1. Literary Analysis Paper

2. Paper Organization
When you are writing about fiction, remember that summary alone is worthless.
Option 1: Thesis Driven
One excellent kind of paper presents a thesis and marshals arguments to support it, not forgetting to mention also the possible arguments against it (and to refute them, or concede to them where necessary). In general, the best shape here is:
a very brief opening statement of your thesis (introduction)
then several carefully unified paragraphs in support (body)
and finally a restatement, probably in fuller form, of the thesis (conclusion).
A thesis is a sentence that makes an argument -- says something that has to be proved or back-up. When you read or hear a good thesis statement, your reaction will be "Really?" or "How do you figure that?" or "Oh yeah? Prove it!" or "That sounds interesting -- tell me more." In short, a thesis will set up the paper and prepare the reader to consider the evidence.

3. Paper Organization (continued)
Option 2: Process Driven
Another excellent kind of paper might be called a process paper -- one in which you allow your reader to participate with you in the process of your thinking (and feeling). In this kind of paper, you might begin by saying what it is you want to look for or examine, and then lead the reader through a step by step journey of discovery -- perhaps the examination of a text piece by piece, or even (if it's short enough) line by line, or sentence by sentence.

4. Things to Consider
Never avoid saying the obvious: it's usually true. But don't spend a lot of time on it -- acknowledge its obviousness, perhaps by a word like "Clearly, ...." Then move on to something less obvious.
Don't worry that something that you've just figured out will be obvious or familiar to someone else. Even if this should be the case, it's still a pleasure for the reader to share in another person's discovery of it.
A good general principle to maintain your confidence is that if you find something interesting enough to say carefully, it'll be interesting enough for your reader.

5. Things to Consider (continued)
An ideal paper is one in which the writer discovers something and shares his or her pleasure in the discovery with a reader. The discovery may be an interpretation of a challenging story or poem (or portion thereof), or it may just be the discovery of what you really think about something or other. To discover your own considered opinion or valuation of the work you're writing about is a satisfying outcome to a paper.
Avoid apologizing for what you say. It goes without saying that the views and interpretations you offer are yours, doesn't it? So there's no need for such boring and weasily phrases as "It seems to me" or "In my opinion."
This does not mean you must avoid the first person singular. Use it where appropriate -- remembering, however, that a paper of literary commentary is not a piece of autobiography, so that your private self should not be in the foreground.

6. Things to Consider (continued)
For this paper, the only kind of originality that matters at all is finding the source of your ideas and feelings within yourself; therefore, it doesn't in the least matter if what you say has been said before. In any case, it's not been said in the same way, and the study of literature should surely have brought home to you that the way of saying something is part of its meaning.
Use concepts and terms you've worked with (characterization, plot, climax, symbolism, theme, etc.). But remember it's best to use them only when they pay off, not automatically.
In writing about fiction, you will find more interesting things to say if you focus on characterization rather than characters. Writing about characters too often means writing as though they were real people, speculating about what happened before or after the action of the book or story, and other imponderables like that. Characters in a work of fiction are not real people, but rather careful constructs that resemble real people. Focusing on characterization means studying how the writer presents the character -- what selection of detail is used, what mixture of direct "showing" to indirect "telling," what implied valuations are being made, and the like.

7. Things to Consider (continued)
While some special literary terminology is useful and economical, avoid jargon. Don't think to impress anyone by using big words where simpler words would do. Be wary, especially, of loose vague terms like "theme" or "postmodern."
Rule of thumb: when you quote supporting passages from the text being discussed, never let the quotation just lie there on the page inertly; make use of it, put it to work, point to specific features or details or words in it, say what you see, what it is that makes you want to let the reader have it before him/her. It's no good (in a class paper) saying to yourself that the reader can surely work out the point for himself: in this context, it's up to you to do the work.

8. Things to Consider (continued)
Avoid plot summary for its own sake. It is only appropriate to summarize in certain instances, and you will not need to in this short of a paper. Exception: If a piece of writing is really tricky to decipher and you feel you've succeeded in doing so after some effort, it may be appropriate to lay your cards on the table. For example, "Stanza 2 is syntactically difficult. I understand it to be saying: ..." -- and give your paraphrase. Or, "What happens next in the story is obscure. From the hints given in the next section, I take it that ..." -- and say what you make out, citing the evidence. Summarizing content in order to make a point in your argument, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter and is very much an appropriate part of papers.
To repeat: summary should always be offered as a way of supporting a point you are making about the story or poem. Ideally, there should be no neutral narrative sentences about the characters or the action.
To put it another way: do not  write a paper about the characters in a story; instead write about the story itself -- its words, its shaping or organization, its high points, symbolism, etc.

