One of the first things I noticed while reading Chelsea's initial papers was that she was very eloquent and strong in her ability to respectfully state her opinion in a way that considered the audience's potential differing views from her own, but, at the same time, communicated her personal views on the issues being discussed. I believe that this is an extremely important aspect of writing and a trait that she continued to use throughout the course of the semester. The one area I thought that Chelsea improved the most on was how she explained elements of her writing to her reader. As a writer, it's easy to visually see in your own mind where your going with an idea and, therefore, what your reader should be thinking as well. However, what the speaker believes is self explanatory is often not adequately described in a way that the audience can fully understand. Chelsea greatly improved on her ability to describe in detail why she thought what she did while providing the evidence to support her claims.

Evaluation of Kayla's Writing:

It was interesting to read Kayla's writing because, throughout the semester, I have often been assigned to her peer editing groups and been able to witness her development as a writer first hand. The first thing I noticed about Kayla's writing style was her strong ability of using both pathos and logos simultaneously to persuade her audience. I recall in her first paper, she used a charming bagel anecdote to catch the readers attention and then went on to discuss the complicated ideas of scholars such as Elbow and Bartholomae. In her early papers, she was very good at using such humorous remarks
(such as the bagel plot), but her papers became even stronger near the end of the semester. She still integrated her trademark bitingly witty comments, but she began to use more personal life experiences. These true stories were a great way that Kayla was able to reveal a very honest, confident, no bullshit persona that allowed the reader to connect to her as a writer.

Evaluation of Kara's Writing:

Kara is very passionate with a vulnerable and relatable quality to her writing. This openess "I am who I am" trait is one of the strongest characteristics in a good writer and one that I personally strive to attain. In the beginning papers, Kara uses experiences that have happened to her throughout her life to discuss and relate to the scholars and academics we studied in this course. However, as demonstrated in essay's towards the end of the semester, Kara grew tremendously in using her concrete evidence to convince the audience of her point while, at the same time, trying to look objectively at both sides of the arguement. This growth was obvious in her paper 2 final draft.

The other blog I was suppossed to evaluate was Audra V's, but nothing is posted on her yet except for a few reading responses. I will keep checking her posts and read them when they are posted. However, nothing is posted to comment on right now.

My Personal Growth Throughout the Semester:

Without a question, I have grown tremendously as a writer. Not only was it wonderful to read academic writing because I had never read this kind of work, but analyzing such different texts than I usually would helped me to strengthen certain parts of my own writing, like structuring an arguement and providing substantial support for each of my claims.

However, the aspect of the class that I found to be most useful to my development as a writer were my frequent one on one meetings with Professor Sarah Allen. During these times, together we would look over each of my papers and discuss strengths, weaknesses, and new ideas that could be added in. I have had many meeting with teachers in which we discussed my essays and papers, but in my discussion about my work with Professor Allen were different. I learned more about myself as a writer such as what I did well (connecting with my reader by sharing my own insecurities and, surprisingly enough, my voice) and what I had to pay close attention to and work on in each paper (my structure, organization of my papers, and tendency to be too wordy). However, most importantly, I became more confident in my ability to be my own person, my own writier. Each writer has their own unique process of writing, individual voice, and personal style that cannot be altered. For years, I tried to live up to my dad's writing and copy the way that other writer's wrote, thinking that this highly intellectual style, elaborate structure, and complex diction was the only way to write and be considered a "real" writer. I now know, although I still and will always have to constantly remind myself, that this is untrue. When I try to write like someone else, my words don't flow together and my thoughts are incomprehendable, leaving a huge jumbled mess of ideas. So, it's with the help of classes like this that, once again, I reaffirm my belief that I must always write as myself, in the only way I know how. That is the only way for me to effectively express myself. So, although my confidence in my abilities as a writer often wanes and dwindles, I have to write using my own voice or else the words cease to ring true to my reader and, more importantly, to myself.

I'm sitting, pencil in hand, my paper blindingly bare of any thoughts from the past hour. This is a familiar scene for me. It's one that I've become accustomed to and expect each time I'm given an essay assignment, especially a creative writing project such as this one. I stretch my arms high in the air, as if there might be words or characters floating in the space above me that I can grasp. Nothing ever happens. I rise from my seat and amble through the library, picking up books as I go, glancing at the covers and replacing them, then moving on. Inevitably, I end up back in my chair, pencil in hand, paper still mockingly void of thought. I'm fighting the same battle that always emerges when I'm writing. It's a battle against myself and the ceaseless questions and fears that plague my mind when I try to compose. I try not to let those feelings of doubt or the worry of judgment hold me back from telling my story. I always have thoughts about what I want to write about, but that's not the difficult part. It's clarifying and expanding those thoughts and allowing them to transform into words, into a presence. It's permitting those ideas to form and collaborate with one another and, therefore, create a voice in my writing.
I struggle endlessly when attempting to use my voice to convey written ideas. Voice seems like it should be the easy part of writing. Voice is, after all, the ability to speak honestly in telling one's own story. This unremitting search for voice often feels like the equivalent to my quarter life writing crisis. Yet this analogy is also problematic because the word "crisis" implies
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that my struggle to find a personal voice will eventually end. However I don't think that it ever will. Voice is one way of connecting with an audience by being honest, even if this sincerity elicits my own fears. It's a fear of judgment, the possibility of rejection, the permanence of my words in the world, and, perhaps, most unnerving of all, the failure to meet the audience's expectations. It's always been scary for me to write what I really think and feel because, once the words are down on the paper and read by others, they serve as an everlasting testament of my most intimate thoughts and experiences. If I change my mind or encounter judgment and criticism about an aspect of my writing it means I can't ever take back or fix what I wrote. If I suddenly realize I revealed too much about myself and can't cope with the reader's scrutiny, it's irrelevant because the words have already been written and read by others. That permanence is the most terrifying thought I can't ever completely shake from my head while I write.
If I can actually say what I want to say then all of these struggles make the challenge of employing my own voice in written work the most daunting and potentially liberating writing experience. For those fears habitually try to prevent me from accessing that completely honest voice that connects me to the reader. Sometimes my apprehensions are less overwhelming, but they're always there, urging me to quit, put down my pencil, and walk away.

The struggle to find my writing voice began in middle school, specifically eighth grade, because this is when the expectations of my teachers and peers first emerged. My father is a well-respected teacher and author of two published novels. Despite my dad's critical success as an author he still humbly chose to continue working as a teacher because he believes in the value of education and its ability to change lives. To him, teaching is a more urgent calling than
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becoming a famous author and making money. This choice, in my eyes, made my dad a local unsung hero to our family as well as to the rest of the Boulder Valley community. He is a role model and eminent figure not only in the school district but also as a father to my sister and I.
Yet my dad's success was both a blessing and a curse for me as a young writer. I was so proud of him, but it was assumed by my teachers and peers that his strengths and abilities were mine as well. Due to these expectations, I began to feel increasing pressure to create exemplary writing in order to fulfill their expectations.

