//"Writing itself is an activity and a subject of study"//
I learned how to read when I was 3 and the foundational steps of writing came soon after. I was a very imaginative child, often living in my own head and creating new worlds that paralleled the fictional settings about which I read. My introduction to writing - aside from in school - involved putting these stories to paper, exploring the characters that lived in the crevices of my brain.
As I grew older, writing became a more mundane and standard aspect of my life. Whether I was writing an essay for school, texting friends, or drafting emails, I was writing every day of my life. It came to me easily; I knew how to write, I used proper grammar and vocabulary, and I knew what was expected from my writing based on the situation. It became an automatic process, something about which I didn't need to think much.
Reading ''Naming What We Know'' by Linda Adler-Kassner and Elizabeth Wardle and exploring the 36 threshold concepts introduced had me reevaluating my relationship with writing. I started tracing back my memories to moments that mirrored these concepts. Writing shaped my thoughts, how I presented myself, how I wanted others to perceive me, and gave me the ability to express myself in a way that speaking never allowed.
This interactive assignment is designed to take you through 2 paths in my mind, each uncovering an experience that affects the way I perceive writing and the threshold concepts.
Pick one:
[[The Stage]]
[[My Voice]]
Welcome! The goal of this interactive story is to set up a series of "paths" that can be followed at random to explore my experiences in writing and how they compliment or challenge the chosen threshold concepts. Think of each path as a door into my memories. Which door will you pick first?
Click to begin the experience:
[[Begin Major Assignment 1]]''An e-mail to my professor:''
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/YakhgJw_d.jpeg?maxwidth=520&shape=thumb&fidelity=high">
(text-style:"italic","subscript")[Screenshot of a formal email to a professor asking for clarification about a statistics quiz question. The email uses a polite, professional tone and serves as an example of my academic writing style. Sensitive information is blocked out. ]
''A text exchange with my best friend:''
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/6HWcmp1_d.jpeg?maxwidth=520&shape=thumb&fidelity=high">
(text-style:"italic","subscript")[Screenshot of a casual text conversation with my best friend. The exchange includes slang, emojis, a reaction image, and joking messages about the Scream movies, illustrating my informal, conversational writing style.]
Given these examples, what would be the result if I were to switch the styles and email my professor like he was my best friend or text my best friend like she was my professor?
I would face quite a bit of backlash and confusion (and probably be reported to the Office of Student Conduct and Academic Integrity).
And what if I were to write essays in my texting style? Or write a social media caption the way I write to my professor?
These are wildly, egregiously different writing styles, so different that they make me seem like two different people. Each conversation requires a different voice and "performance", even though I myself do not change.
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Writing //is// performative. When I adapt my writing style to a more professional, mature voice to communicate with my professor, I am emphasizing the part of me that is a motivated student. I may be burnt out and tired behind the screen, but a professor is not likely to react kindly to someone who reaches out in that manner. As the book states, "students might adopt a role or persona - of the 'good student,' for example" (43). Indeed, sometimes it feels fake, like a character I'm playing. Sometimes, I feel so tired that I wonder why I even bother. Therein is the catch. I am not fake because I do not feel motivated in the moment. I care enough to reach out, to ask for help, to communicate with professors regardless of how burnt out I am. That's the motivated student in me. I am not pretending to be one when I write, my writing is simply pulling forth that part of me.
In that same vein, sometimes the mere act of writing, of leaning into that voice, unlocks a door to another part of my personality; "writing is epistemic" (44). When I read the concept ''2.5 Writing is Performative'', I was in the middle of filling out a Google Form to apply for a social media director role in a club. I was on a question where I had to describe what changes I would bring to the club in my role and how I would enact them. My ideal approach to the question, and to the entire form, was to answer confidently, from the perspective of someone who is occupying the role. I wanted to point out specific examples from my experience with the club's social media, discuss why they needed to be fixed, and provide solutions; writing through the perspective of a leader.
As I was filling out the form for the leadership position, I was playing the role of a confident leader, despite having little experience to justify me being picked for this role. I started the application form uncertain and was struggling to portray leadership qualities through my answers, so I just started typing. I was typographically rambling in my notes app for the better part of an hour before something clicked inside of me and I finally typed a coherent sentence that felt confident and relevant and //right//. Indeed, "writing has the capacity to actually produce thought and knowledge" (44), and the more I typed, the clearer my ideas became. The words started flowing out of me; the illegible fonts on the Instagram posts, the lack of a cohesive color scheme, the lack of a social media presence at all, and my plan to make the club's posts stand out.
I got the role.
This threshold concept resonated the most with me. Writing impacts how others perceive me. My writing voice and choices shape my relationships and influence how people view me and respond to me. My friends see me as someone fun and energetic, my professors see me as someone dedicated, and my fellow club board members see me as a confident leader. All of these sides of me exist and are a part of me, but writing is what brings them to the surface.
