Exercises for writing

I have recently been introduced to some awesome exercises for writing by some of my amazing colleagues. I completed the following exercises for a book project, but I think they would also work equally well for articles or dissertations.

Exercise #1: X,Y,Z

Can you distill your project into the following formula:

My book is about x. I argue y about x. The significance of discovering y about x is z.

I found it helpful to begin by creating a list of keywords, then use those words to fill in the x,y,z. To really make this activity useful do at least 5 different iterations of these three sentences, jumbling up the order of what you put in the x,y,z slots and even introducing different concepts for one of the x,y,z slots.

Exercise #2: The Fairytale

That's right. Forget Academic Prose. Plot out your project in terms of a fairytale. Tell the story of your idea. Who are the main actors? Who are the villains? What does the action consist of? What are the conflicts? How are they resolved? Here is a quick blurb from the fairytale I wrote about my project:

Once upon a time there lived a fair maiden named Sympatica. Everyone said she was the most gentle and kind woman in the land. She helped the poor and downtrodden. no one knew why but somehow she just made them feel better about themselves when they were around her. Everyone wanted to be her friend. Well, almost everyone.

There was another girl in the land, Godsib, who whispered evil things about Sympatica to everyone. She came with horrible stories about how Sympatica was not really helping the poor but actually hurting them. Godsib even went so far as to say Sympatica was creating animosity between people who were and were not her friend. Godsib did her best to break up these categories of insiders and outsiders, but no one would take her seriously. Well, almost no one.

Exercise #3: The Table of Contents

I now understand that the table of contents is one of the gears that makes the book project run (along with the story that you tell and your argument: all three are different gears churning in different ways, but when moving together they form the book). The TOC is not your argument, nor does it have to follow the order of your argument. The TOC should echo the framework of the book and should provide the arc of the story you will tell. I found it much easier to construct a TOC when I thought of it in terms of tracing how I am going to tell a story rather than as some kind of index of chapters.

I think it's useful to create a TOC at various moments in your project, as a way of staying attuned to how you are telling the story of your argument.

Classifieds

Looking for church home, willing to split rent. I am generally a quiet, neat person who does not raise her hands while singing (though I wish I did). I know how to follow all the rules (though I wish I didn’t). I do have a lot of a baggage, but can just put it in storage. I prefer contemporary worship music, but not like a rock band. Maybe just a guitar. Includes deep teaching of the bible in its historical context. Please no “life application” moments that turn the biblical narrative into Aesop’s fables. Should include women in leadership roles. Preferably not as back-up singer or Sunday school superintendent. Clear mission for helping others. Africa or India would be great, but maybe better the house with a sagging roof just down the street. Accessible by foot for people without $60,000 suburbans. Or maybe if it is only accessible by a $60,000 dollar suburban it actually transports the little girl sitting on the porch of the broken house down the street. No theology statement necessary. Living out heaven here on earth completely necessary. Congregation made up of – not those who are “in” – but those who go out. Comes complete with: the poor, the mourning, the meek, the hungry, the merciful. Please call me if you know of anything like this.

Relating to Students

I have this notion that students enjoy younger professors because they tend to be more understanding, since they are not so far removed from being students themselves. I would certainly ascribe to this belief in my own practices: I tend to be more understanding if students need to buy a cheaper edition than the one I ordered for the class, or I am not offended when my class falls pretty low on their priority lists, below even the float contest or that evening's episode of Jersey Shore.

But it wasn't until I actually became a student again that I remembered what it was really like to be a student. There are some obvious differences between me and a "real" college student: I chose the class because I already understood its relevance to my professional career, I am not paying for the course, I will take the tests but they will not factor into my gpa or effect financial aid in any way. Nonetheless, I was a bit surprised by some of the feelings I've experienced in the last 3 weeks of attending class.

On the first day I was scurrying from the class I taught to the class I am a student in (this whole experience is made more interesting by the fact that I teach, then attend class, then teach again. that's some pretty serious role-switching). Half-way down the two flights of stairs I realized I wasn't sure I had a pencil with me. How embarrassing it would be to have to borrow a writing utensil on the first day of class! After digging in my bag long enough I confirmed that I did indeed have a writing utensil. Walking into the classroom, my eyes darted quickly around the room. Where should I sit? I slid to the far side of the room and sat in the middle of the row. Perhaps I am more aware than most college students of how much your chosen spot says about you as a student, but I knew I didn't want to be on the front and I didn't want to be in the very back.

Despite those anxieties, I felt a surge of hope and promise as we went over the syllabus. At this point in the course, anything was possible! Who could guess what the knowledge I learned in this hour would transform in my life? While I still feel that sense of anticipation three weeks later, I have already begun squeezing in the reading a few minutes before class and only half-way doing the homework. There are just so many other important things to do!

I am a bit shocked by my behavior, and I wonder how, if I, as an adult, who highly values the knowledge I'm gaining in this class, am doing so little to get by, do students ever do anything for my classes? I am also comforted by some of the habits of this teacher that I recognize in myself, habits that seem perfectly normal to me as a student, but felt so awkward when I was in front of the classroom. Like looking down at my notes to get my bearings and remind myself of what to say next. I actually enjoyed those moments as a student because it let me catch up in my note-taking and breath for a second. I'm also not sure that I feel totally "passive" during a lecture, the knowledge I'm taking in has my mind working whether I'm contributing or not.