School was always challenging for me, especially in math and science. Although I have always loved reading and writing and been fairly strong in these areas, any prior confidence in my English abilities suffered because of feelings of inadequacy in those other subjects. As a result, the combination of personal doubt and the pressure from those around me hindered my ability to find a writing voice. Therefore, in high school, I decided that if I kept any "voice" out of my writing, I would be able to conceal my "weaknesses" and, therefore, be less likely to disappoint those with preconceived notions of my writing abilities. It was hard enough in school to keep a positive attitude while trying to succeed, but now I had to meet the impossibly high standards of teachers and peers regarding my writing, an area that I had previously reveled in.
As a result of these expectations, I began to fear my own voice in writing. It wasn't that I personally was afraid, but more that I was scared of letting people down. Everyone seemed to see my writing identity as that of the author's daughter. If I did not live up to their standards then they'd be disappointed and lose faith in me as a writer. Worse yet, they might disregard my writing completely if I failed to produce the brilliance they envisioned. This feeling that I had to
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persuade everyone into believing that my writing was flawless and the result of an effortless process was exhausting. I was afraid of the possibility of failure if I were to reveal my most honest, and potentially flawed voice, and it didn't connect with my audience. This fear made it nearly impossible to produce a sincere and honest voice that my writing desperately needed. Therefore, I gave the audience what they expected from me as the author's daughter.
I've always been very self sufficient and guarded. I believed that if I accepted guidance from anyone, then it meant I would not be doing the real work. Even when my father would try to help me with my work, assuring me that his writing was not effortless and that struggle was a part of the writing process, I still couldn't believe him. As a dad, he had to say those words of encouragement even though they weren't true.  I had a romanticized idea of what a writer should look and act like. I still thought that in order to be a great author, I had to be capable of sitting down, free writing for a while, and creating a work with a strong voice. This passion towards my subject as well as a desperate desire to communicate my thoughts to society would propel me forward toward the "perfect paper". Therefore, the more I struggled to create such an effortless writing process, the more despair I felt when I failed to abide by these fantasized rules of the writer, and the harder I fought to conceal those real weaknesses from everyone. I was a writer's daughter and there were far too many expectations on my work. This left no room for error of any kind.

Writing in high school English classes proved to be even more difficult. Monarch was a new school at the time and my dad had helped to open it during the first year. He'd been the chair of the English department, contributed a great deal in establishing the program and also
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hired a large percentage of the instructors that were currently teaching when I arrived at the school. These ties made it nearly impossible for me to escape his writing presence. Every English teacher knew my father which meant every instructor knew me as well. From the first glance of my name on the roll call sheet, my connections and expectations were known.

"Rachel Hillm... Wait, are you Tim Hillmer's daughter?" my teacher would say, looking uncomfortably hopeful.
"Yeah." I'd had this exact conversation too many times.
"Really? I used to work with your dad! Great teacher. Is his new book due out soon?" The instructor says, employing that same hopeful eager face.
"Yep. Just came out actually," I would say, annoyed that I might once again be writing in the shadow of my father.
"Wow, that's wonderful. I can't wait to read it. I loved his last one."
Then the teacher would stop talking to me and turn to the class.
"Did you guys know that Rachel's dad wrote a published book? Two now actually. Did you guys know that?"
The majority of students, with the exception of close friends, didn't know. However, after this exchange I would spend the rest of the class answering questions about my dad, his books, and hearing comments about how simple it must be for me to write all of those easy English papers.
Due to my dad's prominent status at my high school, expectations only grew. I was placed in all of the honors English classes and, to my own surprise, proved to be a good writer. I
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had powerful ideas, content, and a good sense of what facts and details would be most valuable to my papers. However, I was weak in areas such as grammar, organization, and creating a strong voice to convey the substance of my work. My father and my teachers could see me struggling and wanted to help me, but I refused. If I was to break away from my dad's overshadowing presence, I had to do it myself. However, as the English classes got harder and the assignments became more rigorous, I was forced to either receive sub-par grades or to accept guidance in the areas I struggled with. Soon, after receiving help my weak composing areas, my writing grades began to steadily improve. Nonetheless, I still lacked a deep and personal connection to my writing. The passion, energy, and voice I craved was still absent from my work.

During junior year, I was placed in Mr. Weber's AP Literature and Composition class. Initially, I was disappointed. My first impression of Mr. Weber was that he was serious and bland and not at all the kind of colorful, passionate teacher that I was hoping would inspire a unique voice in my writing. However, the more time I spent in Mr. Weber's class, the more inspired I felt. He was the first English teacher that didn't cater to me because of my dad. He knew him (Dad had mentored Mr. Weber in his first year of teaching), but he never mentioned his name except in the rare one on one meeting between the two of us. I respected and appreciated Mr. Weber's lack of favoritism and worked all the harder to prove myself to him.
One of the final assignments for Mr. Weber was an in-class paper. Students were able to choose their topic prior to composing day, write a brief outline containing only single words, no full sentences, and bring it to class that day for him to sign off on before students began to write.
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These were the kind of assignments I dreaded because the time restriction of one class period left one no time for editing or additional thought. However, due to both Mr. Weber's and my dad's encouragement, I was determined to use this specific assignment to successfully prove my own writing abilities to not only everyone else, but to myself as well.
I was nervous and anxious the day of the in-class writing. Yet, when I sat down at the computer, the words came rushing out, flooding my head and the page. It was in no way an essay that was easy to write. My topic was female body image and the media's effect on young women. This was a sensitive and personal issue for me, but also an important subject that I felt passionate about. I'm not sure whether it was my connection to my topic or some other element, but I could sense a new voice interwoven throughout the paper. Where I used to feel the presence of my father and the weight of expectations from others as I wrote, I was now able to push those voices aside and hear my own thoughts and feel inspired by my own ideas. The information no longer stood alone in my paper, but my passionate opinions were now the foundation supporting the facts. The words were not empty of feeling and enthusiasm as they had been in past papers but had morphed into transmitters of my most unabashed and gloriously bold thoughts. As I finished writing the paper, I felt a sense of pride that I'd finally written everything I thought in the way I wanted to. The essay gave me the boost of confidence I needed in my own abilities as well as a newfound awareness of the power of voice.

