The Mark of Good Writing

Creative Commons License 2.0 / Adam Groffman

Today I attended a panel of the English Symposium here at BYU called, "Write of Passage: Coming of Age Through the Personal Essay." As suggested by the title, each presenter read a personal essay centered on the theme of coming of age, although each approached the prompt very differently. Although all three were phenomenal, my personal favorite was entitled, “In the Passenger Seat” by ShelliRae Spotts. She spoke of the passage of time, road trips, and seeing her past reflected in her daughter, who was just learning to drive. The prose was thought provoking, smooth flowing, and beautifully written. Although she and I are at very different stages in our lives, the narrative still struck a chord with me and I felt nostalgia for the life I'm currently living, imagined from a life I haven't yet lived. I gained a new perspective, a vicarious piece of life, and I felt inspired to write something myself as I listened to her read. That's the mark of good writing, I think--to make people feel something, to move them, to inspire them.

Overcoming Perfectionism

Growing up, I've always been a perfectionist. I don't mind sharing work that I'm proud of--work that has been polished and finished and meticulously refined--but I've always zealously guarded my rough drafts and works in progress and other miscellaneous mistakes.

I'm particularly particular about my writing: I've been known to scrupulously readjust punctuation, change a word for a slightly different connotation, chip at my words with a scalpel until I am satisfied with every detail, before I am ready to share my work with anyone. But recently, I have begun to realize the value of sharing my unpolished work.

I have found, to the surprise of my perfectionist instincts, that people are actually quite supportive of my flaw-riddled talents and rough ideas. A few friends in particular come to mind as people from whom I can share my ideas, who provide support and help me to develop my own ideas.

This is the first photo in existence of Alyssa and me together

The first is my friend Alyssa. By coincidence one day, we discovered that both of us were very interested in creative writing, and that both of us had a small portfolio of poetry and prose that neither of us had really shared publicly before. We read each other’s work and came to appreciate the differences in our writing styles. I’ve had the opportunity to edit some of her rough work, and I can turn to her for advice and constructive criticism, too, and she's honest with me. Good friends don't let each other write poorly.