Essay on Writing an Essay

Essay on Writing an Essay

by Praise C. Martin, © 2004

A short prologue, by the author

This essay was written as a school project whilst in Switzerland, aged 17. I actually wrote it in two sittings, during breaks in dinner-prep. The first part is quite poorly executed, as I really had no idea what I was writing about (it was an experiment in ad-libitum writing) but it gets better as it goes along, once inspiration took over. Anyway, it's just a touch of silliness to brighten your day. Cheers! --P. C. Martin, 2010

A: Introduction

I: Why I’m writing an essay on writing an essay

Well, to begin with, I have a dream. See if you can guess... no, you’re wrong. It’s NOT to be done with this essay. My dream is to graduate from High School. Senior, if possible, but General will do for now.

SO! That’s my dream. Now, in order to complete this grand dream, I am, among other things, required to compose a grand total of 3 essays. This, of course, won’t get me much more than 3 credits, but at least it’s SOMETHING. Now, my only problem was to choose 3 topics. What to do?

Good thing Izzy was around. She inspired me to choose WRITING AN ESSAY as the topic for my essay. Plus, I figured that I could enlighten you, the reader, while I’m at it, with the knowledge of how to properly and correctly write an essay. So let us begin.

II: My feelings at this point in time

I just came back from get-out, so my hair is dirty and so are my clothes. The instant I’m done with this I’M IN THE SHOWER!! Sorry, had to yell that out to make sure no one takes the bathroom before I get there. My legs are hurting from get-out 8 days ago.

I‘m writing this while chewing on my favorite snack—a toothpick. I do believe I shall soon exhaust our Home’s supply of toothpicks one of these days. I’m also trying to decide what to write. Believe me, once I get started I won’t be able to stop... but you have to get me to start first. That can be tough.

Well anyway, back to how I feel about writing this didactic essay on how to write an essay. I feel... uh, I feel wonderful. God is good, life is fair, people here are wonderful, the Family is delightful, today is Chrissy’s birthday and tonight we’re gonna have a party! Yay. All that to say, I’m happy and well.

B: Getting Started

I: Doing warm-ups

Right, so, the essay. The essay on how to write an essay. Okay! Before we start, we must always, always do our warm-ups. This includes flicking each finger a number of times and grabbing a fresh toothpick to chew. Get up, stretch your back, stretch your toes, stretch your limbs, go to the bathroom, come back, and sit down in front of your notebook—or whatever you’ll write your essay on. Oh, run to the furthest tap and have a drink first. Better now? Good. So sit down, grab another toothpick, and let’s start. No, wait, you forgot your glasses. Go find them, take them out of their case, place them firmly on your nose, check the time, and then place your glasses’ case neatly in front of you. Done? Lovely. Let’s commence.

II: My daydreams

A good writer must have a muse. Uh... that’s 2 words, not one, by the way. I, personally, particularly enjoy simulating Shakespeare at work. Oooh, I can see it as I speak! Picture me, sitting at a table with a flourish, picking up my quill and clasping it to my breast, thrusting my eyes Heavenward and crying...

“Oh Love! (Pick up a fresh toothpick.) Why dost thou elude me! I must write thereof, but thy words escape me! (Scribble scribble) I must write a tale!—Of Love! Yes, yes... I must let the fires shoot from my pen!” (At this point flames shoot out of his pen.) “Props!” He yells loudly, “I said a FAKE fire-pen, not a real one! Now see what you’ve caused me to do to my fine handiwork (admittedly not much more than a collection of scribbles... but hey)! (Recall this lesson forever, dear readers: never, and again I say, NEVER use a genuine fire-pen to write an essay.) Let us recommence.

I imagine myself in a moonlit garden, under the balcony, behind which my object of passion is hidden in her darkened room. I call to her. No reply. I call again, louder. Still no reply. I fall on my knees (and this dramatically, with a hand clasped to the bosom, and the other raised high) in the soft grass under the starlit sky, weeping aloud for the heavens to swallow me up if my love does not requite this passion! At last a light turns on in the darkened alcove above me (pick up a fresh toothpick and scribble frantically on a sheet of paper, brow feverish and eyes anxious), I call out to her,

“Meggie, my love! Come forth upon thy balcony from thy chamber! I must see thy lovely countenance! I have so much my heart wishes to whisper, to shout forth to thee! Meggie, I must know! Dost thou love me? Meggie, pray, answer, I beseech thee!”

Suddenly a big huge woman with a nightcap, an apron and a rolling pin rushes out of the room and glares over the balcony.

