A reflective draft

My therapist lets the words drop from her mouth like atomic bombs. “It’s sad that you don’t have a place for you to express your true feelings.” I feel my mouth open and nothing comes crawling out. I think that maybe I can come back with a statement that isn’t serious, but she’ll jump on it like a kitten discovering plastic bubble wrapping for the first time. She knows all my comebacks and knows that I dig deep holes and sprinkle my feelings inside where they’ll never see the sun ever again. And so I sit and keep all the words that ever existed locked up until I found a place for me to be comfortable to let them free.

...

Death & Perspective is everything its course title suggests it is. But it doesn’t speak all. Not only do we learn about death and dying, we also learn how to enjoy life. I tried to grasp onto the last topic of learning, but was unsuccessful. I tried to make myself believe that I did grasp it, but when I saw the young man stretched out dead upon the slab of metal, I realized that I did not.

The reason I signed up for the course was not because of the field trips to interesting places, but because I was going to give up on life itself. I was taking this course for a road map to death – to see what my body was going to do while it was dying. To write out my living will just incase everything didn’t happen according to the plan and I was living on machines. This was going to be the class that led me into a comfortable coffin with hopefully nice soft satin on the inside. By the end of the course, I found myself questioning my line of thinking and actually getting help.

By writing the essay, I was also able to release my feelings and finding a home for them. I realized that writing can take you places that maybe you weren’t even ready for. That it can open wounds and sew them shut. This is the beginning of a journey that will open myself and realize that it is okay to be who I am.

My Writing Process

Was there a point in your writing when you almost forget it was an assignment?
What was the subject you were writing about? What was your experience?

As I was writing my personal essay/memoir, I let the words flow from me freely. I didn’t view the topic I was writing about as a paper that I had to turn in, but something that I felt that I needed to write and let go. If I began to think that the assignment was something that I had to submit for a grade, I’ll feel the pressure and probably not turn in a good paper. Or maybe I would have.

In the back of my mind was the goal of writing a decent paper that would receive a pretty good decent grade. But for the most part, I approached my personal essay as something that I would write to get published somewhere. I liked writing it. I liked the way it read. I liked reading it after I wrote down those words. That last part is the most important thing to me. If I don’t like reading the paper I wrote, don’t receive any joy from it, then it’s not a good paper.


Describe a point where you got stuck – where you wished you had a different subject

I got stuck when I thought I was being too personal. For the most part, I don’t like delving underneath my calm and pleasant exterior that I like to showcase to the world. I like to keep any of my shadows out of sight – from others and from myself, which I suppose isn’t too healthy. One of my group therapists told me the other day that it was “sad that I don’t have a place for myself to express my true feelings” and she’s write. I don’t. So when I was faced with trying to find that place within those pages of that paper, it was hard for me.

I put the paper aside for a few days. I thought about changing the topic to an easier one that didn’t become as personal as the paper I was writing then. But I felt that I would cheat myself out of writing a paper that would release most of the feelings that I had inside and splash them outward. And so, I kept on.

Describe what you learned from yourself

Even though at certain points the paper felt too heavy for me to keep on writing about, I learned that I could actually write about the subject.

I was in another class (Drug Use & Abuse) and wanted to write a paper about antidepressants. I never did. In fact, I now have an F in the class for not completing that paper. I felt as though it was too hard for me to write about in that moment of life. I was depressed still and was not on any medication. Writing about something so close was difficult for me. Researching depression and reading what the “scholarly” individuals thought about the matter was too, too much.

I never heard of creative nonfiction. I had this image of nonfiction as boring literature that only had the facts spelled out for you. But the ability to create something that could read like Stanton’s piece about Zion is beautiful. You are not just giving the reader facts about the subject you are writing about, but you are using your words to create the image you want the reader to envision within their minds.

What I learned about writing

There are many different types of writing skills and genres. That writing can help scope out your hurt and pain and happiness and calmness and create something that can help not only yourself, but the reader.

Thinking about audience and form? Became a more reflective writer?

Before this class, I really didn’t think about my audience when I wrote. I solely thought about whether I myself like the writing I developed. If I liked it, then okay. But now, I think of whether or not my words are good. Especially with nonfiction. If I want to publish a piece as a creative nonfiction piece, then I would go back and wonder if I made a point that I wanted to create for the reader to grasp.

