PB2B

When it comes to moves, Anne Lamott, author of the excerpt, “Shitty First Drafts,” and Kerry Dirk, author of the essay, “Navigating Genres,” often dance to the same beat. What, then, makes the two pieces of writing so distinguishable? Although the authors incorporate several of the same writing concepts and components, each has a flair that pertains to her unique style of writing, something perhaps better known (at least in De Piero’s Writing 2 Class) as a move.

Anne Lamott has a style all her own; first and foremost, the title of the selection taken from her book, Bird by Bird, is “Shitty First Drafts.” This title, in itself, is a move; it is a unique word choice that characterizes this piece of writing. I am going to go ahead and take the initiative to say that very few of you have read an academic book, article, essay, or anything of the sort that has the word “shitty” in the title, let alone the body. And I am also going to make the blanket statement that I bet it grabbed almost everyone’s attention, as it did mine. In a similar manner, Lamott’s writing is laced with comparisons that the average “how to be a better writer” book lacks, such as:

“The first draft is the child’s draft, where you let it all pour out and then let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and that you can shape it later. You just let this childlike part of you channel whatever voices and visions come through and onto the page. If one of the characters wants to say, ‘Well, so what, Mr. Poopy Pants?,’ you let her” (Lamott, 1).

This comparison is wildly casual and quite unfiltered, a couple of moves that Lamott seems to maintain throughout her writing in order to connect with her audience. This works because it makes the audience feel as though they are being spoken directly to, rather than spoken at. She blatantly and sarcastically remarks that she knows only one great writer who “writes elegant first drafts,” but because of this, “[Lamott and peers] do not think that [the writer] has a rich inner life or that God likes her or can even stand her” (1). This unfiltered way in which Lamott writes appears to be a defining characteristic, or repeated move, in her writing that helps her to relate to her audience and draw them in.

              Author Kerry Dirk, like Lamott, appreciates a casual approach to writing, but simultaneously preserves a more academic tone than that of the previous author. One of Dirk’s most prominent moves is her use of rhetorical questions and examples—often in response to said rhetorical questions. For instance, Dirk poses the series of questions, “What features…should go into this essay? How personal could [she] get? What rhetorical moves might [she] use, effectively or ineffectively?” (250). She aims to prompt the readers to ask themselves similar questions when analyzing a piece or writing one themselves; however, readers that were not already interested in writing and genre analysis likely will not feel any more inclined to ask themselves these questions due to their lack of interest. Dirk also relies on other authors (primarily Professor Amy Devitt) to support her claims and increase her credibility repeatedly throughout her writing, often using large excerpts from their pieces that must be offset from the rest of the text. A very bold move, in my opinion, is the use of her own writing as an example of a self-proclaimed “effective” letter. She provides an example of a letter she wrote that was intended to remove a late fee from a credit card, then proceeds to analyze it and discuss why it is effective. This is a move that I have seen from very few (if any) scholarly writers, and to be frank, it did not do the trick, so to speak; her use of her own writing as an example drastically weakened her credibility in my opinion.

Regardless of their unique styles, there are still several moves that unite the dances of two authors, such as including personal anecdotes in their writings to provide background information and perhaps seem more personable; Dirk gives a short account of the process she went through in order to write her essay, and Lamott shares her account of the times when she was the author of California magazine’s food reviews. Another move both authors make is the use of parentheticals to share their less significant thoughts. For example, after mentioning that California magazine folded, Lamott says, “(My writing food reviews had nothing to do with the magazine folding, although every single review did cause a couple of canceled subscriptions. Some readers took umbrage at my comparing mounds of vegetable puree with various ex-presidents’ brains)” (1). Dirk makes use of parentheses when she discusses why people choose to watch horror movies or chick flicks based on their predetermined response, “(nail-biting fear and dreamy sighs, respectively)” (Dirk, 254). While these “side-notes” are not essential to make the authors’ points, they DO add personality and perhaps serve to re-interest the audience. In a piece of writing, the words written in parentheses are often interpreted as being spoken in a whisper, further implying that they are not crucial to producing an effective essay. Both Dirk and Lamott follow the same path with another significant move regarding sentence structure, the use of fragments, or incomplete thoughts. Regardless of context, Dirk makes “complete” statements that begin with the word or, like “Or groan. Or tilt your head” (249), and Lamott writes, “Nor do they go about their business feeling dewy and thrilled” (1). This move serves to maintain a casual, conversational tone between the authors and their readers, allowing the authors to further engage their audiences in the subject at hand.

PB2A

If we are asked to write a credible research paper regarding medical advances toward curing AIDS or newly-discovered computer programming methods, why is it that searching and citing Wikipedia would be strongly frowned upon? It contains a sufficient amount of accurate information—at least in my experiences—does it not? What it does not have, however, is research-based, peer-reviewed information. In order to determine the distinctions (which may be slightly more difficult to pick out than one might assume) between a peer-reviewed, scholarly publication and a nonacademic text, a SCIgen research paper—a computer-generated research paper regarding computer science that flows grammatically, but actually makes very little sense after a thorough read through—is placed side-by-side with a peer-reviewed, academic publication entitled “Quantum Cybernetics and Complex Quantum Systems Science: A Quantum Connectionist Exploration.”

