Rhetorical Situation Awareness, or, In Other Words: Huh?

As I read your assessments (completed in Week 2) a common theme was:

“This thing called “analysis & rhetorical situation awareness. What is that?”

And you know what – that’s a great question.

The assessment you filled in uses some really highfalutin’ words. It kind of reminds me of this (bear with me as you read, and rest assured, there’s more where this came from):

Recent research into the role of first-year writing reveals that first-year writing courses are best used to encourage meta-awareness of the genres, contexts, and audiences that writers encounter in college (see Anne Beaufort, Writing in College and Beyond). English 101, which the great majority of incoming students take their first or second semester in college, serves as an important introduction to the culture of the academy—its habits of mind, conventions, and responsibilities. Its central purpose is to immerse students in the writing, reading, and thinking practices of their most immediate community: the university. Students explore how literacy works, both within the academic and without, through extensive inquiry-based writing.

When I first read this a few years ago, my reaction – after seven years of college, ten years as a journalist and about eight years as a technical writer – was “Huh?”

What is “meta-awareness”? What is “the culture of the academy,” let alone the academy’s “habits of mind”? And does literacy really function all that differently “within the academy” as it does “without”?

One thing should stand out in that paragraph: English 101.

This is a real introduction to a real English 101 course, just like the one you’re taking. Now, I’m not going to say that BYU-Idaho’s English 101 course introduction is all that clear and helpful (as many of you have expressed already). But this? It hurts to read it. Because its writers aren’t fully aware of the rhetorical situation they’re in.

There’s that scary phrase again: Rhetorical situation awareness.

So what is rhetorical situation awareness?

Simply put, it’s an agreement between readers and writers.

Readers agree to read the entire text, to work to understand it – by looking up words they don’t understand, like “meta-awareness” – and by considering in what situation the text and information provided by the author is best understood.

Writers agree to consider who their readers are most likely to be and to write to those readers. That does not mean writers need to dumb things down or make themselves sound smart – but it does mean different readers have different expectations and willingness to comprehend, so not all readers will like or understand what they read.

The important thing to remember about rhetorical situation awareness as a writer is to know who your readers are most likely to be and what information they’re going to need to understand what you write.

Had this English 101 introduction been written with students in mind, it might have sounded like this:

English 101, which most incoming students take in their first or second semester in college, is an important introduction to writing. By taking this course, students will gain a greater understanding of various types of writing and the types of readers they’ll encounter both in college and in the world beyond.

So what does this all mean to you?

It means if you’re writing about the National Football League, you take a few brief moments to define the jargon you use, identify who plays for which team as you mention people, and in other ways offer little bits of context and hints to your readers so they don’t get so lost in trying to remember who Colin Kaepernick is or what down by contact means (my son, the resident football nut, says that means if a player catches a ball and stumbles to the ground but is touched by another player, the player who catches the ball can’t get up and continue running CONTRASTED with the same situation except the player isn’t touched, so he can get up and continue running). (My son also corrected my spelling of Kaepernick.)

It means if I’m writing about the Boy Scouts of America and whether the LDS Church should continue using Scouting as the activity arm of the Aaronic Priesthood, I don’t take it for granted that all of my readers know what Eagle palms are, what takes place at Scout Camp, or how the commemoration of the restoration of the priesthood is part of Scouting in the LDS Church.

But it goes beyond explaining jargon.

If, for example, I knew my readers were primarily NFL nuts like my son, I could leave the jargon intact. I might introduce even more jargon. Or if I knew my readers were going to be primarily LDS Scouters, I wouldn’t have to “slow things down” with explanations – because if I did, my readers would get impatient with me.

Ever read something and found yourself thinking, “I already KNOW this. Get on with it”? That’s a sign that for you, the rhetorical situation the writer conceived when he or she wrote what you’re reading isn’t working for you.

Do you stop reading? Not if you’re a determined reader. But you begin to read the signs. If the writer begins to explain something you already know, you skim. Sometimes skimming pays off and you get to the stuff you want to know. Other times, you skim right past what might have been valuable, because it’s buried in stuff that’s not.

Rhetorical situation awareness is a complicated thing. That’s why we need a phrase like “rhetorical situation awareness” to describe it.

I know it’s a lot to throw at you. But it’s part of becoming a better writer.

Now, analysis.

Which is what we’ve done here for a while. We looked at that English 101 syllabus, explored why it’s important to what we’re talking about here, and then provided other examples of how that importance translates to other topics.

