I’ve been through a few “transitional” periods in my life. Moving in the middle of high school from New Jersey to Kalamazoo, Michigan. My first few weeks at the University of Michigan when I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay. Even a temporary move like my semester in Washington, DC a year ago. While it wasn’t a full transition, I still felt the gravity of it. I was given the opportunity to live and work in the city where I hoped to make my career. I interned at a progressive think tank, researching and writing for the women’s reproductive rights team. There I meet amazing women that had the policy careers that I wanted, and thus I began plotting my next transition.
I’m ending my tenure as an undergrad soon and looking forward to the transition that I worked so hard for. I’ll be going back to the capital to attend law school, and start down a path of public policy and service. As I work on finding a place to live and figuring out how to pay for this degree, looking at my past writing feels a little odd. I’m disconnecting from them, but they are still informative of who I am and where I am going. Part of the problem is that most of my writing assignments fall into a genre of either personal or academic. These essays just seem stale and dated. At my internship, I had experience writing about something I’m passionate about, where there was a real impact to the words. Now, these academic and personal genres don’t feel applicable. But, in order for me to determine what I want my future writing to look like, it is helpful to reflect on my past writing.
This portfolio highlights the some of the points in each genre that are informative, and the few pieces that fall in-between academic and personal. The in-between category sticks out as my favorite, as an interesting place where I can blend the best of the source categories and solve some of the problems that I face when I’m writing in just one. These examples model most closely what it is about policy work that intrigues me, writing with a clear purpose and action.
Academic
I’ve had a lot of practice writing the traditional academic, argument driven essay. I can bang out a six-page social science paper in a couple of days. In my four years as an undergrad I’ve averaged about 2.7 of these types of essays a semester. In that time these assignments have not only come to me more easily, but my writing has improved. I’ve become more comfortable with complex, multiple part arguments and taking risks with structure. By fall semester of my senior year I took my final political science class, and although I was very interested in the human rights topic, I felt like I couldn’t do anything new or original. My best paper for this class was about the use of economic sanctions to enforce human rights norms. I argued the success of sanctions is context specific and in some cases, like Apartheid era South Africa, the tool can be a critical part to a foreign policy strategy.
This paper exemplifies a lot of the tricks I learned and relied on in my social science essays. I integrated good journal sources into my points and discussed the strengths and weaknesses of the research on the topic. I may have only read a few paragraphs of these articles, but this tactic is always noticed by professors, especially for assignments like this one where using outside resources wasn’t explicitly required. Learning that a career in research wasn’t for me was an important step in my four years, but I still find political science research really interesting. It is a necessary tool to understand political functions and policies, and it informs so many decisions. But, re-examining my paper just makes me bored and frustrated, as nothing I write in this academic genre translates to action. Even if I were interested in research and I wrote a well-respected journal article, I would still be a few steps removed from the action that it spurred. I want to be more involved in change.
Personal
While I mostly played the role of the apathetic academic writer, a few times through the writing minor I got to write personal pieces. In this position I feel like the exploitive writer. I don’t particularly like to analyze my life and think about personal issues. I often learn something about myself by going through the motions, but once I finish something about the writing makes me uncomfortable.
My mother on the other hand loves to read my personal narratives, and none more than a piece I wrote about our trips visiting my grandparents in Australia. This essay was an assignment for a creative non-fiction course where I had to explore a ritual. I made a composite day of the different things we would do on our annual vacation to visit with family. I took to heart the “show don’t tell” mantra of the class in describing the details of our activities and surroundings:
There is no doubt that the garden is magic. How else could all this greenery come out of a giant rock? Besides this impressive feat, everyone knows fairies live there. As Nanna told each of her grandchildren, Santa isn’t real, but fairies definitely exist. They have little homes in the trees and in caves behind the waterfall. They are benevolent creatures that protect the fish and help the flowers bloom.
