Category Archives: Composing

Advice on writing essay/story/article/speech.

From word to paragraph…

When you brainstorm you’ll often just have individual words written down but if you want to turn a word into a paragraph of prose how do you do it?

I showed my leaving certs how the other day. I asked them for a word. They came up with ‘sex’ (hormones, hormones, hormones).

Then I wrote a list on the board as follows:

  1. Imagery = 5 senses = SIGHT   SOUND   SMELL   TASTE   TOUCH
  2. Rhetorical question
  3. Repetition
  4. Thoughts & Feelings
  5. Short snappy sentences
  6. Suspense
  7. Twist

As we used each technique we crossed it off.

Here’s the paragraph we came up with:

Does he seriously think I’m going to sleep with him? I’m really really drunk and I can smell the stale sweat of his armpits, see the yellow plaque on his teeth. I can taste the puke in my mouth and the thump of a dance tune hammers into my brain. He reaches over and grabs my ass. I’m definitely going to puke again. ‘Get me out of here’ a voice screams in my head. But I can’t leave. You see this is my job. And if I don’t sleep with him my children don’t eat”. 

As a rule I find students need to think less about what they write and more about HOW they write. Having a list of techniques written down forces you to be more stylish in your writing.

Now over to you. Pick a word, any word. Try to write 8 or 10 stylish sentences. As you use each of the techniques above cross them off.

You’ll probably be pleasantly surprised at the result but disheartened at how long it takes.  Practise writing one paragraph every day and you’ll get quicker at it.

Sample speech

Sometimes a persuasive speech will be so well written that you find yourself agreeing with something completely illogical. Look at the example below – it doesn’t make sense logically but it manipulates your emotions and thus convinces you almost in spite of yourself.

Studying it should make you more aware of why people go along with some really crazy ideas (scientology, suicide bombings…). It’s all because of how the writer/speaker makes you feel:

Blowing Hot Steam

Ladies & gentlemen, the time has come to outlaw that most dangerous of domestic appliances – the kettle! We may well smile as we picture our whistling friend as a hatchet-wielding killer; yet this seemingly innocent chrome contraption causes chaos in our homes every year, whilst the media remains suspiciously silent on the issue.

Well I for one am tired of these lies of silence, and for this reason I have spent the last month touring the A&E departments of our countries hospitals, doing a little market research of my own!

Mayo General revealed a shocking array of third degree burns caused by clumsy kettle carrying. One ashen-faced 25yr old (who does not wish to be named) tripped carrying a fully loaded kettle and ended up with the contents searing his nether regions. Needless to say his crown jewels are tarnished beyond repair! Nearby, a dazed and confused pensioner with a nasty purple lump on his temple described being attacked by his kettle-wielding Missus after he refused (one time too many) to get up off the couch and make them a cuppa! Meanwhile, a nail-chewing mother looked on in horror as her darling daughter howled in pain & clawed at the bandages covering her left arm from shoulder to wrist. Never again would making hungover Mommy an industrial strength cup of coffee for Mother’s Day seem like a good idea!!!

And so I say to you my friends, declare war on kettles. Let this marriage-wrecking, family-destroying, genital-mangler of a device be criminalised for once and for all. Canvas your local politician now and let this serious yet swept-under-the-carpet issue take it’s rightful place alongside the war on terror, the war on drugs and the war on organised crime.  

Look at the techniques used here – connect to audience, alliteration, hyperbole, emphatic words, vivid imagery, eye-witness testimony, sarcasm, list, an order (canvas you local politician), repetition of a key phrase.

Originality vs. Cliche

Almost everyone uses cliches at some stage in their writing – ideas that have been overused to the point of being completely boring, obvious and predictable. When you sit down in front of a blank piece of paper the first ideas that pop into your head will more than likely be very similar to the first ideas that pop into the heads of the other 12,000 odd students who choose the same essay topic or question B that you have.

So how do you make your writing stand out? How do you spark some originality in the pressure cooker of the exam hall?

