Logos, Pathos, Ethos

Give Me Reason

I wrote everything I wanted to say in order to get my point across then analyzed if I used logos, pathos and ethos.  I did use all three but what stood out most for me was the use of reason (logos).  Everyone has heard of autism even if they don’t have a full understanding of the disability and there are many charities.  In order for my reader to understand why this one, why Swing for Autism should be supported I made sure what it supports and why it’s needed was best understood. 

I’m sure some information within will appeal to emotions (pathos) but it wasn’t done so intentionally.  I don’t feel striking someone’s emotions about the struggle kids and families go through is an honest way of receiving support.  Providing the reasons alone is heart breaking.

As far as credibility (ethos), I wasn’t going to provide the information that it’s my charity.  But why would I ask for support in something if the entire truth isn’t given?  Why would I ask for support if I don’t show my audience what I do myself to support it?

I don't believe it's the blog that changes the level of importance on the three ways to appeal to reason.  I think it's about the writer's beliefs.  As Emerson said "truth is handsomer than the affectation of love."  The writer has a duty to provide truth in their reasons and with that comes credibility.  Logos wins out above all.

Science of Persuasion

Actively Persuading

In Science of Persuasion there are six keys or short cuts.  They are reciprocity, scarcity, authority, consistency, liking and consensus.  All of which are relevant to blogs. The medium itself does not determine level of importance, each will reign differently to individual readers. 

Let me quickly go through all 6 using Autism Awareness in April as an example.  Being an Autism Awareness advocate myself I could set up a blog by first showing these three pictures:

The pictures alone appeal to authority or consensus as people look to the actions of others before they will determine their own.  So I if I want my own community to simply put a blue light bulb outside their garage for one night during the Autism Light It Up Blue Event this is an awesome way to show its simplicity and empowerment to be on the same side as so many well known people.

Now how about scarcity and reciprocity.  Let me add two more pictures to my blog:

It’s not often you find a sponsor that gives 100% of its proceeds to the charity they support.  As an impulse buy when you are purchasing your lunch, just a buck or two will help a child.  There is a sense of obligation to donate or reciprocate generosity when you already spent money on yourself.  Remember these are not just cookies; these are “pieces of hope” which is a great example to show the power of how something is said instead of what is said.  Scarcity is also involved here as this benefit is only for 7 days and you don’t even have to drive to the restaurant, you can pre-order online.

How many beautiful women out there love jewelry?  A bracelet is a great compliment to any outfit and now there are autism charms that add heart to your sleeves.  

When it comes to the liking short cut this above ad is perfect.  People like those that are similar and who compliment them.  So why not find a friend and be beautiful together by participating in the event or don’t even leave your couch, you can order online.  Note I keep telling you the reader how beautiful you are and I would make sure anyone taking the calls for these bracelets spend the time to compliment the callers.

As the creator of the blog I would not expect anyone to follow me or to be motivated by me if I didn’t represent consistency.  If I want my neighborhood to Light It Up Blue I would do it myself and show pictures of my house.  I would order cookies for the people at work and show pictures of people eating them.  The people I know who are directly affected by autism would know about my blog so that they can pass the information out to their family and friends as well.

Simply put if I’m creating a blog to persuade people, I have a better chance of having followers if I’m actively doing what it is I’m trying to motivate others to do.

These active pictures are more empowering than flyers:

The Art of Influence

How, Not What

The craft of disagreeing with the majority is striking.  In “The Art of the Personal Essay” it says that “personal essayists intentionally go against the grain of popular opinion.”  By doing this myself and writers alike open themselves to vulnerability.  This vulnerability strips away any “mask” I may be wearing and I will show the reader not only why they should listen to what I have to say by getting to the core of what I know about the subject, but I will also divulge and question everything I don’t know about it.  This makes me human and even if the reader is outraged by what I say that pulsating reaction creates an audience and I can’t persuade people if they aren’t listening.  “The personal essayist is not necessarily out to win the audience’s unqualified love but to present the complex portrait of a human being.”  This means to know my opposition and learn it and question it as much as I have studied the side I am persuading to.  It is not what I communicate to my audience but how I do it.      

