In this chapter, we’ll help you with rules—do’s and don’ts—we’ve developed over the years. We learned many of these rules through painful trial and error. We felt the sting of editors’ derision and readers’ remonstrances. We made dumb mistakes.
So you’ve settled on a prompt and are set to write a killer admissions essay. No pressure there. Just the rest of your life (not really, see the chapter “What if You Don’t Get Your First Choice”). To this we say (and we are quoting Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers here), “Relax.”
A strong essay relies on many of the same skills demanded of any other writing: sharp observations, strong analysis, and a deft writing touch. We want to help you avoid common mistakes that sap energy from your writing and confuse readers. In other words, we want to help you avoid a sure way to get your essay tossed on the “Reject pile.”
In this chapter and others, you’ll find a wide range of advice on grammar, sentence construction, vocabulary, and work habits. These tips aren’t just for high schoolers facing admissions essays. These are good for writers of any age who want to write clear, compelling prose. We hope you get into your first-choice school, but whether or not you do, you can use what you learn here. There is always a market for clear writing.
Often young writers, and some not so young, approach a writing assignment hoping to dazzle the reader with erudition and a sesquipedalian vocabulary. In other words, they’re writing to entertain themselves and not engage the reader. Obscure vocabulary, like sesquipedalian, may have a place in some pieces, but you should employ these words with caution. You are not writing to entertain yourself or show how clever you can be with long, labyrinthine sentences. Don’t use big words or pretentious phrases you wouldn’t use in your everyday conversation and writing. You are writing to communicate with a reader—in this case your admissions reader.
You’re seeking to tell that admissions reader who you are and what you stand for. You’re describing your “brand,” so to speak. That means you can approach an essay in many different ways, as long as what you write is honest and authentic. You don’t have to claim to have saved the world to impress colleges. You just have to be genuine, specific, and focused about who you are and what you want to do on campus. Remember, colleges see lots of applicants with stellar grades and test scores. They’re looking for students who will thrive on campus and influence their peers in a positive manner. Show the reader how you will be an asset to the school.
In the case of a college essay, unlike other writing, you don’t know anything about the reader, what his or her tastes are, or what he or she is looking for in an essay. Don’t try to guess. Just produce something that is true to the way you feel and communicates clearly. There’s no bluffing here. College readers, including those who read your essay, can detect insincerity, false bravado, or phony modesty instantly. It rarely takes them more than one hundred words. You can also be sure the admissions reader has waded through thickets of impenetrable writing, attempting to puzzle out a writer’s intentions . . . or, more likely, just moved on to the next essay.
Truth is important. The reader is trying to ascertain if he or she can trust you, which is a difficult task to convey in an essay. That’s why when you are stuck for what to write, write what you are familiar with or what you are passionate about. (And as we said previously if you can’t find an opening, start in the middle. Or somewhere else. The point is don’t get hung up waiting for the perfect opening sentence.) Your essay has succeeded if the reader can feel your passion—and believes you to be a genuine person.
A common temptation when students are writing their Common App essay is that they lard sentences with clauses, asides, or other commentary—sentences that are hard to follow, that meander. The reader grows confused or frustrated—the “Reject pile” awaits.
Don’t puff up sentences with extraneous words that bog down sentences and exhaust readers. Avoid words like very, a bit, somewhat, and their ilk; they add nothing to a sentence. Try this: Find any sentence with the word very as a modifier. Take it out. Read it again. It’s punchier, right? Most modifiers impart little but insecurity or laziness. Every sentence should be muscular and lean. It should propel you to the next sentence.
Phrases like “the fact is,” or “the question as to whether” or “there is no doubt that” are the equivalent of a writer clearing his or her throat. Get to the point. Start with action. Don’t back into a story with extraneous background. Grab readers by starting with a compelling scene, thought, or statement. Don’t meander. Think of your favorite movies and books. The best scenes don’t start with characters spending hours going about their daily routines. They start with a key moment. If your essay is telling a story, make sure you can identify that key moment.
