Who ya gonna call? Ghost(writing)busters!

Before this class, I hadn’t written an English paper since my junior year of high school (an extremely long four years ago). The papers I have written of late have been mainly scientific in nature and thus not focused on style, but rather on concise, accurate research and reporting. If not scientific papers, then they were Spanish papers being written with an emphasis on correct grammar and expression, style never being considered. This ghostwriting experience made me really think about my style and voice as a writer and what I really like about my writing.

I wrote a History paper for my roommate Anna who stylistically writes very different from me. She is very concise and to-the-point and strongly dislikes sentences with more than one comma and most adjectives and adverbs. She likes to put her “howevers” at the beginning of sentences and not use any flashy vocab. I’ve picked up on these patterns to her writing through editing some papers for her other classes and the samples she gave me. When I tried to emulate these patterns, however, I found it extremely difficult and more challenging than I had anticipated (see how my “howevers” always go in the middle?)

I really struggled to write as her and after awhile I just focused on finishing the paper and then went back and changed a few things to sound more like her. I threw in parts of me (my favorite words and a few complex sentences) but tried to keep my flowery voice to a minimum. After writing a respectable first draft (at least, according to my standards), I showed it to her and asked her what she thought and if it sounded like her at all. She attacked my paper with her red pen and with her words. Previously when she had edited my papers, she made minor changes, fixing my inevitable comma and punctuation errors and trying to curb my penchant for run-on sentences. I never felt like my style was attacked, however, just the English grammar I have never learned correctly and am pretty confident I never will. This time, however, was different. While talking to me, she denounced the organization of my writing, my thesis statements, and my “superfluous” vocabulary. My style and voice was the center of the criticism and not just my paper. This made it extremely personal and left me questioning myself as a writer.

After the initial shock, I started to look over the paper I’d written and began making the “Anna-like” corrections. I had a really hard time cutting down some of the sentences into shorter, choppy (at least according to me), concise phrases. Upon completion of these changes, I reread my paper and really disliked it. It didn’t sound like Anna or me and just ended up like a really bad combination of the two. So I went back and changed some of the things back to the way I had originally wrote them. I still kept most of the vocabulary changes and some of the structural changes, but I felt much better about the paper as a whole. So the paper I turned in, while I’m not 100% proud of it, I still feel much better about than the first edited draft I made.

Overall, ghostwriting has helped me find pride in my writing and make me think about what exactly defines my work and voice as a writer. I don’t think I would have an issue if Anna were to turn in my paper as her own, but I highly doubt she would. This experience made me realize that I could ghostwrite an emotionless, quasi-styleless scientific paper quite easily for someone (and I have), but when ghostwriting something that needs a definite voice and style, I would much prefer to use my own than emulate someone else’s. I had thought that ghostwriting was an impersonal un-credited act, but in reality it is much more personal than I ever could have thought.

Mark it down on your calendar: I agree with Bill O'Reilly

Right now, the presidential primaries are providing our English class with perfect plagiarism fodder. Barack Obama has been accused of plagiarizing his friend, and the governor of Massachusetts, Deval Patrick. Upon first listen, yes, the two speeches are startlingly similar. To me, however, this is not a case of plagiarism, due to two main factors: intent and common knowledge.

As a student living in fear of plagiarism, intent is one of the most important qualifiers to me in defining plagiarism. There are numerous, university-defined ways in which one can be accused of plagiarism without even being aware of it. For example, I could independently come up with an idea that someone in my class has already thought of. If I write my paper and they come across as too similar, no matter how independently written, it can be deemed plagiarism. The fact that I did not intend to plagiarize holds no importance. We are students and we’re bound to make mistakes in citation—whether simply forgetting, accidentally removing, or incorrectly formatting our citations. These should be teaching and learning opportunities, not failures or expulsions. This same principle can be applied to Barack Obama. He has told the media that he did not mean to plagiarize and knowing what a big deal the media has made of this, he would have cited Patrick in his speech. I think that Obama only acquiesced to “apologize” and say he should have cited Patrick to quiet the ridiculous media coverage. I argue that what Barack Obama said is not plagiarism, simply common knowledge that does not need to be cited.

There are a few famous presidential quotes that almost every citizen of the United States of America knows. FDR’s “We have nothing to fear but fear itself,” JFK’s “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country,” Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I have a dream,” and even lines from the Declaration of Independence. I believe that everyone has heard these lines so frequently over the course of there lives that many would not even know to whom to attribute them. When anyone thinks of famous American quotes, these are always the first on the list. The fact that Barack Obama used these exact same quotes as another man in a speech is coincidental but not very unlikely considering the subject matter. Politics uses the same rhetoric ad nauseum, and I doubt this will be the first or the last “plagiarism” issue the media brings up in the coming months. To me, Obama didn’t plagiarize and thus does not need to apologize for his lack of citation. Granted, I am an Obama supporter, but even Fox News’ conservative anchor, Bill O’Reilly agrees with me —what do you think? Did Obama plagiarize? What’s the “punishment” in high profile cases?

Ultimate Misery

After watching Misery, the creepy story of Annie Wilkes who kidnaps and brutally tortures an author after he kills off one of her favorite characters, I got to thinking about what books I have read that left with such dissatisfaction that I would be tempted to write a very strongly worded letter to the author (I doubt I would ever reach Annie’s insanity in real life). I decided that one of those books would be the latest in the Harry Potter series: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. J.K. Rowling pulled the ultimate cop-out in her most recent novel. The epilogue is cheesy, corny, and ultimately unnecessary and left me with such a lingering saccharine aftertaste in my mouth that had not been present in her previous six novels that I had to pretend I had never read the ending. I know numerous people enjoyed the epilogue because they felt it completely wrapped up Harry’s story and left them with a definite sense of conclusion. I, on the other hand, prefer open endings where I can determine for myself what happens and change the story as I see fit. Gone With the Wind, for that very reason, is one of my favorite books. I can decide if Scarlett and Rhett get back together and on what terms, and one day if my mood is different while reading, I can change what happens to them.

