Author: UofL University Writing Center

Critiquing Creative Writers for Those Who Are Not

Katelyn Wilkinson, Consultant

While we advertise help for any kind of writing, be it an essay, resume or co-op report, students often overlook the Writing Center as a place that offers creative feedback as well. Recently, I have noticed a surge of fiction and poetry, both assigned and not, in consultations. As a creative writer myself, these pieces have been both a joy and a challenge to provide feedback for. For some of my fellow consultants these sessions may offer more challenge than joy, however, as I have often overheard them recommending students make appointments with other consultants more creatively-inclined. I realize creative writing isn’t for everyone; still, it is not impossible for those who don’t consider themselves creative writers to offer feedback on such pieces.

As academic writers themselves, all consultants are familiar with reading and critiquing academic essays. However, not every consultant is a creative writer or familiar with giving feedback to one. Given how many different genres and styles of creative writer there are, it can be difficult for even those who term themselves “creative writers” to give feedback to pieces outside of their chosen genre. I have found this to be true as a poet trying to advise students who are writing longer works of fiction. I will be the first to admit that not every session has gone perfectly – some feel more like trial-by-error – but after working consecutively with several different students, I have identified two different things that should be kept in mind in order to get the most out of creative sessions. Since many of these works must be digested in a short period of time, I think these suggestions are helpful for not only consultants who are unfamiliar with reading creative work, but students who might find themselves in peer-response situations as well.

Establish the goals of the writer.
There are many different ways you can approach a creative piece; you might dive straight in to the text, or pause to talk to the author before the reading even begins. Since most of the consultations I’ve had have dealt with works in progress, I find myself doing the latter more often than not. I find this helpful because it allows me to ask the student what I consider the most important question about the piece – What are your goals? What are you trying to achieve with this work? This is especially important to establish with pieces that do not come with an assignment or prompt from a teacher. As a consultant or a peer-reviewer, I have found it just as helpful to go into a creative piece knowing what the author wants to achieve as it is to know the prompt for an academic paper. From there, it’s easier to discuss the nitty-gritty things such as character development, point of view, dialogue, and other sentence-level issues, as well as keep the session on track so the student can get the most out of their time.

Be conscious of how you’re critiquing.
Creative writing is an extremely personal endeavor, and for many students it’s hard to share such work let alone subject it to criticism. With creative pieces especially, the line between author and narrator is often blurred, so it’s important to not conflate the two; the thoughts and experiences of one don’t necessarily belong to the other. Keeping that in mind, anyone reading creative work should also be careful to balance negative and positive feedback while remaining honest as a reader. It helps to be specific about what works and what doesn’t in a piece, as well as what could be done to strengthen the work. For example, rather than saying “you need to work on your dialogue,” pull out a specific moment in the piece that seems weak and talk about different ways the student might strengthen that moment.

Finally, it is important to remember that your opinion as the reader is subjective, and critiquing creative writing isn’t as black and white as identifying a comma splice in an academic paper and showing a student how to fix it. In my creative writing sessions, I repeatedly remind students that everything I say is simply my opinion; I find this takes the pressure and frustration off of them to feel like they must make every change I suggest. Students should remember that they, as the author, always have the final word on their piece.

A Two-Way Street: Learning from Clients in the Writing Center

Scott Lasley, Consultant

With my first semester at the writing center complete, I call up the images of all the students I’ve worked with and surprisingly, find more faces of science and business students than English major students. In the few months of my infancy as a writing consultant, it was especially daunting to work almost exclusively with students in fields of engineering, business, and chemistry because what could this lowly English student help with outside of mundane grammatical and surface-level concerns? This sentiment was a mere manifestation of my “newness” anxiety that was barely a whisper by the end of the first month. I became entranced with what work the non-English major students brought in to the writing center. I found myself learning ideas and concepts that I never dreamed would cross my path from deformable models regarding imaging software to simpler things like how to write business letters and memos. It was as if I had become the student, my eyes wide as I listened to the teacher inform me of some new piece of knowledge.