As I add in these quotes to “lend authority” let me add another to make a point on this credibility, “I make others say what I cannot say so well.”  In addition these quotes allow the essayist to “get a free ride on other men’s brains.”  People listen to authority and they follow credible experts.  I am not shy to freely quote any credible source that backs up my passionate opinion I’m persuading people to join.  

Memoir Objectives/Goals

This is important because what I hope the reader will learn is, your times mean nothing, doing it does.

I want to write a memoir about running but I’m not sure what aspect of it I should write about.  The reason why I began to run again is only important to show what it was to me and what it became to me. 

It was grief that made the need for some mental outlet.  Do I need to include the deceased name if I go this route?  I’d like to leave his family name in peace by not putting it out in cyberspace.

Because some days, running is a do not remember zone, a mumble of thoughts.

What I want the reader to gain from reading this is seeing how a solo sport such as running can start by healing an experience such as grief, an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and become something that allows you to be part of your life again.  Running just like life is never easy, but you get better at it.  Regardless the level of expertise sometimes you really feel like you should quit but the reward in finishing, the mental peace, that battle where no one is there to push yourself but you alone, that is the triumph I want the reader to feel.

It’s a battle for people to understand why running is so important to me.  People have misconceptions with exercise.  I am asked all the time, “What are you training for?”  My answer puzzles them, deer in headlights when I say “Life.”  By putting this down in writing, by describing the self discipline this sport requires and how I feel during and after I’m hoping to finally be able to better understand the depth I go in running.  Maybe I’ll be able to better explain myself to people too.

When I think about my runs, they are music specific.  All words are specific to the emotions I’m dealing with that day.  Am I using their words to speak for me?  I don’t think I need to include the music I do listen to for the reader to understand that certain sports have gear that can be used as inspiration.  Mine is music.  I think I’ll have to be careful in making sure I don’t get off track on what my story really is about.

Memoir Ideas

Strength

Seven years old and I didn’t know how to swim.  I guess my friends were embarrassed that I still wore floaties around my arms when going to their pools.  So one night minutes before my curfew I was being yelled at by my best friend at the edge of the pool to jump in.  Not being able to swim will force me to have the energy to rise above the water.  Could I have been thinking that then?  She swore she would not be my friend anymore if I didn’t jump in and that she’d get me if I couldn’t get up.  The thing is she never came to get me.  I obviously made it out, but she didn’t help at all.  Who is to blame for a seven year old having to decide between drowning and keeping her friend?  Why was I there with no adult supervision and why the hell did I jump in?  My life could have ended and what I’ve never asked myself is why did I jump?  Why was she my best friend for 12 years?  Kids are a very good judge in character because they have an unfiltered truth.  I wish I wasn’t so scared then to find different friends.  It’s okay to have fear be the reason to back down.  When something doesn’t feel right at any age, sometimes backing down is rising above.

I don’t run for the workout, I don’t run to look better.  I’ve listened to people tell me that they don’t like the work, they like the physical outcome.  I love the work; the work brings the mental outcome.  I once listened to a man tell a story about a young dying girl who ran until her days end.  Her family now has a charity run in her honor every year.  He ran that race and at one point could barely continue, his legs could not carry him any further.  But then he thought, if she could do it, then he better do it.  That’s the struggle in running, rising above the pain, having a reason to continue that allows your mind to push past any physical limitations you think you have.  While I’m not comparing myself to a person struggling with an illness, I am saying there’s a moment in which running became something I am, not something I do.  It’s never easy but some days I feel like I get better at it.  Most days I need it to clear my mind so that I don’t cry; sometimes I need it to make me cry.  Taking a walk around the track after finishing a 5k, face soaked with un-wiped tears.  I’m not sure if people think its sweat or a wind teared face, but what it really is, is the days fear, the days pain washing away.  Even when it frightens the hell out of me, I must always rise above.  I power through the physical pain to accomplish the mental peace.

