that my thesis was too broad, or that I was digging too deeply into the material, and needed to find a level of abstraction that worked better.
And, occasionally, I assumed the risk of writing an essay that did not observe convention. Sometimes you only need two really strong points to support an argument, and adding a weaker point just for the sake of the formalism detracts from the argument. Sometimes you have four points, and simply cannot remove any one of them without feeling like you've weakened your argument considerably. So you roll the dice, go with what you have, and trust that your grader will honor your choices.
Depends on what your goals are. If I wanted to write a good essay, I certainly wouldn't slavishly obey the rules.
If I want to get an A, obeying the rules was absolutely perfect and worked every time. If I also managed a good essay at the same time, that was a bonus.
School was never about writing good essays. It was about learning the rules and proving you could follow them.
Apparently, my education was second-rate. What is 5-3-5? I could guess that the 3 represents the three paragraphs supporting the thesis, but I'm at a loss to guess the fives.
The other 2 5's are 5 statements that state the summary of the essay. They should convey the same message, but use different words to do it. You're giving the reader a summary of what they're going to read, then summarizing what they just read again at the end.
Thank you. That makes some sense. My kids have been taught "AMAP," or Attention-getter, Motivator, Assertion, and Preview. That has some merit, in that it allows you to appeal to the reader's curiosity, and develop interest in the topic before you spiral in to your thesis (the assertion and preview). I have to confess that when I write, by the time I get to the conclusion, I've usually run out of ways to restate what I've said twice already, so my essays usually end pretty weakly.
This is fine as far as it goes, but -- ironically, given its subject -- I found it a little vapid. Orwell's "Politics and the English Language" is my preferred commentary on English writing style: https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=4272608
I'd like all newspaper editors to read Mr. Roberts' article.
I've been working on blogging for a while. Mostly thinking about it, some writing, no publishing to the internet. I would draw a line from undertones in this article to my hesitancy to hit the "post" button.
At the risk of sounding ignorant, arrogant, or both, I'm going to make sweeping generalities. The problem as I see it is that most low hanging blog topic fruit falls under the category of "Obvious Content." If you're writing about hiring, as HN articles are wont, I promise you someone has written the same point argued the same way before. I could head up the same topic from the "Less Usual Side," but I have no personal interest in playing devil's advocate and choosing to argue for something I don't believe to be true. There's a place for that, and I'm not arguing that original thought can come out of debate or rebuttal. Unless you're publishing some kind of original research, what I have to say has probably been said already more eloquently than I could say it myself. I'm afraid I would simply be adding to the noise.
My interesting HN social experiment of the day: I would like to challenge every one to only post truly original thought. I suppose posting a unique argument to an existing topic is OK, but I'd shoot for completely untouched topics to expand the reaches of our collective thinking.
I claim there is no original thought. We're too shaped by our experiences.
I think you'll find most "original thoughts" are a) reversals of commonly accepted arguments for the sake of being contrary or b) bad ideas. Hence why most of us tend to held unoriginal thoughts—because the common beliefs are [often] the least-bad. Only occasionally does someone strike gold.
Then again, increasing the attempts at original thoughts should increase the quantity of good original thoughts, if not the proportion. I'm rather intrigued.
If these are the points that leap to your mind, they will leap to everyone else's too, and whether you get a "C" or a "D" may depend on whether the instructor reads your paper early when he is fresh and tolerant or late
I don't think this is true. If a teacher asks 100 students for a paper on an assigned topic, they're not looking for originality. They just want to see if you can write or not. I always had felt that I should write something original and was worried constantly that I was re-hashing an idea the teacher had already seen dozens of times. But then I asked several teachers about it and they said they weren't looking for originality. After all you can't expect thousands of students of the same age in the same class at the same school with the same teacher to think very differently from one another.
Of course they aren't looking for originality. It can't be expected. When you give students a really difficult test, you don't expect everyone to make an "A". You expect some to fail ("D") and many to be just average ("C"). Some select few, however, will defy the norm and manage an "A".
The situation with assigned writing is the same. Some will elegantly write many droll, boring statements and back them up with some personal anecdotes or stories they came across while doing research. Those will stand out against the poorly written droll, boring statements. They'll get higher scores.
The few that break the mold and do something completely unexpected will definitely stand out. If they can back up their originality with half decent ability, they'll stand out even more than the "standard excellence". Those people will definitely get an A.
The conclusion is sound. If you beat the expectations people have of you, good things will likely happen.
I found this article more informative than Elements of Style. Elements of Style is full of poorly thought out grammatical "rules" which are flat out incorrect, or over-generalizations without much guidance on how to properly apply them, and even the authors of Elements of Style don't actually follow most of their own "rules." If you actually tried following Strunk and White's rules, your writing would come out sounding bizarre and stilted.
I love that book and find it both useful and actually funny. (It's meant to be in parts). But it is over prescribed. The forward clearly states that its original intent was to be remedial and correct college freshmen's bad habits. It isn't exhaustive. So I'm with you except for "Just".
This strikes me as good advice, but it also matches a lot of the advice I have gleaned over the years, so it may just be my bias talking. Getting rid of mush-mouthed "in my opinion" stuff and cliche phrases, moving from the general to the specific, all good advice.
