There are no hard and fast rules in writing. But even if an experimental poet or an avant-garde novelist has dispensed with capitalization or written an entire novel without the letter E (yes, a novel like this really exists!), this does not mean that you should follow suit. Your personal statement is not the place to defy the conventions of grammar. Instead, it is the place to display your knowledge of even the most obscure rules—the rules that others often break. If you can keep from making these two common errors, your writing will stand out.

“Where do I even begin?” is probably the most common question students ask me about writing—and understandably so! Many writing projects can seem almost impossible to visualize, much less to get started on. So what to do when facing that blank screen?

There are few concepts in essay-writing more important—and confusing, to the uninitiated—than the thesis statement. Let's start out with what it's not:

You see commas everywhere when you're reading, and you may put them everywhere when you're writing, but do you really know when to properly use this tricky punctuation mark? The SAT requires you to know exactly when a comma is either necessary or obstructive, so it is important to take the time to learn comma rules as you prepare for the writing and language section of the test. To help you get started, here are a few scenarios that require the use of a comma:

When learning a new language, students almost always begin with the alphabet and numbers. We use letters, of course, to form words, which form sentences that express ideas of varying complexity in a form that people who read this written language can understand. Numbers designate a different kind of language, one that conveys equations and measurements, mathematical calculations and scientific formulas. But sometimes the two forms come together, when, for example, we are outlining how to follow numerical steps or stating someone’s age or simply noting that there is more than one right way to write numbers. How and when are we supposed to put numbers into words?

Over the course of nearly fifteen years as a full-time academic, I have edited and graded thousands of pieces of writing from undergrads and grad students alike. Over these years I have identified a range of common mistakes that I would say are typical of undergrad writing. As an instructor and editor, I have a range of stylistic rules and best practices that I share with my students and clients. I use my rules first to edit specific pieces of writing and I then teach students to internalize various rules so that they can better refine and improve their future written work on their own.

English is not the easiest language to learn. This may be because of the many exceptions to its rules or because the same combinations of letters can be pronounced in many different ways. English also has one of the largest vocabularies of any recorded language, which means English speakers can say what they mean in a lot of different ways, but they also have a lot more words potentially to misuse, often without even realizing it. This post covers the correct application of some words that sound right but are often spoken or written in the wrong time or place.

Writing is a daunting task. To transform your nebulous thoughts into a linear string of words requires a special kind of concentration. And when it comes to writing personal essays, like those required for most undergraduate and graduate applications, you are asked to not only concentrate but also be introspective. It’s no wonder that many of us dread the blank page and find ourselves procrastinating in order to avoid it. However, in my experience, the hardest part is getting into the “writing zone”—sitting down, avoiding distraction, and beginning to really think. Once you’re in it, it doesn’t seem so daunting.

Writing is at the center of our daily lives. From coursework to communicating with colleagues or loved ones, writing is how we share our voice. Here are five simple strategies to improve the quality of your writing:

The title of this post might seem presumptuous to you. Surely you don’t become a writer: you’re born one. That’s a common assumption about artists. We believe that people who write or sculpt or sing are born with an innate ability for their craft, that perhaps their education had less influence on their artistic success than the capabilities endowed by their creator. And this expectation—that natural talent ultimately determines performance—prevents those of us who didn’t pen Nobel Prize-winning novels at age 12 from ever writing our own story.