Jeremy Lynn

Naomi Silver
Writing 220
12 December 2015
Why and How I Write
I was not born an essayist, or a journalist, or an editor, and I did not intend to become any
of these things for a very long time. But that all changed when I began to understand the wide
reaching power of writing thanks to the vast array of writing assignments imposed upon me by
teachers during my primary education. The fact that I began writing due to obligation, as
opposed to a more personal or internal motive, is important to note. I was a very social child and
spared little time for independent tasks like reading or writing. I instead loved spending time
outside with other neighborhood children, and many of my cherished youthful memories
therefore involve friends and outdoor games.
But let me be clear. My childhood was not void of creativity or intuition, or even
independence. I voluntarily spent much of my childhood away from my siblings and friends at
my grandparents farm. The farm was surrounded by several hundred acres of land, and offered
much more freedom for discovery than did the city home in which I grew up. Perhaps the most
noteworthy freedom of the farm was the open space and abundant supplies to build; I built
everything from a motorized go-cart to a two-story tree fort, all by the age of fourteen. These
projects always began with an idea, which was most often thought-up with the help of my
grandma over breakfast in the morning. All of our projects were original, and lacked written
plans or instructions for completion. The projects therefore required a lot of preparation, and my
grandma forced me to complete this part alone. Once I had a fairly detailed plan in mind, my
grandfather would walk me around his personal workshop and help me gather the necessary
supplies and tools. I would then independently set out to create a tangible copy of my vision.

Looking back, the systematic process I followed to transform my ideas into concrete
projects at my grandparents farm was almost identical to the writing process I was learning in
school at the time. A single idea is the starting point for both a tree fort, and a written work. This
idea must then be developed through further consideration and preparation. Finally, the abstract
idea can transform into a concrete work when preparation turns to action. This simple process, as
it relates to writing, was driven into me in eighth grade when I officially learned the thesis-based
five-paragraph essay. This universal essay format gave me an empowering feeling, as I had
finally learned how to systematically present an argument and make my opinions known.
But my personal feeling of satisfaction with the organized five-paragraph essay
diminished as I entered high school and continued to improve as a writer. While I didnt
completely abandon the format, I soon developed an obsession with using complex words and
sentence structures to separate my work from others. In hindsight, this obsession was likely
egotistic in nature, and driven by a desire to seem refined and clever. But to some extent, all
writers work with the selfish intent of being more highly regarded in society. My early desire to
distinguish my writing from that of my classmates led to a frustrating struggle between
superfluity and clarity in my work. However, my early desire to differentiate my work from
others was a critical step in my developmental process, as it exposed a glimpse of my style and
voice as a writer for the very first time.
My writing style grew clearer towards the end of my primary education thanks to a new
focus: precision. My twelfth grade teacher, Mrs. Kigar, essentially forced this upon me by
exposing my unnecessarily wordy writing structures. I remember sitting down with her to discuss
my first critical analysis essay, and by the end of our conversation, she had crossed out over half
of the words in the six-page paper. She also explained the importance of authority in writing, and

how some short, weak structures such as it is or there are take away from the development of
this authoritative power. I quickly learned that less is more, but simplicity is much easier said
than done. Condensing complex thoughts and arguments into a simplified piece of writing
requires more consideration than one may expect.
I experienced both the hardships and benefits of this simplification process during my
first year of study at the University of Michigan. The academic rigor of university courses, paired
with the lack of required homework and review activities, forced me to discover which methods
of learning and studying worked best for me personally. I found study guides to be the most
effective tool, but only those that were personally synthesized and hand written. Study sheets and
aids made by others did not offer the same clarity and consequently failed to offer the same level
of understanding. Perhaps the actual constructionthe writingof the study guide marked the
moment of true learning. The use of premade study guides did not require personal consideration
of how concepts were related, or which concepts were most important, and therefore did not
facilitate the deeper level of understanding. It seems the compositional process of simplifying
multifaceted topics into concise, written words was, and remains, the most powerful method for
me to learn.
If the writing process holds the ability to facilitate individualized learning, then it must
also possess an inherent power to educate on a broader scale. I still believe the deepest levels of
understanding are achieved through an independent writing process. However, the large-scale
educational power of writing must not be overlooked. Writing lies at the very core of almost all
modern education systems. For example, textbooks guide the majority of standardized education,
and literary books offer insight into both concrete and abstract worlds. Additionally, published
research papers educate members of every intellectual field on innovative techniques and

practices. A writers power to educate on such a large scale has been, and remains to be, one of
the main motivational forces driving me to continue improving as a writer.
Furthermore, a writer holds the power to navigate the unknown, both personal and
communal, and consequently eliminate such misunderstandings with comprehensible solutions.
Writing has given me the ability to understand complex topics and ideas, and subsequently
educate others using this knowledge coupled with other written works. I was not born a writer,
nor have I always enjoyed the writing process. In fact, the majority of my development as a
writer can be accredited to external forces, most of which stemmed from my primary education.
But the more I now reflect on writing and its role in society, the more I respect the inherent
power writing holds, and the more I am motivated to continue writing. My personal reflection
has also revealed the wide-reaching nature of writing, and more broadly the general writing
process.
My strong, unwavering desire to become a physician far preceded my desire to become a
writer, but I am slowly realizing these two aspirations are more closely connected than I once
thought. Both writers and physicians must possess an adaptable problem-solving mindset in
order to best overcome obstacles. Writers and physicians are also both systematic in their ways.
As a surgeon stands in front of a new patient, he or she must first understand the problem at
hand; this can be compared to the generation of an idea in writing. The surgeon must then gather
information related to the illness or health-problem and generate a plan to resolve such problem.
This preparatory process is more than applicable to writers. Last, the surgeon must carry out the
plan with an adaptable mindset, as unforeseen complications often arise in the midst of surgery.
Similarly, pieces of writing often take new directions in the midst of writing, and maintaining an
adaptable mindset as a writer in these situations is critical in order to more fully develop

arguments. Both my aspiration to become a physician and my desire to continue writing are
fueled by a more general desire to inflict a positive change in society. While traditional writers
and physicians inflict this change in different manners, I do not see any reason these specialties
need be mutually exclusive.