“And ‘oo would be lookin’ for Meg at this time of the night? There ain’t nobody ‘ere bearin’ that name! Ye’re at the wrawng ‘ouse, mister! Now git movin’ and don’t make me come down! Shoo!”

(She advances menacingly, and he backs off hurriedly, profusely apologizing, then dashes off, red-faced, out of the garden, hopping over the low wall and losing a shoe in the process. He then stops on the sidewalk a ways away and checks the address Meggie’s best friend secretly gave him—after much tactful persuasion—at the last masquerade ball, where he’d implored her to aid him in winning Meggie’s hand and heart.)

“Ah me!” he cries at last, after patiently deciphering the hastily-scribbled note, “I’m on the wrong street!” His passion not being the least bit dampened, he marches bravely, minus one shoe, to the correct house and repeats his scene, under what he hopes to be the correct balcony. Ah, sweet Love! his love appears on the balcony, and, in a whirl of passion, and after inquiries concerning the nature and whereabouts of the missing shoe, she consents to fly away with him, and he whisks her away to a fairy-tale land, where Meggie and Sir Teacher live happily ever after...

TEACHER????!!? Um... hee hee, I was just, um, yeah, like, um, heh, MUSING,... um, yeah, that’s it... gulp?...

III: Wake-up blues

I’m now in a baaaad mood. Just got 3 black marks on the demerit chart. Two more and I’ll have two weeks worth of dishes lined up for me. And all because of daydreaming... musing. Yes, boys and girls, musing is NOT what you should be doing during school time. My teacher ordered me to learn 25 Bible verses about not letting my mind wander, and now I have the song “Shoo Shoo Daydream” running through my head... oh woe is me.

But hey, I’m sure glad I’M not Sir what’s-his-name, singing serenades in the middle of the night to the wrong house... ooh, talk about how many demerits I’d get if I did that—ouch! I’d be on dishes until next Christmas! Well, let’s get started with the actual facts and how-to’s of writing an essay.

C: Choosing My Words and Laying Out

I: To begin with

Have you chosen your theme yet? Hrmm? No? Well, choose one now. Pick something sensible, such as, the life story of some infamous fiddle... uh, no, I meant famous infidel—or great man or woman of God; or perhaps how to grow carrots, or how babies are made (not for little eyes and ears), or whatever other subject you so desire.

Research your topic extensively, taking notes of essential facts and figures, and all appropriate details. Organize and lay them out in an orderly fashion, and then get started! I find it practical to make a simple outline. It helps me not to get off on too many tangents... um, sometimes, at least.

II: Continuation

You must now start writing. This is when you must (pick up a new toothpick—your last one has long since worn out) cross your fingers and bow your head and implore, claiming the almighty and powerful KEYS, that your essay be speedily over with and written with masterful genius and, most importantly, lively, not tedious, truthfulness. Now—this part gets a bit tricky—notice that your spine is curvable. Hunch your shoulders and lower your head so that it is no farther than 3 inches away from your paper. Make sure your back is in a perfect C-curvature. This is the surest and best way to strain your eyes and get a really, really big backache. I’d sit straight and keep my head a little higher if I were you. That’s perfect. Now, hold your pencil between your thumb and first 2 fingers, curling the other remaining fingers in the palm of your hand (and you can quiver and shiver slightly in anticipation of the tête-à-tête... uh, the actual ‘pen-to-paper’ showdown).

III: Grande Finale!

Hours pass. You scribble frantically, furiously, gloriously!—Then you go back and erase about half of what you just wrote. The seasons change, and still you write. You write, and you write, and you write. You remain devoted to your essay. You dream of it at night, you long to finish it soon, you work with burning passion, your teacher presses you to complete it, and you ready yourself to read it aloud to a class full of snoozing fellow-students. You are glued to your essay, until... finally... it is done! It’s complete! You read it over one last time, and then collapse, thoroughly spent with your expenditure of energy. Your many years of total devotion to your essay have finally paid off: it is finished at long last. The great day comes in which you stand up before thousands of students, teachers, the school board, mom, dad, the president and her husband Bill—and you read your essay, aloud and dramatically, correctly intoning and emoting every word and nuance. Then you bow as the crowd gives you a standing ovation. You raise your eyes Heavenward, and, with a twinkle in your eye, picture yourself ticking off one box from your 80-square credit chart, and you descend and fondly place your treasured essay in an illuminated glass vault in the center of the School’s Hall of Momentoes, then turn to firmly shake your teacher’s hand. Teacher?! Oops, there go another 2 demerits for daydreaming... see you at the dishline!