An essay may take the form of an army of arguments where polemical points are paraded out in force in order to capture the citadel of the unpersuaded (or otherwise persuaded) mind. While it is legitimate to refer to such a thing as an essay, it would be foolish to argue that is what an essay is. […]
So just what is an essay? An essay is that which argues or not, or tells a story or not, or describes or not, or something else or not. This is what we might call opaque clarity. Such is the problem with nouns. Nouns are nearly impossible to understand until theydo something. I can get a better grasp on the thing when it isn’t sitting still. So when I think of an “essay,” I think first about a verb.
When an essay gets up and walks around it becomes an attempt. To essay is to try. To essay is to venture, to risk. To essay is to endeavor. Thus, an essay is a venture, no, it is an adventure. An essay is that bit of words welded together by potentiality; it’s that pile of predications built upon the foundation of possibilities. Arguments are not essays, but essays may attempt arguments. Stories are not essays, but essays may strive to weave worlds together by spinning golden yarns. Descriptions are not essays, but an essay may seek to turn your eyes into traveling feet, or grasping hands, or savoring mouths, or well-tuned ears. In every case the essay does what essays do; it attempts, it strives, it seeks.