So, I still sit in the library, waiting for the words to come and for that voice to be inspired. I feel more capable and calm than I used to. I know that finding voice in writing is an ongoing battle that I will face every time I write something new. Each essay or story that I sit down to
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write is different. Sometimes I feel a stronger connection or sense of confidence when writing about one topic than another. This naturally affects the strength of my voice from work to work. Therefore, voice is a challenge I have to coax out each time I sit down to write. There will always be doubt. However, when I start to distrust my abilities, I remind myself of all the past struggles and how far I've come. It's always difficult to communicate an intended point through voice, but it's never easy to be completely honest and vulnerable regarding your most intimate ideas and opinions. The more I write and am able to successfully identify my presence throughout the work, the easier it is to feel more confident and capable of using my voice effectively in any writing. The surer I am of the power of voice, then the more I will use my voice as well. So I sit and continue to think, outline, cross out, and start over. This is the process that I've created to fit my own writing. For now, this is how I find my voice.

I'm sitting, pencil in hand, my paper blindingly bare of any thoughts from the past hour. This is a familiar scene for me. One that I've have become accustomed to and expect each time I'm given an essay assignment, especially a creative writing project such as this one. I stretch my arms high in the air, as if I'm hopeful there might be words or characters floating in the space above me that I can grasp. Nothing ever happens. I rise from my seat and amble through the library, picking up books as I go, glancing at the covers and replacing them, then moving on. Inevitably, I end up back in my chair, pencil in hand, paper still mockingly void of thought. I'm fighting the same battle that always emerges when I'm writing. It's a battle against myself and the ceaseless questions and fears that plague my mind when I try to compose. Not letting those feelings of doubt or the worry of judgment hold me back from telling my story. I always have thoughts about what I want to write about, but that's not the difficult part. It's clarifying and expanding those thoughts and allowing them to transform into words, into a presence. Essentially, it's allowing those ideas to form and collaborate with one another and, therefore, create a voice in my writing.
I struggle endlessly when attempting to use my voice to convey writing ideas. Voice seems like it should be the easy part of writing. All voice, essentially, is the ability to speak honestly in telling one's own story, my own story. This unremitting search for voice often feels like the equivalent to my quarter life writing crisis. Yet this analogy is also problematic because the word "crisis" implies that my struggle to find a personal voice will eventually end. However I don't think that it ever will. Voice is one way of connecting with an audience by being honest, even if this sincerity elicits my own fears. Fear of judgment, the possibility of rejection, the permanence of my words in the world, and, perhaps, most unnerving of all, the failure to meet the audience's expectations. It's always been scary for me to write what I really think and feel because, once the words are down on the paper and read by others, they serve as an everlasting testament of my most intimate thoughts and experiences. If I change my mind or encounter judgment and criticism about an aspect of my writing, I can't ever take back or fix what I wrote. If I suddenly realize I revealed too much about myself and can't cope with the reader's scrutiny, it's irrelevant because the words have already been written and read by others. That permanence is the most terrifying thought that I can't ever completely shake from my head while I write.
All of these struggles make the challenge of employing my own voice in written work the most daunting and potentially liberating, if I can actually say what I want to say, writing experience. For those fears habitually try to prevent me from accessing that completely honest voice that connects me to the reader. Sometimes my apprehensions are less overwhelming, but they're always there, urging me to quit, put down my pencil, and walk away.

The struggle to find my writing voice began in middle school, specifically eighth grade because this is when the expectations of my teachers and peers first emerged. My father is a well-respected teacher and author of two published novels. Despite my dad's critical success as an author he still humbly chose to continue working as a teacher because he believes in the value of education and its ability to change lives. To him, teaching is a more urgent calling than becoming a famous author and making money. This choice, in my eyes, made my dad a local unsung hero to our family as well as to the rest of the Boulder Valley community. He is a role model and eminent figure not only in the school district, but also as a father to my sister and I.
Yet my dad's success was both a blessing and a curse for me as a young writer. I was so proud of him, but it was assumed by my teachers and peers that his strengths and abilities were mine as well. Due to these expectations, I began to feel increasing pressure to create exemplary writing in order to fulfill their expectations.

School was always challenging for me, especially in math and science. Although I have always loved reading and writing and been fairly strong in these areas, any prior confidence in my English abilities suffered because of feelings of inadequacy in those other subjects. As a result, the combination of personal doubt and the pressure from those around me hindered my ability to find a writing voice. Therefore, in high school, I decided that if I kept my honest voice out of my writing, I would be able to conceal my "weaknesses" and, therefore, be less likely to disappoint those with preconceived notions of my writing. In school it was hard enough to keep a positive attitude while trying to succeed, but now I had to meet the impossibly high standards of teachers and peers regarding my writing, an area that I had previously reveled in.
As a result of these expectations, I began to fear my own voice in writing. It wasn't that I personally was afraid, but more that I was scared of letting people down. Everyone seemed to see my writing identity as the author's daughter. If I did not exhibit their view then they would be disappointed and compelled to lower their standards of my writing. Worse yet, they might disregard my writing completely if I failed to produce the brilliance they envisioned. This feeling that I had to mislead everyone into believing that my writing was flawless and the result of an effortless process was exhausting. I was afraid of the possibility of failure if I were to reveal my most honest voice and it didn't resonate with my audience. This fear made it nearly impossible to produce a sincere and honest voice that my writing desperately needed. Therefore, I gave the audience what they expected from me as the author's daughter.
I've always been very self sufficient and guarded. I believed that if I accepted guidance from anyone, then it meant I would not be doing the real work. Even when my father would try to help me with my work, assuring me that his writing was not effortless and that struggle was a part of the writing process, I still couldn't believe him. As a dad, he had to say those words of encouragement even though they weren't true.  I had a romanticized idea of what a writer should look and act like. I still thought that in order to be a great author, I had to be capable of sitting down, free writing for a while, and creating a work with a strong voice. This passion towards my subject as well as a desperate desire to communicate my thoughts to society would propel me forward toward the "perfect paper". Therefore, the more I struggled to create such an effortless writing process, the more despair I felt when I failed to abide by these fantasized rules of the writer, and the harder I fought to conceal those weaknesses from everyone. I was a writer's daughter and there were far too many expectations on my work. This left no room for error of any kind.

Writing in high school English classes proved to be even more difficult. Monarch was a new school at the time and my dad had helped to open the school during its first year. He'd been the chair of the English department, contributed a great deal in establishing the program and also hired a large percentage of the instructors that were currently teaching when I arrived at the school. These ties made it nearly impossible for me to escape his writing presence. Every English teacher knew my father which meant every instructor knew me as well. From the first glance of my name on the roll call sheet, my connections were known.

