good writing for paper

What is Good Writing?

At the Writing Center, we’re often asked “What makes good writing?” or “What makes someone a good writer?” Instructors wonder whether anyone can really be taught to write and why their students don’t know how to write by now. To begin to understand what makes writing, and writers, “good,” we need to ask the larger question “What is writing?”

It’s easy to agree on the definition of writing if we limit it to something like “putting pen to paper” or “typing ideas into a computer.” But if we look more closely at the elements of the act of writing, the definition comes to life. The following paragraphs might prompt your thinking about how writing happens for your students and for you.

Writing is a response.

We write because we are reacting to someone or something. While writing can feel like an isolating, individual act—just you and the computer or pad of paper—it is really a social act, a way in which we respond to the people and world around us. Writing happens in specific, often prescribed contexts. We are not just writing—we are always writing to an audience(s) for some particular purpose. When we write, we do so because we want, need, or have been required to create a fixed space for someone to receive and react to our ideas. Understanding this social or rhetorical context—who our readers may be, why they want to read our ideas, when and where they will be reading, how they might view us as writers—governs some of the choices we make. The writing context requires writers to have a sense of the reader’s expectations and an awareness of conventions for a particular piece of writing. The context of the piece further determines the appropriate tone, level of vocabulary, kind and placement of evidence, genre, and sometimes even punctuation.

Writing is linear.

In order to communicate effectively, we need to order our words and ideas on the page in ways that make sense to a reader. We name this requirement in various ways: “grammar,” “logic,” or “flow.” While we would all agree that organization is important, the process of lining up ideas is far from simple and is not always recognized as “writing.” We assume that if a person has ideas, putting them on the page is a simple matter of recording them, when in fact the process is usually more complicated. As we’ve all experienced, our ideas do not necessarily arise in a linear form. We may have a scattering of related ideas, a hunch that something feels true, or some other sense that an idea is “right” before we have worked out the details. It is often through the act of writing that we begin to create the logical relationships that develop the idea into something that someone else may receive and perhaps find interesting. The process of putting ideas into words and arranging them for a reader helps us to see, create, and explore new connections. So not only does a writer need to “have” ideas, but the writer also has to put them in linear form, to “write” them for a reader, in order for those ideas to be meaningful. As a result, when we are writing, we often try to immediately fit our choices into linear structures (which may or may not suit our habits of mind).

Writing is recursive.

As we write, we constantly rewrite. Sometimes we do this unconsciously, as we juggle words, then choose, delete, and choose again. Sometimes we do this rewriting very consciously and conscientiously as we reread a paragraph or page for clarity, coherence, or simply to see what we’ve just said and decide whether we like it. Having read, we rewrite the same phrases or ideas to make a closer match to our intentions or to refine our discoveries through language. The process of writing and then reviewing, changing, and rewriting is a natural and important part of shaping expression for an anticipated audience. So while we are trying to put our words and ideas into a logical line, we are also circling round and back and over again.

Writing is both subject and object.

We value writing because it reveals the personal choices a writer has made and thereby reveals something of her habits of mind, her ability to connect and shape ideas, and her ability to transform or change us as readers. We take writing as evidence of a subject or subjective position. Especially in an academic environment, we read written language as individual expression (whether or not multiple voices have informed the one voice we privilege on the page), as a volley from one individual mind to another. That said, writing also serves as an object for us, a “piece” or a “paper” whose shape, size, and function are determined by genre and conventions. While we don’t think of writing as technology, it is also that; it allows us to remove a person’s ideas from the confines of her head and fix those ideas in another place, a place where they will be evaluated according to standards, objectively. Here is where our sense of what counts as “good” writing develops. We have created objective (although highly contextualized) ideals for writing that include measures of appropriate voice, vocabulary, evidence, and arrangement. So while writing is very personal, or subjective, it creates an objective space, a place apart from the individual, and we measure it against objective standards derived from the context. It creates space both for the individual (the subject) and the idea (the object) to coexist so that we can both judge the merits of the individual voicing the idea and contend with the idea on the page.

Writing is decision making.

It may seem obvious, but in order to get something on the page, a writer chooses the words, the order of the words in the sentence, the grouping of sentences into paragraphs, and the order of the paragraphs within a piece. While there is an ordinariness about this—we make choices or decisions almost unconsciously about many things all day long—with writing, as we have all experienced, such decision-making can be a complex process, full of discovery, despair, determination, and deadlines. Making decisions about words and ideas can be a messy, fascinating, perplexing experience that often results in something mysterious, something the writer may not be sure “works” until she has auditioned it for a real reader.

