Alexander Pope essays

Alexander Pope essays Alexander Pope, who lived from 1688-1744, was an English poet who modeled himself after great poets of the classical past. Verse translations, moral and critical essays, satires, and the development of the heroic couplet, made him the leading poet of his age. Pope, born in London, was the son of a cloth merchant. His parents were Roman Catholics, which automatically barred him from England's Protestant universities. Until he was 12 years old, he was educated mainly by priests; afterward, he primarily taught himself. A devastating illness, most likely tuberculosis of the spine, struck him in childhood, leaving him deformed. He never grew taller than 4 ft 6 in and was subject to suffering horrible headaches. Possibly as a result of this condition, he was hypersensitive and exceptionally irritable the rest of his life. He was a very quarrelsome man and attacked his literary contemporaries. To few, he was warm and affectionate; he had a long and close friendship with Irish writer Jonathan Swift. The Essay on Man is a philosophical poem, written in heroic couplets and published between 1732 and 1734. It is an attempt to rationalize the ways of God to Man, and a warning that man himself is not the center of all things. The two main concerns of Pope were, (1) What is, in fact, mans nature and (2) can that nature be justified by observation? (White p.43) The "Essay" consists of four epistles, addressed to Lord Bolingbroke, and were thought to have derived, to some extent, from some of Bolingbroke's writings. The question was often raised regarding the relation between the argument of the Essay on Man and that of certain prose manuscripts of Popes guide Bolingbroke. (MacDonald p.132) Many agreed that the poet and his friend in some way combined their intellect to produce the essay. Pope felt and thought by shocks and electric flashes. He co...

The Crappy Side of Writing

The Crappy Side of Writing I’m staring at a screen, after an extremely frustrating, full day of writing and editing. Mostly editing. Without going into details, I fought with a full manuscript edit for almost eight hours one day this week. I edited an entire novel only for the edits not to save properly. There’s a long story about a corrupted file. Needless to say, I cursed and shed a few sloppy tears on my napkin beside the dinner hub On top of that, I learned my deadline was changing a little bit for Tidewater Murder, which really crimped my style pertaining to a certain speaking engagement. That change sucked the wind right out of my sails for a while. Maybe I shed a couple more tears. Hub So, once I reached a stopping place, and settled down, I made myself write this editorial. Why? Because I’m frustrated and wanted to know how I’d write in that frame of mind . . . and to show those of you who aren’t writing full time that writing for a living can have some seriously catastrophic days that make you want to throw up your hands and simply say â€Å"WHY DO I DO THIS?† I’ve sat at conferences watching the speaker smile, chuckle, and talk about how hard writing is, but then preach/lecture/instruct the audience to just stick it out. (finger snap) Just like that you’re supposed to decide that nothing will stop you. No emotion in the lesson. All tell and no show. I want to wipe that smile off that successful face and ask them to SHOW me. Quit TELLING. I want them to show me through detailed anecdotes. . . 1. How they almost quit one night over a rejection;2. How they wanted to strangle an editor;3. How they behaved when they lost an entire story on the computer;4. How, after ten chapters, they realized the story had no purpose. Or how about answering these questions: 1. How much money did they really make on that self-pubbed book? 2. Did they ever make a fool of themselves with an editor/agent?3. When did they make a bad decision on selling rights?4. After expenses, how much money do they really net after a traditional publisher kept 92% of the print proceeds and 75% of the ebook gross earnings?5. Was there ever a time he was a bad writer?6. How did that one-star review REALLY make him feel? Give me the dirt . . . all of it. Why? Because I need to know what’s coming at me. I need to understand that there will benights like this, where I doubt myself and crave an easier life. We write for the satisfaction. But no one tells us about the nights we feel like our writing sucks, or that the planets are aligned against us. Those are the times that define us in this profession. Coming out on the other side of those bad nights intact, with the shards of our wits swept up off the floor, with lessons painfully learned leaving deep scars behind, makes us decent writers. No pain, no glory. Okay. Big sigh. Excuse me while I return to beat up my keyboard.