"Rachel Hillm... Wait, are you Tim Hillmer's daughter?" my teacher would say, looking uncomfortably hopeful.
"Yeah." I'd this exact conversation too many times.
"Really! I used to work with your dad! Great teacher. Is his new book due out soon?" The instructor says, employing that same hopeful eager face.
"Yep. Just came out actually," I would said, again conscious of the cyclical nature of this discussion, but attempting to appear unaware of this fact and interesting in my teachers questions.
"Wow, that's wonderful. I can't wait to read it. I loved his last one."
Then the teacher would stop talking to me and turn to the class.
"Did you guys know that Rachel's dad wrote a published book? Two now actually. Did you guys know that?"
The majority of students, with the exception of close friends, didn't know. However, after this exchange I would spend the rest of the class answering questions about my dad, his books, and hearing comments about how simple it must be for me to write all of those easy English papers.
Due to my dad's prominent status at my high school, expectations only grew. I was placed in all of the honors English classes and, to my own surprise, proved to be a good writer. I had powerful ideas, content, and a good sense of what facts and details would be most valuable to my papers. However, I was weak in areas such as grammar, organization, and creating a strong voice to convey my compelling substance in my work. My father and my teachers could see me struggling and wanted to help me, but I refused. If I was to break away from my dad's overshadowing presence, I had to do it myself. However, as the English classes got harder and the assignments became more rigorous, I was forced to either receive sub-par grades or to accept guidance in the areas I struggled with. Soon, after receiving help in weaker composing areas, my writing grades began to steadily improve. Nonetheless, I still lacked a deep and personal connection to my writing. The passion, energy, and voice I craved was still absent from my work.

During junior year, I was placed in Mr. Weber's AP Literature and Composition class. Initially, I was disappointed. My first impression of Mr. Weber was that he was serious and bland and not at all the kind of colorful, passionate teacher that I was hoping would inspire a unique voice in my writing. However, the more time I spent in Mr. Weber's class, the more inspired I felt. He was the first English teacher that didn't cater to me because of my dad. He knew him (Dad had mentored Mr. Weber in his first year of teaching), but he never mentioned his name except in the rare one on one meeting between the two of us. I respected and appreciated Mr. Weber's lack of favoritism and worked all the harder to prove myself to him.
One of the final assignments for Mr. Weber was an in-class paper. Students were able to choose their topic prior to the composition day, write a brief outline containing only single words, no full sentences, and bring it to class that day for him to sign off on before students began to write. These were the kind of assignments I dreaded because the time restriction of one class period left one no time for editing or additional thought. However, due to both Mr. Weber's and my dad's encouragement, I was determined to use this specific assignment to successfully prove my own writing abilities to not only everyone else, but to myself as well.
I was nervous and shaky with anxiety the day of the in-class writing. Yet, when I sat down at the computer, the words came rushing out, flooding my head and the page. It was in no way an essay that was easy to write. My topic was female body image and the media's effect on young women. This was a sensitive and personal issue for me, but also an important subject that I felt passionate about. I'm not sure whether it was my connection to my topic or some other element, but I could sense a new voice interwoven throughout the paper. Where I used to feel the presence of my Dad and the weight of expectations from others as I wrote, I was now able to push those voices aside and hear my own thoughts and feel inspired by my own ideas. The information no longer stood alone in my paper, but my passionate opinions were now the buttress supporting the facts. The words were not empty of feeling and enthusiasm as they had been in past papers, but had morphed into transmitters of my most unabashed and gloriously bold thoughts. As I finished writing the paper, I felt a sense of pride that I'd finally written everything I thought in the way I wanted to. The essay gave me the boost of confidence I needed in my own abilities as well as a newfound awareness of the power of voice.

So, I still sit in the library, waiting for the words to come and for that voice to be inspired. I feel more capable and calm than I used to. I know that finding voice in writing is an ongoing battle that I will face every time I write something new. Each essay or story that I sit down to write is different. Sometimes I feel a stronger connection or sense of confidence when writing about one topic or another theme. This naturally affects the strength of my voice from work to work. Therefore, voice is a challenge to coax out each time I sit down to write. There will always be doubt. However, when I start to distrust my abilities I remind myself of all the struggles. It's always difficult to communicate an intended point through voice, but it's never easy to be completely honest and vulnerable regarding your most intimate ideas and opinions. The more I write and am able to successfully identify my presence throughout the work, the easier it is to feel more confident and capable of using my voice effectively in any writing. The surer I am of the power of voice, then the more I will use my voice as well. So I sit and continue to think, outline, cross out, and start over. This is my process that I've created to fit my own writing. For now, this is how I find my voice.

In Henry Louis Gates memoir, I would argue that the whole piece is written with the intent of "talking back" or speaking out against certain aspects of his black community in Piedmont. Gates voices his opinion on elements of his childhood town, such as the violence and sexist treatment of women, that challenges the segregated black and white communities of Piedmont. Many of the black individuals (specifically males) took out their anger at the whites that belittled and oppressed them on other memebers of their African American community.

The Substance vs. Style Debate

Essentially, I believe that voice is the speaker's way of connecting with a reader and communicating a discourse. This definition is a simple one to understand, but it raises the following question: what elements comprise voice and make the conversation/connection between the writer and the audience possible? Is it style or substance? I know through personal experience that the answer is hard to identify since I have constantly struggled with finding my voice as a writer. Many academics, politicians, scholars, even students try to enamor their audience with impressive diction, humor, the complexity of their sentence structure, and charming style. Personally, the majority of times I read such works, I do initially feel intimidated by the very assertive and persuasive speaker. However, when I re-read or analyze the paper, I often find that the speaker's style seems to, intentionally or not, mask the inadequacy of their argument. In Harry G. Frankfurt's words, style too often serves as the "bullshit" to cover up the poorly argued substance of the paper. Therefore, I believe, if we have to choose one element that embodies voice it would be substance.
Maybe this next analogy emerges from the future elementary school teacher in me, but a good example that demonstrates the relationship between style and substance (voice) is a hamburger. This connection may sound juvenile, but this simplistic image perfectly represents
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the complexity of the relationship between these two key elements of writing. A hamburger always has a bun and the meat patty in the middle. These are basic and indispensable ingredients for every burger. The sandwich can be eaten plain with only the above components. Some prefer it this way, but most feel it's too dry. So, to add flavor (extra appetizing appeal), components such as cheese, lettuce, tomato, condiments, etc. can be included. In this way, writing is similar. Substance is the meat patty and style is the extras added for flavor. Without the additions, the meat patty may be a little dry but it is still edible. However, the meat patty is essential to the existence of the burger and without it, the sandwich would not exist. Writing is the same idea. Without the subject, the paper would not, could not, subsist. Style, therefore is often desired, but should come as a secondary concern.
Another illustration of the debate of whether voice is substance or style appears in the current presidential election between Barack Obama and John McCain and the relationship between these two candidates and the media. The public eye has a tendency to focus more on each politician's style rather than the substance supporting their position on the issues. In the first debate, Obama frequently acknowledged McCain and their few, but apparent, similar views on certain topics. John McCain, however, refused to recognize Obama's presence in any way. These differing approaches by each candidate became the main focus of the media and the public for days following the debate. The "meaty" discussion of what Obama and McCain actually said regarding the serious presidential concerns was neglected completely. This is one of the complications that can appear when too much emphasis is put on style. If McCain or Obama do not have adequate ideas, experience, etc, then they will not be able to lead as President regardless of the likeability they demonstrate. So, as citizens, we shouldn't just want a leader that has a
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flashy demeanor. Our country needs and should demand an individual who has the knowledge (the substance!) to lead as the President of the United States.
There is no question that style can positively contribute to an individual's writing. Style can serve as that attention grabber that hooks the viewers so they will keep reading. I would be naïve to say that audiences do not subscribe to ideas presented in a showy fashion. Readers want to be entertained. However, it's imperative that writers and readers understand that without substance, the core ideas and thoughts, the meat patty of the hamburger, the paper itself, from which style emerges, would cease to exist. Without the ideas of the paper, there is nothing to persuade. Essentially, the style in which something is presented is irrelevant without the substance because there would be no opinions to demonstrate to the audience. Substance is indispensable; style is secondary.
To display my firm belief that voice is substance, I chose to imitate the following passage (pg. 32-34) from Frankfurt's On Truth with the hope of portraying that, even though the original author's style is the same, my personal feelings can be inserted as the substance.

