I don’t want to be a paperback writer
I read my latest attempt to the expository writing class today. The result was startling, once again. The teacher said:
“Now I know that some teachers always say this, but this piece is really publishable. You should send it out!”
Somehow, I suspect that the only place that it will ever be published is here.
So, submitted for your approval: Restating the Obvious.
It’s a rumination on reading, and comprehension, and the factors contributing to such things.
As an essay on the desired topic, “nature,” it’s certainly a stretch. I think the somewhat green-oriented teacher was surprised to find that almost every essay read today was a rant about not really giving a shit about it.
My favorite was a bit of a sketch of a drag strip in Tennessee. Jeffrey (I’m cursed with a common name; there are two of us in this class) did a bang-up job relating the Christmas tree of the drag strip with a modern sort of forest; the sensual experience of nature, as experienced by watching blown-fuel dragsters. But I suspect that Jeffrey won’t finish this piece. He had another idea, and I suspect he’s scared of incurring the wrath of the greenie by suggesting that scent of nitromethane and fresh leaves have anything in common.
One thing I haven’t figured out is why the teacher always asks: “Did you just write this, or did you write it before the class?” It’s as if she thinks I just have my ready-made essay file handy and I toss out the one that comes closest to the topic. Nope. Yes folks, this is all spontaneous and unrehearsed. I just think these things up, and then write them down. Hey, I like that. “Up and down” has a somewhat universal appeal.
But I’m just getting silly now. I’d better shut up and finish the other two essays I need for tomorrow.