In my opinion half the battle is to move away from a focus on WHAT you’re saying and think more about HOW you’re saying it. Focus on your technique.

Take for example the question we did in class today: you have recently been asked to write a letter to the Department of Education & Science offering your opinion on what makes a good teacher. Certain cliches will pop into your head – classroom control,  hard-working, passionate about their subject, patience, good communication & people skills, innovative approach to learning.

So far all we have is a list. It’s a fairly obvious list and most people would agree with it as a starting off point. But we have not yet said ANYTHING original. Now look at the following examples, one irritatingly informal and full of cliches and generalisations, the other quite witty, entertaining and enjoyable to read.

Example 1 = I am a leaving certificate student and in my opinion if a teacher wants to be good at their job they need to relate to what their students are going through. I mean not all of us have an easy life and sometimes when teachers get on our backs about stupid stuff like homework it just really annoys us. So yeah, I think being able to realise that students have a life outside of school and can’t always put school first is one thing that makes someone a good teacher.

In this example the student TELLS us their opinion and sounds like a bit of a whinger (look at the use of informal phrases such as ‘I mean’ ‘stupid stuff’ ‘so yeah‘)  We probably agree with their ideas but we don’t feel like they’ve told us anything we don’t already know.

Example 2 = Let me illuminate for you the essence of the magic muinteoir. It’s Monday morning. I barely slept last night. My beautiful niece Saoirse (daughter of my brain-dead sister who got knocked up at 16) is teething and let’s just say our house isn’t on Wisteria Lane. Paper thin walls mean I arrive at school with the memory of her wails just fading. Then Alan, my super-gay best-friend decides to stick his leg out and trip me in the corridor (in front of Peter, school ride). How funny. I arrive late to first class. Crap… No hold on, it’s ok. It’s Biology. Mr. Watts senses intuitively that it’s been a bad day, a bad week, hell a bad year. He sidles quietly down to my seat, fills me in on what the rest of the class are quietly doing in pairs, offers to help me catch up and doesn’t blow a gasket that I don’t have my homework done – but does insist that he gets it tomorrow. Here is a safe haven from the madness that is my life & even though I’m tired I want to learn. Is this essence something you can capture? Or sell? Or even fully understand? Maybe all great teachers are just hard-wired this way. Understanding is part of their nature & learning is their bible.      

In this example the writer DRAWS US IN to their experience of good teaching. They set the scene through the senses : sights, sounds, touch (being tripped) and draw us in emotionally by describing their feelings (How funny… Crap…). They give the teacher a believable identity by offering his name & subject, then describe his behaviour in detail. We are sucked into the moment because the writer proves his point using a specific anecdote instead of just making bland factual statements. It ends with 3 rhetorical questions which link back to the question being asked and a dramatic statement which uses hyperbole – hard-wired/nature/bible. The second example also stays focused perfectly on the task at hand – nobody asked you to slag off ‘bad’ teachers, the question asked you to explain/discuss/describe what it is that makes someone a good teacher. So example 1 wanders off point, example 2 sticks with the Q throughout.

By the way, I made up both of these examples so don’t be worrying that I’m going to publish something you’ve written up here. It’s not gonna happen – unless you write something amazing that just HAS to be published and if you do I’ll ask your permission first! Hope this helps rather than just telling you to be more original! Remember these two rules:

  1. SHOW DON’T TELL
  2. USE SPECIFIC EXAMPLES NOT GENERALISATIONS

Sample Short Story 2

This story was written by my little sis Sarah when she was in school (she lives in London now and works in theatre, daaahling). It showcases how to work a twist into the fabric of your story using the technique of plant and pay-off. Enjoy!

His Word Was Law

“Where’s my lunch?” demanded Charles.

“I’m just getting it ready now” replied Carol.

“Well hurry up, I’m starving” he snapped.