9. Counterproductive Habits of Mind
“Then get in somebody else’s head for a change. Don’t just think who is right…As a writer you should not judge. You should understand” (Hemingway).
Judging is the habit of mind most likely to shut down our powers of observation. This is so because once a judgment has been made we tend to screen out anything that runs counter to it. Judgments cause us to fall back on evaluative adjectives rather than doing the more difficult job of tracing our judgments back to causes. When we don’t trace our judgments back to causes, we deprive ourselves of the data necessary for reconsidering our response.
Generalizations are just as much a problem for readers and listeners as they are for writers. Consider for a moment what you are actually asking others to do when you offer them a generalization such as “His stories are very depressing.” Unless the recipient of this observation asks a questions – such as “Why do you think so?” – he or she is being required to take your word for it: the stories are depressing because you say so.

10. Counterproductive Habits of Mind (continued)
Vagueness and generality are major blocks to learning because, as habits of mind, they allow you to dismiss virtually everything you’ve read and heard except the general idea you’ve arrived at. Often the generalizations that come to mind are so broad that they tell us nothing. To say, for example, that a poem is about love or death or rebirth, or that the economy of a particular emerging nation is inefficient, accomplishes very little, since the generalizations could fit almost any poem or economy. In other words, your generalizations are often sites where you stopped thinking prematurely, not the “answers” you thought they were.
The simplest antidote to the problem of generalizing is to train yourself to be more self-conscious about where your generalizations come from. Remember to trace your general impressions back to the particulars that caused them. This tracing of attitudes back to their concrete causes is the most basic – and most necessary – move in the analytical habit of mind.
Here’s another strategy for bringing your thinking down from high levels of generality. Think of the words you use in terms of an abstraction ladder.
Example: “animal” – “mammal” – “cow” – “black angus.”

11. Judgment Reflex
Much of what passes for thinking – in the press, on television, in everyday conversation – is actually not thinking but reflex behavior, reaction rather than thinking: right/wrong, good/bad, loved it/hated it, couldn’t relate to it, boring. Consider what we do when we judge something and what we ask others to do when we offer them our judgments. “Ugly,” “realistic,” “pretty,” “boring,” “wonderful,” “unfair,” “crazy.” Notice that the problem with such words is a version of the problem with all generalizations – lack of information. This kind of reflex move to evaluation closes off thinking with likes and dislikes and instant categories. If you can break the evaluation reflex and press yourself to analyze before judging a subject, you will often be surprised at how much your initial responses change. This is not to say that all judging should be avoided. Obviously, our thinking on many occasions must be applied to decision making. Ultimately, analytical thinking does need to arrive at a point of view – which is a form of judgment – but analytical conclusions are usually not phrased in terms of like/dislike or good/bad. They disclose what a person has come to understand about X rather than how he or she imperiously rules on the worth of X. You might also try eliminating evaluative adjectives – those that offer judgments with no data. “Green” is a descriptive, concrete adjective. It offers something we can experience. “Beautiful” is an evaluative adjective. It offers only judgment.

12. Premature Leaps to Thesis
Many students think that they should get to ideas right away, that arriving at a “thesis” is a necessary starting point for analysis. We like calling this “idea-first – look-later” anxiety. The main point in the following discussion of ideas is that you need to start with something that is puzzling rather than with things that you think are clearly and obviously true.
What It Means to Have an Idea
An idea answers a question; it explains something that needs to be explained or provides a way out of a difficulty that other people have had in understanding something.
An idea usually starts with an observation that is puzzling, with something you want to figure out rather than something you think you already understand.
An idea may be the discovery of a question where there seemed not to be one.
An idea may make explicit and explore the meaning of something implicit – an unstated assumption upon which an argument rests, or a logical consequence of a given position.
An idea may connect elements of a subject and explain the significance of that connection.
An idea often accounts for some dissonance (conflict) – that is, something that seems to not fit together.
An idea provides direction; it helps you see what to do next.

13. Moving from Idea to Thesis Statement: What a Good Thesis Looks Like
The most disabling misunderstanding for students is that a writer needs to have a thesis before he or she begins writing. Good thesis statements are the product of writing, not its precursor. Worrying about having a thesis statement too early in the writing process will just about guarantee papers that support overly general and often obvious ideas. Arriving prematurely at claims also blinds writers to complicating evidence (that which runs counter to the thesis) and so deprives writers of their best opportunities to arrive at better ideas.
Here are two characteristics that an idea needs to have to work as a thesis:
The thesis of an analytical paper is an idea about what some feature or features of your subject means.
A thesis should be an idea that is in need of argument, which is to say it should not be a statement of fact or an idea with which most readers would already agree.

14. Notice and Focus
Observation and interpretation go hand in hand, but it helps greatly to allow yourself a distinct observation stage and to prolong this beyond what most people find comfortable. The more you allow yourself to notice – the longer you allow yourself to dwell with the data before searching after a “point” about it – the richer and more rewarding your interpretation of the evidence will ultimately be.
The first step is for you to repeatedly answer the question “What do you notice?” Be sure to cite actual details of the thing being observed rather than moving to more general observations about it. This phase of the exercise should produce an extended and unordered list of details – features of the thing being observed – that call attention to themselves for one reason or another.
The second step is the focusing part in which you rank the various features of your subject you have noticed. Answer the question “What details (specific features of the subject matter) are more interesting (or significant or revealing or strange)?” The purpose of relying on interesting or one of the other suggested words is that these will help to deactivate the like/dislike switch of the judgment reflex, and replace it with a more analytical perspective.