Due to my complete and utter lack of understanding of either publication, the main focus centers around surface rhetorical features and conventions rather than an in-depth analysis of computer science methodologies, whereupon I sincerely apologize for any disappointment. But without further ado, each article begins with a large, bold title at the top of the page; however, the academic publication title is printed in red and is also preceded by publication information, including the original source, publication date, and volume, issue, and page numbers. The names of the authors are printed just below the titles in fonts smaller than the titles are written in, bold and black in both cases. Just below the authors’ names in both articles is an abstract, detailing the focuses and purposes of the articles; however, the abstract in the scholarly academic publication is more than twice as long as each of the ones generated by the SCIgen program. Where the generated paper’s abstract is followed by a table of contents, the scholarly academic publication’s abstract is followed by a list of key words, a digital object identifier (DOI) number, and repeated publication information.

The two fall back in stride with boldly marked and numbered introductions (both marked by the number, one). The generated paper then proceeds in a much more general sequence than the other, using generic headings, such as, “Related Works,” “Architecture,” “Evaluation,” and “Conclusion.” The scholarly publication is much more explicit in regards to its headings, such as “Quantum Artificial Neural Networks as Autonomous Quantum Computing Systems.” In each case, all of the section headings are numbered and followed by paragraphs that refer back to that heading. Both publications contain either tables, graphs, or equations, or a mixture of the three. The generated publications, however, contain only five or six of these, whereas the scholarly publication is littered with equations and contains two tables. While specific language regarding computer science is used consistently in both publications, the SCIgen paper is more or less gibberish, and therefore, illegitimate. Both close with a lengthy list of references, citing the sources used to write the papers.              

The most readily visible discrepancies between the two publications are the non-textual structure and detail that compose each. The scholarly publication is marked by color and even some shading with the purpose of color-coding rows of information for clarity; it is also separated into two columns of text. The SCIgen publication, on the other hand, is written in only black ink and is not organized into columns. Although these differences are important to note, they are not necessarily the defining factors of a scholarly publication versus a nonacademic text.

Despite all of the similarities between the two publications, there must be something (besides the fact that it is clearly marked as peer-reviewed) that creates the distinction between the scholarly text and the nonacademic piece. The most prominent differences are the amount of proof that the texts use to support their assertions and the intended audiences and purposes of each. Although I do not claim to actually possess an understanding of either article, it is quite clear that nearly every section of the scholarly text is sprinkled heavily with supporting mathematic concepts and equations. The SCIgen article does use a few graphs and diagrams to back up its “claims,” but with just more than a glance, it is obvious that these “claims” and graphs are nonsense. Because the SCIgen articles are only produced for the sake of amusement and entertainment, their intended audiences are much more extensive because no one can actually make sense of what is written in those papers. Quite contrarily, the scholarly research paper is geared toward a very narrow range of audiences with the intent to inform its readers about a very specific subject regarding “Quantum Cybernetics and Complex Quantum Systems Science” (I apologize for my ineptitude to find a better way to state it). Regardless, the objectives of the two differing texts are quite apparent, even without conducting an exhaustive analysis of the computer-science-jargon-flooded text.

PB1B

As the name so generously implies, an online “genre generator” gives rise, at random, to a set of reproducible conventions that pertain to a specific genre; in this case, the chosen genres are computer science research papers, comic strips, and memes.

These computer science research papers (although I make no claim that I understand what they are discussing whatsoever) all appear to follow very precise patterns, from the way the subject matter is presented to the formulaic graphs and flowcharts found in their bodies. Each research paper begins in the exact same way: a dark, bold title followed by the author’s name and a brief abstract, which allows the reader some insight into what the paper’s objective(s) is/are. These papers are littered with specific jargon that an audience with no background in computer science has no hope of understanding (I am a real-life model of this statement). For instance, “Cyberinformaticians have complete control over the server daemon, which of course is necessary so that Boolean logic can be made pseudorandom, certifiable, and amphibious,” means next to nothing to me. However, because a computer science research paper is geared toward a very specific audience, a person with no knowledge in the matter can make no statements to disclaim its legitimacy. The phrasing of the sentences throughout the paper tend to be very short and concise, perhaps so as to increase the clarity for the readers. If we take a step back and analyze the paper from a broader perspective, we find that each portion of the paper begins with a bold heading (i.e. Table of Contents, Introduction, Related Works, etc.), contains multiple non-textual figures, such as graphs and flowcharts, that are labeled and briefly described, and lastly, have a list of references at the very end.

