For my classic short story, i will be using steps 3,4,5, and maybe 6 to help it better. By using steps 3, and 4 I think that it will help me start and end my story better. step 5 will help me figure out what is and isn't needed in the story and if i do step 6 it will help me to find different conflict areas to build on and to create.
3.For his novel
A Farewell to Arms Ernest Hemingway wrote thirty-nine endings before finding
the one he liked best. For your story
write three different endings, each one showing, in some way, how your
character was changed by the action in the story. What has to happen emotionally for your
character by the end?
4.Write three
new openings for your story. Each one
should be at least a few paragraphs long.
In each opening, start from a different moment in the story—maybe even
at the very end. What new possibilities
are created by these openings?
5.Use scissors
to cut up your story into scenes, summary, and flashbacks. Lay the pieces out on the floor and count
them. Can some be combined, deleted,
summarized? Have you relayed important
moments in the story through summary? Do
you notice missing scenes that should be there?
6.Pump up every
conflict you can find in your story and add in new ones. Throw bigger obstacles in your character’s
way. Don’t be afraid to be extreme; you
can back off from this later. After a
day has passed look at it again and see how much of what you’ve added does in
fact work?
“It means, of course, that when you don’t know what to do, when you don’t
know whether your character would do this or that, you get quiet and try to
hear that still small voice inside. It will tell you what to do. The problem is
that so many of us have lost access to our broccoli when we were children.” Page
110.
·What does she have to say about “jealousy?” Are you worried that such an emotion could
negatively color your writing?
“Jealousy is one of the occupational hazards of being a writer, and the
most degrading. And I, who have been the
Leona Helmsley of jealousy, have come to believe the only things that help ease
or transform it are (a) getting older, (b) talking about it until the fever
breaks, and (c) using it as material. Also, somewhere along the line is going
to make you start laughing about it, and then you’ll be on your way home.” Page
124
I know that along the road that I will get jealous of someone else’s
writings, but I don’t think it will negatively affect my writing, unless I want
it to. I think that I can control my emotions but I think that I may slip and
start to let it control my writing. But I know I will get over it, and start to
think that it was stupid of me to be jealous over some one else’s writings. “To
each is there own,” every one will have their success and failures. We should
be proud of the writers that make it, and learn from the writers that did not.
I think this is one way to get over jealousy.
·What sort of “someone” should you look for “to read your drafts?”
“I go on telling people to consider finding
someone who would not mind reading their drafts and marking them up with useful
suggestions. The person may not have an answer to what is missing or annoying
about the piece, but writing is so often about writing mistakes and feeling
lost. There are probably a number of ways to tell your story right, and someone
else may be able to tell you whether or not you’ve found one of those ways.” Page
163.
What kind of
attitude do you need just to get writing done according to Lamott? Is
"perfectionism" your friend? (Shitty First Drafts and
Perfectionism)
"In any case, The bottom line is that if you want to write,
you get to, but you probably wont be able to get very far if you don’t start
you trying to get over your perfectionism. You must set out to tell a story of
some sort, to tell the truth as you feel it, because something is, call you to
do so. It calls you like the beckoning finger of smoke in cartoons that rises
off the pie cooling on the windowsill, slides under the door and into the mouse
holes or into the nostrils of the sleeping man or woman in the easy chair." Page
31.
Character is crucial to storytelling. What does Lamott have
to say? (Character)
"A man I know once said to me, “the evidence is in, and you
are the verdict.” This will be truth for each of your characters. The evidence
will be in, and each of them will be his or her own verdict. But you may not
know what the verdict is at first." Page 46
What do you need to know about plot? (Plot)
"Some
writer claim that they know what the climax is early on, well before they get
any where near it. The climax is the major event, usually towards the end, that
brings the tunes you have been playing so far into one major chord, after which
at least one of your people is so profoundly changed. If someone isn’t changed,
then what is the point of your story? For the climax there must be a killing, a
heeling, or a domination." Page 61.