As proud as I am of the writing, I can’t help but feel a little gross that it was for a grade. In this case, I was especially aware of this because I had yet to receive an A in this class. On the previous assignment I got back an A minus with the comment that I could have gotten an A, but then I wouldn’t have anything to work towards. I didn’t care about illustrating progress through grades. I’m a neurotic overachiever who remembers every negative comment. So I made sure I would be getting full marks this time, and I knew I would with this final knockout in the last paragraph:
Granddad’s ashes were scattered out at sea by the Bondi Beach Lifesavers. Nanna’s were planted with a flowering tree that will certainly become a home to her favorite creatures. These days the kids have to create their own magic from the lessons they learned.
The details of my grandparents’ passing does make sense to the narrative and follows the tone of the rest of the writing, yet I also know it made it difficult to deny me an A. The personal narrative genre rewards pain and vulnerability. Every example piece we read for this class was of someone going through an existential crisis with some sort of great realization, most often through a painful experience. I could try and find the lesson through a happy time, but it’s much easier to exploit pain. This essay has a life beyond its original course purpose, as my mother often gives it friends or family to read. I’ve heard a lot of nice things about it, which does make me happy. But, I’m not sure I can get passed knowing that I wrote it with an, albeit small, ulterior motive.
In-between
I have done a lot of writing as an undergrad, and at the end I have found the academic genre not action oriented enough and the personal genre too selfish. I don’t feel like I am accomplishing much with either. I want a career in a field where action is prioritized and my actions are connected directly with a larger community. This writing is not purely academic or personal, but has a little of both in its argumentation, evidence, and personal engagement. As I look back at my writing from the last four years, the pieces that I still like to read are the ones that also have a little of both and fall somewhere in the in-between genre.
The most stressful piece of writing I have done in four years is one that is nicely in-between. I worked on my two-page personal statement for law school applications for about five months. I was disappointed with my LSAT score and felt like the written part of my application was my only opportunity to convince schools that I am driven and passionate. All I needed was to be admitted, and then I work incredibly hard to succeed. It was the ultimate test of laying out an organized, concise argument while connecting it to my personal identity and goals. The introduction could be mistaken for one of my political science papers, but instead of making claims about sanctions, I am making a case for myself:
Entering the University of Michigan I held some vague idea of committing myself to the study of politics. The various topics of political science excited me and I subsequently absorbed ideas about game theory, media influence on elections, and the splintering of central Europe. There was so much to learn, yet seemingly without a purpose or common thread. After a few semesters, it was actually a women’s studies course that began to string everything together. I found that what interests me most about politics is the power of policy and social progress to change lives. The thread of public service led me to new opportunities and to refine my future goals, and now it leads me to pursue a law degree.
Instead of the personal vulnerability that makes me uncomfortable, I was making an analytical argument about how I got to know I wanted to go to law school and why I would do well there. This is not quite arguing for more access to reproductive health services, but it is writing that is engaged with a specific goal and audience.
In my capstone project I wanted to reflect on this stressful and strange application process. With the Candid Application Project, I am providing a space where people can be open to answer application questions honestly. While no one would actually answer an application question completely candidly, the exercise breaks down the stiff, impersonal answers that become routine. Hopefully by going to the one extreme, participants can add some complexity to their application writing and find the balance between professional and personal. When a friend of my mine was participating in the project I overheard her say, “Ugh, I hate this because it makes me think about myself way too much.” I completely understand this feeling, but it’s something that can be really helpful. I’ve learned that I don’t want to put too much of myself out there in my writing, but without any of passion or intention, my writing is boring. The key for me is finding that perfect sweet spot in-between.
Next August I will be starting at Georgetown University Law Center, where I plan to concentrate in policy and public interest law. I am so excited to be moving back to my favorite city, and attending such a great school that is connected to and invested in public service. Although for the next three years I will be practicing a very different kind of writing, I hope to build on what I have gained through the minor and continue to write and work with purpose.