In the beginning . . .

I'm an English teacher. I guess that makes sense.  Just like a garbage man deals in garbage or a dancer dances, I teach English and am therefore described as an English teacher.  I also do other things (if a student were to write this in an essay, I would ask for more information), but this blog is not about those other things; it's about English, teaching, and the teaching of English, specifically, my experiences, thoughts, and random musings about the craft. I'm putting this together for a couple of different reasons: 1). because as a writing teacher, I need to write more than an endless series of evaluative comments on student essays (shouldn't I be somewhat of an expert in actual writing?), and 2). because I feel like I have something to say about this whole writing thing that few people seem to be saying.

So, a bit about myself: I exclusively teach college composition and argument.  I could teach literature, but that is not nearly as exciting to me.  I just enjoy empowering people by having them become aware of and practice rhetorical devices in writing.  It's kind of a cool gig.  I work for an online university.  I get what the fuss about online education is, but we're still doing some good in the world (even if, at times, it seems a very small "good").  Rest assured, those of us who teach here are pushing for more quality in our education than quantity; we're starting to get there.

For fun, I read text books and theory.  I am, I suppose, a nerd.  Nowadays, being a nerd can be cool.  I could be cool if I wanted to be. I'm not.  Right now I'm reading a book by Jay Heinrichs called, Thank You For Arguing: What Aristotle, Lincoln, and Homer Simpson can Teach us About Persuasion. It's a fun little read. I will let you know how it turns out.

So anyway, let's get to the meat of what this blog is about: my weird thoughts about writing and rhetoric,  analogy, anecdotes, metaphors, and insights on the writing process.  Today's theme: fishing.

Fishing for Readers or The Reader Fish

Through my classes, we've been talking about how to attract and draw in readers.  I'm always looking for interesting ways to explain the process.  Today, as I was strolling about the college hallways, I thought about fishing.  Why?  I haven't a clue.  I don't fish.  I don't even know where one would fish around here.  Sometimes I think if one were to really try, he or she could convince me that some fish come pre-breaded and in angular shapes.  Modern science does some pretty amazing things.  I guess the idea wouldn't be all that absurd.  Anyway, I thought about the fishing process and how that relates to writing.  It goes something like this:

When we write, we cast our words into space.  Not space like chest-dwelling alien, spaceship, puppy-on-the-moon space, but just an indefinable emptiness.  Attached to our writing is the promise of better things.  Our subjects and titles, if compelling enough, draw the reader fish to our work.  We expertly hook them in, not by yanking on the line, but by angling our words in ways that attach themselves to our readers.  Once hooked, we don't immediately pull our readers from their realities into ours; we allow them space and time to get used to these new words gently lodged in their throat.  Little by little we guide them closer to the shore; closer to our way of thinking--not by instantly denying our readers their worlds, but by slowing filtering in ours.  

We don't fight, we nudge, we prod, we offer a path to our ideas by convincing the reader fish that our way of thinking is logical and the only way that makes sense.  Eventually, we guide them into our world, reach down into the shallows for that final pull toward the surface, gently lift them from the water, swiftly chop off their heads, and cook them over an open flame. If we're really good, we might even convince them to bring their own tartar sauce.  

How can you not love the idea of writing?