This just in, Aliens are REAL! Everyone knows that aliens are stories that
people tell to there kids; however, they have been among us for years! The
aliens introduced themselves in front of Congress. At first the alien was
thought to be a psychopath; however, he was able to prove that he was an alien.
He turned in to a were-wolf and his space ship flew out side the congress
building. Apparently, according to Congress men John a.k.a Were-wolf Faolán
aliens look like creatures of myth hiding as humans. Now, the government has
had a call to find all the other aliens among us. Turns out, half of the
populations of the U.S.
are aliens. Now, its unsure of what is going to happen at this time, though it
looks like we will be having Dracula and Frankenstein as citizens for the time
being.
When I spoke to some citizens, so had this to say:
“I don’t feel safe now know that my child’s teacher was a vampire this
entire time!”
“Once this got out, I found out that my wife was a Were-wolf! This scared
the living daylights out of me! I don’t know what to do!”
“Its cool that aliens are real, I’ve been trying to prove it for years! But
I always thought it would be little green men, not monsters!”
I spoke with some of the alien residents they said this:
“Just because I’m a vampire doesn’t mean I drink blood. We don’t even drink
blood. Some one saw one of our kind drinking something red and assumed it was
blood. It was tomato juice!”
“Im what you call a Frankenstein monster, but im not a monster! Im not
dumb either!”
It is unclear of the path that we are walk on now. We will try to keep you
informed of what’s going on as we get the news. Will these alien monster still
stay among us? Will they be forced to leave earth? Can we work together with
them? Do we really need our kids growing up with this? This is Jorge Franks
reporting.
It’s early dusk at the lake because the
sky’s marbled with clouds and some of them are dark, heavy, tumescent as skins
of flesh ready to burst. Lightning began to dance across the sky, but
thunder never boomed; the storm was too great a distance away. When lightning
flashed, a single figure could be scene, a dark shadow since the light no
longer shone down. The figure began to walk along the now icy shores of the
lake, every so often it would look over its shoulder looking for an invisible
enemy. Once it reached, the edge of the Wolf's HeadLake
a flare of lightning revealed the figure to be a man of 21 years old. He looked
over the water, as the waves sired and crashed against the shore.
“Why have you come here?” The waves began to roar.
“Too seek answers to who… what I am!” The man shouted
“You already know who and what you are!” The thunder began to boom.
“Face the truth Lone Wolf, and embrace your destiny.” The wind violently
shouted.
“Tell us who and what you are!” A voice called out in the darkness.
The man looked down, unable to answer. However, soon he looked up courage on
his face. Then the storm finally reached the lake, and it released its contents
down upon the earth, as he shouted,
“I am Faolán and I am a wolf in man’s skin!” the man, Faolán, shouted.
He then turned to face the voice, who replied,
“Good, welcome home brother.”
As both figures left, a flash of light revealed who the other character truly
was, and he was not of this world.
Part
Two:
Okay
now you can read the story. How did your story compare to the actual one in the
text when you had a chance to read it?
My
story was more mysterious, while this real story seemed to be more about a
persons vacation.
Why
did you choose this particular story?
I
chose this story because I thought I would be a great mystery story that is
what the first sentence let on to me. I was surprised to find that this was not
the case.
What
are the elements of the short-short story you can identify? (Name at least
three. How are short-short stories different from traditional short stories?
Traditional
stories have more introductions and descriptions of the place. I find that
short stories don’t really do that an let the reader imagine more on what’s
going on.
Short
stories also are shorter, meaning that a author needs to create the climax and
resolve problems or what not more quickly than a traditional story author does.
A
lastly, I find that most short stories draw you in more quickly than a
traditional story, which draws you I but then describes what else is going on.
“From the mountains high, To the
wave-crashed coast, There’s a way to find, Better days, I know. It’s been a
long hard ride, Got a ways to go, But this is still the place, That we all call
home”
This
is the song my best friend, Connor, more like a brother would sing whenever we
returned to America.
