Shaun DeLoach's essay, "A Mad Tea Party"

"My hands shook as I transferred one, then two, then three, then four, then five, then six, then seven, on until 3 quarters of the sugar jar was empty and my sister was smiling sardonically."

Oh my god--this is awesome writing! Completely insane (and I think that's the point) but amazing writing. I really love this particular sentence (and it was very difficult to pick just one, by the way) because I think it speaks to the essay as a whole. That's what it's about: Shaun trying to get by in this totally foreign experience and doing the best he can without screaming out loud...and his sister watching his every move. It's such vivid writing--at times trembling on the edge of complete and total abstraction (and madness) but then suddenly balanced with the concrete--the real, the tangible. And it's completely captivating. Shaun can tell the reader anything--like saying that he wishes he could actually be one of the chattering little girls in the tea room, and we take him seriously. We don't have time to judge or sit there and really ponder it because we can't stop following line after line. If there's anything I want to say, it's that I'd like to see more about the narrator's sister. What is she wearing? How does she feel about what Shaun is wearing? Did she paint her nails to go here? Did she drive or did she sit in the passenger seat and give commanding directions? Does her face come alive? Is she pissy the whole time? I want to see these things because it talks (indirectly) about the narrator as well. But then, I guess not really giving any of these details speaks indirectly about the narrator, too. Hmmmmmm.....I don't know. Just a suggestion.

Oh, and sex-change operations on the internet? Gross. But I can see why it's in there...

Neal Brautigan's essay, "An Excuse to Drink at Tybee"

"At the end, the applause was great, as O'Neil asked, 'Is this country great or what?'"

One thing I really like about Neal's essay is his attention to the apparant subject and the larger subject. It's about pirates on the beach, but it's about our country. It's about why pirates are so popular, it's about how ties and sports jackets currently equate parrots on shoulders. It's an interesting social commentary. And I think part of the reason this works so well in Neal's essay is through the dialogue that he's included. It's very real, natural dialogue--and yet it speaks directly to a social theme. One thing about this, though, is that I'd like to see the paragraph near the conclusion (which begins "As I drove home") broken up and woven into the essay. Like, what about putting some of it directly after the line I've just quoted? I think that way it would feel less like summing up in the end. Nice essay, though. I especially appreciated the family in matching green shorts, eating, and segregated "by gender" at Arby's. That's just a cool observation (like the storm trooper and the woman saying "May the force be with him" into her camera)!

C.J. Krakeel's essay, "A Mark Mission (On, In and Around the Skin Sub-Culture)"

"I will always remember the way he said that[:] his mouth was bleeding a bit but he didn't wipe it off he just sat and drank his drink."

I think this scene, along with the scene which describes "The Compound," is the most powerful in the essay. This is largely because of the strong characterization and the attention to detail. Here, we see a "Skin" who has just beaten up on some Neo-Nazis, who are part of a movement which is attempting to commandeer the skin culture. His lip is bleeding, but he just sits down at the bar and drinks a beer. I think more of this type of characterization would be much more successful rather than using the long-winded, encyclopedia-like descriptions of the movement which the essay currently employs. Show us the people, rather than set up a defensive argument about whether skin-heads are good or bad.

Robert Greene's essay, "In the Dark"

I turn the cell phone over. No one's called. I'm a bit
surprised.
And a bit disappointed.

I love the tone Robert has throughout this essay--so matter-of-fact, and yet so conversational. Like he's just sitting there, telling you the story, completely deadpan. These few lines portray that tone really well--but in addition to being short and snappy, these lines also provide the reader with a glimpse into the narrator's head. Just a flash of reflection is almost all we need. Actually, I think we get a little too much of it right at the end of the essay--I think the third essay from the end (which begins "I reflected back") could actually be cut, so that the tone seems more unified. Imagine the conclusion this way: now, we go from "In short, when I was simply a stuent" to "Back then," which, to me, seems to transition really well. And actually, I think we get plenty of reflection that way, because I think it's more consistant with the rest of the essay. But like I'm saying, I really love the tone--I'm just trying to keep it going in a smooth, slightly sarcastic (which is perfect, given the author!) kind of conclusion.

Bill Beeson, "Living the Life: Participating in Statesboro Collegiate Ministries"

"My voice has trailed off, but my lips are still moving."