The Development of an Essay - not brought to by Stephen King, which would have been much, much more interesting

When I write an essay, I don't really have a process.

My brain is a very busy place when it's not being held down by thoughts of writing up campaigns to bring Pluto back to the Planet Club and wondering how Santa Claus is able to live on one day of work and why no one else is upset with his enslavement of elves and reindeers. When I have to concentrate on an essay, I don't write anything until I have a good first sentence. For me, a good opening sentence = gold. I sit and I read and I watch television and listen to The Onion podcasts until that good first sentence comes about. And when that sentence does come about, then the essay begins to form.

I begin to type whatever words are being hammered on my brain. Sometimes it flows and sometimes it doesn't. Each time I approach the essay, I write until I can't write anymore. And then I go back to the essay when I have more words to add to it. I write and write and when I'm finished, I go back over the words and make sure I have a certain flow to the essay. In this class, I didn't find myself switching around paragraphs or overthinking things or erasing entire pages due to them not feeling just right - I left everything where they were. It felt as though I was writing semi-unconsciously.

The personal essay/memoir I wrote was a deeply personal one. I didn't censor myself like I did all those other times trying to write about the same subject. Everything just felt...right.

I did use my personal journal to flesh out ideas, but those words were probably along the lines of "omg, nothing is flowing and I can't write this essay!!!oh noes!!!" and was not as well done as Emily Chase's journal entries.

Okay, so maybe I do have a process. :D

The Development of an Essay - brought to you by Emily Chase

Ms. Emily Chase constructs her essay, Warping Time with Montaigne, with a time consuming process to strengthen her essay to make her points clear to her readers.

The essay began as a literary nonfiction essay Chase began in her Graduate Composition class. The research paper was focused upon the works of Montaigne and with that introduction to the writer, she began to take up a further interest in Montaigne's writings.

With this now built-in interest, Chase decided to write a better essay that compared and contrasted the similarities between Montaigne and (essayist) Rodriguez writings. But how did she come about writing her essay?

• She developed a cluster web with a central idea of literary nonfiction
• Did a lot of freewriting
• Loved the image of metaphors, so used them
• Read essays by Early and Tompkins. Chase loved the way Early used words and was influenced by her. Even though Chase didn't necessarily understand the point Tompkins was trying to make in her essay, she didn't want her own essay to come off the same way.
• Journal entries. With the journal entries, she was able to flesh out where and what she wanted to do with her essay. By using her journal, she was able to organize her thoughts thoroughly. It was a place for her to write down ideas and by seeing them, was able to work out whether or not they would work.
• Peer critique. The peer critique she received was one that made her realize that her draft was actually readable and not a bunch of jargon slapped together to form an essay. By having your peers read your work and critique it, it gives a valuable insight. It's wonderful to get feedback from their point of view.
• The connection between Star Trek and warping time. By letting her mind drift to the final frontier, she tagged on the central point of her essay. A time warp = warping a loom with her loved weaving. She can now have a personal connection to the essay. This is the connection she had before writing her essay and with this connection, she had a hook that followed throughout Warping Time
• The editing group Chase was apart of gave her important feedback and suggestions so that Chase could give each draft a more polished look.
• Chase made a list between the points she wanted to make in her essay between Montaigne and Rodriguez.
• Chase also wrote a TON of drafts. Even though the beginning was what she kept, she flushed and re-did the middle until it became polished.

According to Chase, this was the first time she really settled down and focused on the artwork of forming an essay. She re-wrote and re-wrote until she finished with a polished essay ready for publication. She didn't look at the assignment as something she had to do, but found a personal interest in the topic at hand, included her own personal hobby of weaving for the hook in the essay and found joy in writing it. Once you find joy in your writing, you can almost write anything.

:(

I'm staring at my Nature essay and wow. Nothing is coming. I see what I want to write: about the birds awaking and them lifting off in their little families. Experiencing an experience that I loved. Being out in the air and watching nature. Thinking how wonderful it would be to be apart of a family that resembled the behavior of birds.

But nothing is coming!

