Tiffany Kraft teaches English Composition and Literature at Clark College. Her research interests include 19th-century British Literature, creative writing, Rhetoric and Composition practice and pedagogy, and adjunct advocacy. “I teach in a way that leads to an awareness and appreciation of the craft of writing.” You can find more at tiffanykraft.me.
DIY Zines: Not Too Trivial
by Tiffany Kraft
In The Importance of Being Earnest (1895), Wilde subverts social, intellectual, and sexual paradigms to expose the ethos and materialism of the age. In title and intention, my zine takes its cue from Wilde’s playbook, and attempts something similar, though on a smaller scale that is fit for the digital maker (author, editor, self-publisher, and promoter) of the 21st Century. In the Preface, I come out in character:
Maha Bali is Associate Professor of Practice, Center for Learning and Teaching, American University in Cairo. She writes at blog.mahabali.me and is one of the facilitators of edcontexts.org.
Writing to Connect: Knowing the “Other” Outside Time & Space
by Maha Bali
I write and blog like crazy now, and people might be surprised to know that as of November 2014, which is #digiwrimo, I will have been blogging for only 10 months. I am amazed to be asked to guest-write a post for this event, given that I did not start seeing myself as a “writer” until around July 2013 when I was nearing the submission of my PhD dissertation and gaining confidence in myself as an academic. I started writing for magazines first, then realized I sometimes wanted to write my thoughts about something that felt a.) urgent and b.) not necessarily relevant to any particular magazine’s focus. So I first started blogging for myself, blogging to think, to give myself space to think aloud without imposing on others by flooding them with emails. But then I started using my blog for MOOCs, and soon, blogging became a way to connect with others. Here are some ways I write with and for others:
Lee Skallerup Bessette is an English Instructor at Morehead State University in Kentucky and writes regularly at Inside Higher Ed‘s College Ready Writing.
Digital Writing, Paywalls, and Worth
by Lee Bessette
I’m tired. Scratch that: I’m exhausted. I’ve been writing for my life, like my life depended on it, like somehow if I could find the right words, my life would finally be what I wanted it to be. Words, the public kind, done in all sorts of digital medium, were my lifeline, my lifeblood. I wrote once on Twitter that “You can write yourself into existence. The person you are and the person you aspire to be.” But what happens when you stop?
It’s strange for me to be invited this year to contribute to Digital Writing Month; my digital writing, compared to previous years, feels like it has slowed down. I write “feels like” consciously, because if I were to actually look back at my writing from the past year, it would probably match, if not exceed, last year, but with one significant difference:
Much of it is behind paywalls.
Jen Yates used to be a Jungle Cruise skipper, a cash office accountant, a children’s book inventory expediter, a house painter, and a clown — not necessarily in that order. Today she’s a blogger, which she says is kind of like “clown” and “expediter” mashed together. You can find her writing at Cake Wrecks and Epbot. Today Jen lives in Orlando with her hubby, John, and their cats Tonks and Lily. She enjoys dessert first, as well as quoting Ghostbusters and The Princess Bride. A lot.
Half-Baked Writing Tips From The Cake Wrecks Lady
by Jen Yates
About two months after I started my “funny little cake blog” back in 2008, it went viral. In a single day, Cake Wrecks went from less than 200 readers a day to over 50,000. It was the kind of thing every blogger dreams of: immediate, overnight success.
But after a day of being internet famous, I didn’t feel like celebrating. I just felt like crap.
I never set out to be a professional blogger. Heck, the only blog I’d read with any consistency up to that point was Cute Overload, and the only online writing I’d done was for a private journal – which my mom assures me wasn’t half bad. I didn’t understand online culture, I’d never heard of a meme, and I was completely unprepared for internet notoriety.
Audrey Watters is an education writer (at Hack Education and elsewhere), recovering academic, serial dropout, and part-time badass.
Maggie’s Digital Content Farm
by Audrey Watters
Over the course of the last 6 months or so, I’ve felt a real shift in what it means (for me) to write – to work, to be – online. And let’s be clear: this affects me offline too.
I’m hardly the first or the only person to notice that the great promises of the Web – freedom! knowledge! access! egalitarianism! creativity! revolution! – are more than a little empty. I’m hardly the first or the only person to notice that the online communities in which we participate increasingly feel less friendly, less welcoming, more superficial, more controlling, more restrictive.
