An AP English Exercise

Here goes…

Mr. Collins taught my husband AP English in high school.  Hubby describes him as a good but challenging teacher.  Many times over the course of our marriage he has referenced the weekly writing assignment from that class.  The creative but demanding educator required his students to write a 500 word essay every week, without using the verb “to be.”   As a result of this rigorous practice, my husband developed strong writing skills.  

Okay, that’s 76 words using one "to be" and I couldn't leave that one out.  How hard could this be?  Darn, I mean, Let’s keep going shall we?

Although I love writing, and my husband professes to hate it (perhaps a consequence of the year spent with Mr. Collins), I often ask for his advice when drafting formal documents, to help me tone down my verbiage or make my writing clear when it gallops away from me.  (My husband kicks butt in grammar and spelling too, but I’ll save that story for another time.) 

Through these joint writing ventures, over the years we've been together the “Mr. Collins Effect” has seeped from my husband’s brain to mine, where it coaxes me to employ powerful verbs rather than weaker, less demonstrative examples.  “Action” language pulls readers into a story, offers up food for imagination, fodder to entice and engage, with the goal of making the reader's connection to the story more powerful. 

Oh my goodness, , I’m only at  Only 203 words?

When I began writing here at Middle Passages, I wrote first drafts of every post.  Then I edited them multiple times in an attempt to remove any representation of the offending verb. Every time I reviewed a post, I pictured my husband describing Mr. Collins’ assignment, and charged forward brandishing a sword in my effort to cut out the enemy weakening my prose.  In truth, sometimes, things read better when I left it in.  But I maintained my guard, lest the poison of too much passivity drag down my writing. 

Now as I approach my third (gulp) anniversary of blogging and subsequent regular, focused writing, (which also “celebrates” the third anniversary of something else I try to forget), I recognize my early drafts read more powerfully because I have developed the habit of avoiding “that” verb during my first round.

344 words.  This exercise is oops, kills me!

I appreciate teachers whose lessons continue to give.  An eleventh-grade creative writing teacher drove me crazy with her inability to focus, yet she taught me how to consider the world through a poet’s eye—and our daughter’s middle school pre-algebra teacher exhibited such enthusiasm that she continues to earn her best grades in math courses to this day.

401 words.   Oh my.  And he did this every week??? 

I wonder if teachers ever consider the residual benefits of the concepts they instill in their students.  Imagine if Mr. Collins, standing in front of his class of impatient high school seniors could see into the future and recognize the long reaching ramifications of his hard work.  How would he feel to know that even though I attended school in a different part of the state and never met him, I apply his lessons every day?  If I knew where to find the long retired educator, I’d thank him, and tell him I channel the homework assignments from his AP English class each time I sit in front of a computer  tearing my hair out.

There!  512.  Exhale, sigh, wipe brow, and thank God I didn't have Mr. Collins for English I only had to do this once.

What do you do to make your writing stronger?