What is Writing?

What is Writing?

Writing is a word that can be used in many different ways. I asked my nine year old daughter, “what she thinks writing is?” she replied, “it’s something you do with a pen and paper.” Well at that point I knew I needed to find out another way to help me with saying what I think writing is.

Writing is about many things. It can be when you just jot things down on whatever is there to write on. Then there is writing when you sit and gather your thoughts together and write about something or someone, an experience am suppose to be answering that may reflect your outlook on life or you can even write a fictional story.

Good writing is learned. We all know how to write but we don’t know how to write “good.” You need to plan your writing by finding ways to organize your work. There are many ways to do this, one is outlining (putting your thoughts in an organized manner). Another way is looping, looping is when you write what you topic is about and then go over and over it until you writing is in an organized fashion. Then there is bubbling, which I now do not suggest you use. I had to use the looping stradegy to finish this paper. After all of that you need to read and reread your paper, to look for grammar, spelling and to make sure it makes sense. Finally rewrite your paper and have someone read it aloud to you, this will help you with hearing it to make any final adjustments. I am not to sure what you are asking of this ending but I do consider Robert Frost good writing.

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claim,Because it was grassy and wanted wear;Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I kept the first for another day!Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if I should ever come back.I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference
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