Writing is a process.

Contending with the decision-making, linearity, social context, subjectivity, and objectivity that constitute writing is a process that takes place over time and through language. When producing a piece of writing for an audience, experienced writers use systems they have developed. Each writer has an idiosyncratic combination of thinking, planning, drafting, and revising that means “writing” something. No matter how we each describe our writing process (e.g., “First I think about my idea then dump thoughts onto the computer,” or “I make an outline then work out topic sentences”), we all (usually unconsciously) negotiate the series of choices required in an individual context and produce a draft that begins to capture a representation of our ideas. For most people, this negotiation includes trial and error (this word or that?), false starts (beginning with an example that later proves misleading), contradictions (I can’t say X because it may throw Y into question), sorting (how much do I need to say about this?), doubt about how the idea will be received, and satisfaction when they think they have cleared these hurdles successfully. For most people, this process happens through language. In other words, we use words to discover what, how, and why we believe. Research supports the adage “I don’t know what I think until I read what I’ve said.”

Altogether these elements make writing both an interesting and challenging act—one that is rich, complex, and valuable. What else is writing for you? Think about what the definitions discussed here miss and how you might complete the sentence “Writing is like…” From your experience as a writer, what else about writing seems essential? How is that connected to what you value about the process of writing and the final pieces that you produce?

For more information about student writing or to talk with someone about your writing assignments, contact Kimberly Abels [email protected] at the Writing Center.

Seven Tips for Writing a Good Paper

Good writing benefits both students and teachers.

Posted May 10, 2011

I have been grading student essays for many years. Reading good essays is what every teacher wishes for yet rarely gets--a revitalizing and uplifting experience. More commonly I read bad essays. Reading bad essays is like living on a diet of junk food. Before long you will be feeling sick, guilty and angry by turns, and ready to die. Students, too, suffer when they write badly because they get bad grades, which they usually don't enjoy. The writing principles outlined here could help both groups feel better.

Do the Work. As a student you are stressed and often quite busy with schoolwork. You have a perfect right to feel self-pity and to rage at the fact that life isn't easy. In fact, it's quite the American thing to do. Nevertheless, you still have to perform. To get an ‘A,' you need to do ‘A' level work. It's not enough to want an ‘A.' It's not enough to need an ‘A.' It's not even enough to have gotten A's on all your previous papers throughout high school. Past glory may help you bypass long restaurant lines, avoid criminal convictions, or star in horrid late night infomercials, but to get a good grade on your paper, you have to do good work now.

Simplify. Einstein said, "Make everything as simple as possible, but not more so." Are we prepared to argue with Einstein? Right. So think twice before you use ‘existence' to mean ‘life,' ‘conceptualization' to mean ‘idea,' or ‘human beings' to mean ‘people.' And never, ever, use the word ‘paradigm,' even if you know what it means. Like large bills, big words are better to have than to use. Adding them will make your bad essay longer, not better.

Don't: "I, myself, for me, personally, as I see it, in my opinion, if you ask me, would venture to intimate that verbal articulation is meaningfully significant."

Do: "Language is important."

Avoid Small, Annoying Errors.

1. First, say "First," not "Firstly," "First of all," or "First off."

2. "They're" means they are. "There" is where they are. "Their" is something that belongs to them. For example: "Their stuff is there. There is where they keep their stuff." Or try: "The truth is out there. They're searching for it with their silly flashlights."

3. "Must have" is correct while "must of" is incorrect. The fact that two words sound alike does not mean they can be used interchangeably. To wit: "I must have confused the sound of the word with its spelling. I wrote, ‘must of' when I should have written, ‘must have.'"

4. It's = It is. Its = Belonging to it. To help internalize this distinction, you may memorize the following poem:

It's not a friendly bear Look at its glaring stare If we don't scoot, it's rather certain Its jaws will be our final curtain!

5. The spell checker checks for spelling. It doesn't check for meaning in context. That task, I'm afraid, is still yours to complete. You need to tend to it. For example, the word ‘definitely' definitely does not mean the same thing as the word ‘defiantly,' even if your spell checker sees no distinction at all. If you decide to defiantly ignore this distinction, then you will definitely get a lower grade.