Lately, however, it hasn’t been books that have left me dissatisfied, but rather wonderful books that have been brutally murdered in their conversion to film. Love in the Time of Cholera, a wonderful book by Gabriel Garcia Márquez, is magical realism at its finest and lost all of its power, mystery, and romance in adaptation to a film. Slaughtered, would be a NICE way to put it.

However, the prize for worst film adaptation would have to go to my absolute favorite childhood novel, Ella Enchanted. This book takes the classic Cinderella story and alters it so the heroine is no longer a weeping Princess, but rather a strong, witty girl who can save her entire kingdom. Upon watching it in the theater, however, the serious novel was adapted into a horrendous comedy with the satire, moral and joy gone, and replaced with horrible coverings of Queen’s “Somebody to Love” and Elton John’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” complete with tacky dancing. It was enough to make me want to break every DVD ever produced of that film. What about all of you? Any horrible endings to books that make you want to gouge your eyes out (or the authors)? Any book-to film conversions that make you want to pull an Annie Wilkes?

The E-mail Mailman

I got an accusatory phone call from my grandma about two weeks ago. I answered the phone with a simple “Hello?” and was greeted with the shrill response, “Why haven’t you answered your Granny Annie’s five e-mails?” I knew I hadn’t received any of her e-mails, but she was insistent upon the fact that she sent them exactly the way I had taught her when she got her first computer a few months ago. After reviewing the exact steps she took, I finally realized she had been adding a letter to the end of my e-mail address. I explained that that was why I hadn’t been getting her e-mails and she scoffed on the phone, “Well, that’s close enough—the mailman should’ve been able to catch that!”

All of these new technologies, iPhones, PDAS, and their subsequent power, as shown in the reading about smart mobs, is overwhelming and surprising at times, even to astute technological navigators, let alone those of an older generation. E-mail is just about as far as I’ll push my grandma technologically—I fear explaining Facebook, MySpace, podcasts, or simply texting and the accompanying new definitions of “communities” and “friends” would, to her, just seem implausible and more importantly, unnecessary.

These new communities have definitely altered the average teen/college student’s daily life. I think one of the areas most affected by these communities is the emergence of students who are antisocial in physical, real-world communities, but very social in online communities. They know the profiles of everybody in their World of Warcraft network and all of their MySpace friends, yet remain secluded from real communities because of all of their time devoted to online activities. This irony of being antisocial in order to become social online, is a common phenomenon in dorm rooms. Everybody knew those few kids in their dorms who holed up in their rooms on their computers or Xbox’s practically all day. The problem I think this is creating for many of our “technologically advanced” generation is a lack of real physical interactions. Dumping a girlfriend or boyfriend by text or IM, while not socially respectable is becoming more and more common. People can listen to all of their lectures online via podcasts without ever showing up to class and interacting with their classmates. The ways these new communities and technologies manifest to our detriment in our daily lives is astounding. Don’t get me wrong--I don’t think we should just ignore all of these new developments, that would be, as cliché as it sounds, “throwing the baby out with the bathwater.” I do think, however, that as students, and technological junkies, we need to be more discerning in our uses for these new developments and emphasize more personal, face-to-face interactions so we can continue to interact with different generations and be seen as socially astute in all media.

The Da Vinci Code vs. War and Peace

While we were discussing originality and the concept of high versus low literacy in class on Wednesday, I was continuously reminded of an article I had recently read in the New York Times. The article is about Dan Brown and how his success with the Da Vinci Code, Angels and Demons, and the like has spawned myriad copycats hoping to make millions ripping off his “formula.” Dan Brown is rarely applauded for his writing style but rather his catchy, easy-to-read, rather formulaic novels. No one would ever consider putting any of his works in the same category as those of Dickens, Hemingway, or even Carl Hiaasen. Yet, his books remain some of the bestselling of recent years and millions of people are eagerly anticipating the arrival of his next work. This irony, that the bestselling books aren’t the ones deemed the “best” books, causes one to think about what or who determines what is considered great or even good literature.

I think that the general public's opinion should have more sway in this determination. Granted, I’m not saying that classes at universities should be taught about trashy romance novels or choose your own adventure books, but something has to be said for novels and writings that appeal to the general public, or the “Great Unwashed.” There is a reason that millions upon millions of people have read The Da Vinci Code, and the people have only read War and Peace are those who were forced to read it in school. The fact that War and Peace is considered a great, classic book, and The Da Vinci Code is literature for the lower masses proves that this low vs. high dichotomy in literature still exists in today’s society.

An interesting manifestation of the low vs. high literacy dichotomy is in regards to originality. Originality, according to Rebecca Moore Howard, is one of the four main characteristics of a modern author. Yet, as evident by the many successful of Dan Brown “copycat” novels discussed in the New York Times, the general public doesn’t necessarily want or demand originality, but rather more is content with the same, amusing writing. This phenomenon can be seen in all media, including TV, film, and radio, not just books.

I have a hard time dismissing the opinion of millions of people in regards to what’s good entertainment and writing, and accepting the opinions of only literary scholars, but at the same time, I have a very difficult time with the general public’s acceptance of a lack of originality in writings. I guess I’m still undecided as to what exactly determines “good” writing and whether or not I should agree with the general public, literary scholars, or simply ignore both.