What does that mean to you?

It means when you quote Colin Kaepernick, or an LDS general authority talking about Scouting, you don’t just offer the quote and keep on writing. You analyze for your reader why you included that quote, that statistic, that bit of information, so your readers can see the connection you’re making.
If you don’t explain to your readers why you’re including the information you are, they’ll guess. And they might come to different conclusions than you intended, miss your point entirely, and decide your conclusions, like Dr. Venkman’s are highly questionable.

Dean Yeager certainly made it clear in his analysis of the Ghostbusters where they stood in his eyes – there was no room for interpretation.

My Rules for Fantasy Writers

I am not an expert at writing novels. I have read a fair amount of them in my day, though. So just a few thoughts.

Most important? Rule 13.

1. You should know something about riding horses, tack, and horses in general if there are going to be horses in your book. It’s reins, not reigns.
2. No one outside of a book has ever asked “What is the meaning of this?”
3. Learn what homophones are. Use the correct ones. You can hurtle out of a wood. You can also hurdle out of a wood, if you’re jumping over something. If you’re not jumping, you’re hurtling.
4. If it sounds like advice from Dr. Ronald Chevalier¹, don’t do it. Especially when it comes to character names.
5. If you include a map in your book, the last thing you want to do it slap it on a page with a big label that says “MAP”. We know what maps are.
6. Don’t let Dr. Ronald Chevalier suggest place names for your map.
7. Plan plausible poisonings.
8. Don’t stuff your characters’ bums with tweed² – unless that’s their thing.
9. Don’t make them sound too contemporary – unless they are.
10. Don’t make your characters too serious – unless they are.
11. If a character makes a joke, don’t stand around waiting for the reader to get it. Unless that’s part of the joke.
12. Figure out, sincerely, if dark-skinned people blush³. Don’t rely on blushes as they only way your characters show embarrassment.
13. Don’t let violation of the rules stop you from reading a fantasy novel. You might miss a good story.⁴

¹ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qdpFpfIBkXc

² https://forum.wordreference.com/threads/bum-be-stuffed-with-tweed.2359941/

³ https://www.quora.com/Can-black-people-blush

⁴ Unless the novel is “Little, Big” by John Crowley, then stop away.

Government Shutdown Electronic Drip Torture

I trust, as the flames die down and the whirlwinds stop, that everyone survived the Government Shutdown Apocalypse of 2018.

Not to belittle the actual trauma suffered by folks who were indeed impacted. I know of at least one personally. He was inconvenienced to no end.

But for the rest of us, GSA 2018 was a minor squib to be discussed on social media over the weekend before the vast, vast majority of us went back to work.

That includes me, employee of a contractor* to a federal agency.

That’s not to say we didn’t suffer along with those who did actually, you know, suffer. We had, instead, a test of a certain piece of criticality safety equipment that required, with only short pauses, a loud intermittent popping noise to play over the PA system. For more than four hours. I tried to record it, but mysterious things happened to the recording.

I'll try to recreate it:

Pop pop pop pop punk pop pop punk punk pop pop pop pop pop pop punk pop punk.

And so on. The "punks" were lower in tone than the "pops."

I wish they’d sped it up into something like this:

Most amusing aspect of the shutdown: various media outlets including the Washington Post and CNN had a “government shutdown” clock, which as of this writing let the WORLD KNOW citizens of the United States had suffered two days, 13 hours, 2 minutes and 49 SECONDS without an operating federal government. Mostly over a weekend when the federal government is typically closed anyway.

The Chicago Tribune has a telling anecdote of the shutdown: The furlough of two federal employees from a national monument visitors center. Which is normally closed this time of year anway.

And while the closure of the Housing and Urban Development office for a day in Chicago may have been an inconvenience, it may have been just that: An inconvenience, not a disaster.

As an employee of a contractor to a federal agency, I’ve been regularly furloughed – as have most employees – between Christmas and New Years Day since I got this job nearly 12 years ago. We have to use our paid time off to fill in the gap. Me, I’d much rather use my paid time off during other parts of the year, but whatchagonnado?

*Once again, the author of this blog is not in any way a spokesman for said contractor or said agency. He is a complete moron. Anyone quoting this blog for official reporterial purposes ought to have his or her head examined.

Dad Drawings

These might be the most accurate drawings of me made in the past ten years. The first is by my wife. She even got the stubby feet right.

