By Yechezkal Freundlich, Senior Science and Technology Editor
It was 3:42 AM when my phone rang. I had been staring at the blinking line on a Google Doc for a while, frozen from writer’s block and half asleep. Someone was screaming profanities at the heavens outside. The vibrating phone interrupted my train of thought. “Hello?” “What if I drop out of college… Then I won’t have to take the orgo final.” I knew he was joking. This morbid humor is common among pre-med students, especially on the night before a final. He ranted for some time about cramming multi-step synthesis before asking about my studying progress “You aren’t studying for the exam? Why? It’s tomorrow.” “Well, I have been studying for a week and I know the material, so I’m writing.” He was baffled at my response, and granted, I can understand why. Who would stay up writing the night before a final?
I write because I like it. Yes, there was a portfolio for my writing class due the next day that I was working on, but regardless, I wrote. I still write, long after classes ended. I love writing. Most people don’t; I know that very well. Trying to get students to write for the YU Observer is an ordeal in itself, especially science articles. There are a few treasured students who love the artform and consistently write every semester. Most people — when I call to ask — respond in the negative.
I have been working for the writing center for three years now (everyone should go at least once), and I have seen all kinds of students. I have seen freshmen who don’t like to write, seniors who don’t like to write and 50-year-old graduate students who don’t like to write. I think people hate writing because it is forced creativity, for art students and business students alike. Most working people have to write at one point in their career, and if you don’t have a clear thought process or the writing feels forced, you aren’t going to like it.
In practice, writing is a form of communication, and people like communicating. Humans are social creatures. I think people may dislike this specific form of communication since it is, at first glance, monotonal. It seems to have no tone or pitch, facial expression or body movement, color or volume. Although none of this is true — as Gary Provost beautifully demonstrates — that first opinion, which may stem from a lack of confidence or practice, becomes the Achilles’ heel for students with required writing.
Writing is not a fixed path of dull-gray clouds and incessant static. It is not simply a repetition of letters etched on a page, droning on and on about uninteresting things like “the evolution of fax cover sheet templates.” Writing is a flatline, then a spike and then a plummet. It is a crescendo: an orchestra in a concert hall. It is the meditative mornings on a patio in the forest. It is life and death. Joy and sorrow. It is as old as civilization and it can be challenging, but it is necessary.
I feel for those who struggle with writing. Still, it is something that everyone needs to know how to do. One common issue students have when coming to the writing center is “getting started” on their work. Organizing ideas and arguments for papers is an excellent way to start, but some students have trouble with even that. My advice to them is to just start writing. It may sound generic, but simply speaking through words always works. Write out your thoughts, your ideas, your arguments, your knowledge without worrying about organization. Write without a care in the world. Forget the deadline for the assignment, forget about the other class work you need to get done and simply write. Once you finish your rants, stop and look at the work. Then worry about organizing and revising.
I think people label writing hard work and unfortunately, with the advancements of AI, people run from “hard work” like it’s poisonous. Some students try to do the work, but when they sit down, draw a blank or have trouble even starting, they can simply turn to a tool that will take care of all their hardships instantaneously. But relying on AI to write can be detrimental to the process of cultivating this crucial life skill.
So write. Write to connect to people without speech. Write to express yourself in a way you thought you never could. Write to speak in a world of echoes. Write for you.
Photo Credit: Courtesy of Yechezkal Freundlich