"Due to these facts, our society must acknowledge and respect the truth. We cannot stop there, however, for society must accept that some facts are universally true, at the end of the day, but we also have to consider that truth orbits around our own unique world. Therefore, we must understand that our values and beliefs will influence our own unique truth. Further more, since we all are of different persons and identities there will be contrasts in each individual's beliefs, personal truths, or in their thoughts, yielding various responses to what the actual set in stone ultimate realities of our world are. Just because citizens disagree on what should be considered
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essential, fundamental elements of our society does not mean that they are behaving in an indifferent manner. The more passionately a person argues for their point to be accepted or acknowledged by the masses, the more that individual cares about society.
A world that is unwilling and dedicated to silencing those expressing their own beliefs regarding truth are, in all honesty, the real offenders of such fallacies. Without an encouraged public discourse between citizens, we will not hear one another's beliefs or values. Societies will not learn their truths, and won't be able to learn, without the active passionate conversations between human beings. A society's capability to identify the many truths will be severely limited if the discussions regarding values are prohibited. To institute and continue the search for the many truths in our civilizations, we must evade the mind set that there is only one discussion that can be had concerning the ‘facts' or that there are only one set of established universal truths in our world. Our society must acknowledge--and, certainly, we have to learn how to openly listen and discuss-- the many truths that exist in our society and our personal lives".

After completing this imitation exercise, I realized, even more so, that voice is complicated whether it be an imitation or in our own work. Writers hear, define, demonstrate, and struggle with voice daily, both in our English classes and outside in the real world. Therefore, it's accurate to say that voice is comprised of more than one element. Although I maintain my original position that voice is based largely on substance, there are other factors, such as style, that contribute as well.
The writing skills that I consider to be more tedious, such as grammar and sentence structure, have never come easily to me. This is yet another reason I'm quick to pinpoint writing
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as substance. Voice would be easier for me to create if it were this way. I thought the imitation exercise would be simpler than it actually was because I would be adding my substance to Frankfurt's concrete style. However, I found it much harder than I anticipated to relay my intended message, my substance, to the audience with Frankfurt's style already established. In my imitation, there was a detachment between my substance and the original style that created a rift in my ability to successfully communicate a theme. The clarity of my ideas were murky and the persuasiveness of the argument was not at all convincing. This makes sense since I felt lost writing the imitation. The final product led me to the conclusion that substance and style rely on the effectiveness of one another. Style provides the charisma and initial hook to adequately intrigue the audience so they'll read on. Substance portrays the speaker's main ideas that contribute to the meaning of the paper. Style gives the substance the appeal it needs to be heard by the reader, but substance is the reason style can be implemented at all.
One of the more common arguments concerning the elements' of voice is that the point you're trying to persuade with in your writing doesn't matter. It just matters whether you can be effective in convincing your audience to believe what you articulate, even if what you are saying is complete bullshit. I strongly disagree with this idea. In a society where there is so much corruption and exploitation, writing is one of the few places where individuals can converse honestly with their peers regarding their truest thoughts. When writers and readers begin to view literary works in this way, it belittles the potential power of the honesty of a speaker's words on the world in order to affect positive change and the discovery of personal truth.
Perhaps I unfairly associate style with the bullshitter. To me, style too often seems to be an easy way to distract and dazzle the reader away from the issue being addressed in hopes that
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they will agree with the speaker based on the likeability factor alone. This is why I would rather say that voice is substance and not style. It allows writing to remain pure, untainted, and sincere so that works have the ability to influence change and be transformative. Is it an unfair assessment to say that style holds no value in voice? Absolutely. Some of the greatest authors were great writers due to their individualized and unique styles (Raymond Carver became a literary legend primarily because of his incredible minimalist style). I feel like I have subconsciously known that voice does not have to be made solely of one element, but this imitation exercise more adequately proved this point to me. An appealing and intriguing style does not always mean that there is a lack of ample substance to the piece. It's through imitation exercises, listening to the arguments of my peers, and keeping an open mind that I work on my acceptance that voice can be comprised of many different elements including, but not limited to, substance and, yes, even style.

The Importance of Voice

Voice: a medium of communication or expression for somebody or something.

I love reading and love the idea of writing and being able to choose the perfect words to articulate my feelings at that precise moment to an audience. It's a liberating, terrifying, and appealing thought all in one. My father is both a very involved and well-respected instructor and author of two published novels. I never felt pressure from my Dad himself to be an amazing writer, but I felt his presence and the weight of the expectations of other teachers to produce papers unlike any of my other peers. Everyone involved in the Boulder Valley School District knows my father which only gave me more of an incentive to prove myself. One of my greatest apprehensions about writing is my fear of composing. Fear of judgment, fear of the permanence of my words in the world, fear of my own voice, or even fear that someone has already written about an idea more eloquently than I ever could. How can I, an inexperienced writer and sophomore in college, compose a piece that might compare to the work of a great writer? These anxieties make me question my abilities to succeed as a writer and a writing teacher in the classroom.