I remember reading a student assignment about some new findings regarding a hominid species that supported the possibility of co-evolution in Southeast Asia. Staring down at the pages of pictures and blocks of text on this new hominid, I found myself getting lost in the circled and highlighted prints and lines, entranced by the unexpected nature of this newly found knowledge. What if it were true? What if this changed our very understanding of world? Dramatic, I know, but being presented with something I had never considered or even thought of made such findings like a stop sign of sorts in that I must wait and take notice of what lies in front of me. Even though I knew next to nothing about evolutionary studies, I could not help but absorb all that could from what I saw, like a young boy does when listening to his father. I craved to know more and found myself taking mental notes of names like homo floresiensis and co-evolution as I worked through the session. As I sat down in front of my computer after the session, I quickly brought up Google, typing my mental notes into the slender search bar, excited less by what I may or may not find and more by the shear possibilities of what might be found.

This experience, like many others so far while working at the writing center, has demonstrated the importance of consultants not only tutoring and teaching students in order to help them become better writers, but learning from them as well. That’s not to say that we have to play the role of the engaged student or that we will always enjoy and want to know about what our clients are working on. Desire and curiosity have their limits. However, by being intellectually curious of the world outside the English department, we not only see what other writers are doing, but we also open our minds and by extension, our writing, to new areas of intellectual exploration.

Teaching Practices in the Writing Center: Looking Forward

Amy Nichols, Consultant

More than a year ago, I took my first glance at the University of Louisville website. I remember being enthusiastic, as a former professor had recommended the program as one which might match well with my interests. I looked over the application and the professors in the department, but what really caught my eye was the description of the graduate assistantships for M.A. students: “Until they have completed eighteen hours of graduate work in English, M.A. GTAs are assigned to the University Writing Center.” As a student deeply interested in writing pedagogy, both in writing centers and in the classroom, this requirement crystallized my interest in the program; however, I still had some reservations. Would I be able to make a successful transition into the first year composition classroom in the second year of my M.A.? Would one year of classroom experience give me a strong enough C.V. to apply for other teaching jobs in the future?

While I won’t begin teaching in the classroom until next fall, I can sense many of my questions already being answered through my interactions with students and assignments from a broad swathe of disciplines. As a consultant who students view as an ‘outsider’ not involved with the class or the professor, I have been able to watch them react to a variety of assignments, and to observe instructions and prompts which might engender interest or confusion. In addition, I have had to constantly refine and diversify my approaches to explaining any given assignment, seeing what methods help clarify the finer points in the art of academic writing.

Beyond these hands-on, writing-related experiences, there have also been moments when I have had to help students understand the college writing culture. When students begin with “I’m not sure what my professor means by…” our conversations often move beyond the piece of writing itself. I sometimes find myself becoming a sort of cultural guide for students learning to navigate in the world of academia; how to ask for clarification on assignments, how to request a meeting with a professor, and other elements of the communal life of the university often directly correlate to writing what might seem like a simple response paper. These conversations have made me remember my own experience as a first-generation student at a small liberal arts university, learning what Ruby Payne might call the “hidden rules” of college life – rules which might seem extra-textual, but which are critical to the success of any piece of writing (and success overall) in the world of academia.

Perhaps these observations are obvious; all writing is produced within specific contexts for specific audiences. But the position of writing center consultant sits at a strange intersection in the university: some liminal space apart from classrooms, professors, deadlines, and disciplines, and yet intricately connected to all of these things. Without this direct experience at the writing center – that is, without getting involved on a deeper level in that interplay between individual and community which we call collegiate writing – I cannot imagine myself seeing the same set of needs in my future students or setting the same kinds of specific goals for my pedagogy moving forward. As I move into my second semester of tutoring, I can honestly say I would not have wanted my assistantship to begin in any other way.

Back to Work in the Writing Center

Adam Robinson, Associate Director

We enter this Spring semester with incredible momentum. Last Fall, we increased our number of consultations (we did 2587 appointments!—200 more than last Fall) as well as our number of in-class workshops (we gave over a 100—almost double from last Fall). And as usual, our online exit surveys showed high praise from the writers who worked with us.