I love this line in Bill's essay for several reasons:
1) It portrays good action
2) I can personally identify with it--(so, I guess that means it's at least fairly universal)
3) I think it tells us a lot about the character of the narrator
4) It seems to point to a larger theme

Okay--maybe one, two, and three are all sort of parts of the same whole. Action can be a way to successfully portray character--which in this case, it does. And part of what makes for a successful (and realistic) nonfiction character is the writer's ability to paint a person as complete--who exibits good qualities, negative character traits, and real human emotion. Here, we see a very believable portrayal of the narrator, who feels shy, awkward, embarrassed, and yet wants to be a part of something--or at least to try to be a part of something.

I think lines like this one make the essay truly successful. One thing I'd like to see, however, is a different, more active, tense. Using this sort of (what is it, like, future progressive, if that even exists) tense makes for very passive writing. Using more active verbs always makes writing pop.

McFee's Commentary

It's really very strange to read that John McFee, the fricken genius who wrote "Travels in Georgia," (which even with it's description of all kinds of creepy crawlies and general nastiness, was one of the most beautiful pieces of essay writing I've ever read) uses "doodles" to map out and illustrate his structure for his students! DOODLES! Little loopy drawings that he projects on the board for his classes. Is this not madness? It just seems so....silly. But I think he's got a point. The article quotes him as saying, "Nonfiction writers have been out collecting material and now they're getting ready to write, and they've got a great mound of stuff on a table...What are they going to do with it?" I totally get that--even without research, just memory, there's FAR too much information to keep your mind clear and organized. It's always difficult for me to start writing--anything. It's hard for me to write research papers--I HAVE to outline. I guess this is pretty much the same thing, though, isn't it? McFee's doodles are like a mixture between a rigid outline and a general story line. I'm still not sure I could use doodles, though...

Emily Haymans's essay, "A Vast, Seamless World"

"My little gnome with hot pink pigtails and big blue eyes was a lot like most of the female gnomes wandering the roads and forests."

I love what this sentence says about the narrator notices about the character the narrator has created for herself. She's a gnome with bright pink hair and cute, spunky eyes...and she pretty much looks like everyone else. I love that Emily describes the different types of characters that she created during her immersion into WOW, but I'd really like to see what kind of thought she put into creating them. I want to see Emily, the narrator, picking out names and trying on hairstyles until she finds one that reflects herself in this world of fantasy. Because isn't that the whole point? What does this decision say about who you are as a gamer, as a person? And what does it say about your experience with World of Warcraft?
But other than that curiosity, I loved this essay. So funny! The language is playful, and the in-game scenes are freakin hilarious. Nice work!

Beth Godwin's essay "Horse Hooves, Raindrops, and Poo"

"Maddie begins the sequence, the tingles start in my fingers and my heart beats faster, you got it this time Maddie!"

There is so much beautiful description in this essay! Beautiful description and sensory details! I especially love this line because of the tingling fingers. I know that feeling--it's breathless, excited, full-on support for the performer (equestrian or otherwise). Holding your breath makes your fingertips tingle. Just this detail shows good characterization for the narrator--she's into this enough to really care, to really cheer, to hold her breath. I love it. The only thing I wasn't sure about in this essay was all of the seemingly unnecessary introductory dialogue. Maddie's mom introduces the narrator to a ton of people, each time echoing the same language. Maybe Beth was using this as a technique to illustrate how new and unsure she was in this environment, but I'm not sure it's needed. Overall though, I loved reading this essay. Beautiful language!

Nikki Youngblood's essay, "Bright Lights, Big City"

"No one knows if you've had a stroke of good luck or lost it all except by the expression on your face."

I think this line says a lot about the type of gamboling that Nikki experienced during her immersion experience. What an interesting thing to learn: that there's no rush of coins or flash of lights that proclaims to everyone in the casino that you've won--just the addition of a few bucks on your gamboling ATM card. It's a strange observation. It also makes me want to know more about how her friends (whom she apparently went with) feel about this new type of gamboling. I wanted to see more of the casino, see how the lighting affected the place, see what the carpet looked like, even experience the smell. Was it musty? Did it smell like metal? Alcohol? Sweat? Obviously it wasn't "glamorous," but how did that make the narrator feel about spending time there?

Anthony Setari's essay, "Hunting the Smiley-Face"

"There seems to be a strange force pulling us from each other and away from our own humanity."

I have noticed the same sort of thing when I've spent mere minutes in Wal Mart. Anthony spends a pretty decent amount of time talking about this feeling right at the beginning of his essay, but it's a theme that would do well carried out throughout the entirety of the essay. I think the essay concentrates too heavily on the narrator's negative reactions to a particular group of patrons of the store--almost painting them in a "freak show" type of light. But I think drawing on the theme this quotation reveals would help to put the narration into perspective. It would help to show that not only one group of people seems strange and greedy, but rather that everyone seems to pull away from humanity.