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My father and my teachers wanted to help me with my written work by reading it and providing feedback. They wanted me to succeed. There were countless times when I refused this help and believed that by accepting guidance I was not doing the real work. I still thought that, in order to be a writer, I should be capable of sitting down, free writing for a while, and creating a paper, much the way Peter Elbow describes in his work. I still believed that my passion towards my subject and my desperate desire to communicate my thoughts to society would propel me forward in my conquest for the "perfect" paper. It was only after the steady support of my father, my teachers, and the work of academics, such as Bartholomae, that I began to realize no writer can create their work, their voice, without some assistance. A writer should accept help in the form of editing, or reading about ideas that make her change her own view, or gaining knowledge that reinforces what she already knows, or being empowered by another writer's language to inspire and empower my own. There is no shame in listening to those other "dialects of influence" and allowing them to influence (2).
I don't want to be a journalist or write as a profession. I'm studying to become a teacher. I feel that it's my responsibility to be able to write with the same competence I will ask of my future students. I know that the process of writing is not meant to be easy. I struggle each and every time I sit down to write a paper, no matter how provocative the subject is to me. These difficult struggles are essential to the development of my personal writing as well as gaining a deep understanding of the literary field of humanities.
I also believe that the perception of writing and reading stems from the student's experiences with language in the world. If a student has poor composition instruction or receives unproductive criticism from one of their teachers, then their confidence as a writer could
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negatively change. The writing classroom is critical to a student's growth whether they are in first grade or in college. The most effective teachers coach their students on everything from how to construct papers to the different ways of using language effectively. So, the aspiring teacher in me must ask the inevitable question: what is the most important thing for a student to gain from the writing classroom?
After studying the work of Peter Elbow, I disagree with one of his main arguments on developing one's voice as a writer. Elbow romanticizes the act of writing so that it seems as if the writer is able to sit down and effortlessly crank out words. This idea could be damaging to those students just beginning their writing careers. If students are under the impression that composing a literary piece should be easy, then they are much more inclined to be discouraged once a spectacular paper or story doesn't emerge from a 10 minute free write.
Despite my objection to Elbow's implication that creating language is simple, I do believe, however, in his encouragement of a young writer's voice. Elbow states that the most valuable outcome of the writing classroom should be to let a students voice resonate throughout every piece of writing. Elbow celebrates the courageous student who brings his most raw and essential self to the page. Fear and struggle can push you away from finding that voice, but as Elbow says, "...it's the only voice you've got. It's your only source of power" (4). I didn't want to get special treatment because of my dad. I wanted to earn my own way. The pressures I felt from other teachers and students around me and from myself made it even more aggravating when I would struggle with my writing.
Writers can preach about the importance of voice and, although it may seem like the easiest part of writing, I personally find it do be the most difficult. As Elbow emphasizes, ideas
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such as free writing and individuality are important. He states that voice comes from a writer's self when it's untainted and in its purest form. It is not influenced by anyone or anything, but comes from within. Elbow encourages his students to write as if no one has ever written about anything before them. "... much of my behavior is a kind of invitation for them to pretend that no authorities have ever written about their subject before" (3). While I acknowledge Elbow's view, I think that it's unrealistic and not helpful to act like substantial quality ideas had been written before. We should embrace the brilliant works and other events that have come before us. Allow their language and style to influence our writing because it can only help to enhance the credibility of the work.
When it comes to voice, I find the ideas of David Bartholomae more true to my own personal writing. "For me, nothing happens, or could happen, until I imagine myself within a discourse - a kind of textual conversation/confrontation with people whose work matters to me and whose work, then, makes my own possible" (1). Bartholomae believes that voice is created by personal thoughts and experiences, but it is also born from the ideas and teachings of other great writers and academics. Voice is meant to be heard through each student's writing. It may have been initially formed or inspired by the work of others, but it must be molded into what it is today by that persons own life experiences. It is my aspiration to be courageous enough to write with my own voice and demand that it be heard as well as encourage my future students to do the same.
All writers need a starting point to find where they stand on an issue, then need to discover how these outside influences coincide with their own lives and experiences, and find their voice. It is a teacher's responsibility to encourage their students to pay attention to their
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own life experience as well as to pay attention to the experiences and ideas of others in order to develop their own perspective and voice.
A retired University of Colorado Professor and Shakespeare scholar, Reg Saner, once said, "We all write in the shadow of Shakespeare." Does this not apply to all writers as well? Even Shakespeare himself created his most influential works and developed his voice by
observing the political and social events that occurred throughout his life. I believe that Peter Elbow would agree that Shakespeare was inspired and wrote from a deep, personal place.
The play Macbeth was originally written for King James of Scotland who was the reigning King of England. James, who was one of Shakespeare's benefactors, was also fascinated with witchcraft and Scottish history. So, Shakespeare chose an ancient Scottish warrior as his protagonist and used it as a starting point to develop one of his greatest plays. Even Shakespeare, arguably the greatest writer of all time, created his most multifaceted and intriguing characters based upon the people he met and the incidents that occurred throughout his own life.
I have tried to own my voice as a writer while also giving credit to those individuals and ideas I consulted to inspire my thoughts throughout this paper. David Bartholomae and Peter Elbow both illustrate vastly different, but essential points. The fundamentals of voice are addressed through the merging of these two academics ideas. Voice is not a "solo" effort, but a collaborative process of various elements of our backgrounds and personal life. It is critical that teachers encourage students to fearlessly bring their personal presence to their writing.
As a writer, everything we learn, experience, know and believe to know shapes our ever-changing voice. As a writer, everyone we meet, connect with, befriend, idolize, and despise molds our voice into something new. I think the eloquent words of David Bartholomae best
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illustrate this internal struggle that every writer must face each time they create a work. A "...writer learns, by learning to write within and against the powerful writing that precedes him, that haunts him, and that threatens to engulf him" (1).