Traditionally, the Spring semester is slower than the Fall—fewer students are enrolled, activity on campus is slower, etc. But we have reason to believe that this Spring may be our busiest Spring yet. In the Fall, we reached out to a number of student services offices and programs, such as TRIO, Family Scholar House, the Cultural Center, and Undergraduate Advising. I once worked as an academic counselor for U of L’s College of Arts and Sciences, so I know firsthand the incredible impact and influence these offices have on the students who frequent them. Sometimes students don’t feel comfortable asking their professors for help, but those same students will talk to their advisors and mentors. For example, last October, I attended a college fair for the Family Scholar House, a support service for single-parent students. The fair was held at one of the Family Scholar House residence locations, which allowed me to have informal conversations with the students in the program. Many told me that they knew about the WC but didn’t feel comfortable visiting—some didn’t want to ask for help, others were afraid of criticism. Being able to talk to them in a non-institutional space made a big difference. Those working in these programs understand that too—that students need not just information but encouragement seek out help from professors and campus resources. Our plan is to continue to build partnerships like these.

We have some side projects to work on this Spring, too. U of L has begun migrating its website to a newer version of Plone (our content management software), a move that will afford all departments and offices more freedom to design custom sites. We hope we can design a site that meets both the needs of our U of L community members as well as the needs of other Writing Center community members who may visit our site. And while May is a ways away, we are gearing up for our second Dissertation Writing Retreat (check out our May 30, 2012 blog to learn about our first retreat). The first one was a great success, and we’ve already received inquiries from interested students who have begun writing their dissertations.

Our main goal, however, is to keep offering excellent tutoring and response to students, staff, and faculty. I want to personally thank Ashly Bender, Alex Bohen, Nancy Bou Ayash, Sam Bowles, Daniel Conrad, Michelle Day, Tika Lamsal, Scott Lasley, Brit Mandela, Jennifer Marciniak, Amy Nichols, Meagan Ray, Lauren Short, Mandi Strickland, and Katelyn Wilkinson. Their excellent work is why writers keep coming back for help and why those same writers leave with smiles on their faces. I’m happy to see all of our consultants again after a long break, and I’m equally excited to see some of our regular clients already returning this year. And of course, I eagerly await the opportunity to see some new faces too—and hope they become familiar faces.

I want to wish Bronwyn Williams, our director, the best of luck on his Fulbright—he’ll be in England for six months doing important research on literacy. That leaves me in charge of this place. So perhaps then, a personal goal is to not screw anything up! I look forward to the challenge.

Finally, I want to send my sympathies to Dr. J Blaine Hudson’s family. Dr. Hudson served U of L for many years as a professor in the Pan African Studies Department and more recently as the Dean in the College of Arts Sciences. He died on Saturday, January 5. Dr. Hudson leaves behind an incredible legacy not only at U of L but also in the Louisville community where he worked tirelessly for others.

World Majority Students and Writing Center Practices

Tika Lamsal, Assistant Director of Graduate Student Writing

Working at the writing center with a wide range of writers from domestic to international students (whom I call world majority students, following Fox, 1994 – see Listening to the World for details), I have had an opportunity to broaden my tutoring experiences in a different way than by teaching various English courses. A face-to-face consultation with writers, although similar to other conferences and peer review sessions with students in class, has provided me with more confident communicative moments I share with other writers. Having to understand writers’ concerns and prioritize agendas based on their interests and needs seems more meaningful than doing guesswork on my part for their writing. More meaningful than these, however, are the learning moments from the writing of students that hail mostly from different rhetorical traditions, language and cultural backgrounds. Writing traditions vary and differ in various cultures; writings don’t get less sophisticated or more advanced depending on which part of the globe they originate from; writing styles simply are different and have different rhetorical values. These ideas have reinforced as I continue to work with more world majority students at the writing center.