Sure it was annoying but, hey, I could not help but smile. We both are
soldiers, I am a Major and he is my second in command. We both lead our team,
our newfound family. Who ever said you can’t pick your family was right. Our
team, our family picked us. Every time we returned to our motherland a sense of
peace over came us. Though we some times lost some of our family members, we
still knew that hope would remain.
However,
things changed for me when Connor died, when he sacrificed himself for our
family. I remember how I felt, many would have said he was foolish, but I
thought he was brave. Many men would die our country, but not many men would
die for family. My brigade and I went to honor him, and our other fallen
brothers and sisters. Unstoppable tears over came my eyes, as the guns blast
thundered across the sky. I never realized how hard it was to leave anyone
behind, even when they are on sacred ground.
I
remember the party they held for us, for my brigade, for my family. I was
called on stage, to receive a medal, for my heroism. When the President presented
the medal to me, I was enraged. I was to be honored for being alive. I looked
at everyone, anger clear on my face, I even notice my family was scared. I
shouted loud, my voice echoed throughout the place, it was clear how I felt. My
voice boomed as I pointed to the sacred ground,
“How
can you honor me? I did nothing, sure, I lead my team through thick and thin;
however, I’m no hero. My fallen comrades, my fallen family they gave their
lives for this country. They gave their lives so that you can be free. So don’t
honor me, a soldier still alive. No, salute the dead; they are your heroes.
This medal is for them…”
When
I threw the medal on high, I was suspired to hear, the thunderous noise of
cheers. They all agreed with me even the President pat my back. So now when I
visit that place were the fallen rest, I sing a song. I sing for all of the
heroes that died for you and me. Though we go through hard times, though we go
through loss, this place is still our home.
“From the mountains high, To the
wave-crashed coast, There’s a way to find, Better days, I know. It’s been a
long hard ride, Got a ways to go, But this is still the place, That we all call
home”
Scene opens up in a
forest… Birds are singing and a group of teenage girls appears with a guide
talking about the forest. A few random things can be heard as the guide rants
on about the woods. Guide continues to go on as the focus rests upon three
girls. One girl, ADELE, is mostly listening.
Girl 1
This is so boring
Girl 2
I know I can’t believe our parents sent us here.
Girl 1
My mom said this camp or bible camp…
Girl 2 that’s worst than this camp
ADELE
This camp isn’t so bad. Besides bible camp sounds
better than this place.
Girl 1
Who asked you?
Before ADELE can respond,
the guide shouts,
Guide
Okay girls let head back. And remember these trail
are narrow so follow the group and don’t get your heads stuck in the clouds.
The girls and guide leave
except for ADELE who stopped to look at some flowers. She looks up and realizes
that the group left with out her.
ADELE
Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?
She pauses to see if
anyone answers.
ADELE (Cont’d)
Great now I’m lost… I think that I can find my way
back.
ADELE then continues off
stage trying to find her way back. Scene ends….
Scene opens and ADELE is
in a different part of the woods. She looks around confused.
ADELE
This doesn’t look familiar… Where am I?
She looks up and continues
walking. Still looking up she falls over a log.
ADELE
Owww… Great…
She sits up and sees that
her leg is bleeding.
ADELE (Cont’d)
I can’t find my way, especially with my leg like
this.
She looks around to see if
she sees anyone.
ADELE (CONT’D)
(shouts)
Hello? Can some one help me?
No one responds…
ADELE (Cont’d)
(quieter)
Please…?
She then leans back
against the log and looks up at the tree tops. Whisling is heard and a man
enters the stage. He looks over and sees ADELE
STRANGER
Hello there! I thought I heard someone!
ADELE looks over and sees
the man. He has a beard, and is were ing a green T-shirt and brown pants.
ADELE
I thought no one would find me. Who are you and
what are you doing out here?
STRANGER
My name is CHRIS T. IAN but call me CHRIS. I’m just
a man enjoying the beauty of the forest God made for us. What is your name and
what are you doing here?
CHRIS walks over as ADELE
talks to him.
ADELE
My name is ADELE and I was separated from my group.
