Both authors establish a formal but moderately depressing tone, appealing to young Americans who hope to become writers. This idea of self-reflection assisted Orwell in becoming an exalt writer. The author further elaborates on this idea, stating that serious writers care more about personal self-reflection than making money. In the motive of aesthetic enthusiasm, Orwell views himself as a moderate writer, illustrating how writers make their writing sound and look good by appreciating the aesthetics.
The author eventually provides an example for these motives, by appealing to the pathos in his Spanish- civil war poem, often concentrating on emotion and expressing remorse. Through explanation, George Orwell was able to effectively deliver his message to the attending audience.
Joan introduces her essay with the topic of self-reflection, by illustrating the act of saying I. In addition, Joan elaborates on this idea of self-reflection, explaining how writing allowed her to create a mind of abstract ideas.
Similar to Orwell, Joan experienced several obstacles that impeded her writing. The author focuses on a particular issue, in which Didion became distracted while writing. Didion additionally conveys her attitude towards these distractions, often wondering why such events occur.
As a result, Joan often ponders upon the abstract ideas in order to enhance her writing. Through the use of explanation, Joan didion was able to effectively deliver her message to the attending audience.
George Orwell and Joan didion, in their why I write, employ the rhetorical strategy of explanation in order effectively attend to their audience. Though each author provided examples in order to support their implication, their appeals to pathos and emphasis on pondering the abstract ideas in writing further attracted their audience. This essay was written by a fellow student. You can use it as an example when writing your own essay or use it as a source, but you need cite it.
Explore how the human body functions as one unit in harmony in order to life. Free Essays - PhDessay. Accessed October 26, It ultimately maneuvers subordinates into positions where it is able to hold power against them, shaping the. This habit continued until I was about twenty-five, right through my non-literary years. Although I had to search, and did search, for the right words, I seemed to be making this descriptive effort almost against my will, under a kind of compulsion from outside.
When I was about sixteen I suddenly discovered the joy of mere words, i. The lines from Paradise Lost —. As for the need to describe things, I knew all about it already. So it is clear what kind of books I wanted to write, in so far as I could be said to want to write books at that time.
I wanted to write enormous naturalistic novels with unhappy endings, full of detailed descriptions and arresting similes, and also full of purple passages in which words were used partly for the sake of their sound. And in fact my first completed novel, Burmese Days , which I wrote when I was thirty but projected much earlier, is rather that kind of book. It is his job, no doubt, to discipline his temperament and avoid getting stuck at some immature stage, or in some perverse mood: but if he escapes from his early influences altogether, he will have killed his impulse to write.
Putting aside the need to earn a living, I think there are four great motives for writing, at any rate for writing prose. They exist in different degrees in every writer, and in any one writer the proportions will vary from time to time, according to the atmosphere in which he is living.
They are:. Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on grown-ups who snubbed you in childhood, etc. It is humbug to pretend this is not a motive, and a strong one. Writers share this characteristic with scientists, artists, politicians, lawyers, soldiers, successful business men — in short, with the whole top crust of humanity.
The great mass of human beings are not acutely selfish. After the age of about thirty they abandon individual ambition — in many cases, indeed, they almost abandon the sense of being individuals at all — and live chiefly for others, or are simply smothered under drudgery.
But there is also the minority of gifted, willful people who are determined to live their own lives to the end, and writers belong in this class. Serious writers, I should say, are on the whole more vain and self-centered than journalists, though less interested in money. Perception of beauty in the external world, or, on the other hand, in words and their right arrangement. Pleasure in the impact of one sound on another, in the firmness of good prose or the rhythm of a good story.
Desire to share an experience which one feels is valuable and ought not to be missed. The aesthetic motive is very feeble in a lot of writers, but even a pamphleteer or writer of textbooks will have pet words and phrases which appeal to him for non-utilitarian reasons; or he may feel strongly about typography, width of margins, etc.
Above the level of a railway guide, no book is quite free from aesthetic considerations. Desire to see things as they are, to find out true facts and store them up for the use of posterity.
Once again, no book is genuinely free from political bias. The opinion that art should have nothing to do with politics is itself a political attitude. It can be seen how these various impulses must war against one another, and how they must fluctuate from person to person and from time to time. In a peaceful age I might have written ornate or merely descriptive books, and might have remained almost unaware of my political loyalties. As it is I have been forced into becoming a sort of pamphleteer.
First I spent five years in an unsuitable profession the Indian Imperial Police, in Burma , and then I underwent poverty and the sense of failure.
This increased my natural hatred of authority and made me for the first time fully aware of the existence of the working classes, and the job in Burma had given me some understanding of the nature of imperialism: but these experiences were not enough to give me an accurate political orientation. Then came Hitler, the Spanish Civil War, etc.
By the end of I had still failed to reach a firm decision. I remember a little poem that I wrote at that date, expressing my dilemma:. A happy vicar I might have been Two hundred years ago, To preach upon eternal doom And watch my walnuts grow. But born, alas, in an evil time, I missed that pleasant haven, For the hair has grown on my upper lip And the clergy are all clean-shaven.
And later still the times were good, We were so easy to please, We rocked our troubled thoughts to sleep On the bosoms of the trees. All ignorant we dared to own The joys we now dissemble; The greenfinch on the apple bough Could make my enemies tremble. It is forbidden to dream again; We maim our joys or hide them; Horses are made of chromium steel And little fat men shall ride them. I am the worm who never turned, The eunuch without a harem; Between the priest and the commissar I walk like Eugene Aram;.
And the commissar is telling my fortune While the radio plays, But the priest has promised an Austin Seven, For Duggie always pays.
Was Jones? Were you? The Spanish war and other events in turned the scale and thereafter I knew where I stood. Every line of serious work that I have written since has been written, directly or indirectly, against totalitarianism and for democratic socialism, as I understand it.
It seems to me nonsense, in a period like our own, to think that one can avoid writing of such subjects. Everyone writes of them in one guise or another. It is simply a question of which side one takes and what approach one follows. What I have most wanted to do throughout the past ten years is to make political writing into an art.
My starting point is always a feeling of partisanship, a sense of injustice. I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention, and my initial concern is to get a hearing.
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