An international graduate student, for example, couldn’t understand why she had to avoid the lengthy background she had provided before she even touched on the key issue or idea in her article. She also seemed surprised when I suggested during a consultation that it was okay to use “I”, and active voice structures in her paper, although it was a formal research project. We first had to talk about different rhetorical choices used in the context of her home country before moving to the nuts and bolts of academic writing in US universities. Similarly, another world majority writer found a natural way of communicating and “adding flavor” to her academic writing by peppering her words and even sentence structures occasionally with her native language expressions.

These are only two of the scores of other examples in daily tutoring situations when we encounter different ways of writing, especially through the works of world majority students. Initiating a dialogue during writing consultation, I have found most of the world majority students well prepared to share their past cultural and academic experiences, which communicate to us a useful conceptualization about the ways they write or the rhetorical styles they choose. What they need for such a dialogic initiation is our attention or care to their experiences. For instance, when I open the conversation with my own experiences of working with differences in writing, the writers seem very intent on bringing in their own experiences in a suggestive and helpful way for me to devise my tutoring strategies. Once they get to know the differences, the world majority students are more likely than before to understand and work towards changing their writing style in order to meet their assignment expectations, despite the difficulty they face in the beginning to adopt new academic conventions. This interactive way of consulting has helped me not only learn about different rhetorical strategies underlying the writing of world majority students but also refine and solidify my own tutoring practices. Meanwhile, majority of the issues writers want to work on during most of the sessions happen to be similar ones, irrespective of writers’ positions as domestic or world majority students. When working with graduate students in both HSC and Belknap, for example, I come across similar concerns or issues of academic writing, such as grammar, nuances of research writing, transition, consistency of verb tenses, etc., that students ask for help.

However, while most of the writing issues may be commonly resolvable and negotiable when working with both domestic and world majority writers depending on the nature of writing, cultural and language contexts inevitably trickle in the writing of the latter as we deal with global level concerns. Since it seems unimaginable to generalize students’ writing strategies based on the regions or countries of origin, it becomes viable to start with a general conversation about how the students are accustomed to writing, what course expectations they have for the assignment, and how the students can work towards meeting those expectations. Being attentive to their specific cultural and academic contexts, we can work together with world majority students to help them produce meaningful writing and academically succeed in the university. With their understanding of how variety of languages and cultures can influence their writing styles, most of the world majority students seem to be more than willing to learn new writing conventions in order to both gain knowledge and succeed in their programs. I continue to learn from those teachable moments in the writing center.

Learning about Responsive Practices from the University Writing Center

Nancy Bou Ayash, Assitant Director

I had initially imagined that my writing center work, particularly the weekly fifty-minute consultation sessions, wouldn’t be any different from the countless one-on-one conferences I’ve had with my college writing students and workshopping sessions in peer writing groups. I admittingly expected my writing center pedagogy to be completely informed by (and never informing) my so-called student-centered teaching approaches. Looking back at my teaching role and what I had then perceived as student-centered practices, I prided myself on creating spaces for empowering writers to experiment with unfamiliar genres and writing styles and to consider alternative rhetorical decisions and options. At that time, little did I know that beneath the veneer of student-centered discourse, my own words about effective writing and rhetorical practices and productive revision plans remained unquestioned, nonnegotiable, and always in the very center of every composing and re-composing process.

Over the course of this semester at the writing center, I had come to realize how much I had become engaged and concerned not only with written texts but even more with the resourceful writers and creative designers behind them. I had come to discover a once forgotten interest in issues critical to my students’ sense of self and lived realities, issues that I had initially overlooked or had hoped would remain unarticulated in a traditional classroom setting under the excuse that there are always more important learning outcomes to tap into and academic writing skills to develop. My consultation sessions had rekindled my ability to move beyond my impractical teacherly categories of students in terms of ability and performance and of their written texts into binaries of standard vs. nonstandard compositions. As I worked closely with both graduate and undergraduate students from across the disciplines, I listened to them with care as they expressed their aspiration to join their dream professions in a capitalist global market and enhance their career prospects, efforts that they saw as largely contingent on their mastery of academic writing conventions and on the kind of guidance we can offer in the writing center as they moved towards those goals.