CHRIS sits on a nearby
rock and says,
CHRIS
That looks like a bad cut. Let me help you with
that.
CHRIS then pulled out a
first-aid-kit and applies a gauze to the cut.
CHRIS
There now just rest it for a bit. Then I’ll help
you find your group.
ADELE
Thanks…
Both sit in awkward
silence and just listen to the birds sing. CHRIS looks in to his bag and puts
it down.
CHRIS
I forgot to bring my apples with me.
They sit in silence when
ADELE speaks,
ADELE
You talk about God for a moment… Do you believe?
CHRIS
More than anyone I know… You?
ADELE
I once did… but that was before I realized that it
was stupid to believe.
CHRIS
Its not stupid to believe. You just have to have
faith.
ADELE
Faith doesn’t work either.
CHRIS
I would have to say other wise.
ADEL
(Sighs)
I want to believe again but… I’m afraid that God
wont accept me.
CHRIS
God will accept you, if you ask him to. He will
bring you back to him.
ADELE
How? Im a sinner…
CHRIS
The bible says, All are sinners, all have fallen
short of God’s glorious standards. But you know what?
Chris stands and offers
his hand to ADELE.
CHRIS
Jesus, God’s son, died on the cross for our sins.
And because of that God is constantly reaching his hand out to you. He will
forgive you, because of Jesus’ sacrifice. All you have to do is reach for His
hand and take it.
ADELE smiles and accepts
his hand. When she is standing, she noticed something about Chris’s hands.
However, she says nothing.
CHRIS
Let’s try to get you back to your group.
ADELE is limping, but they
both walk off stage. Scene ends…
Scene opens and the forest
is darker, thunder booms and lightning strike. Rain is pouring through out the
woods. CHRIS and ADELE enter and rush
over to a large tree. CHIS lays a tarp out on the floor and ADELE sits on it.
CHRIS then throws a tarp over some branches to keep the rain off of them.
ADELE
It’s a good thing that you were prepared.
CHRIS
Always be prepared, that’s the Scout motto.
CHRIS sits next to ADELE
and they stare at the rain for a moment.
ADELE
(Questionably)
CHRIS are you a pastor or something?
CHRIS
Why?
ADELE
Because you had some really, good advise before.
Thanks…
Chris
(with a smile)
I’m the or something…. Have you made your decision?
ADELE is silent trying to
think. After some time she says,
ADELE
I’m going to reach for the hand and take it.
CHRIS
I’m proud that you made that decision. Why don’t you
pray to him right now?
ADELE
But what if I mess up again?
CHRIS
That’s the beauty of it. No matter how many times
you mess up, God will forgive you. AS long as your as for his help and
forgiveness, He will cast them as far as the east is from the west. He will
forget your sins and help you move on.
ADELE
Okay, Im ready…
CHRIS sits back and looks
at ADELE.
ADELE (CONT’D)
Dear God, I am a sinner. Please forgive me and come
back into my heart. Please help me though out my life to be a better person. In
Jesus’ name, Amen…
ADELE then looks at CHRIS.
CHRIS
How do you fell now?
ADELE
Better than I have in a long time…
CHRIS
That’s good, we should get some rest, since this
storm wont let up soon.
A 15-year-old boy,
grounded for skipping class, goes out in the woods, with out his parents
knowledge or permission, meets a someone or something…
A man, who works in
the army, realizes the reason the cause that he is fighting for…
A child returns
home from school, to find that no one is home….
I chose the fisrt one and wrote the follow ing first page of a play:
Sunlight streams down though the canopy of over
hanging trees. Birds are chirping and singing loudly. A fifteen-year-old boy,
ERIK, walks through two bushes. He looks around at the forest, taking in the
sights. He continues walking until he comes to a river. He bends down, to cool
him self off with some water, when a loud CRACK is heard.
ERICK
(Looking around worried shouts)
WHO’S THERE?