Passive voice is a curse. “Charlie was running down the street.” That’s a passive way to say “Charlie ran down the street.” Another example from the Purdue Writing Lab: “The boy was bitten by the dog.” The action is backward. The dog bit the boy.
Passive voice camouflages action and drains drama from your writing. It creates awkward moments and confusion. One of the most infamous passive constructions came from former President Richard Nixon during the Watergate scandal, which forced him to resign from the presidency: “Mistakes were made,” he said. Much more effective: “I made a mistake.” Avoiding passive voice is a rule that will never go out of style. If you take away nothing else, please take that.
Strive for simple, clear, and punchy by deleting all but the most vital adverbs. For instance: “Sobbed uncontrollably.” Is there any other way to sob? Same with “objected vociferously.” How else would you do that? Most adverbs add nothing but deadweight to a sentence. More excellent examples of adverb abuse from kathysteinemann.com: move softly = tiptoe; drink greedily = guzzle; close loudly = slam. When your Common App essay is a couple of words over the 650-word limit look for those pesky adverbs. Omitting them is a great way of getting your essay down to the word limit without affecting the quality or your message.
Don’t repeat yourself. Draft a brief outline of the points you want to make. That will help you organize your thoughts and avoid repetition of thoughts or phrases. Also, don’t use the same word repeatedly to describe an action or event. Find synonyms. A general rule is avoid using the same verb, adverb, or adjective twice in the same paragraph and no more than three times in the entire essay (it may be harder to do with nouns, especially if they are the subject of your essay). Even then, try not to use the same word more than once if you can help it.
The best word is not necessarily the first word that comes to mind. You can write: He was tired. Or you can write: He was exhausted. Which is more compelling? Quite often you will write “tired” but when you go back to edit, you will say to yourself, “I’m not sure about tired. Is there a better word?” That’s why it is important to use a thesaurus, either online or, if you’re really in a pinch, a real book. Either way, find the right word. The French writer Gustave Flaubert (Madame Bovary) coined a term for exactly the right word. He called it le mot juste (remember, the first time you use a foreign expression, italicize it).
Your writing comes from your observation of the world. Use those observations, no matter how tiny, to paint a scene with words. Show, don’t tell. Setting a scene visually can be powerful.
A lot. A powerful ending can compensate for many shortcomings. You don’t need to summarize, but you should leave the reader with something visceral, a thought, an emotion, or an insight into your character and experience.
Remember: Rules are important but not sacrosanct. It’s OK if you dangle a participle once in a while, as long as it is crucial to the point you’re making. If your editors pick it out, consider changing it. Other people sometimes see what you can’t.
Don’t write when you’re tired. Few people are able to write well when they are bleary-eyed. Same goes for writing under the influence of alcohol or other substances. Better to get some sleep and approach your work fresh. That means in the morning—don’t procrastinate. Get to it.
Take a break if you’re stuck. Take a bike ride, a walk, anything to get blood pumping. That allows your subconscious to work on the dilemma. You’ll be surprised how often this works. We know many writers who find their best ideas on walks or bike rides.
Keep at it. A first draft is not a final draft. It’s a start. Ernest Hemingway said, “The only writing is rewriting,” and who are we to argue? Your first draft is just that, a draft. It won’t, shouldn’t, and can’t be the final product. Give yourself time to edit and refine and to show it to people you trust.
Be fearless. Don’t be afraid to toss it out and start again. Yes, start over. Save the earlier draft, print it out, and tuck it in a drawer. Sit back, take a deep breath, and reimagine. You’ll be surprised how effective this is. Writers can get stuck in a rut, particularly if their first sentences lead them down a path that is not productive. You can spend a lot of time trying to fix it or you can just start over. We advise the latter. Trust your instincts here. If you think the piece is stilted or awkward or just disingenuous, it is. Talk it out with the outside editor—friend, parent, or teacher—you trust. Then try again if it doesn’t work.