As we teased out in every single session the specificities of the social, economic, cultural, and linguistic realities and relations that they wished to maintain, rewrite, or revise in their textual and discursive decisions and choices, I had started to re-envision my writing center clients as always thinking, living, and composing through global-local scenes. My newly acquired writing center pedagogy had taken precedence over the pedagogical approaches I’d developed over the years in intervening in the dominant politics of language through foregrounding the intricate relationship between specific instances of languaging, writing, thinking, and living. As our clients’ stories continue to rapidly and radically change in light of current economic and geopolitical pressures, new linguistic and cultural realities, and emerging multiliteracies, I cannot help but wonder to what extent are we adequately changing our own stories about language, learning, literacy, and identity?

I look forward to yet another exciting day with another writer, a different text, and a new story that will continue to unsettle and complicate my preconceived perceptions and categories about writing, writers, and texts. As my clients continue to read their writings aloud while, at times, laughing at their self-acknowledged errors, with a sigh of “I can’t believe I didn’t even notice that,” I will surely be having more of those ‘aha’ learning moments of my own.

What my psychologist taught me about the Writing Center…

Sam Bowles, Consultant

I recently had an encounter that really helped me understand and appreciate the experience clients visiting the Writing Center often have.

I have always been a student looking to take advantage of the full range of services offered on a college campus. I always get my flu shots. I have participated in group exercise classes and in fitness assessment and planning programs. I have even regularly scheduled massages when they are being offered through campus health services. So when I was starting to get stressed out a few months ago, signing up for an appointment with a psychologist (another free service provided to students) made perfect sense.

I went into my first 50 minute session (coincidentally the exact length of the sessions we offer in our Writing Center), fully expecting that I would lay out my problems, the things that were causing me to stress or worry, and then I could sit back and let the psychologist—the professional—do the rest. He would identify my problems, the root of them in particular, and then tell me the fixes for them. I was in for a surprise, though. The session didn’t exactly go as I had planned.

He asked a lot of questions. It seemed as though every time I presented something I thought needed work, every time I laid something out wanting him to tell me the solution, he responded by asking more questions of me. “Well, what do you think?” “Why do you think that makes you feel that way?” “How do you think you could make that part of your life less stressful and therefore more enjoyable?”

In all honesty, I started to get a little frustrated. This session was requiring a lot more thinking and work on MY part than I had expected. After all, HE was the professional, not me. It was in the middle of that first session that I had an epiphany: I looked up at my psychologist and said, “Oh my gosh, this is like the Writing Center for my life.” He was a little confused at first, but I explained.

I ultimately came to thoroughly appreciate the methods of my psychologist and found our sessions to be very valuable. He equipped me and empowered me to identify and deal with the stressors my life. But that initial session finally enabled me to fully empathize with the experience of many writers when they visit the Writing Center for the first time.

All of us who work in the Writing Center have observed the frustration of clients who come in with expectations and pre-conceived notions of what they think we do and how they think we do it. It’s not at all unusual for clients to think they will present their papers, and we—the professionals—will fix them while they sit back and watch. It’s not at all unusual for clients to become frustrated when, instead, they are met with probing questions and challenges to think deeper. However, just as my psychologist demonstrated patience with me as I came to understand the process, I often have to be patient with clients as they wrap their minds around our methods. We want, as our mantra goes, not only to fix a given paper but to improve the individual writers with whom we work, but we cannot forget to empathize with clients as we help them understand not just how we do what we do but also why we do it that way.

Writing without a Net: Ways to Start a Paper without an Assignment Sheet

Daniel Conrad, Consultant

When gearing up to write a paper, your greatest tool is likely to be an assignment sheet. These treasures, handed out in stacks by our benevolent professors and T.A.s, include valuable information regarding assignment details. These handouts offer our teachers an efficient way to answer perianal questions about the work such as content, length, scope, focus, and format. As demonstrated by a previous post, the ability to read an assignment sheet can unlock many of the mysteries students encounter during the writing process.