The Substance vs. Style Debate

Essentially, I believe, that voice is the speaker's way of connecting with a reader and having a discourse. This definition is a simple one to understand, but it rouses the following question: what elements comprise voice and make the conversation/connection between the writer and the audience possible? Is it style or substance? I know through personal experience that the answer is hard to identify since I have constantly struggled with finding my voice. Many academics, politicians, scholars, even students try to enamor their audience with impressive diction, humor, the complexity of their sentence structure, and charming style. Personally, the majority of times I read such works, I do initially feel in awe and intimidated by the often very assertive and persuasive speaker. However, when I re-read or analyze the paper, I often find that the speaker's style seems to, intentionally or not, mask the inadequacy of their argument. In Harry G. Frankfurt's words, style too often serves as the "bullshit" to cover up the lack of or poorly argued substance of the paper. Therefore, I believe, if we have to choose one element that embodies voice it would be substance.
Maybe this next analogy emerges from the future elementary school teacher in me, but a good example that demonstrates the relationship between style and voice/ substance is a hamburger. This connection may sound juvenile, but this simplistic image perfectly represents the complexity of the relationship between these two key elements of writing. A hamburger always has a bun and the meat patty in the middle. These are basic and indispensable ingredients for every burger. The sandwich can be eaten plain with only the above components, some prefer it this way, but most feel it's too dry. So, to add flavor (extra appetizing appeal), components such as cheese, lettuce, tomato, condiments, etc. can be included. In this way, writing is similar. Substance is the meat patty and style is the extras added for flavor. Without the additions, the meat patty may be a little dry but is till edible. However, the meat patty is essential to the existence of the burger and without it, the sandwich would not exist. Writing is the same idea. Without the subject, the paper would not, could not, subsist. Style, therefore is often desired, but should come as a secondary concern.
Another illustration of the debate of whether voice is substance or style appears in the current presidential election between Barack Obama and John McCain and the relationship between these two candidates and the media. The public eye has a tendency to focus more on each aspirant's style rather than the substance supporting their position is on the issues. In the first debate, Obama frequently acknowledged McCain and their, few but apparent, coinciding views on certain topics. However, John McCain refused to recognize Obama's presence in any way. These differing approaches taken by each candidate became the main focus of the media and the public for days following the debate, neglecting the discussion of what Obama and McCain actually said regarding the serious presidential concerns. This is one of the complications that can appear when too much emphasis is put on style. Either of the two candidates could have all the style and charm in the world, but it wouldn't matter. If McCain or Obama don't have adequate ideas, experience, etc, they will not be able to lead as President regardless of the likeability they demonstrate. So, as citizens, we shouldn't just want a leader that has a flashy demeanor. Our country needs and should demand an individual who has the knowledge (the substance!) to lead as the President of the United States.
There is no question that style can positively contribute to an individuals writing. Style can serve as that additional attention grabber that hooks the audience so they keep reading. I would be naïve to say that audiences do not subscribe to those ideas presented in a showy fashion. Audiences want to be entertained. However, it's imperative that writers and readers understand that without substance, the core ideas and thoughts, the meat patty of the hamburger, the paper itself would cease to exist. Without the purpose of the paper, there is nothing to persuade. Essentially, the style in which something is presented is irrelevant without the substance because there would be no opinions to demonstrate to the audience. My argument is not that style is expendable, but that where style adds flash, substance allows the work from which style emerges to exist. It's the writer's job to provide a convincing argument throughout their work. Therefore, in response to the speaker's efforts to provide this clear factual logic, it is the reader's responsibility to, while perhaps initially rapt in the superficial power of style, to push past this initial focus and concentrate on the fundamental argument of the piece. Without substance there is no style, no discourse, no writing.
To demonstrate my firm belief that voice is substance, I chose the following passage (pg. 32-34) from Frankfurt's On Truth to imitate in hopes of portraying that, although the original author's style is the same, my personal feelings can be injected as the substance.

"Due to these facts, our society must acknowledge and respect the truth. We cannot stop there, however, for the society must accept that some facts are universally true, at the end of the day, but we also have to consider that truth orbits around our own unique universe. Therefore, we must understand that our values and beliefs will influence our own unique truth. Further more, since we all are of different persons and identities there will be contrasts in each individuals beliefs, personal truths, or in their thoughts, yielding various responses to what the actual set in stone ultimate realities of our world are. Just because citizens disagree on what should be considered essential, fundamental elements of our society does not mean that they are behaving in an indifferent manner. I happen to believe that the more passionately a person argues for their point to be accepted or acknowledged by the masses, the more that individual cares about society.
A world that is unwilling and dedicated to silencing those voicing their own beliefs in truth are, I believe, the real offenders of such fallacies. Without an encouraged public discourse between citizens, we will not hear one another's beliefs or values. Societies will not learn their truths, and won't be able to learn, without the active passionate conversations between human beings. A societies capability to identify the many truths will be severely limited if the discussions regarding values are prohibited. To institute and continue the search for the many truths in our civilizations, we must evade the mind set that there is only one discussion that can be had concerning the "facts" or that there are only set of established universal truths in our world. Our society must acknowledge- and, certainly, we have to learn how to openly listen and discuss- the many truths that exist in our society and personal lives".

After completing this imitation exercise, I realized, even more so, that voice is complicated whether it be in imitation or in our own work. Writers hear, define, demonstrate, and struggle with voice daily, in our English classes and outside in the real world. Therefore, it's accurate to say that voice is comprised of more than one element. Although I maintain my original position that voice is based largely on substance, there are other factors, such as style, that contribute as well.
The writing skills that, I consider, to be more tedious such as grammar and sentence structure, have never come easily to me. Yet another reason I'm quick to pinpoint writing as substance; voice would be easier for me to create if it were this way. I thought the imitation exercise would be simpler than it actually was because I would be adding my substance to Frankfurt's concrete style. However, I found it much harder than I anticipated to relay my intended message, my substance, to the audience with Frankfurt's style already established. In my imitation, there was a detachment between my substance and the original style that created a rift in my ability to successfully communicate my theme. The clarity of my points were murky and the persuasiveness of my argument was not at all convincing which made sense since even I had felt lost writing the imitation. This final product led me to the conclusion that substance and style rely on the effectiveness of one another. Style provides the eloquence and initial hook to adequately intrigue the audience so that they'll read on. Substance portrays the speaker's main ideas that contribute to the meaning of the paper. Style gives the substance the appeal it needs to be heard by the reader, but substance is the reason style can be implemented at all.
One of the common arguments concerning the elements of voice is that it doesn't matter the point your trying to persuade in your writing. It just matters whether you can be effective in convincing your audience to believe what you articulate, even if what you are saying is complete bullshit. I strongly disagree with this idea. In a society where there is so much corruption and exploitation, writing is one of the only places in which individuals can converse honestly with their peers regarding their truest thoughts. When writers and readers begin to view literary works in this way, it belittles the potential power of the honesty of a speaker's words on our peers and the world to affect positive change and the discovery of personal truth.
Perhaps I unfairly associate style with the bullshiter. To me, style too often seems to be an easy way to distract and dazzle the reader away from the issue being addressed in hopes that they will agree with the speaker based on the likeability factor alone. This is why I would rather say that voice is substance and not style. It allows writing to remain pure, untainted, and sincere in which works have the ability to influence change and transform anything. Is it an unfair assessment to say that style holds no value in voice? Absolutely. Some of the greatest authors were great writers due to their individualistic styles (Raymond Carver became a literary legend primarily because of his incredible minimalist style). I feel like I have subconsciously known that voice does not have to be made solely of one element, but this imitation exercise more adequately proved this point to me. An appealing and intriguing style does not always mean that there is a lack of ample substance to the piece.. So, it's through imitation exercises, listening to the arguments of my peers, and an open mind that I work on my acceptance that voice can be comprised of many different elements including, but not limited to substance and, yes, even style.

Model Sentence from Orwell's Burmese Days

1. I ate my sandwich in silence sitting alone on the park bench and shivering from the cold grey winter weather.

Model Sentence from Orwell's Raffles and Miss Blandish

2. If she insists on being selfish, it is more effective if her mother financially cut her off than continue to cater to her every whim.

