You're Making Me Write an Essay on Writing?

You know when you were little and your parents told you they were FINALLY taking you to your favorite story to use the gift cards you got for Christmas? and your 5 year old self is screaming “Toys R Us!” and your awkward middle school self demands “Aeropostale!” or your independent high school self is just like “why can’t I go by myself?” And your just too excited because you’ve been stuck at your house with all of your extended family and younger cousins that insist on running around and driving you crazy.

So finally, you get in the car and then you realize it. Your parents pulled a fast one on you, and mom is like “First I just need to stop by the post office!” and then dad is like “oh, great I can get my dry cleaning too.” And your left mumbling under your breath. And then once the thank you cards and returns are mailed out and your dad picks up his freshly starched white-collar shirt, you’re finally off to your favorite store. Then, as you pull into the driveway of the tile store so your parents to pick out their new black splash, you wave your white flag and surrender because now you’re in the back seat dying of defeat.

This is how I felt about project 1.

When I sat down in my first college English class, and thank God my only English class (No offense Eda), I was all mopey and grumbly because I’m an Animal and Veterinary Sciences Major, and what does that have to do with writing? Last time I checked, the amount of food a chicken eats, or the purpose companion animal vaccinations, or what comes out of the back end of a cow has nothing to do with English. But lets be honest, I love to write. Especially in informal settings, much like this, when I can basically write what I’m thinking down. (An by the way, according to Stephen King, you’re telepathic because you’re reading my mind—think about it) So when Eda, my lovely English professor, told the class we were doing blogs, I was thinking “Eda, you da bomb.com.” I have never blogged before, but I have desired to in the past, so I was excited to finally have the push to do it.

And then Eda pulled a fast one on us.

When Eda told us “Its time to start Project 1,” and mind you, in her awesome Turkish accent, I obviously was not impressed. Or excited. Or anything that implies happiness. But if we are being honest, I knew project 1 was coming.

So Project 1: Is Everyone an Author? Have you ever considered the person who writes the little blurb on the back of a postcard an author? Or how about you? Have you ever sent a postcard? And when you did, did you consider yourself an author? Well if you read my essay, all 1,497 words of it, you will be informed that, yes, the person who writes the tidbit about Salem, Massachusetts, or Las Vegas, Nevada, or New York, New York, is in fact, an author. And you will also be informed that you too, as the sender, are an author too.

But how did I feel about this essay, Project 1? Actually, if I could possibly enjoy writing an essay, I could enjoy writing this one. The topic of “Is Everyone an Author” seemed to me to be pretty original, and I felt like the bomb.com for picking a postcard, which was so unique, that the proper way to cite it could not be found by Eda, my MLA textbook, or Google. This project really allowed me to realize my writing abilities, as well as my ability to critically analyze a piece of text on my own. And that was enjoyable. The essay itself wasn’t that awful to write either. The words just came to mind and I typed them out as I thought, but I think I owe the ease of this assignment to both my high school English teacher and Eda.

Mrs. Reaves, my AP composition teacher, did a fantastic job preparing the class for this entry level, college English course. And Eda made writing this essay quite simple, even though she may not know it, because she provided me with a lot of my resources. For example, every day for homework, Eda assigns a reading from our textbook AND an additional reading from an outside text (Which we already tried to veto, but had no luck). But one reading in particular, by Stephen King, actually contained the perfect points to substantiate my argument that the sender of a postcard is an author. Another cool thing that Eda did, that I really enjoyed, like really, was she canceled class for the day. Whoop Whoop! But by canceling class, she gave us the time to come to her office and have a one on one conference with her to discuss how our essays were going and to ask any questions we had. This, I thought, was extremely helpful because not only was I able to take an hour and an half nap instead of an half hour nap, Eda was available to help me with the citation of my postcard, which we basically ended up winging off of the MLA rules for a visual text.

If I really had a choice in the matter, would I have picked to do Project 1 for fun? Of course not? But overall, Project 1 was bearable. Now off to bigger and better things, or longer and more terrible things with Projects 2,3,4 and 5”.”

(& because I love cows, I'm demanding you love them too. Say hi to Tilly)