Aiming for a 4.0 in every class is exhausting.  I don’t always achieve it but at this point in my life my professors know I’m trying for it.  But this wasn’t always the case.  My college career hasn’t always been goal oriented; it was something I felt I had to do.  Once a class came that inspired me, maybe because I was good at it, but I was ready to give it my all.  I already did it in my job so I was more than good at it, I could teach it to struggling students.  I met with a few of them for countless hours and we learned from each other during that study guide.  I knew I had every answer correct, I was going to get my first 4.0, maybe not in the class but on a very difficult assignment.  That professor handed it back on the same day and before we took our finals.  She failed that assignment and told me I am to see her after I take my final.  She thought I cheated.  She judged me by my past grades and I swear she handed it back before we took our test on purpose just to rattle me before the end.  I silently cried the entire time I took my final with my heart beating a million times a minute.  Sometimes your past stays with you and takes you down by the very people who should be inspiring you to do your best.  Someone or something will always knock me down, sometimes even myself, always get back up, and always press on.

Journaling

Outside In

As soon as I got home from the funeral I sat down to write an email.  It felt urgent, it felt like it needed to be done right then.  Responding to one of little man’s therapist felt like I was doing something, something with purpose.  Helpful, I like to be helpful.  She started a music and movement class to help kids with special needs.  It promotes inclusion and I was so happy to have my son be a part of it.  So yes, I’m responding quickly to help her because she helped us.  Or maybe to block the pain, maybe to feel better, maybe I was so happy to feel anything that didn’t involve tears or being too numb to cry.

I ran in the morning to prepare me for the day.  Or did I run to erase last night?  Coming from a surprise birthday party one night then to a funeral the next afternoon, how do I do that?  I don’t come with a switch.  I can’t turn on the proper emotion you’re supposed to feel.  I feel like I’m outside my own world squinting my eyes, even covering them because I can’t really see.  And even if I could there are so many clouds can I see what I want, or does circumstances tell me what I’m supposed to see?  Ugh!  Maybe if I run some more I can shake this.  When does the funk end? 

I had a fucked up moment last night.  Lying in bed I was thanking God as always for another day.  And every time I go through the motions of grief I have a need to tell the people who love me to not let people say “I’m in a better place” if I die before them.  This phrase pisses me off!  I would not be in a better place.  My place is with those who love me.  So I’m thanking God and asking him to look over my friends and family as they too find ways to handle their loss and grief.  And in mid-sentence I was asking him to make sure no one says “better place” but I stopped, oh shit, I’m talking about his place!  I busted out laughing.  Well that took an interesting turn.  And in my head of prayers I’m stuttering, ummm ummmm, well I guess I’m not sure what to say here.  So I told the big guy he’ll have to keep his faith in me now and I’ll get back to him on that.  But as I’m thinking about this because of course that was mind fucking, wanting to live is saying this is a better place for me right?  So I’m not dissing heaven in any way, it’s just my way of saying I want to live.

"I will not give in"

Journaling

One Foot After Another

That shit is cheaper than therapy anyways!

Deciding one day you don’t want to have any more kids is one thing.  Being told you can’t is another.  Being told an option for better health means a procedure that removes that possibility, also something totally different.  “One and done” that’s what I’ve said for five years now.  But this is so messed up.  Talk about a total mind fucking couple days.

I ran.  Running always makes me feel better, heavy days at the gym always makes me feel better.  Getting all my gear ready in the locker room and my arm band is nowhere to be found, this makes me swear even more if that is fucking possible!  I fucking knew it was stolen.  I can’t believe I didn’t notice it last time.  I searched my bag forever even though I knew some fuck stole my shit.  What the fuck is wrong with people?  No no, no one would steal so on I looked.  Them fuckers!  It’s so fucking gone!  Marched out to the staff and so politely asked if someone stole I mean, turned in a lost arm band.  I couldn’t believe it when she said they’ve had a problem with people stealing lately.  Who the fuck am I kidding of course I can believe it.  Them fuckers!!!!  She searched 3 locations which was nice but really?  Who the fuck has 3 places of lost shit?  Not 3 drawers but 3 different rooms in a huge building!  Sounds to me like you have lost and found, and stole and I better return before the red head kicks some serious ass rooms!  She walked out and asked me if my arm band was mine and I think I saw a halo around it.  I was so damn giddy and excited I think I jumped.  Yup I fucking jumped for joy and I think I almost hugged her.  Of course no one stole my stuff, people never do that.  Or, I am so lazy the thought of holding onto my phone for music really can put me in that pissed off of a mood.  I think I’m the only person I know who would need to run just to work off the anger from someone stealing their shit.  There is something wrong with me!  And when I was done running I fucking left it on the bench again while I worked out for someone to steal!!  Instead of the sign I was going to put “Steal and Beware of Red” I should put “I’m a fucking idiot so please steal my shit.”