Boo :( :(

Publication analysis: Chicken Soup

What the publication is about: Chicken Soup for the Soul is a publication that features nonfiction stories that are “inspirational, true stories about ordinary people doing extraordinary things.” Chicken Soup is really about uplifting the spirit through the power of words. The majority of the stories focus around an event that happened to the author and ends with a either a moral learned or a happy ending. Each of the stories (or poems) makes the readers think. The publication wants the story submitted to them to begin with action and the story should end with a result. From the website:

Chicken Soup stories have a beginning, middle and an ending that often closes with a punch, creating emotion rather than simply talking about it. Chicken Soup for the Soul® stories have heart, but also something extra…an element that makes us all feel more hopeful, more connected, more thankful, more passionate and better about life in general. A story that causes tears, laughter, goosebumps or any combination of these. A good story covers the range of human emotions.

Subject Matter: A Chicken Soup book is split into chapters covering various subject matters. An example of the few: On Love, On Parenting, On Teaching and Learning, Overcoming Obstacles, A Matter of Perspective, A Matter of Attitude, On Death and Dying, On Aging, On Living Your Dream and Eclectic Wisdom. Depending on the book series title, the story should be correct for that particular demographic. If you are writing a story for Chicken Soup for Kid’s Soul, certain things should not be included as you would include in a more mature book of Chicken Soup for the Woman’s Soul.

Voice: The voice of the book series is told in simple basic English. The stories are a mixture of first person and third person narrative.

Form: Even though Chicken Soup asks for nonfiction work, some of its’ stories come off as though it were fiction. The story I excerpted below is an example of this. It seems as though the inspirational ending trumps the truthiness of the story.

Length: The length of the stories range between 300-1200 words.

Website: www.chickensoup.com (You can submit your story through the website also.)

Address:

Chicken Soup for the Soul

Attn: Story Submissions

PO Box 30880

Santa Barbara, CA 93130

Excerpt from the book:

What It Means to Be Adopted

By George Dolan

Teacher Debbie Moon's first-graders were discussing a picture of a family. One little boy in the picture had different color hair than the other family members.

One child suggested that he was adopted, and a little girl named Jocelynn Jay said, "I know all about adoptions because I'm adopted."

"What does it mean to be adopted?" asked another child.

"It means," said Jocelynn, "that you grew in your mother's heart instead of her tummy."

Nature Essay Draft

It’s 4am and the room is a sky without its little pockets of lights. My ears are filled with the vanishing rings of the steady beeps of the cell phone alarm. My body wants to sink into the softness of the bed and the walls and to watch everything become alive here in my bed. Across the room, a dark mound of sheets moves about which transforms into Danielle. She pushes her body up upon an elbow and asks, “Are you ready?”

The car feels as though it is shot from a canon. The tires burn against the asphalt of I-90 as it tries to outrace the rise of the sun. We leave behind Albuquerque, New Mexico with its beautiful big low hanging moon and move toward Bosque del Apache, a wildlife refuge that is home to tens and thousands of birds. The goal is to reach the resservation before the sun awakes the world and the land where the birds lie.

The car leaves the highway and its' wheels rumble over a road packed tight with dirt. The road can only hold two tightly squeezed lanes and running along side is a train track upon a mound.

Nature Nature Nature

Annie Dillard's piece made me realize that a nature essay should have a moral to it. Even though she's writing about weasles she has a strong moral hidden within her words. She notes that we should all live like weasels, by never letting go when an opportunity arrises. Never ever let go of it.

I almost let an opportunity go.

Late last year, Dr. Chandler asked two other students and me to attend a convention out in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I'm the type of person who would say yes because I wouldn't want to let anyone down. And so I said yes and spent the next three months in throes of sheer panic. All the way up to February 7th (the plane ride to New Mexico) I felt this panic. But as we got there and I settled down in the Bed & Breakfast, I began to feel better and soon enough, began to relax and enjoy myself.

One of the nature aspects was when we visited Bosque del Apache Habitat to watch the Cranes and Snow Geese take off all at once when the sun rose. They didn't do exactly that - each 'family' of birds took off together. It was so amazing to see. We then went on a tour of the Habitat to try and see the ducks, cranes, snow and canadian geese, sparrows, cuotes, ravens and other birds. When we finally got around to the cranes and snow geese (where they were in the field), they picked and flew off together. A whole gackle of birds taking flight, so close to the car and it was AMAZING.