The poor girl wiped her floury hand across her brow, whitening further her already washed out complexion. Head bowed, her mousey un-brushed hair hanging limply to her shoulders, she shuffled tiredly around the kitchen as if each trip from counter to press to counter was a half-marathon.

“Finally” he snapped as she carried his meal into the dining room and placed it before him at the head of the table. “If that’s all you want I’ll just go” she broached timidly. “Umph” he muttered not even hearing her. Sighing with relief she slowly made her way back to the kitchen and flopped into the nearest chair. Ravenous, but too exhausted to move, the aroma of Charles’ food was almost torture. Eventually she summoned the energy to rise and fixed herself a simple sandwich. “What was I thinking?” she wondered aloud. Not that she could really complain. She’d gladly taken the job and it did pay quite well. It was just that she never anticipated how gruelling it would be.

“Carol” came the summons from the other room. Slowly she rose from her chair, praying that her fatigued feet would support her weight, slight as it was. “Yes” she sighed wearily when she reached the door of the dining room. “I’m finished” was all he said, not even looking at her, let alone saying thanks. Then again, he probably doesn’t even know how much I’d appreciate it, she mused miserably. Caught in her reverie, she didn’t notice the proximity of her sleeve to the glass until it was too late. Luckily the crash of breaking glass drowned out her obscenity. “My drink! Clean it up” he shouted angrily before storming from the room. Not that she needed telling. The red liquid was spreading quickly across the carpet leaving a painfully obvious mark.

Squeezing out her cloth over the sink, she gazed absent-mindedly out the window to observe a landscape which aptly reflected her mood. Heavy grey clouds loomed menacingly overhead, deadening everything, even managing to overshadow the jubilation of nature in early spring. Only the golden daffodils swaying rhythmically in the slight breeze lifted the atmosphere of gloom and dejection. Yet they could do little for Carol’s frame of mind.

As she passed the door to her basement quarters her body told her to go to bed, but her head knew she couldn’t risk it in case Charles called her. Instead she moved slowly from room to room, absent-mindedly cleaning up after him. If she’d had the energy she would almost have found it funny that one person could make this much mess.

A noise made her look up and there he was, framed in the doorway, hands on hips, a furious expression etching deep furrows on his forehead, the quintessential ‘master of the house’ pose.

“What did you do with my books?” he demanded.

“I thought you were finished with them, I put them in the drawer”.

“Well I wasn’t. Don’t touch my things unless I tell you” he ranted before storming from the room yet again.

Shocked by the abruptness of the outburst, she stopped dead for a minute before continuing on as before. She couldn’t wait until the housekeeper got here, at least then she might have a rest. She began to prepare dinner, watching as the weather got gradually worse. A gale was now blowing, tossing even the huge sycamore as if it were a mere sapling. A light drizzle had begun to fall and nightfall was closing in swiftly. Carol supposed she should light a fire but then she only had two hands. “It’ll have to wait” she said aloud, if only to break the eerie silence. Just then the back door opened and the housekeeper entered and dumped her shopping bags on the floor. Carol heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh Mum, thank God you’re home. I never realised what a tyrant a five year old could be!.

Trust Your Voice

Lots of you are afraid of Paper 1. You fear the moment that you open the exam and discover that you have to have an opinion. Your opinion. Not your teachers or the revision course booklet’s or your parent’s. Your own. It’s just you, a blank page, a biro and the light of your imagination. So I ask myself what are you so afraid of?

And to be fair I remember this fear myself, the desire to do well balanced against the uncertainty of not knowing what I would face on the day. But I don’t recall the same level of anxiety that I see on a daily basis in my classroom. I don’t recall complaining about how unfair it all was (maybe that’s just because I was lucky enough to love English) Or asking ‘How could the examiners expect us to make it up on the spot?’ as though thinking on your feet were somehow a ludicrous proposition. I do remember being infuriatingly opinionated about pretty much everything – I still am – but I also thought it was part and parcel of being a teenager. Stick it to the man. Tell it like it really is. Perhaps I was just naive.