While getting ready to head on the track a really nice elderly gentleman stopped me, “do you always workout that hard?”  Fuck yes I do, “yes every time.”  “That’s amazing I applaud you.”  That was a nice moment for me.  I applauded myself too for not being irritated at all that someone broke into my time of solace and motioned me to take my ear buds out.  I think I really needed the compliment.  Hellish couple of days and anything to lift me was very much appreciated.  But it got even better, a very important friend showed up.  What a fucking great day this turned out to be!

"Aint gonna stop cuz they tell me so"

Journaling

Snoozed twice this morning. 18 minutes and I was so pissed off. So pissed because how the hell am I going to get everything done today. Another fucking night of no sleep. Should I workout today, am I even going to be able to. Fuck I'm tired. I only got out of bed because I need to make sure little man isn't late for therapy today. I opened my phone thinking I was going to see the norm, good mornings, fuck you memes, inspirational get fit as fuck quotes and maybe they were all there but I didn’t notice. All I saw was the txt that a close friend lost a loved one during the night. All of a sudden nothing seems to matter. Does it matter? Is the day moving in slow motion? Am I moving in slow motion? This feeling is so fucked up. Is it a feeling? I don’t feel sad or somber or well, anything. I feel numb. Numb feels heavy. Is that fucking normal? Doesn’t that defy some sort of scientific law somewhere? How can numbness feel like anything? Thinking about all the times I saw him, talked to him, pictures of him on my phone. Grief is so fucked up. Is it my loss? Or am I grieving because someone close is suffering? So many degrees and variances of grief but its all so awful. And there is nothing I can do. Nothing to make any of my friends feels better nothing to make myself feel better so I'm just stuck. Stuck in some sort of degree of grief but does it matter? At least I’m alive. I mean is that how it’s going to be for a while? Where I'm more grateful than usual for things? Or I feel like I can’t complain? Will it be a while? What is a while? I’ve already heard him being talked about in past tense. God that is so fucked up. If up until his dying day he’s a good father and good husband, son, brother, grandpa, cant he hold on to that title? Why do we say he WAS all those things, isn’t he still? Hasn’t he deserved the right to still be all those great things?

I don’t even feel tired anymore. 3 hours of sleep feels like something, this feels like nothing and its worse, so much worse.

What a vicious fucking circle this is! 

Journaling

Snownesia

Why do people forget how to drive every time a cloud appears in the sky?  God forbid it snows, now the snownesia sets in even further.  The danger in this weather is how much I drift off into thought wondering why all these fucking people ever got in their cars.  It's obvious they don't want to get where they are going.  

I started taking a toll how many times someone brought up the weather to me in one day. I know it's fucking snowing! I didn't teleport my ass to stand right in front of you so that you can tell me!!!  48 times today.  There is something wrong with that.  People are so starved for some kind of conversation but have no idea what to say.  This has to be the reason.  Why else does the weather constantly keep getting brought up.

Still have this damn cough, maybe a month now.  I can ask the creepy no shame naked senior citizen at the gym.  It doesn't matter what time I'm there, so is she and she tells me I'm still coughing every damn time.  And every damn time while she's naked. 

"Be careful." Wish I kept a toll on how many times I heard that today.  Why do people insist on stating the obvious?  Maybe the better question is why does it bother me so much.  Do I say this?  Fuck maybe I've been infected by snownesia too.  "Be careful it's snowing out"  REALLY!  Well fuck I'm so happy you told me that, I thought this shit was butterflies falling all over me and I was going to drive as fast as I could not to be carried off to the land of all things creepy that fly!

Damn Strait

Now I have to find a way to scrub off these 48 marks on my hand!

