Introductory Post...writing and me.

Writing and I have always had a complex relationship. That might seem odd, since I teach writing. Probably you're expecting me to say: "Writing! I love it! It's the best! I'd marry it if I could!" But...yeaaaah....not so much.

In school, I usually had a lot of success with writing. I can remember my first grade teacher reading my descriptive "essay" about the red bicycle I wanted to the entire class. I guess mine was impressively detailed or something. And, throughout school, the praise generally continued. I excelled in English, and I punished myself if I got anything less than an A+. So even though I felt good about writing, it was apparent that I was a bit, um, competitive and obsessive about it. Not the world's most healthy relationship, I suppose.

In high school, I even did some more public writing on my school newspaper. I liked writing editorials, researching and expressing my opinion to the student audience. (Who didn't really read it....but what did I care?) Then, an article I wrote stirred up some serious controversy at my large suburban high school. In our "Battle of the Sexes" annual issue, I wrote a piece that sarcastically bashed men, while a male writer wrote one sarcastically bashing women. It was no big deal--the paper did this every year. However, during this year, the administration had some pre-existing issues with our advisor, and I think they were looking to get rid of her for almost anything. So, apparently my article was a good reason, as I'd used "inappropriate" words like "sex," "PMS," and "gay." (Yes, words I am sure NO high school student had ever read before!) And as quickly as the article was written, my newspaper advisor was fired. Just like that. And, well, it was all my fault...right?

In retrospect, no, it wasn't my fault. There was context and history around her firing that I would never fully understand. But this incident, for the first time, made me realize the power of language. Words could hurt, injure, and offend, and in a ways that had very serious, real, material consequences. My already complicated relationship got even worse after this. In some ways, I never wanted to write again.

But, of course, I did. I mean, I'm a PhD student in English now, so you gotta figure there's some writing involved with that gig. But, even though I've come this far, I still find myself intimidated by writing. Sometimes I fear I'm not good enough at it--my words aren't big enough, my sentence structure too confusing, my content downright boring! Other times I'm back to worrying about the damage my words could do--who will I offend? Who will get fired? What kind of trouble might I stir up this time?

I guess this might be why I'm so interested in rhetoric, which was traditionally studied as a part of writing and speaking. (We'll be looking at how it works in visual texts, too.) I embrace rhetoric, in part, because it can help me understand how communication and language work. I can consider my audience, and make strategic stylistic and content decisions based on that. Rhetoric, I guess, has been one way of negotiating my complex relationship with writing. And it's working. I'm getting more comfortable. I'm feeling more confident. Slowly but surely. Baby steps.