Online, we seem to be more and more short-tempered and sharp-tongued. It feels less and less sustainable. It’s taking a toll on me, personally – the status updates, the sneers, the threats, the responsibilities, the accolades, the comments, the deadlines. All of it.
Anna Smith is an educational researcher and teacher educator blogging about composition in the digital age, contexts for learning, theories of development, and global youth. In this piece, she ponders the way that audience and author get blended in digital writing, and wishes DigiWriMo a fond farewell.
Your Voice in Mine
by Anna Smith
How can I hear my own voice unless it bounces off of yours?
I have had that single line in my mind for years. It isn’t particularly poetic, and I don’t completely agree with what it implies, but I’ve tried relentlessly to write the poem I hear inside it. It has something to do with the way the masses in NYC weave, avoid, embrace. I wrote another line once trying to get near it:
As a child I would drag my fingers through water or hold my arm out car windows to feel this–this particle rumba, this caressing, this giving and taking of space.
Robin Wharton is an editor for and contributor to Hybrid Pedagogy. As well since 2005, she has been a collaborator on the <emma> project. Her interests include medieval and early modern law and literature, critical legal studies, and the Digital Humanities. In this piece, Robin reflects on her experience as a dancer, and how our creativity can be one of our most reliable and powerful collaborators.
Dance : Work : Learn : Teach : Write
by Robin Wharton
In a former life I was a dancer. A former life, or a previous era: BGS (Before Grad School). This is how I used to think of the countless hours I spent studying ballet in New York and Seattle, and performing with a university-affiliated company as an undergraduate in New Orleans. My dream life ached with what I misinterpreted as nostalgia for that lost age, grief over my dead self. Then, after a long hiatus, during which I got married, started a family, and completed a dissertation, among other things, I started taking dance classes again. And I realized what I thought had died had not even—not really—been dormant. Continue reading
Chris Friend is a Trustees Doctoral Fellow at the University of Central Florida. As part of the Texts and Technology program, his dissertation will focus on how composition courses are adapted for online study. In this piece, Chris invites us to consider online personae — those we construct, and those we read.
When Writing Digitally, Nobody Knows You’re a Duck
by Chris Friend
As the Internet’s popularity and population exploded, issues of personal identity/ies gained traction in the minds of scholars and analysts. With the computer screen and virtual environment as a mediator, users can portray themselves however they wish. For people with social or physical disabilities, this masquerade allows an extra degree of equality. When real-time communication uses text instead of visual signals, physical differences become invisible (Stone/Turkle). The disconnect between the identity of the avatar/screenname and the identity of the user lead to Peter Steiner’s oft-repeated adage: “On the Internet, nobody knows you’re a dog.” Anyone online can pretend to be anyone (or anything) else. Continue reading
Petra Dierkes-Thrun’s research and teaching interests include the European and transatlantic fin de siècle and modernism (including literature, the visual arts, opera, dance, and film); feminist and queer theory; LGBTQ literary and cultural studies; and literary theory. Her book, Salome’s Modernity: Oscar Wilde and the Aesthetics of Transgression, was published by The University of Michigan Press in Spring 2011. Petra recently used Twitter for a role play exercise in her class on Oscar Wilde. In this piece, posted first on her own site, she discusses the effect of that exercise, and its relationship to authorship and digital writing.
A Public Literary Twitter Role-Play: Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray
By Petra Dierkes-Thrun
On Friday, October 26, 2012, my Stanford class tried out a new and slightly crazy idea: a one-day public literary Twitter role-play, impersonating characters from The Picture of Dorian Gray. The idea had come to me spontaneously one morning as I was musing about what new kind of close reading activity I could develop for my “Oscar Wilde and the French Decadents” seminar at Stanford: “The Picture of Dorian Gray is such a canonical text, we should get the public involved … It should be a creative and fun group activity, combining individual analysis with readerly and writerly collaboration … Could we do this on social media? What if we brought The Picture of Dorian Gray in dialogue with Huysmans’ A rebours and Rachilde’s Monsieur Vénus (two other French novels we had been reading, which importantly influenced Wilde’s novel)? We could have them talk back to Dorian … ‘A Day of Reckoning for Dorian Gray’! I should write this up as a Twitter role-play exercise.” Continue reading
We’re pleased to present a guest post by Jay Ponteri, Director of the Undergraduate Creative Writing Program at Marylhurst University. Jay’s post offers an example of the way that digital writing borrows from many sources. It serves as an excellent example of, and conversation about, authorship. It’s also super cool.
by Jay Ponteri
It requires you to look at it very closely, to engage it in an intimate way. It does not overwhelm you, it cannot swallow you up.
