Write a personal essay for the "Voices" column in New York Times/Upfront.
The essay must make a point about something you've learned or realized.
It must be based on your personal experiences which have occurred in the last few years.
Hey guys, I've written a rough draft for this personal paper and my teacher decided to unexpectedly change the deadline to tomorrow. It would be awesome if you could give some feedback based on your first reading and based on my teacher's comments. Thanks in advance!
I will add my teacher's comments on this in red text
Here's my first draft:
----I wish I could be that star electric-guitar player of the band--Bass is not so impressive.very confusing Over the past couple of years, I have been serving in a volunteer organization that reaches out to those who are in need, whether of food and water, extra hands for labor, or even care and love. I had served in several soup kitchens, delivered meals to the elderly, spent cherishing time with lonely children, and even attempted to garden in uncultivatedclarify land. Sure, I felt good about myself for lending a helping hand to others, but something had been bothering me for a while. I had always thought to myself, "Am I doing enough?" this is a big leap--I don't know how you get here
----When I first picked up that bass guitar, I had been playing the acoustic guitar for a few months then, grown accustomed to the bright and lively tone of its strings. I sighed to myself, wishing I could offer something more to the band--for I had only picked up the bass to play for the church band that was missing a bassist. Surely the sophisticated strumming of finely-coated steel strings on an acoustic appeared more impressive than the simple, cadenced plucking of thick and dull strings on a bass. Even more so, the bland appearance of a bass could not be matched to the jazzy-looking, finely sunburst color of an electric guitar. "Oh well," I thought, as I continued to play the bass for the band in need of a helping hand.
----After volunteering for over a year, I slowly developed a mindset that I was just another of thousands, maybe tens of thousands of volunteers in the tri-state community. I wished I could do something different for those people in need: the hungry homeless, the weak elderly, the orphaned children--but honestly, what could I have done? I knew that every day, new people were barging into their lives with boxes of Campbell's Soup, some more used Barbie dolls and X-Men action figures, and especially that 'I can help change your life' kind of attitude. I thought that maybe my helping hand was just as insignificant to those people as a bass player is to his band. good paragraph
----As our newbie band played together for almost a year, we improved little by little, enhancing our skills with our individual instruments, and more importantly, understanding how to work with one another as a band. We even went to live rock band coffeehouses and performances to develop a better idea of what a 'good band' should sound like. Soon enough, the bass did not seem as ineffective to the band as I had previously thought. While Robin, our electric-guitarist, furiously played those distorted high-pitched riffs with his slick Fender Stratocaster, I learned that maybe I, as a bassist, could provide some sort of a use to the band: filling the lower end of the sound spectrum with a deep and heavy accent, complimentingspelling error the melodies played by the guitar and the keyboard, and driving the tempo beside the drums. The music would then sound a little more "fuller," with a less piercing and tinny tone to the ears, perhaps.
----One day, as my volunteer group walked across the street toward the New York Public Library, we met Joe, a homeless man lying across the first row of steps. When we presented him a package of Wonder breadi hope it was whole wheat and a half-liter carton of milk, we, in a somewhat dull tone of voice, apologized for our meager assistance. But to our surprise, he replied, "No, your help is enough... really," with the hugest smile awkward across his face.
----That's when I realized that my modest aid is appreciated and is enough, as far as what I can offer, just as my position as the lonesome bassist in the corner, plucking his thick bronze-alloyed strings, is not all that unimportant, but actually, can help hold a band together. I guess I really don't have to be that leading light, the star, the "big deal,"... the electric guitarist.Maybe add one sentence about the bass.
This is really well done in many ways. I like the message and I like the analogy between being a bass player and a volunteer. But the connection is not as smooth as it could be. And the incident in NYC seems to come out of nowhere. You need to have a kind of thread that weaves them all together. You need to make the "am I doing enough" question of the first paragraph naturally relate to the bass-playing question. You need to use similar or parallel wording. This needs some work, and some shortening, but I have high hopes for this. It's a very good start.
So the bolded text is what I need most help on. I really cannot figure out how to connect the analogy with a "thread that weaves them together." Thank you again! :)
I agree with your teacher that this is a very good start,
I think what your teacher wants is for you to make the connection between the parallel stories -- learning that you are, in fact, doing enough both as a volunteer and as a bass player -- more explicit.
