Maybe I’m a bit slower than an English graduate student should be, but I was grateful to be reminded of the big picture that encircles our field of study. Because what was wrong with the language arts languishing in my memory, it was all about chunks, parts and pieces. Suddenly, thinking of Burns’ four-sided frame, I could almost feel the disparate pieces in my brain connecting to each other with new electric synergy. OK, maybe I’m overstating a bit, but only a small bit. (Even those of you who already had your eye on the big picture, have to admit that “listening” is an interesting addition to this list.)
It is with this frame that I re-read Nancy Sommer’s essay “Revision Strategies of Student Writers and Experienced Adult Writers” and read for the first time “Shaping at the Point of Utterance,” both from the Norton book. While I enjoyed much about both essays, I want to focus here on the ways they relate speaking to writing—connecting two of the language arts. Sommers is critical of the work of writing process theorists Gordon Rohman and James Britton, “What is striking about these theories of writing is that they model themselves on speech” (323). She argues that by basing the writing process on the speaking process, we are imposing a linear structure onto writing. “What this movement fails to take into account in its linear structure . . . is the recursive shaping of thought by language; what it fails to take into account is revision” (323). Because once something is said, it cannot be unsaid. We cannot take an eraser or a delete key to speech, and unfortunately, there is no Ctrl+Z (undo) feature in real life. Sommers quotes Roland Barthes, who points out that speech is “irreversible.” And, further, he states, “writing begins at the point where speech becomes impossible” (324). It is when we overemphasize the connection between speech and writing, according to Sommers, that we will paralyze our ability to revise. She notes this when examining the way that student writers perceive the revision process. When people speak, they often repeat themselves. So, Sommers states, “The aim of revision according to the students’ own description is therefore to clean up speech; the redundancy of speech is unnecessary in writing, their logic suggests, because writing, unlike speech, can be reread” (326).
The many authors, James Britton and company, of “Shaping at the Point of Utterance” also (made obvious by the title) connect the dots between the arts of speaking and writing. They counter theorists like Sommers, “I want to suggest here that rhetoricians, in their current concern for successive drafts and revision processes in composing, may be underestimating the importance of ‘shaping at the point of utterance,’ or the value of spontaneous inventiveness” (461). They claim that the writing process should borrow from the speaking process because “in normal speech we do, almost of necessity, shape as we utter” (461). Writers should harness this power generated from invention-on-the-spot to shape their ideas, suggest the authors. They note that when we speak, we trust that our words and sentences will end with closure and have purpose. Speaking puts words together with spontaneity, and the authors argue that “highly effective writing may be produced in just that spontaneous manner, and that the best treatment for empty verbalism will rarely be a course of successive draft making” (463). When we shape our words in the spur-of-the-moment, we are also able to shape our ideas and find the patterns in our thinking process. The authors quote Barrett Mandel, who writes, “It is the act of writing that produces discoveries . . . words flow from a pen, not from a mind” (463).
These two essays counter each other’s ideals. Sommers values the power of recursive revision in the writing process, while James Britton and friends favor the initial invention. In a complete oversimplification of these arguments, Sommers likes the end and Britton’s group likes the beginning. Despite these disagreements, both essays fit themselves within the larger frame of language arts, juxtaposing their ideals within a larger context.
Sommers notes that many students struggle in writing because they often reduce it to pieces, words or rules, forgetting that there is “something larger.” As students of rhetoric and composition, we must also avoid a reductionist over-amplification of details and remember the theories we study are connected by history, people, ideas and the four language arts. While no light bulb appeared or no trumpets sounded, I was grateful to Dr. Burns for this poetic framing of the language arts. (The word seems so lovely now.) I was happy that I practiced the art of listening while he practiced his art of speaking. This is one of the simple formulas behind discovery and the development of knowledge.
**On a completely different note, March is Women’s History Month. Let’s all celebrate by sharing the story of the maverick, yet virtuous, Mary Astell.
Wendy Bishop certainly honors the multi-faceted world of writing by "combining creative writing, ethnography, and composition studies"(23,Compbiblio). Whether process or product is the focus, Bishop allows for the possiblility of an and/both approach. With her emphasis on ethnography, the "others" are also welcomed into the writing circle. After Amy's presentation last week, I decided to find out more about Bishop. This quote was taken from the journal, "Across the Disciplines" published shortly after Bishop's death in 2003. Will Hochman , Southern Connecticut State University, writes "Wendy was a master at blending academic and creative worlds. Her bibliography shows how able she was to draw wisdom from many worlds. I think that it was Bishop's keen sense of identity and otherness that helped her explain writing crossovers for so many teachers and students."
ReplyDeleteAs I continue to formulate my own pedagogy, this seems a logical approach to an exclusionary philosophy of composition vs creativity which has divided the field into camps of finger-pointing theorists. Indeed, the essays in The Norton Book of Composition Studies illuminates these divisive approaches. Bishop's final work was co-editor with Hans Ostrom on a collection titled, The Subject is Story: Essays for Writers and Readers. This holistic approach benefits the recipients of any writing program i.e. the students.
Kenneth Bruffee would be an interesting addition to your juxtaposition of Sommers and Britton. In his article on collaborative learning, Bruffee argues that thought is a product of social conversation. This changes how he views writing and the writing process: "If thought is internalized public and social talk, then writing of all kinds is internalized social talk made public and social again. If thought is internalized conversation, then writing is internalized coversation re-externalized" (550) Bruffe goes beyond Sommmers and Britton to state that speech must be a part of the writing process because thoughts, which generate writing, are a form of speech. Rather than state whether or not speech should be the basis for teaching the writing process, Bruffee simply states that writing is speech.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for the suggested theorists. I already have Bishop on my list for further study. And, now I will add Bruffe. Jennifer, I love this idea: "writing is internalized conversation re-externalized." And, Marilyn, I am playing with this blurring of the lines between creative and composition--maybe that is the perfect place for memoir writing, bridging this gap.
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