              On a completely different spectrum of genres, comic strips, and more specifically, the comic strips found on pandyland.net, have an entirely unique set of conventions. The dialogue and interactions that take place between Finlay and Simon tend to be very crude and vulgar, such as, “I’ve got a really horrible rash on my winky,” partnered with the image of Simon with his hands down his pants; needless to say, I do admit to laughing once or twice. These comic strips were very simple in nature, from the personalities of the characters to the color scheme and details within the images. They are intended for and appeal to an audience that is likely very different from the previous genre, one that does not necessarily have a specific educational, political, or religious background; that said, however, the intended audience is certainly not people from a conservative or traditional culture. The presentation of the comic strip in itself is specific to the genre in that each strip is displayed in a series of three side-by-side boxes, each containing an image of only two characters. A convention, perhaps unique to a sub-genre of comic strips, is the random fashion in which the interactions between the two characters are displayed; there is no storyline or specific subject matter, but instead, an illogical sequence of events or (often one-sided) conversations that occurs.

              Quite similarly to the conventions of a comic strip, memes are often crude and vulgar in their humor. Their goal is usually to make fun of or speak down upon another person in an amusing, unconventional manner. Memes each consist of an animated or photographed face, bordered on top and bottom by bold, white letters, all within a small square. The words and phrases made up by these letters contain high levels of sarcasm and are usually lacking in the areas of spelling and grammar; two popular memes begin with, “Y U NO…” and “not sure if…,” both of which fail to use correct grammar and are not fully-formulated thoughts. Memes are meant to be comical and therefore, are geared toward a general audience that is likely intent on finding humor within them; however, meme audiences are usually looking specifically for memes or come across them on a social networking site. That said, the intended audience is likely to be a younger, internet-savvy generation.

              Given the websites used above (pdos.csail.mit.edu, pandyland.net, and memegenerator.net) and their creations, a better understanding of genre can be achieved by analyzing each unique set of conventions and patterns. As people learn these patterns, they are able to apply their knowledge while analyzing a certain text, movie, song, etc. and develop a tighter grasp on what it is that embodies a genre.  

PB1A-Word Problems

If one is asked to define the word “genre,” he or she might respond after some deliberation with something along the lines of “the rules that allow a text/movie/song to fit into a certain category;” however, Kerry Dirk, author of the essay Navigating Genres, points out that “genres require more effort than simply following the rules,” but “genres usually come with established conventions” (258). In order to “assign” a piece to a certain genre, we must analyze these conventions and how they apply to the piece in question. The textual piece under analysis below is a word problem from a text book; what, exactly, are the conventions for a “typical” word problem? Aside from the obvious (numbers, math signs, foreign language, being found in a large, heavy book, etc.), textbook word problems, from physics to calculus to chemistry, each have a loosely “specific” formula. No pun intended. Whether it involves Suzie oxidizing copper or Jonathon measuring the pressure of a fluid, textbook problems tend to aim to turn the issue at hand into a “real life” and relatable situation. The goal is to make the audience, which, just to be clear, is most commonly students, feel as though they are the ones performing the experiment or observing the process that is taking place. These problems are intended to make the student think critically and solve for an answer. Almost without fail, they will say something like “solve for…,” “calculate…,” “determine…,” or simply ask a “Who?, What?, When?, Where?, How?” question. They have a tendency to be written in a serious tone, lacking any sort of comedy, romance, playfulness, or extreme detail. The questions tend to lack eloquence because they are not meant to elicit emotion from the reader (aside from the possible feelings of frustration, confusion, and/or utter defeat). The authors are not novelists, lobbyists, or poets, and therefore, have no intentions of causing the reader to empathize with the subject or be persuaded to take action. The language is very precise so as to avoid confusion in what the question is asking for; however, the given information is not necessarily straightforward. For example, if a student is asked to solve a problem that requires the knowledge of the density of an object, the value of density may not necessarily be supplied; instead, the student may be told the mass and the dimensions of the object and therefore, be expected to be able to determine necessary information from the given values.

“An adventurous parachutist of mass 70.0 kg drops from the top of Angel Falls in Venezuela, the world’s highest waterfall. The waterfall is 979 m tall and the parachutist deploys his chute after falling 295m, a which point his speed is 54.0 m/s. During the 295-m drop, (a) what was the net work done on him and (b) what was the work done on him by the force of air resistance?” (Freedman, Ruskell, Kesten, Tauck; College Physics, 210).

On the off chance that you read the first line of that and decided it was far too much information and mathematical concepts to waste any more brain power on, it does, in fact, turn a physics word problem into a “real life” situation (perhaps jumping off a waterfall is not completely fathomable for all of us, but the concept exists in real life, regardless); it aims to force the student to think critically; both questions begin with the word “What…”; it lacks a certain eloquence that might be present in a textual piece such as the parachutist’s account of his fall; and lastly, it gives information that must be used to determine other material necessary to complete the calculations. Lo and behold, a “typical” word problem is at hand.