15. Notice and Focus (continued)
The third step in this process is to say why these things you selected struck you as the most interesting (or revealing or significant or strange). This prioritizing of your observations triggers interpretive leaps to the meaning of whatever it is that you find most interesting in your observations.
Remember to start by noticing as much as you can about whatever it is you are studying. Narrow your scope to a representative portion of your evidence, and then dwell with the data. Record what you see. Don’t move to generalization, or worse, to judgment. What this procedure will begin to demonstrate is how useful description is as a tool for arriving at ideas. Stay at the description stage longer (in that attitude of uncertainty we recommend), and have better ideas. Training yourself to notice will improve your memory and your ability to think.

16. Description as a Form of Analysis
Virtually all forms of description are implicitly analytical. When you choose what you take to be the three [or whatever number you need] most telling details about your subject, you have selected significant parts and used them as a means of getting at what you take to be the character of the whole. This is what analysis does: it goes after an understanding of what something means, its nature, by zeroing in on the function of significant detail.

17. Pushing Observations to Conclusions: Asking So What?
The prompt for making the move from observation to implication and ultimately interpretation is: So What? The question is shorthand for questions such as the following:
Why does this observation matter? What does it mean?
Where does this observation get us?
How can we begin to generalize about the subject?
At the least, consider asking and answering “so what?” at the end of paragraphs. And then, if you ask “so what?” again of the first answer you’ve offered, you’ll often tell yourself where your thinking needs to go next.

18. Narrow Your Scope by Doing 10 on 1
One sure way to notice more is to narrow your scope. The wider your scope, and the more ground you try to cover, the less you will be able to say in any sort of depth about your subject.
The term “10 on 1” is shorthand for the principle that it is better to make ten observations or points about a single representative issue or example (10 on 1) than to make the same basic point about ten related issues or examples (1 on 10). Doing 10 on 1 teaches writers to narrow their focus and then analyze in depth, drawing out as much meaning as possible from their best examples.
Ten, in this case, is an arbitrary number. We offer it to you as a reminder that the best writing comes when writers engage in prolonged scrutiny of a single telling piece of evidence rather than shutting down their thinking with a premature leap to the first idea that might serve as a thesis. A paper that has evolved from detailed analysis of what the writer takes to be his or her single most telling example is far more likely to arrive at a good idea.
To clarify, the 10 are the observations you make about your representative example – ten things you notice about it, some combination of observations and implications.

19. Rule of Thumb for Handling Complexity
Reduce scope. Resist the temptation to try to include too much information. Even when an assignment calls for broader coverage of a subject, you will usually do best by covering the ground up front and then analyzing one or two key points in greater depth.
Don’t trust your first responses. If you settle for these, the result is likely to be superficial, obvious, and overly general. A better strategy is to examine your first responses for ways in which they are inaccurate and then develop the implications of these overstatements (or errors) into a new formulation. In many cases, writers go through this process of proposing and rejecting ideas ten times or more before they arrive at an angle or approach that will sustain an essay.
Begin with questions not answers. You are usually better off to begin with something that you don’t understand very well and want to understand better.

20. Rule of Thumb for Handling Complexity (continued)
Write all the time about what you are studying. Don’t wait to start writing until you think you have an idea you can organize a paper around. Ideally, you should be formulating possible topics long before an actual topic is assigned. By writing informally – as a matter of routine – about what you are studying, you can acquire the habits of mind necessary to having and developing ideas. Similarly, by reading as often and as attentively as you can, and writing spontaneously about what you read, you will accustom yourself to being a less passive consumer of ideas and information, and will have more ideas and information available to think actively with and about.
Accept that interest is a product of writing – not a prerequisite. The best way to get interested is to expect to become interested. Rather than approaching topics in a mechanical way or putting them off to the last possible moment and doing the assignment grudgingly, try giving yourself and the topic the benefit of the doubt. If you can suspend judgment and start writing, you will often find yourself uncovering interests where you had not seen them before.

21. Rule of Thumb for Handling Complexity (continued)
Use the “back burner.” In restaurants, the back burner is the place that chefs leave their sauces and soup stocks to simmer while they are engaged in other, more immediately pressing, and faster operations on the front burners. Think of your brain as having a back burner – a place where you can set and temporarily forget (though not entirely) some piece of thinking that you are working on. A good way to use the back burner is to read through and take some notes on something you are writing about – or perhaps a recent draft of something you are having trouble finishing – just before you go to sleep at night. Writers who do this often wake up to find whole outlines and whole strings of useful words already formed in their heads. Keep a notebook by your bed and record these early-morning thoughts. If you do this over a period of days (which assumes, of course, that you will start your writing projects well in advance of deadlines), you will be surprised at how much thinking you can do when you didn’t know you were doing it. The back burner keeps working during the day as well – periodically insisting that the front burner, your more conscious self, listen to what it has to say. Pretty soon, ideas start popping up all over the place.