Writing with lists

I have been experimenting with more directed assignments. Generally I ask students to write a 1 page paper a week about anything they want because a) it forces them to become creative about their topics and b) they invest themselves in what they write. Two weeks ago I saw a marked bump up in the quality of writing amongst my students and it appears to be related to writing with lists.

Here was the assignment:

Lists are powerful. Lists are a good-writers trick to get people to believe you know what you're talking about. Lists are basically a ton of examples. Examples are cool.

You have now entered into the last quarter of your freshman year. I expect you to show me you can do creative, thoughtful things with words. I expect improvement from last semester. Don't bore me.

For this assignment, you can write about whatever you want, but you must include at least one list somewhere in your piece. It should be marked with an asterisks*. Read the examples in the "examples of good lists" resource in moodle to get some idea of what good lists are capable of. Go nuts. Show me what you can do.

-1 point for having a lame list
-2 points for writing about something you don't care about
-1 point for making me eat fig newtons in order stay awake to read your paper
-1 point for punctuation mistakes
-2 points for turning it it late with no chance of re-write.
-1 point for an untyped paper.

Your paper should be at least one page single spaced. Print it and bring it to class.


Examples of good lists:

1. The room was, without the kitchenette, about twelve by fifteen feet, and, crowded as it was (in addition to the bed, table, and breakfront, it contained a dresser, desk, coffee table, end-table, and easy chair, a TV set, two stand-up lamps, two small bookcases, a green leather hassock, a newspaper rack, an old costumer for their coats), Sam liked it. [Jay Neugeboren, Sam's Legacy (NY: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1973), p. 19.]

2. Here she was, seven years his wife, he thought he knew her inside and out, every quirk of her handwriting, inflection of voice; her passion for strawberries, her ridiculous way of singing; the brown moles on her shoulder, the extreme smallness of her feet and toes, her dislike of silk underwear. Her special voice at the telephone, too--that rather chilly abruptness, which has always surprised him, as if she might be a much harder woman than he thought her to be. And the queer sinuous cat-like rhythm with which she always combed her hair before the mirror at night, before going to bed--with her head tossing to one side, and one knee advanced to touch the chest of drawers. He knew all these things, which nobody else knew, and nevertheless, now, they amounted to nothing. The woman herself stood before him as opaque as a wall. [Conrad Aiken, "Impulse"]