"To write or even speak English is not a science but an art. There are no reliable words. Whoever writes English is involved in a struggle that never lets up even for a sentence. He is struggling against vagueness, against obscurity, against the lure of the decorative adjective, against the encroachment of Latin and Greek, and, above all, against the worn-out phrases and dead metaphors with which the language is cluttered up.” ~ George Orwell
History of the English Language
Language as Barrier
Bad Writing Examples
Rule #1: Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
Rule #2: Never use a long word where a short one will do.
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Rule #3: If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
Rule #4: Never use the passive voice where you can use the active.
Rule #5: Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday equivalent.
Click here for a list and explanation of Kiss of Death writing errors.
(Thanks to Mrs. Galasso!)
(Thanks to Mrs. Galasso!)
The Power of Words:
Bad Writing Examples
General Essay Analysis Questions
- What is the writer’s thesis? Is it inferred or directly stated? Explain it in your own words.
- How does the writer develop his/her argument? What approach does s/he use and what evidence is provided to support the thesis?
- Find some literary techniques, such as irony, imagery, metaphor, climax, allusion, paradox, etc., and explain the effectiveness of each one in supporting the writer’s argument.
- Find a couple of quotations from the essay that had an effect on you and explain how and/or why for each one.
- Question of the Day/ “The Capital T Truth” personal response: Do you agree or disagree with the writer’s argument? Explain, using evidence from the other essays we have studied in class and your own experiences.
Literary Theory
Marxism
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More on Marxism - a powerpoint
Feminism
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“Phenomenal Woman”By Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
“The Slant”
By Ani Difranco
The slant
A building settling around me
My figure female framed crookedly
In the threshold of the room
Door scraping floorboards
With every opening
Carving a rough history of bedroom scenes
The plot hard to follow
The text obscured in the fields of sheets
Slowly gathering the stains of seasons spent lying there
Red and brown
Like leaves fallen
The colors of an eternal cycle
Fading with the
Wash cycle
And the rinse cycle
Again an unfamiliar smell
Like my name misspelled or misspoken
A cycle broken
The sound of them strong
Stalking talking about their prey
Like the way hammer meets nail
Pounding, they say
Pounding out the rhythms of attraction
Like a woman was a drum like a body was a weapon
Like there was something more they wanted than the journey
Like it was owed to them
Steel toed they walk
And I'm wondering why this fear of men
Maybe it's because I'm hungry
And like a baby I'm dependent on them
To feed me
I am a work in progress
Dressed in the fabric of a world unfolding
Offering me intricate patterns of questions
Rhythms that never come clean
and strengths you still haven’t seen
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
“The Slant”
By Ani Difranco
The slant
A building settling around me
My figure female framed crookedly
In the threshold of the room
Door scraping floorboards
With every opening
Carving a rough history of bedroom scenes
The plot hard to follow
The text obscured in the fields of sheets
Slowly gathering the stains of seasons spent lying there
Red and brown
Like leaves fallen
The colors of an eternal cycle
Fading with the
Wash cycle
And the rinse cycle
Again an unfamiliar smell
Like my name misspelled or misspoken
A cycle broken
The sound of them strong
Stalking talking about their prey
Like the way hammer meets nail
Pounding, they say
Pounding out the rhythms of attraction
Like a woman was a drum like a body was a weapon
Like there was something more they wanted than the journey
Like it was owed to them
Steel toed they walk
And I'm wondering why this fear of men
Maybe it's because I'm hungry
And like a baby I'm dependent on them
To feed me
I am a work in progress
Dressed in the fabric of a world unfolding
Offering me intricate patterns of questions
Rhythms that never come clean
and strengths you still haven’t seen
Gender Studies/Queer Studies
Post Colonialism
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Here is the Intro to Frantz Fanon's groundbreaking 1952 book Black Skin White Masks
Psychoanalysis
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