The rhetorical triangle is a framework that provides the form and boundaries that I spoke about in my post on my writing feeling like wet cement. It's such a simple notion, and yet it supplies such a critical heuristic for everything I write.
Logos is the first side of the triangle. I think of logos as the nuts and bolts of writing an essay: good structure, easy-to-follow organization, strong transitions between paragraphs (so that the reader knows where I've been and where I'm going), an interesting (hook) introduction, a compelling conclusion, and great sources. To me, all of these make up a good, logical, well-thought out piece of writing.
One note here about sources: students complain frequently to me about citing their sources, and being required to follow all the citation rules. The point of citing sources is not to just make us "follow certain rules" or give us "hoops" to jump through. The point of citing sources is to leave markers along your research pathway. This allows readers and researchers and writers who come after you, to re-create your research and then add to it. Over time, this all becomes a body of research that creates a body of knowledge. So citing sources is not just about rules, it's about becoming a part of a larger discussion in that discipline or that area of knowledge.
The second leg of the rhetorical triangle is pathos. I consider this leg the audience-focused portion of the triangle. In this area, I'm trying to think like my readers. It can be as simple as my word choice or as complex as researching the groups and organizations the audience may belong to. In teaching composition, I often use a simple example here to help students understand audience: pretend that you're writing an email to your best friend, describing your activities from the previous weekend (parties you went to, people you saw, etc.). Then, write that same email, only this time to your parents, describing the same events and people: the only difference being, the audience. It's fairly easy to see that you would speak/write differently to your friend than you probably would to your parents. This is pathos: you consider the needs, values, beliefs, and feelings of your audience as you write, and you write in such a way that your argument or point does not alienate them, but rather welcomes them to consider your opinion and your idea.
Finally, both logos and pathos add up to give you credibility as a writer: ethos. You may have some credibility with your audience already, if they know you, or if they've read your work before. But whether you have that credibility already or not, you can extend it or create it through the other two sides of the triangle. If you create/write a logical, well-constructed essay, you have strengthened your ethos. If you appeal to the values of your audience, and you don't alienate them with words or ideas that they find offensive, you have strengthened your ethos. If you cite your sources completely and clearly so they can see your line of reasoning, you've strengthened your ethos.
As I said, the rhetorical triangle is the centerpiece of writing for me. I think of it everyday, when I write emails, when I'm speaking with my colleagues, when I'm working with a student. In oral or written communication, the rhetorical triangle is an organizational tool that can strengthen all our communication with one another.
Love wins.
My writing is part of my life, and most of my life revolves around the University of Oklahoma. I teach writing and work as an administrator on this campus.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Writing is like wet cement.
Writing is like wet cement. I begin by putting out some forms. I pound some stakes in the ground and nail up some cheap boards, not the best material in the world you understand, in a shape that appears somewhat like the outline of a finished product. (Mind you, I've only watched cement workers do this, I've never actually done it myself, so my metaphor may have holes.) Sometimes these forms are in the form of a real outline. For example, when I wrote my dissertation as a graduate student, I worked from an outline that my adviser and I had put together. It was not detailed but gave me a fairly general sense of the material to be included in each of the five chapters. Then, at the beginning of each chapter, I wrote another outline that showed the material to be covered there. On most days though, when I'm just writing for my work, or writing something like this, my form/outline is much sketchier and hardly ever written down. It exists more as a mental framework.
After I've gotten all the forms laid out, I start pouring in the cement. As I understand it, cement is a mixture of a powdery substance, some sand, and some water. Depending on how much of each of these elements you add, your consistency varies. My writing is exactly like that. Sometimes, I pour out words like the back of that cement truck has been turned on "high." I am prolific! I love these days. It seems like my fingers can't type quickly enough for the words, thoughts, phrases, ideas that are pouring out of my brain.
Timeout: let me interject that I do normally type what I write, on my laptop. Particularly at work, my writing consists basically of e-mails, memos, and letters. I always type these on my desktop. I do have a handwritten journal as well. I journal almost every morning. My journal tends to be much more spiritual and full of more introspective reflections than the writing I do on my laptop or my desktop.
Back to my cement: while I enjoy the days that the material just pours forth from me, on many other days I am not so prolific. Often, what's pouring out feels like it's hardening as it rolls down the chute. It just doesn't work. It feels bulky and lacks any flow. It's hardening by the second, and I feel like I'm trapped in it. I try to switch words around. I erase a bunch of lines, then start over. It's just a struggle. Normally when this happens, I quit. I just set the whole project/assignment/memo aside and leave it for a while. Unlike true cement, in my writing, leaving the work for later actually seems to soften it up.