Your mind can encompass a short piece in a way it cannot grasp a novella or a novel. Like a hand closing over a stone with the word sadness painted on it.
Napoleon was a short man.
Make endless meaning using fewer words. Continue reading
Bonnie Stewart writes memoir, academic papers, and social commentary non-fiction. She speaks about blogging, social media, digital identity, branding, 21st century education, grief, motherhood. And also, jellybeans. In this touching post, she relates how digital writing allows us to give voice to ourselves and to others, in sometimes unique and unexpected ways.
Blogging Is A Choral Act
by Bonnie Stewart
Photo by Benjamin A. Smith
I was going to start by saying that digital writing was, for me, a Pandora’s Box.
But that would not be fair, or true. The jar Pandora opened held the evils of the world; her act unleashed them into the commons forever.
My story is not such a cautionary tale.
Like Pandora, I learned that what is opened to the world cannot be closed again.
But unlike Pandora, I am not sorry.
When I left the hospital for the first time after nearly three weeks of bedrest, it was raining. I’d been airlifted in during winter’s last April gasp, but in my hermetic isolation, the ground had transformed into a carpet of green. I was Rip Van Winkle, out of sync with time. Continue reading
Lee Skallerup Bessette writes the very popular College Ready Writing blog at Inside Higher Ed. As well, she is a member of the editorial collective at University of Venus. In this inspiring post, Lee encourages us to consider the nearly ecological nature of our digital writing, how it spreads and grows and populates the Internet almost of its own accord. It’s a lovely piece, and we’re glad to share it.
Plant a Tree, Start a Forest
by Lee Skallerup Bessette
Photo by Aaron Escobar
I’m absolutely horrible at telling stories.
This might seem like a strange admission from someone who reads and writes about (among other things) stories, as well as having a pretty high profile blog that melds the professional with the personal. But if you were to ask anyone who knows me in real life, they will all have at least one unfortunate experience with me trying to tell a story and doing it badly. When I speak a story, it grows and grows, twisting and turning, full of tangles like an out-of-control vine; my stories are less unified, linear narratives, more a long series digressions, asides, and tangents. The vine will overrun whatever space is left for it; my words overrun the silences and spaces with their unruly form.
Tanya Sasser‘s interests include social media, digital humanities, and hacking educational paradigms and systems. She is also the author of the Remixing College English blog. In this guest post, Tanya explores the ways in which digital writing can be considered a handicraft, along with the likes of woodworking, knitting, ceramics, and more.
Digital Writing as Handicraft
by Tanya Sasser
Digital writing is political. It democratizes the act of writing in the sense that it both allows open participation in the creation of cultural content and redefines public writing as work that anyone–not just professional writers or academics–can do. From blogs to mashups to Twitter, to the greatest extent ever, we have the tools and the opportunity to write our own story, rather than suffering someone else to write it for us.
Some mistakenly correlate digital environments with a virtualism (i.e., artificiality) that diminishes the real (i.e., human). Such a belief understandably engenders a nihilistic attitude towards all things digital. The mindless banality of late-20th century white collar work, such as that depicted in Dilbert and Office Space, is often seen as the outcome of an over-reliance and over-emphasis on the technological over the human. In Shop Class as Soulcraft, Matthew B. Crawford argues that one effective cure for the existential malaise of postindustrial society is the practical act of making: “The satisfactions of manifesting oneself concretely [as opposed to virtually] in the world through manual [as opposed to informational] competence have been known to make a man quiet and easy. They seem to relieve him of the felt need to offer chattering interpretations of himself to vindicate his worth” (15). Instead, the craftsman finds himself subsumed by what he is trying to create: “Craftsmanship means dwelling on a task for a long time and going deeply into it, because you want to get it right” (19). Such a relationship with our material culture, Crawford points out, empowers rather than enslaves us, as it repositions us from passive, dependent consumer to spirited creator and curator. Continue reading