Last night, I felt heartened listening to the Applerouth college admissions panel on post/COVID college admissions landscape. It reaffirmed a hopeful facet of our current tragedy, which is acute here in New York City: that some things could change for the better-- namely, increased access to higher ed, a more genuine and equitable admissions process. And some really great essays. :) The warm panelists spoke about all aspects of admissions, but at Essay Intensive, we're always thinking about the written portions. And as a writing coach, I was thrilled to hear how excited the panelists were for the essays to come! They were encouraged by what gets stripped away, the pretense in applications, the excess of striving to be The Best and Most. But they are even more pumped about what gets expressed: students having no choice but to be their genuine selves telling colleges who they are--without the Circus of activities and commitments speaking for them. Smaller lives that mean a bigger deal. The panelists had some concrete advice for high school students of all ages at this time of stay-at-home orders, that aligns fully with what I’m always telling them. This is not about what or how to study, and it’s not about scores and metrics: Do something goofy!Enjoy whatever you can Work on your Time managementRead booksSpend time with your parents or family-- have those deep conversations, have the difficult conversations-- don’t put off meaningful conversations. Be guided by your passion to learn-- and learn something! This is forced self-reflective time like you might *never* have again in the same way! (And hopefully not for the same reason). And (honest) self-reflection is college admissions (essay) gold! What do you do when you suddenly have time? When left to your own devices? What’s inherently interesting to you? These are practically college essay prompts, living in your head and day to day decision making. The pay-to-play stuff is Continue Reading …
Solutions
Develop Your College Essay like Spreading Peanut Butter
Americans eat something like a billion pounds of peanut butter per year--and most students feel, at their most eye-roll-y moments, like they write about a billion college essays (all those supplements!). If you want to develop a good essay, however, we could learn a thing or two from our popular staple peanut butter. The Peanut Butter /Writing Process My older stepson, K, is a bit obsessed with pb&j. Turns out it's also the #1 choice of pre-game meals for the NBA (though they could afford caviar!), and most non-allergic elementary school kids (who scoff at caviar!). As soon as K walks in the kitchen, the possibility of pb hijacks his decision-making process. He pulls out the bread, the oversized jars of pb and local honey, and gets to work. His heart throbs. The thing is, it's torture watching him make it. Because he takes so very long, spreading that peanut butter. He runs the flat edge of the butter knife over and over the bread until there are zero lumps. The pb is exactly smooth. And 10 minutes have passed, maybe more. He devours it in three bites. Develop, delete; create, destroy; produce, consume; repeat. Why this makes me want to lose my mind is a good question-- it's not my time or my sandwich. Your college essay is not mine either. And I don't lose my mind over it, nor should you (except in the healthy way that sometimes we need to lose ourselves to find ourselves). However, I think we could consider K's approach to peanut butter spreading as one of the perfect metaphors for a common problem-- the essay that a writer did not develop evenly sometimes misses the mark. So what do you need to consider to develop a strong essay? Not a flimsy, disappointing sandwich? How to develop your college essay (quick & dirty): don't over-expend on the intro include enough backstory vivify with scenesmake some meaninghave realistic aspirationsconnections should be freshin conclusion, DON'T SAY IN CONCLUSION!--but give me a gift! Put it Continue Reading …
What if I don’t have something to write about?
This is a thing I hear a lot: I don't have something to write about. Franklyn said it. Erin said it. Fatou said it. You might have said it. It's not true. And your admissions essay writing process should prove that to you. Are your cells not dividing, just because you can't see it happening from your current vantage point? No: in so far as we know, we are always breaking something down in order to grow. So there is always a bitty thing leading to a bigger thing. That's writing: the power of the specific and small to expose something more. You do have something to write about: you can write about anything. Choose smaller Often, the students that show up for my help carting their Big Something to write about end up having to switch gears and pick a new topic. They were trying to impress, not investigate. They need to get really small. The orange rind they left in their backpack in third grade, that started their interest in problems mold can cause. The way their mom's tamales smelled on Sunday mornings, that led to family competition who could eat theirs the slowest. The time they missed the bus and found a dying baby bird. These things are small. They are not often things we call Something. The best writing begins with anything. Sometimes, it's better that you write beginning with something random, not loaded, so you feel more free to explore: "paperclip"; "backwash"; "pothole"; "queasy." Our minds are so good at making up stories-- and so you feed your mind a word, it often spits out a situation, a scene, a reflection. Follow that, open the boring-looking door, get nosy. Find or make a pattern with your thinking We are pattern detecting machines; but we are also pattern generating machines. When I ask students to make a connection or association in their personal essay writing, the a-ha's, I'm really asking them to find the pattern, and if they can't find one, make one. Is it true that Orion's belt is just hanging out in the Continue Reading …