What I have of my Lit. Journalism piece

The wheel underneath my hands are trembling. The Jeep hasn’t really pushed 65mph before on local streets and is now. Well, not on a local street where a little kid could get ran over by a 1988 Jeep Cherokee. I worry about the brakes cutting out. You hear that happens all the time on the news and in the papers. The helicopters are always hovering above such crashes with their close-ups of the wreckage and the cars traveling at a snail’s pace past the horrific scene with drivers probably looking to see if they could spot blood and dead bodies.

OK. I shouldn’t be thinking about that. I should concentrate. I want to put on the radio, but I’m afraid to remove one hand off of the steering wheel to find a station that doesn’t play music that will rupture my ear drums and make me want to wreck my vehicle.

I pass exits way too fast to actually read them. What city was that? I couldn’t have possibly passed Union’s exit? Apparently, not only am I afraid of removing any body part from their positions that they are currently in, I’m sure if I shift my eyes to the side view mirror to check out the exit on the other side, I’ll rear end the car in front of me which is at least 50ft in front of me.

But before I could really paralyze myself into further fear, Union’s exit rises in front of me like a Boston Cream donut of amazement. I flip the signal switch with my left pinky and slow down to make the turn which is filled with twists that if you were into racing cars, you’ll probably make this road one of your points to hold a drag race on.

As soon as the last two tires leave the exit ramp, my eyes are revealed to a sight that is slightly familiar. This was not where I was expecting to arrive at. My hand loosens its death grip and grapples for my phone tucked somewhere in the Black Hole that is my book bag. My thumb hits the button that gives me my brother’s voice.

“Hey, I have no idea where I am – wait, wait, I think I do, the street sounds kinda familiar – oh! I see something I remember! A Catholic school! Maybe I should stop.”

My brother, who knows that when I say ‘I’m going to stop’ means I’m going to stop right in the middle of the street and probably be one of those messed up cars on the 5 o’clock news, promptly yelled out, “No!”

I think I know where I want to this piece to go. I want to link it to the Provisional License driving rules that New Jersey has. Two of the main rules is that you CAN NOT talk on the cell phone while driving and can not drive between the hours of 12am to 5am. The rules leave room for 'in case' of emergency situations, but if one had a job in which they had to drive between those set hours or had to just go out between the hours - it can cause problems. Sure you can constantly drive around with your notice from your employer stating that you can drive these hours in your glove comparment, for just in case a cop or two pulls you over within your journey, but it might become tiring. I'm going to work with those two issues. Hopefully it sounds okay so far...does it?

The many different faces of journalism

Besides reading Undressing Victoria by Erika Vidal and feeling real down about my upcoming English degree and wondering, Will I too be working at a place that I never really expected myself to be at? Like a person sitting on the cold concrete ground of Grand Central Station playing the guitar badly and asking for change and to get even more change, will perform a Britney Spears choice of dance?

Yeah, besides that sharp feeling digging into my mind, the piece made me realize what literary journalism looks like. Or at least, how some might write it.

Stripped for Parts by Jennifer Kahn presented literary journalism as a piece that introduces you to the world of organ transplants. She opens her piece with a hook that makes the reader want to read on. The television playing a reality television show in the dead man’s room. The color of the dead man’s skin. The twitch the foot makes when it’s scratched. It pulls the reader in who would not nearly read about organ transplants. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Kahn doesn’t tell the reader that she will be writing about organ transplants until the third paragraph and it feels like a good right jab in the face. The reader was reading along, probably believing they were about to read an interesting story (which it was, but still) about dead persons and how they got that way.

In the news journalistic examples we get from newspapers across the country, the journalist has to state their purpose of their article in the beginning few sentences, they can not string along the reader for as long as Kahn displayed in her piece.

Vidal’s piece is 98% story and 2% fact. She fills the piece with her personal feelings and her experience about going on a job interview at Victoria’s Secret. The first person usage of ‘I’ is of course present and of course, such a thing will not be seen in a news journalism piece. The reporters report what they see and use their words to create an atmosphere for the piece. In what I’ve read so far about literary journalism, it seems as though the author’s use their words to tell how they feel. Kahn used her piece to almost slant the reader’s thoughts about organ transplants and Vidal decides to take a look at the backstage workings of retail giant, Victoria Secret.

The difference between a memoirs and personal essays is that literary journalism offers facts. Somewhere in the piece will be some form of fact and research. In memoirs and personal essays, such things might be omitted.