Lessons Learned About Writing

Because heaven knows I've been doing enough writing in Oxford, and because I'm one of those strange people who likes to reflect on the process of composition, here are a few:

- Write to rewrite. Yes, I knew this before. It's one of those maxims that everyone repeats about writing. But never have I realized it so intensely, truthfully, personally. The first draft doesn't matter. Don't write expecting every sentence to turn out perfectly. Shut down the inner censor and throw everything you've got at the page, allowing it to be hideous and wandering and nonsensical if it wants. It's all for the next draft. With enough time, out of all that rubble a pearl will emerge.

- Free writing and free association is a mysterious, wonderful thing. Again, something I knew before, but once I abandon myself to the first draft and allow the mushed-up-word-soup to come, I find myself stumbling across insights I never had before.

- If you have an idea, write it down. Straight away. Don't let it slip out of your fingers, don't rely on your mind or your memory or the muse to strike the inspiration again.

- The essay is about the discovery. Often, I cannot nail down a specific thesis until after I've finished writing something, or until I'm well into it, and this is honestly the way it should be. The word "essay" itself means attempt, something I've been reminding myself of a lot lately. I start out with an idea of what I want to say, a vague train of thoughts that loosely relate, and only through the probing and thinking and writing process can I lash them all together, drawing out a meaning that I never could have predicted.

- One essay can never say it all. Or book, either. So frustrating, the limitations of words and intelligible, coherent arguments. But also exhilarating: one can always return to it, over and over again.

- Be disciplined. Tight prose, always. But not so tight that it bursts under the strain.

- It's okay to let passion and fervent language leak into your academic work. Sometimes better, in fact.

- Read, read, read. And then read some more.

I suppose I did know all of this before I came to Oxford. But not so clearly. It's like returning to an old draft: the ideas are there to begin with, but only time and effort can bring them into sharper relief. Now, on to next week's tutorial paper!

Study Overload

Okay, let me take a moment to confess how insanely intense the Oxford academic system is. Stanford is a challenging place academically, but not like this! I've spent virtually all day, the last three days, studying in my room or in the library. Every night I feel like I surface for a brief respite of air (i.e., sleep) before diving back into it again. I've never been expected to read or write so much, or so sophisticatedly, in my life. My brain feels like a bloated sponge.

Admittedly this week will probably be one of my worst: I've got three full-length papers due in the space of four days, and a ton of reading to finish besides. But still, prodigious amounts of work seem to be the norm for everyone. As one of my friends put it last night, "Every week here feels like finals week!" For sure.

Just to give a bit of perspective, here at Oxford I am "only" taking three classes (including my tutorial), whereas at Stanford I've always taken four, plus many hours of extracurriculars. Here at Oxford, I am "only" taking 15 units - fewer than my usual load at Stanford. And I still feel like I'm drowning in work. By the end of this quarter, I'll be either really burned out or really good at cranking out those scholarly papers. (Probably both.)

But alas, there's still time for fun, and I've had plenty of that here as well. Photo of the day: I love fall. (And can it really be November?!)

First Tutorial: Check

Today marks my true initiation into Oxford studenthood: I had my first tutorial paper this afternoon. Now, the tutorial system is the cornerstone of an Oxford education. Each week, students read, digest, and research an astonishing amount of material, then produce a polished 8- to 10-page essay on their chosen topic of study. While writing my paper I realized what a challenge this was! After spending a ridiculous number of hours composing and revising, I was beginning to feel like my argument wasn't that good, and was expecting my don to rip me apart.

What actually happened was quite refreshing. We both sat down, I handed her a copy of the paper, and she proceeded to read it aloud, pausing once in a while to make margin notes that I at the time found ominous. Having my labors presented and taken so seriously was both gratifying and intimidating.

Then we talked. I had expected her to pick apart the paper, to critique its flow and logic, and other writer-ly things. But, instead, she asked me questions - not just about what I'd written, but questions of greater philosophical import, launching from the ideas I'd developed in the paper into deeper theoretical conversation. It was literally a reenactment of the Socratic method. Some of her questions were almost too enormous for me to answer, both regarding the novel and my own personal experience: "How do social situations influence how we think and act?" "How can marriage be a moral choice?" With each one, I was uncomfortably aware of her eyes on me, waiting for me to articulate an intelligent answer. I was on the spot, expected to defend and elaborate on my stances, as well as raise new ideas. But she gave me her own insights in return, raising some striking ideas I'd never thought of before. I think it was the most intellectually stimulating conversation I've had on a book in a long time. On to next week!

And photo of the day: deer park at Magdalen College! (Yes, seriously - deer park. My affiliated college at Oxford, Corpus Christi, isn't nearly as expansive.) I've never seen this many deer all at once in my life.