And even if technically I drew this one, my wife's addition of the caption makes my day. That's supposed to be our ballerina daughter.

The entire mess, along with bonus dog drawings, can be seen here:

This is A Drill

I'm not a mind reader.

I can speak from experience, though.

A bit of background first: I'm a technical writer at a nuclear cleanup facility. I've been there for more than eleven years. For more than half of that time, I've been a member of the company emergency response organization -- the group responsible for responding to emergency situations.

So when last week's missile alert happened in Hawaii, I was interested in the news, particularly as I'm the guy on our ERO who works with the emergency notifications.

To clarify: I'm not the ultimate button-pusher, though my position on the ERO is part of that process. When I start that process, there are two other people in the room who check what I do for accuracy, and a third in a different location who reads my message back to me for the sake of clarity and sanity before that person sends it out to the public. So there are checks and balances that guard against mistakes -- thank heaven.

(Here is where I insert the obligatory "I'm speaking for myself, not for Fluor Idaho LLC, the company I work for. Anyone wanting official information on emergency response had better contact them and not rely on me.)

When we conduct our drills, we make sure any communication that could be overheard by an outside party is labeled as a drill. That goes for notes, radio calls, phone calls, etc. So when we drill, we hear the phrase "this is a drill" punctuating everything -- even verbal communication inside the room where we're drilling.

Our electronic notifications, too, have "drill" weaved into them.

If media reports are accurate, it appears the notification part of Hawaii's system needs a little work. (Again, I have no firsthand experience with Hawaii's system. Also, I'm not exactly sure how much of their system they've revealed to the media, nor if their process has been reported fully or accurately. I can only go by what's been reported.)

This Washington Post article is illuminating, as is their photo of the notification system being used.

This is kind of a mess. In fact, it's a real mess.

First of all, I like the "High Surf Warning North Shores" warning. That's clear. The landslide one is OK. After that, however, they get messier. And what makes them messy in part is the jargon And those dealing with the missile alert, well, they're the worst. Nothing in them really says "Missile Alert!" -- it's just tribal knowledge to know that "PACOM" is Pacific Command. Now, that probably makes sense to the military types. But these folks aren't in the military. This is a confusing mess.

However . . .

It's not fair to completely blame the user interface here (as Code Academy wants to in the handy little email they sent to me, touting their $199 UI course.

Remember what I said earlier about drills?

No matter the UI -- whoever was pushing buttons or using the UI interface should have been focusing on drill. DRILL.

How many of the items on this confusing, terribly-designed UI say drill?

One.

Let me say that again: One.

The UI is partly to blame. And though I've already confessed I can't read minds, it's clear to me that at some point the drill discipline in this instance was lacking.

Nevermind there should also be drill options for tsunamis -- that seems important -- and for any other contingency. As the UI was designed, in a drill situation for a PACOM event, there was only one logical option to choose. A second or two of hesitation, of visual-to-situation recalibration, could have prevented this mess before it started.

Practically Perfect in Every Way

Hells. Bells.

Mary Poppins is one thing. But then you’ve got a character who thinks “I was genuinely perplexed. I couldn’t remember the last time someone didn’t like me. What wasn’t to like? I was made to be likeable” you have to kind of gag a little.

Why does Mary Poppins get the bye, but this princess doesn’t?

Because I know Mary Poppins’ story, and I don’t yet know the story of this particular princess, as I’m still reading the book.

Also, Poppins says “practically.” She leaves some room for doubt. This princess? Nah.

I hold on to the hope this is just an early ploy to make the character insufferable so, as the story progresses, she evolves in her arc and becomes the likeable person she’s certain she is.

Perfection could be a character flaw.

That’s why I can’t give up on this book yet. Though I really want to.

It takes a lot for me to give up on a book. In fact, in the past five years, I’m sure there’s only one book I’ve given up on – and it deserved it.

The Outrage Machine

The Homework Machine,

Oh, the Homework Machine,

Most perfect

contraption that's ever been seen.

Just put in your homework, then drop in a dime,

Snap on the switch, and in ten seconds' time,

Your homework comes out, quick and clean as can be.

Here it is— 'nine plus four?' and the answer is 'three.'

Three?

Oh me . . .

I guess it's not as perfect

As I thought it would be.

~Shel Silverstein

I am, apparently, part of the problem.

Because I’m not outraged. And by outraged, I mean OUTRAGED. And by OUTRAGED, I mean

OUTRAGED!1!!