One way that you might do that would be to replace the confusing two lines that start the piece with a very brief but very vivid account of yourself playing bass with the band while actively feeling you are not doing well enough. Then start a new paragraph with something like "It was the same with my volunteer work," and continue on as you already do. Then, conclude with a sentence such as "Being the bass is good enough."
Wow thank you Simone, that's something I could start with :)
Also, would I need to work on transitioning between each of the "body" paragraphs? I feel that I do
Here's my final draft, in case anyone wanted to see the result. I still feel like more could have been done =X
----For three songs in a row, all I could hear was that loud, monotonous, and bassy sound coming out of the amplifier. My ears were starting to ring, and it's a shame that I was the one making them. "Oh well," I thought, as I pushed aside my pride and continued to play bass during our practice.
----It was the same with my volunteer work. Over the past few years, I have been serving in an organization that reaches out to those who are in need, whether of food and water, extra hands for labor, or even care and love. I had served in soup kitchens, delivered meals to the elderly, spent cherishing time with children, and even attempted to harvest tomatoes in a patch of uncultivated land. Sure, I felt good about myself for lending a helping hand, but something had been bothering me for a while. I would always think to myself, "Am I doing enough?"
----I asked myself that same question when I first picked up that bass guitar, but that time it was: "Will I be able to do enough?" I had been playing the acoustic guitar for four months then, and I had already grown accustomed to its brighter and livelier tone. Surely the sophisticated strumming on the finely-coated steel strings of the acoustic guitar appeared more impressive than the effortless, cadenced plucking of the dull strings on the bass. Even more so, the bland appearance of the bass could not be matched to a jazzy-looking, finely sunburst color of an electric guitar. I knew the bass was not meant for me-for I had only picked up the bass to play for the church band that was missing a bassist. But I took a deep breath, and I continued to offer what little help I could provide.
----After volunteering for over a year, I slowly developed a mindset that I was just another of thousands, maybe tens of thousands of volunteers out there. I wished I could do something different for them: the hungry homeless, the weak elderly, the orphaned children-but honestly, what could I have done? I knew that every day, new people were barging into their lives with boxes of Campbell's Soup, some more used Barbie dolls and X-Men action figures, and especially that 'I can help change your life' kind of attitude. I thought that maybe my helping hand was just as insignificant to those people as a bass player is to his band.
----Over time, the bass slowly started to appeal to me more than I had expected. As our newbie band played together for almost a year, we improved little by little, enhancing our individual skills, and more importantly, understanding how to work with one another. Soon enough, I realized how imperative the bassist is to his band; while Robin, our electric-guitarist, furiously played those distorted high-pitched riffs with his slick Fender Stratocaster, I learned to fill the lower end of the sound spectrum with a deeper and heavier accent. While complementing the melodies played by the guitar and the keyboard, I would also drive the tempo alongside the drums. The music would then sound a little more "fuller," with a less piercing and tinny tone to the ears, perhaps.
----My outlook on volunteering would also change after meeting Joe. One day, as my volunteer group headed toward the New York Public Library, we met him, the ragged homeless man who was lying across the first row of steps. When we presented Joe a package of Wonder bread and a half-liter carton of milk, we, in a somewhat dull tone of voice, apologized for our meager assistance. To our surprise, however, he replied: "Your help is enough" with the utmost sincere smile across his face.
----That's when I realized that my help, whether it is modest or eminent, is appreciated and is enough, as far as what I can offer. The volunteer I am is not ineffectual to the community, but like the lonesome bassist in the corner who plucks his thick bronze-alloyed strings, can help hold his community together. I guess I really don't have to be the star, the "big deal,"... the electric guitarist. Being the bass guitarist is good enough for me.
it's a shame that I was the one making them hurt .
Wow. This is so much more coherent. Good job on the rewrite! Do you feel good about it? I hope so.
I do think you could go back through for a polish. I notice you sometimes use the "would" verb form excessively; by eliminating unnecessary "woulds" and in other ways, you could make the essay less wordy.
For example:
While complementing the melodies played by the guitar and the keyboard, I would also drivedrove the tempo alongside the drums. The music would then soundeda little more "fuller," with a less piercing and tinny tone to the ears, perhaps .
Great essay. I love the way you cross-cut your experience learning the bass guitar with your volunteer experience. The final anecdote seems a bit off -- it seems a bit too convenient that Joe says exactly what you want to hear. It would have been better if you had have him say something that expressed gratitude in a away that allowed you to come to the conclusion that he currently states for you. Still, excellent job given your time constraints.