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Continue to:
[[The Stage]]
Click when done: [[The End]]//"Lisa, I'd like you to play around with how you say this line - try different vocal inflections and different emphases on different syllables. You can even say it a different way during each show. Have fun with it!"//
My final show as someone who grew up in theatre was Legally Blonde and I had the honor of playing one of my dream roles: Elle Woods.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PwAMJpS.jpeg" width="400" height="300">
//(text-style:"subscript")[The image shows a picture of me in a blonde wig and pink bunny ears, dressed in all white in a tank and skirt. I am striking a playful pose under stage lights during a musical number.]//
This was a difficult role to embody - and not just because I'm a brunette and had to wear a long wig in Florida heat. Elle is a very vocally and physically demanding role. When I wasn't center stage performing high-energy choreography in heels, I was belting my lungs out. Even during the brief moments I was off-stage, I was rushing into 30 second quick changes with no break for water.
Strangely, though, the biggest struggle was in the acting.
It's not that I didn't know how to deliver my lines; I memorized them a certain way, with specific inflections in mind depending on the tone of the scene. It's that I was given freedom to "explore" acting. How many different ways are there to say "what, like it's hard"?
...a lot of different ways. Too many ways even.
<img src="https://media1.giphy.com/media/v1.Y2lkPTZjMDliOTUyZ2RvOTNncmlyandmOTF3ZnRvY3BvN3MzZGp4NTBycGFiM2VhOHozaSZlcD12MV9pbnRlcm5hbF9naWZfYnlfaWQmY3Q9Zw/xUA7b17osqXImEFJKM/200.gif">
(text-style:"italic","subscript")[Animated GIF of Elle Woods smiling and saying, "What, like it's hard?"]
But as I began to explore with my director the many ways I could have //fun// with my final role and not just recite my lines the same way each performance, I began to notice the shift. Subtle changes in pitch and microexpressions were enough to change the undertone of the scene or how the audience perceives my character's thoughts and feelings. If I were to say "what, like it's hard" with a higher pitched "what" and drop down on "like it's hard," I can create a slightly mocking tone - as in, I'm aware it's hard but I want to brag. Meanwhile, if I were to say "what, like it's hard" on equally high pitches, it can come across as more clueless, like Elle genuinely did not find it hard.
The words are written so plainly, and yet the meaning and intention behind them shifts rather extremely with different deliveries.
When I think of threshold concept ''1.4 Words Get Their Meanings From Other Words'', I don't focus on the relationship between words and other words, I think of how words get their meanings from contexts, intentions, and when spoken, delivery.
The concept seemed quite clear from the title alone, when I first approached this concept. Adler-Kassner and Wardle initially focused on the semantical application of this concept, stating "Any definition relies on words to explain what other words mean; moreover, words in a sentence or paragraph influence and often determine each other’s meaning" (24). However, they then expanded the concept by acknowledging the writer's contexts and motives as other sources of meaning; this took me back to the stage.
In my performance as Elle, each night the delivery of that line, and therefore the meaning, would change. The audience would interpret the line differently each time. The words themselves didn't change definitions, but they gained additional subtext through pauses, changes in vocal inflections, facial expressions, body language, and volume.
The same applies offstage as well; there is a clear difference between a "what are you doing here?" with a bright, high pitch and welcoming expressions and a "what are you doing here?" with a bitter tone and glare.
The context of the scenes and the words never changed, but somehow during each performance my lines provided different meaning. Each night, I made a new choice as an actor and invited the audience to interpret Elle differently. I realize now that my script was never as fixed as I'd thought. The script was only one part of how meaning was created.
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Continue to:
[[My Voice]]
Click when done: [[The End]]Writing to me has always been innate. I was quick to learn to read, starting at age 3, and writing came soon after. It came naturally and was an easy form of self-expression, but it was also mechanical. I knew grammar rules, I added new vocabulary words to my arsenal with every new book I read, and I knew how to pleasantly organize my thoughts, but I never had the opportunity to actually //think// about writing.
These threshold concepts gave me that opportunity. Instead of examining the mechanics of writing like I expected, the concepts provided an exploration of what we accomplish through our writing, who we become when we write, and how we channel our perspectives through writing. They gave a name and explanation to situations in writing that I'd experienced but not thought twice about.
Although threshold concepts 1.4 and 2.5 examine different aspects of writing, they ultimately point to a similar concept: writing is dynamic. Once I write something down, I know its meaning isn't fixed; it is shaped by intention, context, and delivery. I also know that my writing voice is not fixed, nor is writing simply about putting an idea to paper. Sometimes the act of writing is what brings forth the idea that you didn't even know existed. Writing is like a life force. It grows and evolves and takes on different shapes and purposes depending on the writer, reader, and situation.
I think this is an idea that fellow writers and I must keep in mind as we continue to explore writing. Especially as students, we often view writing as just a final product, something we complete then move on to the next. We write the words required from us and forget about them once we're done. Writing is more than that. It's an opportunity to communicate, to let our audience explore new perspectives and interpretations.
I want to become more intentional with my writing. I want to play around with different sentence structures and words, and see how they affect my audience's interpretation of my message. I want to just let the thoughts flow out of me as I write and be able to //write// without thinking of a grade or a deadline. Though I'll likely still procrastinate on my writing assignments, delete half my drafts, and overthink every word on the page, I want writing to be an introspective, exploratory process. These threshold concepts have instilled a deeper curiosity in me as a writer, a readiness to experiment with the reader and the page. The more I continue to write, the more I hope to remain open to what writing might teach me in return.