Unfortunately, a time will come when your dutiful professor has elected to let you fly solo. Without the aid of an assignment sheet, you will be expected to yield a work equally as impressive as previous, more structured work. Without the assignment sheet, the boundaries of a paper seem unidentifiable. What should I write about? What course should my argument take? What sort of sources should I use? The questions, all equally as gravitous and pressing, begin to mount, and suddenly the guidelines lain out on assignment sheets, which had previously seemed arbitrary and restricting seem much more comforting. Students without assignment sheets often seem to be floating around aimlessly in the space of the assignment. Luckily for students specific to the Humanities, there are strategies, questions ask in order to help anchor one’s self, even in the absence of the tethers of our assignment sheets.

How did this text affect me?

Close reading also provides great jumping-off points for developing a conversation. Was there a moment in the text which seemed especially potent, or had a certain rhetorical or emotional effect on you? Did this text remind you of anything you have read or seen in another context? Teachers develop courses with specific objectives and place texts together to stimulate certain conversations. If you see something interesting, run with it!

What is the history behind this text?

Time period is a great way to position a text. Authors, the socially aware people they often are, know a lot about art, culture, politics, religion, and so on. It is likely that they have been influenced, or at the very least, in conversation with significant events and conversations going on during their writing process. What were the big social questions when this text was written? What sort of society was the author living in?

What is the author doing here?

The relationship between the author, narrator, and the reader is always an important one. Is our author different than our narrator, or are they the same person? How does the relationship between the author and narrator affect the way we understand the story? Are the people telling the story reliable? What is their tone? How are they using language? Are they being manipulative, or do they have the reader’s best interest in mind? The way the author positions himself, his narrator, and his reader all play key roles in the delivery of a story, which in turn changes the way we read into events and characters. Discussing the ways this influences our reading is often a fruitful endeavor.

Which “Big Questions” are here?

Things like Truth, Ethics, Gender, Reality, Freedom, God, Power, Capitalism, War, and Consciousness are inarguably tough nuts to crack. The commonality between these topics is how difficult it is to come to a resting answer on anything. These questions are all intensely difficult to write on in any definitive way, which is precisely why so many authors write on them extensively! Your paper might not have the scope (or likely a distant enough due date) to answer any of these questions within, but it certainly can contain a discussion of the way the text in question addresses these huge, looming questions. Look at how the author encounters these questions for an interesting reading of a text, but be careful to avoid the temptation to try to solve the puzzles. Most of these questions have outlasted thousands of years of rigorous philosophical and humanistic debate. It is unlikely an answer will be found in a five page paper.

The number of possible entrances to a paper is astronomically high. Papers can take on any number of potential courses, as demonstrated by the unfathomable number of books, papers, lectures, and modes of discourse which populate the Academy. There is no shortage of ways to approach writing a paper — that is certain. Still, for those of us who prefer a bit more guidance – a target to aim at – these strategies offer a way into a text when the safety net of an assignment sheet isn’t available.

What to Do with Revision

Scott Lasley, Consultant

In terms of writing stages, many of my clients visit the writing center with concerns involving the revision process, particularly after less than stellar peer-revision sessions and being stuck in the “I don’t know where to go with this” stage of writing. In reflecting on these particular clients, it seems especially important to breakdown this behemoth of “revision.” What does it mean to revise? How to we go about it when approaching a deadline? Why should students even bother? Some may be simply focused on getting a grade and being done with the assignment, so what can we, as writing consultants, do? My hope is that by answering these questions with what has worked for some of my clients, this breakdown of revision will offer some new strategies for all writers, young and old.

How to Approach It?