6. Resist the temptation to use "very" more than once or twice in a decade. Whenever you feel the urge to write "very," you should write, "freakin‘" instead. For example, the sentence, "Psychological assessment is very crucial to the very essence of the very fragile psyche of your very child" may look passionate and powerful to you. However, if you re-write it: "psychological assessment is freakin' important to the freakin' essence of the freakin' fragile psyche of your freakin' child," the problem will, one hopes, become freakin' clear. (This 'very' rule also applies to 'really' and 'pretty'.)

Which brings us to the next rule: Don't Use Slang , unless slang is the topic of your paper. Not to diss the faculty, but it is (it's) quite likely that your professor is not freakin' familiar with the latest slang. Your professor is a middle-aged egghead who still remembers the first gulf war, has actually watched black and white TV, thinks ecstasy is what you experience when your paper gets accepted for publication in The Journal of Perpetual Obscurity, and doesn‘t know a mosh pit from Brad Pitt. Your professor thinks the def can't hear, the phat are overweight, and the ‘ho's' are what Santa does on Christmas (and I mean that in the most vanilla sense). In other words, bro, your professor is not down with that. Feeling me? So resist the temptation to write, " Freud 's the bomb! That idea of the anal stage is the shit!" Your professor may agree with you, but for all the wrong reasons.

Revise. Not all revised papers are good, but non-revised papers are always bad. As they say in politics , "Trust, but verify." Even if you're certain that your paper is a brilliant gem, give it the once over before turning it in. In writing as in love, a second glance is usually warranted. Don't marry after the first date, and don't turn in a first draft, at least if you expect anyone to take your marriage or your paper seriously. Revising is like using a condom--not your first priority, but your first obligation nonetheless. It's not the most elegant process, but it is still a rather simple way to avoid freakin' big problems; it isn't spontaneous and it feels somewhat awkward, but everyone is eventually the better for it.

A Paper Assignment is an Opportunity, Not a Crisis. Many students consider the task of writing a paper to be a form of cruel punishment , inflicted upon them by the heartless professor. Thus, they approach it with dread and resentment. This is not the right attitude. The writer Henry James once noted that good stories happen to those who know how to tell them. Every paper assignment is a great opportunity to learn how to tell your stories. Moreover, writing clearly necessitates thinking clearly, so the process of writing (and revising) helps you to sort things out with, and for, yourself. Finally, writing papers gives you a chance to speak up, and a stage from which you can sound off on various topics knowing that someone on the other end (your professor) will consider your ideas seriously and benevolently. Having experienced Twitter , you must realize what a rare opportunity this is. Take advantage of it.

Have Fun. Karl Kraus once said, "You don't even live once." So don't waste time. Go ahead and put it in writing.

"Everything that can be said can be said clearly" (Ludwig Wittgenstein)

Noam Shpancer, Ph.D., is a professor of psychology at Otterbein University and a practicing clinical psychologist in Columbus, Ohio.

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A (Very) Simple Way to Improve Your Writing

• Mark Rennella

It’s called the “one-idea rule” — and any level of writer can use it.

The “one idea” rule is a simple concept that can help you sharpen your writing, persuade others by presenting your argument in a clear, concise, and engaging way. What exactly does the rule say?

• Every component of a successful piece of writing should express only one idea.
• In persuasive writing, your “one idea” is often the argument or belief you are presenting to the reader. Once you identify what that argument is, the “one-idea rule” can help you develop, revise, and connect the various components of your writing.
• For instance, let’s say you’re writing an essay. There are three components you will be working with throughout your piece: the title, the paragraphs, and the sentences.
• Each of these parts should be dedicated to just one idea. The ideas are not identical, of course, but they’re all related. If done correctly, the smaller ideas (in sentences) all build (in paragraphs) to support the main point (suggested in the title).

Where your work meets your life. See more from Ascend here .

Most advice about writing looks like a long laundry list of “do’s and don’ts.” These lists can be helpful from time to time, but they’re hard to remember … and, therefore, hard to depend on when you’re having trouble putting your thoughts to paper. During my time in academia, teaching composition at the undergraduate and graduate levels, I saw many people struggle with this.

• MR Mark Rennella is Associate Editor at HBP and has published two books, Entrepreneurs, Managers, and Leaders and The Boston Cosmopolitans .  

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