What Faigley suggests is that while Expressive, Cognitive & Social views all have their "selling points," to put only one of these theories in practice in every teaching situation is probably not the best solution. I like that he recommends that "if the process movement is to continue to influence the teaching of writing and to supply alternatives to current-traditional pedagogy, it must take a broader conception of writing, one that understands writing processes are are historically dynamic" (Faigley 662). To be clear, Faigley's essay was my least favorite thing to read (sorry Julie!), but I could at least respect what he was trying to say. In fact, I enjoyed this week's readings not because I agreed with what the various authors/theorists/experts said about writing; I enjoyed the readings because I could begin to fight with the text. In my mind. With MIND BULLETS! (Tenacious D. anyone?)
I liked the fight this week. I liked that I found myself resisting the text, asking questions like:
Can expressive writing be both individually focused and socially engaging?
Can we liken to process of writing to an intellectual economy whereas writing is a means of production--we produce ideas, ideas become a commodity, we consume others' ideas to produce more ideas and if we can participate in this economy, we not only become self-actualized but also advocates for our individualism?
Let me turn around now and take-on a different persona as I respond Ken Macrorie's chapter from Telling Writing. I thoroughly enjoyed working my way through this reading--so much so, that I decided to try one of his exercises myself. Obviously, I am at a particular advantage because 1) I understand what I'm doing with a writing exercise more than the average first year college student; 2) I'm making an attempt to keep my writing "boiled down," if you will, and 3) I had an experience in mind that I wanted to write about. Despite my apparent advantages, I still have a husband who enjoys interrupting me frequently as I try to finish my homework. In other words, attempting to "write without stopping" is almost impossible in my household. Obviously what I've written in a condensed period of time is not anything earth-shattering, but I wanted to see if I Macrorie's tactics could, in fact, lead to something--anything! I wanted to see how I, as a student, responded to the exercise. What I found was that it was difficult for me to "let go" and write what I was thinking. What happens when you are trying to write AND remember at the same time? On one hand, I know I did my best at completing Macrorie's exercise, but I feel like I could do better. Why do I say this? I think that writing non-stop is something that I need to work on feeling more comfortable with. I struggled to consider my audience (and their expectations of my writing), so I know that my voice was somewhat mediated. This makes me wonder...when are we really writing for ourselves? In the classroom...are students ever really writing for themselves if (despite the subject matter, the theme, etc.) the very physicality of the room is, in fact, already chosen for them?
To comment on the second part of your blog, I too find writing non-stop to be a challenge. Like you said, this is not only because of physical interruptions (two-year-olds, telephones, husbands, etc.), but also because of mental interruptions. Even though I know nobody has to see what I write, I still have this hope that something that spills out will be worthy of using for an audience of more than myself. I don't remember which reading mentioned it, but I remember that one the writers said free writing takes practice (probably Elbow), so all we can do is to keep on trucking.
ReplyDeleteI like that you refer to "mental interruptions," because I'm notorious for letting myself become distracted in, well, pretty much all the time! ha.
ReplyDeleteSo, I posted this response last night under the influence of sleep deprivation (thanks Atlantic City) and an icky headache. Now that I look back over my response and the exercise, I can say a few things with a more "clear" head.
Even though I paused at times to try to recall what happened and considered how I would articulate the past, I am amazed at how much of what I wrote was actually...true. I've written creative pieces before, but this exercise helped me truly get straight to the nitty-gritty; I wrote with and without a filter. At the risk of sounding silly, I truly feel as though this was an enlightening experience for me as a writer. I suspect (and I think we both do Maggie) that with practice (just like meditation--as mentioned in the readings!) we can clear our minds and just WRITE.
And for that matter, did anyone else find the language in Faigley's essay to be condescending? I mean, if you want to "meditate before writing," why the hell can't you? I really had a hard time cutting through to the logic of Faigley's essay because of his condescending tone. His "ethos," I thought, negatively impacted the pathetic appeal of the argument when he terms expressionism as being "in the spirit of the sixties" (like we should just shake our heads and think of pot smoking hippies) and when he refers to Emig's description of the cognitive view of writing as "a mixture of social science and literary idioms" (654-657). Ohh Lester. Lighten up, will ya?