One of the biggest issues students seem to face with utilizing revision is knowing where to start. Sometimes a professor may provide students with a marked-up copy of their rough draft as a means of revising before turning the paper, but that may not always be possible. The best thing you can do is to breakdown revision into manageable pieces. A good question to ask yourself is what areas need to be focused on? Is my thesis in need of revision? Is organization the issue? By setting up a game plan for what particular areas to revise, the actual task of revising a paper becomes less daunting and far more doable, especially if that ominous deadline is looming over your head. If you are uncertain of what areas to really focus on, have a fellow classmate or friend read over your draft. By looking at the feedback they provide, you can narrow down which areas to focus on as you revise. It’s also a good idea, if possible, to focus on one particular aspect at a time. For example, you may work on making your argument more clear one day, then work on developing your ideas another day. Regardless of how you approach it, the important thing to keep in mind with how you approach revision is to have a plan and keep things focused.

Developing a Habit of Revision

Know the terms or create your own: Just naming various aspects of your writing that need improvement can be especially helpful not just in identifying what specific area you want to focus on when revising but also in giving you power over that aspect because you know what to look for in your work. It also helps to know the names of various aspects of writing, such as organization, thesis, clarity, comma splice, etc., in order to articulate your concerns when asking someone to read through a piece of your work. While the terminology isn’t necessarily a vital part of the revision process, it does help make sense of all of the potential areas to be addressed.
Have a list or guide handy as you work through your paper: By having your personal “check list” of revision, you can not only keep yourself focused on which specific areas you want to tackle, but it also gives you an easy guide to refer back to in case you find yourself getting overwhelmed or distracted by lower-order concerns. In some ways, having a revision list is like having a map, giving you the directions to reach your destination while giving you a landmark to return to if you have to stray a little bit to make note of something unexpected.
When in doubt, refer to the prompt: Professors usually have key words or “hints” in their prompts, such as what expectations they have, page length, formatting style, number of citations, and material or questions that should be addressed. This can be a great tool to use when coming up with a revision plan, especially if you’re unsure where to get started.

Above all else, revision should be a practice that is done out of choice rather than obligation. Obviously not all writing assignments will be equally valued, but developing strategies and ways to make revision useful and intriguing can not only flesh out and strengthen your writing, but also give you the opportunity to make a piece of writing you’re especially passionate about the best it possibly can be. Happy writing!

How to Analyze a Writing Prompt

Lauren Short, Consultant

Before you can start with that snappy opener that draws your reader in, you must first learn to decode the writing prompt. While this may seem like an ordinary task, I’ve seen many students who are overwhelmed by the amount of information included in a given writing prompt. They all seem to ask a similar question: How do I know that I’m including everything the professor wants? Luckily, there are a few questions you can ask yourself to aid in the process of understanding your professor’s expectations.

What type of paper am I being asked to write?

Narrative: A narrative essay asks you describe a personal experience.
Persuasive: A persuasive essay asks you to make an argument, or to persuade your reader. In addition to providing examples and support about your own argument, you’ll want to consider the opposing viewpoint’s relevance and explain why your argument makes a stronger case.
Expository: An expository essay typically asks you to compare/contrast two things or explain a cause/effect.

What sort of information do I need to include?

More than likely, your paper is going to call for research. How many sources does your professor ask you to include? Do the sources need to be varied? Peer-reviewed? One of the best places to start brainstorming is through research. Once you read an academic opinion on the topic you are writing, you’ll begin to understand the viewpoints in which you agree and disagree. You probably have a good idea of what you want to say, you just need to find sources that support your argument and examples that illustrate your point.

Who is my intended audience?

Considering your audience will help set the tone of your paper. If you are to assume a common reader, you will probably need to take a bit more time introducing your topic and explaining its significance. If your professor would like you to write ‘to the academy’ then you can probably omit redundant summary and spend more time talking about why your argument is significant instead of what your argument is.

Decoding a writing prompt can be a bit like translating a foreign language. You might feel like you have the gist of the assignment but there’s always that feeling that something might be missing. I encourage all writers to go back to the writing prompt once they have finished with their drafts. Make a list of the professor’s expectations and see if you can find them within your paper. If you’re missing something, go back and revise. With a little effort, you’ll get to make a satisfying check mark next to each expectation.