And that’s still not big enough.

There are people – they know who they are – who are properly outraged. At least 90% of what they post on social media is outrage-related. There are many, many things to be outraged about these days.

But just as we lament the advent of the 24-hour news cycle, where money is spent and time is invested to churn up things for us to be outraged about, we should also lament the 24-hour social media cycle, which is us – as individuals – on that never off Outrage Machine.

I know it’s time to get off social media myself when the Outrage Machine starts kicking in.

Should we be outraged?

Yes.

Should I be OUTRAGED from the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep, and then roar into MOAR OUTRAGE when I get up in the wee hours of the morning to relieve myself?

No.

And should we be outraged whenever someone expresses an ounce of doubt or requests further information or expresses a tittle of outrage fatigue?

This isn’t denial. This isn’t escapism.

It’s allowing me to choose when to express any outrage I feel.

It’s allowing me to choose to turn off the Outrage Machine when I feel it’s reaching unhealthy levels.

And it’s you recognizing your tolerance for MOAR OUTRAGE is probably higher than mine.

Does that mean you’re better at Stiggin’ it to the Man than I am?

Or that this is even a Stiggin’ it to the Man Competition, with Prizes?

By one measure, yes. You probably are better.

But I ain’t seen any prizes yet.

Because there’s always MOAR OUTRAGE.

Because no matter how often you shove a dime into the Outrage Machine, the answer to nine plus four still comes out three.

Oh me. . .

*That’s* for Employing Me for Eight Years!

So, in a few months I’m probably going to do a terrible thing.

I can’t yet reveal what this terrible thing is – I’ve been sworn to secrecy by those who technically don’t know I’m going to do the terrible thing, per se, but since the terrible thing is connected to a related not-so-terrible thing I can’t discuss at the moment, well, you see what’s going on here.

I say “probably,” because, recently I participated in a rather long discussion on whether or not people like me (or people like me who want to be like other, more advanced people) should do the terrible thing I’m probably going to do. The consensus was doing the terrible thing, while protected by various things we shall in this instance call freedoms, should not be done lest those more advanced people’s feelings get hurt in ways that would suddenly make my efforts to become one of the more advance people harder to accomplish. Words like “thin-skinned,” “vengeful,” and “sometimes petty” were brought up in this discussion on whether or not people in my position should do the terrible thing.

One caveat: This terrible thing has nothing to do with employment. I will still have a job after I (probably) do the terrible thing. And if I don’t it won’t be because of the terrible thing, unless one of the more advanced, think-skinned, vengeful, and petty people to whom I do the terrible thing have a lot of pull and influence in the nuclear waste cleanup world. Which is probably not outside the realm of possibility.

Part of the message in the discussion on whether or not one should do the terrible thing revolved around the insular, closely-connected world of the more advanced people, There exist quid pro quos that if one doesn’t do the terrible thing to another, the other won’t do the terrible thing to you. Even if you deserve to have the terrible thing done to you, or if they deserve it as well.

Further bulletins as events warrant.

Jury Duty

Getting ready for jury duty. I could say I’m calling on the experts for tips. Like this:

But really I’m not. I’m off the hook for the coming week, per the call I just made, but I do have to call back next week.

I’ve served on a jury before. Was one of twelve angry beings who sent a shoplifter up the river. He’s probably getting out of jail round about now, and has all our names on a list somewhere. It’s probably a good thing I’ve moved since then.

I may have to watch this movie this weekend:

And while I know the 1997 version has Ossie Davis and George C. Scott (and Tony Danza!) I can’t pass up the 1957 version. Give me John Fiedler and E.G. Marshall and Jack Klugman – and that staging.

Although this might be more fitting . . .

2018 Goals [Snicker]

This is usually the time I sit down and write a blog post outlining my goals for the year.

Looking at past goal blog posts, the only thing I have to say for this year is this:

1. Ahahahahaha.

2017’s goals were met with much pessimism.

Probably because 2016’s goals were, shall we say, probably a bit too lofty for the ignernt writing them out.

2015, per my blog, was devoid of goals. Maybe that’s why 2016 was so optimistic.

2014 was more delusional whargarbl. Publish a book? What was I thinking?

So 2018 may end up like 2015, wherein I do not state any goals. Although I’m about to break that by stating one:

1. Do SOMETHING with Doleful Creatures. Finish the latest edit. Find some beta readers.

OK, that’s two things. But two closely related things, so I think I can get away with it.