I do find, however, that if we're still on the same topic 5 minutes later, my mind has wandered. Its not that I require a change of activity, just a shift in focus. I always assumed as a teacher that "short attention span" meant I had to drastically change the pace or the activity, but now I think just key shifts would work well enough to punctuate students' attention.

Its also really, really nice to be sitting among the "audience" and not performing in front of the class. As much as I love teaching, being up in front of people exhausts me. I'll be curious what the pressure of "test" day feels like, but for now showing up for class is a completely stress-free and relaxing addition to my day. I am also eager and excited to have the privilege to keep learning. It's been nearly 4 years since I've been a student (as in attending every class for an entire semester), and I dearly missed it. Perhaps this is what the saying "education is wasted on the youth" really means: its not until you've moved on from college that you realize what you had. As with most things, the value of something becomes apparent only when you've lost it. So what does one "have" while in college? What is this education "thing?" Well, that's a topic for another post...

Follow-up

Interesting article on idealized farming vs. the real thing, in light of my experience cutting up a dead chicken.

Breaking Bones

Yesterday was a first for me: I cut up an entire chicken. I've done this before on a cooked chicken, but this was an entirely different thing. For starters, I wasn't just cutting to get meat off the bird to eat, I was cutting to get specific cuts of meat. I was making my own thighs, drumsticks, wings, and breasts instead of buying them from the store. Secondly, in order to create those specific cuts, I had to deal with joints and bones, something I merely avoided when cutting off slices of cooked meat.

You may be wondering, as I myself did during this process, why in the world I would want to do this. Our town finally got a farmers market, and one of the best things about it right now is the availability of organic, free-range, local meat (which is not carried at the ONE chain of grocery stores). If you've ever bought local chicken, then you probably came across the same problem I did: local farmers are limited (FDA regulations and all that) on how they can get their meat processed, so most of them can only sell whole chickens. I call this a "problem" only because I had never cut up a whole chicken before.

After proudly toting home my 5 lb chicken, just killed and processed the day before, I looked up a youtube video by Alton Brown on how to cut up a chicken. Another thing I love about the farmers market - I can show my ignorance and find help. I asked the farmer from whom I bought the chicken how in the world to cut up and freeze different parts of it. His answer - this youtube video! (whoever said farmers aren't tech savvy?)

I watched the video 3 or 4 times first, and then pulled out the chicken. I pushed play, watched Alton make one cut, then paused it and tried it out myself (please do not ever tell Mac the vicinity of this prized laptop to my raw meat-cutting enterprise). If you've ever tried to carry out one of those home-instructional videos, then you know nothing ever goes just as they say it will.

The first problem I ran into was Alton's chicken had no neck and mine did. I tried finding the joint to no avail, I tried cutting around it, I tried making small, sharp, quick, slanted cuts; in short, I tried doing all of the things I saw him do for other parts of the chicken to no avail. As this was early in the process, I was immediately thrown into a fit of anger and despair and I did what all angry and despairing people do: I hacked away like mad at the chicken neck until it separated from the rest of the body in a gooey, sloppy, and wretched mess.

I nearly quit at this point. Not wanting to waste the $20 the bird cost me, however, I took a deep breath and hit "play" to watch Alton cut away the wings. Can I just say it took me about 10 minutes to figure out which way to lay the bird? What was breast side up? I was mortified at my own ignorance, and therefore all that much more determined to become a carving expert. Wiggling the wings in their sockets to find and then cut through the joint wasn't too bad, and before long I had my first cuts of meat: the wings!

For the second step I was supposed to grab the drumsticks and thighs and pull back until they nearly touched one another. This would "pop the sockets" or literally dislocate the joints. To me, I felt as though I was breaking bones.

I nearly quit at this point as well. If I ever was going to become a vegetarian this was the moment. Instead, I remembered Novella's attitude in Farm City when she had to slaughter her own turkey, and I took a moment to celebrate the life of the bird (which I could do because I knew it got to peck around the grass for bugs and feel the sunshine on its back), the good meals it would give me, and to give thanks for its life. Then I broke its legs.

The rest of the process vacillated between hacking despairingly away at bones and meat, and making steady, calm, cutting strokes that produced picture-perfect cuts. At the end of it I had, in some shape or another, the main cuts of a chicken and I had stowed them away in my refrigerator. When I pull these cuts out and cook them up for a recipe, I know memories of this endeavor will come flooding back, with some embarrassment and with some pride.

I can't exactly say in a measurable, scientific way how this experience will change my health or the dinner itself. But I can say that getting my hands dirty (literally) and the investment of time I put into handling the chicken has connected me to these particular pieces of meat in a way that buying some pre-packaged cuts, ripping open and throwing away the plastic, and plopping them into the pan, never could.

I think it is also worthwhile that I cringed through this whole process and felt a little uneasy. That discomfort, when it comes to the killing and eating of animals, is a good thing. It doesn't make me a vegetarian, but it does make me conscious of the sacrifice of the animal for my eating pleasure, and it encourages me to eat in a more conserving, sustainable way so that no part of the animal is wasted. I believe my pleasure in eating this chicken will, in fact, be deepened by the presence of pain because it marks an ethical consciousness about the bird who affords me the pleasures of roast chicken, or cajun chicken pasta, or chicken pot pie.

Now if only my cooking skills were up to the challenge :-)