When (and Why) You Should Throw Out Your College Essay
One of the biggest issues I see in student writers is reluctance to throw out a college essay (or frankly any piece of writing) that isn't working. But this is one of the most liberating and helpful things you can do. You might object: But I already put in so much time! I lost so much sleep over this version! Maybe if I just change this ONE sentence.. swap out some vocabulary words for synonyms, add a sentence about my major..?!?!? Maybe. But if you've already worked it to death and can summon the courage to admit it's not working, the Essay Angel of Mercy might whisper: o beloved writer-- free yourself and start fresh. Because maybe you're just clinging. Sometimes just being willing to throw writing out leads you to the revision solution. A clenched fist is not agile, responsive or particularly creative, even if it is strong. Sometimes, fate will throw out your essay for you! I know the pain of letting go of something you worked on so hard. LET ME TELL YOU about the time my entire grad MFA school application, all 15 pages, crashed 24 hours before it was due? I may or may not have thrown a cup at the wall. But i had no choice: here we go again. Hefty caffeine dose. 23 straight hours of work (And, yep, I did teach after that, it was enlightening). And I swear: the next version was so much better, more agile, less belabored, more honest. It was like the computer threw it out for me to do my a favor. All ideas lead to other ideas! This is where you get to trust that all that work churned up meaningful ideas and that the paths forward are many. To make a gardening metaphor: It's like clearing old roots before you can plant something new. Even if you've never planted you can imagine old dirt impacted with knotted roots-- not much fresh is going to happen there. When you decide you're willing to throw out the old essay, you tend to be less precious in the next draft. The tracks of thinking and feeling have been greased. The Continue Reading …
Before you write that essay about your hike…
Every year, I have students bring me that essay --the incredibly heartfelt one-- about their trip into the woods, or up a mountain. Some of these students are accomplished hikers, some total, struggling newbies. 97% of the time there are blisters in these essays. It's hard to explain to the writer that this rubs a blister in the admissions readers. But I have to try. Here's why: what you experience on the mountain top or in the mosquito-thick woods is likely very similar to what every other person who ever hiked experienced: irritation, discomfort, transcendence, appreciation, disappointment. Often, you leave with gratitude, renewed perspective. It's also very likely those two last mental states are quite short lived. That essay doesn't translate to real life! Say: until someone double-crosses you at school, or you drink soured milk your sibling put back in the fridge, or you can't get a new bus pass and you have to walk somewhere in the sheeting urban rain, or...the list of irritating things in everyday, non-hiking life that ask you to face your inner self goes on and on. Where are the woods then? Where are all those blisters and mosquitos and the high cloud vista of the craggy peaks? Admissions offers have heard that essay too many times The admissions readers have heard your story 10000000 times, maybe literally. They know you mean it-- but everyone does. They also know, because they have lived a little longer than you-- that those take-aways are often temporary. So they are looking for something more. Sorry to say: Not the cliched journey with its predictable life-lesson. So what are you to do, if that essay is burning a hole in your mind, feels like THE ONE? Find a unique angle on that essay You need to dig much, much deeper into your experience. Beyond even those aggravating, debilitating blisters that dominated your psyche at the time. Last year, I worked with a student whose essay took a long time to find itself, but when it Continue Reading …
Stubbing your toe, and getting past The Obvious
I broke my pinky toe this week. What I stubbed it on should have been obvious. I mean, a plastic tub of legos, taking up half the hallway? That my three year-old left there, during his righteous fit? What's more obvious? That's why I don't have a good story to tell you, which is annoying. Pay Attention--starting with the obvious! But my attention was elsewhere. It was past 9PM, and I was on my own righteous mission: to get my older kids to clean up after themselves in the kitchen while the baby meowed from the bedroom. (The three year old harumph-ed along beside me to chide his big brothers.) The minute I felt my toe make contact, I knew I had broken it. Your brain gains a momentary crater where it used to sense a comfortably in-tact body part. In my intero-ception, the damage was obvious. WHAT HAPPENED?, the three year old alarmist said, when he heard my expletives reserved for those choice toe moments. I BROKE MY TOE ON YOUR LEGOS! I half-yelled, because the obvious works better in ALL CAPS. The thing is, when you stub or break your toe, it's almost always on something that's right in front of your face, and could have been avoided. It's not like the walls switch around their location to mess with you and bait your appendages (except in Alice in Wonderland. Or when you're chronically exhausted). Look at the story you're telling yourself... From the site of injury, I started building a story-- sound familiar? "Tomorrow is going to suck...so is the next day...Why did I not put that away?" I also thought: dang, this would be a lot more acceptable if I had a good story to tell. Then I realized, a good story can start with the obvious, it just can't stop there. Moving beyond what's obvious What if I looked more closely at why we don't do what we know we should? Or examined the structure of the foot, the function of toes? What if I wrote about the evolution of emotion, studied my three-year old? The fits he has over things the Continue Reading …