Model Sentence from Joyce's Counterparts

3. She raced down one of the soccer fields at Pleasentview complex, wishing that her coach would stop yelling at the team and believe they could win the game.

Variation and Expression:

Model Sentence from Joyce's Counterparts

1. Variation: Muttering to himself that they could all go to hell because he was going to have a night of it, he quickly went through the narrow alley of Temple Bar.

Alternate: He was going to have a good night of it, all the while muttering to himself that they could all go to hell, and then he quickly went through the narrow alley of Temple Bar.

The Importance of Voice

One of my greatest apprehensions about writing is my fear of writing. Fear of judgment, fear of the permanence of my words in the world, fear of my own voice, or even fear that someone has already wrote about an idea more eloquently than I ever could. How can I, an inexperienced writer and sophomore in college, compose a piece challenging those great writers? What makes me worthy of that? These anxieties make me question my abilities to succeed as a writer in the classroom.
I don't want to be a journalist or write as a profession. However, I'm studying to become a teacher and I feel that it's my own responsibility to be able to write in the same way that I will ask of my future students. Writing is not meant to be easy. I struggle each and every time I sit down to write a paper, no matter how provocative the subject is to me. However, these precise struggles are essential to the development of personal writing and a deeper understanding of the literary field of humanities. I also think that of the perception of writing and reading stems from the student's experiences in and throughout school. Teachers coach their students on everything from how to construct papers to the different ways of using language effectively. Therefore, I think, that if a student has as little as one poor teacher or receives unproductive criticism from one of their instructors, their whole idea of writing could negatively change. That is why the
writing classroom is critical to a student's growth whether they are in first grade or in college. This brings the aspiring teacher in me to ask the inevitable question: what is the most important thing for a student to leave the writing classroom having learned?
I had never read any articles or books by Peter Elbow before this class. However, after studying a few of his works, I can't say I agree with many of his arguments. Elbow romanticizes the act of writing so much that it seems as if the "author" should be able to sit down and effortlessly crank words out. This idea is damaging to those students just beginning their writing careers. Students under the impression that composing a literary piece is easy are much more inclined to quit once a spectacular paper or story doesn't come out of a 10 minute free write. However, despite my objection to Elbow's implication that creating language is simple, I do believe in his encouragement of a young writer's voice. Therefore, I think that the most valuable outcome of the writing classroom for the students should be to let their voice resonate throughout every piece of their writing.
Elbow celebrates the student courageous enough to bring his most raw and essential self to the page. I don't mean to contradict myself if it appears that way. It should just be made clear that, although I disagree with Elbow's idea of the fantasized process in which writing is created, I do value his encouragement of the student's thoughts and voice. Fear and struggle can push you away from finding that voice, but as Elbow says, "...it's the only voice you've got. It's your only source of power."
We can preach about the importance of voice and, although it may seem like the easiest part of writing, I personally find it do be the most difficult to attain. As Elbow emphasizes, ideas such as free writing and individuality are important, however, I'm skeptical of the concept of sentimental realism concerning voice. Elbow says that voice comes from self when it's untainted and in its purest form. It is not influenced by anyone or anything, but comes from within. However, when it comes to voice, I find the ideas of David Bartholomae to be more accurate. "For me, nothing happens, or could happen, until I imagine myself within a discourse - a kind of textual conversation/confrontation with people whose work matters to me and whose work, then, makes my own possible". Voice is created by personal thoughts and experiences, but it is also born from the ideas and teachings of great writers and academics. One student's experiences are never the same as anyone else. Therefore, voice is meant to be heard through each students writing and, although was initially formed or inspired by the work of others, was molded into what it is today, by that persons own experiences and life. It is my aspiration to be courageous enough to write with my own voice and demand that it be heard.
I grew up living in the world of teaching and writing. My Dad is both a very involved and well-respected instructor and author of two published novels. I love reading and love the idea of writing. Being able to choose the perfect words to articulate your feelings at that precise moment to an audience. It's a liberating, terrifying, and appealing thought all in one.

I never felt pressure from my Dad himself to be an amazing writer, but I felt his presence and the weight of the expectations of others to produce papers unlike any of my other peers. Everyone involved in the Boulder Valley School District knows my father which only gave me more of an incentive to prove myself. I didn't want to get special treatment because of my Dad. I wanted to earn my own way. The pressures I felt from the people around me and from myself made it even more aggravating when I would struggle with my writing. My Dad and my teachers wanted to help me with my writing. Not do my papers for me, but read them and give me feedback. They wanted me to succeed. Countless times I refused this help believing that by accepting guidance I was not doing the real work. I still thought that, in order to be a writer, I should be capable of sitting down, free writing for a while, and creating a paper. The passion I felt towards my subject and my desperate desire to communicate my thoughts to society would propel me forward in my conquest for the "perfect" paper. It was only after the constant reassurance of my Dad, my teachers, and the work of academics, such as Bartholomae, that I began to realize no writer can create their work, their voice, without some help. Whether it is accepting guidance in the form of editing, ideas that make me change my own view, knowledge that reinforces what I already knew, or the power of another writer's language to inspire and empower my own. There is no shame in listening to those "dialects of influence" and allowing them to influence. Everyone needs a starting point to find where they stand in the issue, discover how these outside influences coincide with their own lives and experiences, and find their voice. It is a teacher's responsibility to encourage their students to use what they have learned already to evaluate what they think and write with passion and courage to "demand" that the world listen to what they have to say.
Even at the end of this essay, I feel hypocritical and unsure writing about the importance of voice and how it should be the most valued aspect of the writing classroom. I'm discussing the crucial of a skill that I still struggle to bring to out in my own writing. I fear that I may not be doing this topic justice, in that the "greats" (David Bartholomae, Peter Elbow, Harold Bloom, Patricia Bizzell) have not already discussed more persuasively than I. However, I reiterate what I believe to be the defining element of voice, which is that no one has partaken in the same experiences as I have. It's the collaboration of learned knowledge and life events that make a writers voice their own.

Retired Professor and Shakespeare scholar Reg Saner once said the "we all write in the shadow of Shakespeare". Does this not apply to the greatest of great authors as well? Even Shakespeare himself created his most influential works based on the political and social aspects occurring throughout his life. Everything we learn, experience, know and believe to know shapes our ever-changing voice. Everyone we meet, connect with, befriend, idolize, and despise molds our voice into something new.
I have said what I believe, trying to own my voice while giving credit to those individuals and ideas I consulted to inspire my thoughts throughout this paper. However, I again find myself turning to David Bartholomae for help in reinforcing what I have already said. A "...writer learns, by learning to write within and against the powerful writing that precedes him, that haunts him, and that threatens to engulf him".