So let’s try to get to the bottom of it. What has happened in our education system to make you so afraid?

Well first of all, education is increasingly a business with you as the client and us as the provider. Because of the demands students and parents make on teachers and because teachers make those demands of themselves – let’s face it, we all want you to get good results – you are being spoon fed. You are being told what to learn but all too often you are not being taught how to learn. And you are not innocent in this process so don’t fool yourself – you tell the teacher, I want notes. I need notes. At home you condition your parents to think that the more notes you get the better the teacher is. Even the teachers start to believe this. When you get a corrected test or a piece of homework back all too often (and of course there are plenty of exceptions) your message to us is ‘I don’t care what I did wrong. I don’t need to think about that. I just need you to fix it so that when I’m rote learning it off for the exam I’m not learning something with mistakes in it’.

But the mistakes inevitably appear in the exam because you have to demonstrate that you understand what you’re talking about.

Or maybe not. Maybe few mistakes appear because this is, after all, the  Leaving Cert & it caters all too well to rote learning.

Maybe it’s only when you go to college that the wheels fall off the wagon because now you are expected to think for yourself, to figure it out, to have an opinion. To go to the library and wade through reams of information because no-one around here is going to hand you a neatly photocopied summary of the topic, you have to come up with that yourself. But nobody’s ever asked that of you before and you don’t know how. You HATE having to have an opinion of your own, because there are no guarantees that it’s RIGHT. And you want guarantees. And notes. And predictable exams. And good grades. And a good job afterwards, thank you very much. You can always ask someone in the year ahead for their notes. For a price of course. Education is still a business after all.

But then the wagon falls apart completely when you start working because suddenly someone else is the client and YOU are the provider. Your boss wants you to write a memo, make a presentation, compile a report. Hell, even before you get to that stage you need to write a letter of application to get the job. You vaguely remember your teacher trying to get you to do this when you were at the peak of your teenage hormonal obsession with that boy with the nice skin and the broad shoulders who smelled like a Lynx ad. You were probably in 2nd yr. But then exams kicked in and then more exams kicked in and eventually you decided it was easier to give your voice away to someone else. You became a kind of talking puppet for other people’s notes and opinions – all of which you were able to learn off verbatim because you’re good at that – but you lost yourself. You lost your own voice.

Not every student feels like this. Lots of you have a wonderful voice on paper that you trust, that you feel confident in unleashing on the world. But even you are still filled with doubt, with uncertainty because there is no predicting what will come up on the day. You have to prove that you know what you’re doing. Pick the right words, use the right techniques, choose the right format. And for some of you, for many of you, this is terrifying. It’s like entering a burning building with no insurance.

I want none of you to feel like this. I’d like you to trust your voice. Have an opinion. If there are all sorts of topics out there that you don’t have an opinion on, there’s plenty of time to read more about them, to form an opinion. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind. I will not ridicule you – when have I ever done that? I might make suggestions about how to edit your work, how to make it better. And that isn’t a threat to your voice. That is professional help to clarify your thoughts and words and ideas. But your voice is still your own and you need to own it. Because one day you will be asked for your opinion – at work, or when you are raising your children, or when you are caring for your elderly parents. And I don’t want you to feel the same panic then that you feel now when I ask you to write a speech or an article or a personal essay or a short story. I know you feel uncertainty. But you always have your voice. And no-one can take that away from you.

Except if, like me, you’ re suffering from chronic laryngitis.

ps

Let me repeat – the system stinks. That’s not your fault.

It’s natural to feel anxiety about Paper 1 – especially if English isn’t one of your better subjects and you have no aspirations to be a writer. Ever. It’s the equivalent of asking me to be enthusiastic about maths -wasn’t my strongest subject at school and you’ll never make me enthusiastic about it.

So it’s ok to be nervous. And it’s not your fault the system is so flawed. But we’ve got plenty of time between now and then for you to gain some of the confidence you need for Paper 1. Can we do it? Yes we can.