All the birds stop
singing, which means danger is near. He begins to panic, when he hears a voice
reply,
STRANGER
(With a hint of urgency in his voice)
No one you need to be afraid of…
ERICK
(Worried)
Where are you?
STRANGER
(With slight fear in his voice)
Behind the bushes
ERICK
(Scared)
If I don’t need to fear you, then why are you
hiding?
STRANGER
(Worried)
If you saw me, you would be afraid.
ERICK
(Curious)
What is your name?
STRANGER
(Slightly uneasy)
I once was a man named Ike.
ERICK
(Curiosity building)
Can you show yourself?
IKE
(Worried)
I might scare you…
Then IKE walks out of the
bushes, and stands in the full sunlight. ERICK stares at him before saying,
For this
activity, I chose my poem Wolf Boy; I noticed that it was too long so I applied
some of the steps to make it shorter and better. I changed the shape and
structure and worked a little more on imagery. I kept most of the language but I
changed a lot of it so that it would flow better. The final product was better
than the first one, and I liked that this Revision Inventory helped me make it
better.
Description:1.Playwright
Claudia Johnson advises her students to identify real concerns by
making a “menu” of them. Pick the big emotions and make a list in your
journal: What makes you angry? What are you afraid of? What do you want? What hurts? Or consider the crucial turning points of your life. What really changed you? Who really changed you? Those
will be the areas to look for stories, whether or not those stories are
autobiographical. Novelist Ron Carlson says, “I always write from my
own experiences, whether I’ve had them or not.”
What makes you angry?
When innocent people get hurt... When friends betray you… When those
that care about you turn on you… When life gives you lemon and you cant
make lemon aid. When people lie to you just so that they can gain your
trust. When secrets are revealed that should never had been shared with
someone you don’t trust.
What are you afraid of? Those that I care about might get hurt one day. My best friend will no longer be my friend in the future.
What hurts? When
a family member dies and I was unable to be there for them. When my
friend/sister/brothers/parents lie to me about certain things. Knowing
that my almost 10 year-old dog does not have many years left in him.
What do you want? Unconditional
love from my family. Continual faith in God. To be able to have one of
my writing published. To be around horses and dogs, for many years. To
be able to help people. To serve my Country. And to always know that my
family, my friends, and God are there for me.
Writing
has always been a part of me, ever since I was little. I have written
every day of my life. I write for school, I write for fun, I write when
I sleep, and I write my life. Writing shapes me, it’s who I am.
Writing is my life.
Before
my time, before our time, no one really wrote. No one could write down
a story, speech, or poem, no one had a means of writing. When writing
was created it was a picture, it was a drawing. The cavemen and the
Egyptians all wrote with drawings, each picture had a different
meaning. The cavemen wrote/drew about their hunts and the Egyptians
wrote/drew hieroglyphics to explain their lives. Now writing and
drawing are apart of our lives, but both are used differently now,
writing is used to tell things, while drawing is to show things.
When
I write I see what is happening, I form a mental picture. I write about
both the good and the bad. I write to share personal experiences, I
write to share my ideas, and I write to share with the world my
personal view on things. Whenever I write I feel like I’m the only one
there, I am the only one in the room or the world. I concentrate on
writing my piece, I think of nothing else.
Benjamin Franklin once said, “Either
write something worth reading or do something worth writing.” Many
people don’t even realize that they are writing their own stories every
day by their words and actions. Writing is also more than just school
work or a required speech. According to Jorge
Luis Borges, “Writing is nothing more than a guided dream.” And I
believe this, so many time my writings seam so dream like, the just com
out of no where, much like our own unusual dreams.
Writing
is so much more than a bunch of words on a piece of paper. For some, it
is a way to express ideas, thoughts, and their imagination. While for
others, it is a way of life. Desiderius Erasmus
once said, “The desire to write grows with writing.” I know from my own
experience that this is true. I know that writing is a part of me, it
always will be. I will continue to write for a long as I live, because
writing is my passion. Writing, for me, will always be my life.
“True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, as those who move easiest have learned to dance.” -- Alexander Pope