Once I've poured all of the cement into the forms, I leave it for a while. I save it or close my journal and just let it set. I try to wait at least 24 hours before I return to it. When I come back, I read through it word by word. This too is sometimes like walking through cement that is hardening, even as I step. I sometimes hate to read my writing. I feel embarrassed, ashamed, even though most of the time, I'm the only one who has seen it. I almost always feel like I should have done a better job from the beginning. Anyway, I read through it and I begin to use those boards, like concrete workers do, to smooth it out, to put lines in it, to carve my initials in it. I bump it up against the forms, and I slide some of it from this corner over to that corner, so that it becomes more and more level and more and more serviceable for its intended purpose.
After I've finished this process, I remove the forms and inspect my work. I read back through it once more, this time to check for spelling errors, punctuation, citations, all of the surface issues that I've pretty much ignored until now.
I must qualify that in my opinion, my writing is ALWAYS wet cement. There is always more that could be done. I could continue day after day after day, reshaping it, revising it, but at some point, I've just got to move on.
After I've gotten all the forms laid out, I start pouring in the cement. As I understand it, cement is a mixture of a powdery substance, some sand, and some water. Depending on how much of each of these elements you add, your consistency varies. My writing is exactly like that. Sometimes, I pour out words like the back of that cement truck has been turned on "high." I am prolific! I love these days. It seems like my fingers can't type quickly enough for the words, thoughts, phrases, ideas that are pouring out of my brain.
Timeout: let me interject that I do normally type what I write, on my laptop. Particularly at work, my writing consists basically of e-mails, memos, and letters. I always type these on my desktop. I do have a handwritten journal as well. I journal almost every morning. My journal tends to be much more spiritual and full of more introspective reflections than the writing I do on my laptop or my desktop.
Back to my cement: while I enjoy the days that the material just pours forth from me, on many other days I am not so prolific. Often, what's pouring out feels like it's hardening as it rolls down the chute. It just doesn't work. It feels bulky and lacks any flow. It's hardening by the second, and I feel like I'm trapped in it. I try to switch words around. I erase a bunch of lines, then start over. It's just a struggle. Normally when this happens, I quit. I just set the whole project/assignment/memo aside and leave it for a while. Unlike true cement, in my writing, leaving the work for later actually seems to soften it up.
Once I've poured all of the cement into the forms, I leave it for a while. I save it or close my journal and just let it set. I try to wait at least 24 hours before I return to it. When I come back, I read through it word by word. This too is sometimes like walking through cement that is hardening, even as I step. I sometimes hate to read my writing. I feel embarrassed, ashamed, even though most of the time, I'm the only one who has seen it. I almost always feel like I should have done a better job from the beginning. Anyway, I read through it and I begin to use those boards, like concrete workers do, to smooth it out, to put lines in it, to carve my initials in it. I bump it up against the forms, and I slide some of it from this corner over to that corner, so that it becomes more and more level and more and more serviceable for its intended purpose.
After I've finished this process, I remove the forms and inspect my work. I read back through it once more, this time to check for spelling errors, punctuation, citations, all of the surface issues that I've pretty much ignored until now.
I must qualify that in my opinion, my writing is ALWAYS wet cement. There is always more that could be done. I could continue day after day after day, reshaping it, revising it, but at some point, I've just got to move on.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
LSTD 1243: Interdisciplinary Composition
Welcome to the blogosphere, students of LSTD 1243! Part of our work in this course is to examine the ways we utilize rhetorical practice in our writing. You know a lot about rhetorical practices, but you may not know that you know. Everyday, you are bombarded with hundreds (if not thousands) of messages that utilize rhetorical practices we will read about and discuss in this course. Part of my objective in this course is for you to recognize these practices, as they are ubiquitous in our culture. As you become familiar with rhetorical practices, you gain the ability to examine how you're being affected by them.
In addition, as you learn about the different rhetorical strategies we cover in Interdisciplinary Composition, you will also learn how to write in a way that appeals to the audiences you communicate with daily. You will become a better writer and communicator in the process.
I hope you enjoy this course, and this foray into the blogosphere!
In addition, as you learn about the different rhetorical strategies we cover in Interdisciplinary Composition, you will also learn how to write in a way that appeals to the audiences you communicate with daily. You will become a better writer and communicator in the process.
I hope you enjoy this course, and this foray into the blogosphere!
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