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The strength of the sentence lies in the verb. It's is the powerhouse, determining action, when the action took place, whether the action was singular or plural, and if the action was committed on or against something. Therefore, a number of rules of good writing are about activating the verb or verb phrase.
One way to help verbs gain strength in the sentence is to lean toward active versus passive voice. Active voice has the subject of the sentence committing the action, while passive has the action being committed on the direct object.
A speech was given by the president.
The ball was thrown by the boy.
The whole suburb was destroyed by the forest fire.
The president gave a speech.
The boy threw the ball.
The forest fire destroyed the whole suburb.
What sometimes is confusing is the difference between "active voice" and action verbs. Action verbs are ones that denote kinetic action (run, jump, throw) and are not to-be verbs (is, was, were). Work to reduce the number of to-be verbs when possible (but know they sometimes require use).
Is and Are
Am
Being and Been
Was and Were
To-be verbs serve important roles in writing (and are required for certain tenses), but it creates stonger writing in areas where we can replace them with action.
The stock market was fluctuating wildly before the crash.
The stock market fluctuated wildly before the crash.
The concept of immortality is intriguing to me.
The concept of immortality intrigues me.
Going with action over to-be with verbs creates two potential effects: better visualization and less wordy/more direct writing. While using is, was, and, were become invitable (and are not incorrect), more work on action verb inclusion can help punch up writing.
Good writers focus on what kind of verbs they choose and work to select the verb wisely. Consider this:
The cat walked into the room. Yes, cats walk, but “walk” does not really give us much of an idea of how a cat really moves. So, try:
The cat slinked into the room.
The cat scampered into the room.
The cat sauntered into the room.
Or, try different verbs for the same sentence to see what works best:
The storm moved into town.
The storm blew into town.
The storm raked through town.
Oftentimes, when students engage in academic writing, they confuse sophisticated writing with complex writing. It is important to use technical and detailed language as needed, but as important to not “over-write” sentences. This is where we make a sentence needlessly complicated when a direct approach can work better. As part of this, be sure to cut any unnecessary adjectives and adverbs and kill figures of speech.
When the data is extrapolated from the original 2015 study by Jenkins and Lockhart, and we take the time to examine the strong correlation between people who were interviewed and how they answered questions about religion versus gun-ownership, we can begin to see a parallel between devout Christians and second-amendment supporters that becomes difficult to ignore.
The 2015 Jenkins and Lockhart study demonstrates a strong correlation between people who identify as devout Christians and ones who support the second amendment.
As part of your editing process, watch for unnecessary adjective and adverbs such as "very, "really," "somewhat," "hardly," "evidently," "directly." Phrases such as "kind of" and "sort of" should also be removed.
Watch for cliched or overused phrases such as "perfect storm," "holy grail," "goes without saying," "last but not least," that tend to be cluttery or misused.
Include writing that is tangible or concrete. Not everything we write at the college level needs to move into high levels of abstraction about data-crunching, theories, and comparisons of ideas among scholars. At times, we can engage the audience—often fellow students in courses with workshops, shared projects, or presentations—by writing from a real or sensory way. Sometimes a rule known as “writing cinematically,” a sensory exploration of a real event or moment can pull a reader into a project before it gains complexity. This should be considered as part of the intro.
In 2003, scholar John Everhart popularized the term “microagressions” in the new century at the university level. In essence, a microagression is a slight a student perceives in a classroom from the professor, where the said communication came without an intent of harm but the student−accustomed to heightened norms of deference−elevates it to a reported incident of harassment or discrimination. In some cases, these reported offenses or situations can turn public, where professors are rebuked and labeled as discriminatory or racially insensitive. Micoagressions can happen during activated classroom time, before or after class, or in a hallway or even a restroom. They tend to fall in a category of interpretation where the judgment on whether the comment is offensive can vary from person to person, and it has professors guarded about what they can or cannot say to a student or in a classroom. Some who teach at the university level contend that is has restricted their abilities to connect to students.
In a 2019 fall semester ENG 101 section at Western College, a student named Edward Long dropped into his seat a few minutes before the session start. Steve Porter, his professor, busied himself with classroom preparations, when he noticed Edward take out a kind of nutritional snack called a Luna Bar. The S’mores favored bar is one of a variety geared toward women’s nutrition, and Steve said to Edward in a loud mock whisper, “Hey, buddy, just so you know, those bars are for women.” Other students in the classroom laughed at the comment and, for a brief time, it turned into a running joke in the minutes before each class. Edward decided to file a complaint against his professor for creating an uncomfortable learning environment.
Consider avoiding second-person “You.” Second person “you” is a tricky perspective to write from, especially when we talk about academic writing. If we write the sentence, “When you walk into the Cracker Barrel restaurant, you will feel like you’re going home all over again.” The second-person you writing is directed to the you that is the reader. The problem is that we have to make assumptions about the reader, and they may or may not be true. Maybe if I walked into a Cracker Barrel, I’d feel like I was in a overly decorated chain restaurant that was trying too hard to
feel like home. Along with this, "you" often strikes a more informal tone not always ideal for academic writing.