DISNEY!

“How can I spend an enormous amount of money, be uncomfortable, and listen to my children whine and complain? Disney!”

               ~ Jim Gaffigan

As my sore feet attest, we visited Disneyland in Anaheim just after New Years’ Day this year. A review follows:

First things first: It’s not the walking that results in hurt feet, it’s the standing. Three whole days of standing on concrete. Even in newer shoes with additional support, the standing was excruciating. I could walk all day through those parks. But stand the whole day? Never.

Nevertheless, we did a lot of standing.

Best ride we went on? Radiator Springs Racers, bar none. The retelling of the original Cars story, complete with jump scares from Mack and the combine harvester, wonderful. And the racing afterward? Even better. One tip: The first time I went on the ride, my family had Fast Passes, I did not. I went into the single rider line, however, and got through almost as quickly as they did.

The bestest? Getting to walk through a real Radiator Springs on the way to the ride.

Worst ride we went on? Guardians of the Galaxy. First of all, I should say this: I never went on the original Tower of Terror, so I had no idea what to expect out of the ride. Also, I haven’t seen either of the Guardians of the Galaxy movies, so that’s another strike against my experience. But a drop ride? All that time in line for a drop ride, even with a Fast Pass? No thanks. I’ll skip it from now on.

And it was chillingly ironic that the best way to get to the ride from most of the park was through A Bug’s Land, another place that just has no appeal to me or my children, though they loved it in the past.

New this year? A pervasive sewer smell, strongest near Pirates of the Caribbean and the Peter Pan ride, but Tomorrowland was also a bit whiffy. I know we were there at a busy time, as the crowds attest. But we’ve been at the park at other busy times and never had to put up with a smell that bad.

A few other thoughts:

Space Mountain never disappoints.

The Submarine Voyage? Stinkerino. We turned it into a joke – “How was that ride, kids?” “It was better than the submarine.” They tossed in a few nods to Finding Nemo, but left the rest of the ride, after rehab, as it was in the past, to the point some of the starfish clinging to the walls were still missing.

Day three I spent a lot of time with our exhausted 13-year-old. We spent about a half hour watching who would step on the crunchy pretzels someone else spilled in a seating area (!) in Radiator Springs, and another good block of time wondering at all the people who insist on throwing coins in whatever bit of water they see at the park. We were surprised at the end not to see coins in the toilets.

And when I went to the park as a high school journalism student, I recall the vast majority of the “cool kids” – or as cool as they can be when you’re all journalism or yearbook nerds – went on Autopia. So I decided that was the one ride I was not going to go on. Went on it for the first time this year, and saw I didn’t miss much. In fact, it’s clear it’s meant to appeal to those who haven’t driven, or haven’t driven much. I caught myself thinking several times as my 15-year-old daughter bounced us around the track, “They’ve perfectly captured everything there is annoying about driving and built it into this ride. And while the commercial from Honda – the ride’s sponsor, because Disney doesn’t have enough money yet nor does Honda have enough exposure – was the only thing audible. They were playing the old dream visions from Disney’s imagineers on the Traffic of the Future, but without any sounds at all. Probably in the knowledge that the idea of highways being the magical cure-all to civilization’s ills haven’t been realized on the clogged freeways that lead to and from their park.

Other attractions, however, have fared better.

On our last night there, we slipped into the Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln, half-hoping Disneyland also had an automaton Donald Trump as does Disneyworld. No such luck. But we watched the Lincoln show, and it brought me to tears. What the country endured during his time is a far cry from any torment we might see now, no matter what the current pundits say.

Missed opportunity: Disney owns Star Wars, yet none of their dining establishments is called the Mos Eisley Cantina. How could that not be a hit?

And It’s A Small World. Oh, how I and my aching feet love that ride. Even getting that earworm tune in my head is worth sitting in that little boat, in the air-conditioned semidarkness, as those puppets slowly fly by offering us that saccharine view of the world that we secretly all want, despite the cynicism the ride typically brings out in people.

For the future: Compromise on saving money and feet by bypassing any for-pay hotel shuttles to and from the park by driving to the Disney lots and paying $20 a day to park there. We walked the first day – and it killed us (we stayed more than a mile from the park), took the hotel shuttle the next day at $15 a head for the day, then parked at Disney for the third day. Taking that third option all three days would have been the best compromise between ease and value.