“Writing as Self-Revelation”

Grammar is Only Skin Deep

Let’s face it, English teachers are scary!  I’m laughed at when the people closest to me see how mad I am when I have to turn in a second English paper before the first one has even been graded and handed back.  Why?  Because I never know how that teacher grades or what their expectations are.  Do they put the hammer down on grammar or are my ideas and efforts in translating them onto the page the most important?  I have been in several classes when I have said out loud (well not close enough for the teacher to hear of course) that no matter what I do it will never be good enough.  I have even been told that my writing was “stiff”, “unrealistic.”  Yes, and when I walked away from them I had a few choice words.  Of course they were wrong!  I was using big words, I sounded smart, and I even used a thesaurus!   Need I quote Stephen King once again, yes I do, “Any word you have to hunt for in the thesaurus is the wrong word.  There are no exceptions to this rule.”  What I had a problem with was finding my own voice.  I was too concerned with writing for the teacher rather than just letting myself be heard beyond the surface.

There is a part in “Writing as Self-Revelation” where the author Luella B. Cook talks about a time when she was asked a question, “But what do you do about all the errors in grammar and spelling?  Do you just over-look them?”  Her reply was simple, “Temporarily yes.” She is “looking for something else, for something real that a pupil is trying to say, for some hint of possibility that I may help him build upon.”  In analyzing this “nervous concern over errors” Cook believes it comes from “criticism.”  “Criticism has long been our stock and trade.  Pupils write and we carefully correct their papers judging the value of our own efforts by the thoroughness with which we have identified their errors.”  Doesn’t that explain the comic above?  Instead of the teacher finding value in the content of the past student’s words, wanting to be recognized and remembered, he’s basically shhh-ing him because incorrect grammar he believes reflects badly upon him as the teacher.

Is the constant need for immediate proper grammar the same as talking in someone else’s voice?  It’s rule following at its best.  You’re doing it simply because someone else told you to.  If the content within is the mouth watering dessert you were craving, does it matter if it’s served on a paper plate or fine china?  Getting your ideas down and having that teacher who helps you develop it is priceless.  The grammar can always be fixed when you’re finished.

While I am not saying its okay to not learn and practice proper grammar, I am saying that WHAT a person says is far more important than HOW a person says it.

John Grisham’s commencement speech at UNC-ChapelHill in 2010 gives a great argument on the importance in finding your own voice.  He says the “most difficult task facing a writer is finding the voice in which to tell a story.”  After all I do agree when he says “a voice is more than a sound”, holding “three essential elements”, “clarity, authenticity and veracity.”  So I say find your voice.  Screw the thesaurus and have a teacher that "temporarily" looks beyond the surface of the skin/grammar.  Let them see the depths of the content, there is a good argument to be had here.  Challenge them.  If all you’re being graded on is grammar, ask if you could see what your grade would be if only looking at how your voice translated to the paper.  Speak from your heart, plead your case and be heard beyond your skin.

“The Goody-Two-Shoes Nature”

Blood at My Fingertips

It’s true isn't it?  Writing is laying our inner most thoughts out for the world to be influenced by and for us to be criticized with.  It is gutting ourselves with a dull blade and as the need and want becomes more we push harder and harder to form our blood into words.  It’s funny and head turning that this is so empowering. 

“The Goody-Two-Shoes Nature” says writing practice is “like any other sport.”  So why then does it suggest we walk away when it becomes difficult?  Any person who dreams of writing writes with their whole heart.  A bad day of writing is simply just that.  An athlete who has a bad day does not have the option to not step on that field.  They are dedicated to their sport.  They do what needs to be done to get through the practice or the game they barely had the effort to attend.  Does that mean their “heart isn’t into it?”  Absolutely not!  It just means we as writers and athletes alike are human and we all have days we need to push through life’s difficulties to do what our heart desires.  It was Stephen King in "On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft" who said “Stopping a piece of work just because it’s hard either emotionally or imaginatively is a bad idea.  Sometimes you have to go on when you don’t feel like it and sometimes you’re doing good work when it feels like all you’re managing to do is shovel shit from a sitting position.”

We are not all so fortunate to have the option to “rest completely for a while” and “come back more fully choosing to engage.”  There are deadlines in writing which are our game days.  So having a routine for writing practice doesn’t make us being “dutiful.”  It makes us being whole heartedly dedicated to our sport of writing.  We will take our much needed break during our off season and heal from our injuries and strains then.  But until that day comes we will step on that field, walk into that gym, sit down with pens in our hands or finger tips at our keys and we will push through any wall that tries to block us.  When game day comes, some athletes throw up before their performance, I scream before writing.  You have no idea how many times I screamed when writing this.  But I finished and you are reading it.  I poured my blood into every one of these words.