Zach Bush's essay "And What Could be Said of Saturday's Emergencies?"

"The guy scratches his curly red hair, meeting eyes with me and immediately we both look down."

I think one of the real strengths of this essay is Zach's use of characterization--not only for the people around him during his trip to the ER, but also for himself. This line is a great example of that. Through this one sentence we see that the people around him are curious about his being there with no visible injury, obviously not waiting on anyone, but that no one feels comfortable enough to ask him what he's doing. This line illustrates the tension of both parties--showing that Zach knows everyone is aware of his inability to fit in. This simple observation, which also shows action, portrays all of these things at once. It's strong, compact writing.

Turquoise Coney's essay, "Expect the Unexpected"

"I had the kind of headache that sits in your eyes pressing down on your face."

I love this line because it really gets into the way the body reacts to a day-long experience with fasting. I'd actually like to see more physical details in this essay because fasting has so much to do with the body. But, I am glad that we, as readers, really get to get into Turquoise's head with this essay--we get everything she's thinking and I think that's a real strength. I definitely got that this is a very honest narrator--telling everything. It feels like Turquoise isn't holding back.

Zach Bush's essay, "Rattle Lung: Scattered Memories from Childhood"

"He coughed so hard that he grabbed his chest. He leaned over the plate and sprayed the mash potatoes red."

I love this line in Zach's essay because it takes something very frightening and tells it in a distant/shocked kind of way that's all visual, but still graphic enough to show us what's going on. I think that the use of the word "mash" instead of "mashed" illustrates an attention to the child's voice. I also think the use of the word "spray" is an interesting choice here. The word itself seems so innocuous--like it shouldn't be associeted with someone's mortality.

Robert Greene's essay, "Days in May"

"For a few hours, though, I forget about all that. 'Welcome to Earth,' says Will Smith as he punches an alien in the face."

There are so many reasons why I love this particular sentence in Robert's essay. For one thing, it provides the reader with comic relief after the weight of the previous two paragraphs in which the narrator's parents express thier concern over their son's apparent anti-social behavior. We, the readers get a break, but (just as importantly,) does the narrator. Finally, his parents support some good Sci-Fi (sorta).

C. J. Krakeel's essay "Type One"

This is a really powerful essay, and the writer accomplishes this through attention to sensory detail and careful characterization. Here's an example:

"He put his arm around me and his foot on the gas."

Not only does this line convey action to move the essay forward, but it also helps to build on the charcterization of the narrator's father. It's not too mushy, not too doting, but it's supportive and loving. This action tells the reader that the narrator's father will guide him along, show him love, and give him some wiggle room every now and again. Great technique.

Anthony Setari's essay, "Every Morning"

It's funny how highly kids can think of themselves. Here's an example:

"I can always tell I'm kind of psychic like that, I always know when a show is about to end."

It seems like every kid wishes he has some kind of special power, and so they find one that works. It's like predicting who's on the other line when the phone starts to ring, when really, your best friend Hayley almost always calls you at this time every day. But still, it's a power. I particularly like the power described in this essay. It's hilarious because it's not that difficult to figure out when a twenty-two minute cartoon is reaching its conclusion--there are so many signals. What's great here is that the kid is recognizing these symbols and thinking it's almost mind-reading.

Ayesha Qureshi's childhood essay

I loved how the prose in this essay seems to bounce around but still sort of stay on subject as well. It also has a realistic child-version of the facts:

"Mom and dad say we will go [to Disney World] one day but we can't afford it right now. This is why it's so important I get started on my business."

What I love here is how these two sentences play together. Kids don't use complex sentences, they just state one fact in one sentence and then modify it in the next (when they need to). And I think this is a perfectly rational idea of how kids see the world. They want to go to Disney World, so they need to make money. If they need to make money, then they need a skill. And everything needs to happen fast! It's great.

Nikki Youngblood's essay, "Snickers"

I think there's some really great description in this essay. Here's one line I especially appreciated:

"Fifteen pieces of gum, twenty lollipops, thirty jawbreakers, I count and wiggle my toes."

I think what is so wonderful about this line is the seriousness of counting candy contrasted with the giddy child-like movement of toe wiggling. We all had our ways of sorting Halloween candy--the precision involved, the careful recounting. But then there's this toe wiggling. Not only does the child take her task seriously, but she enjoys every minute of it--she's proud of her treasure and she's proud of herself for counting and sorting instead of tearing right it. Classic kid behavior!

Essays

First, here's Courtney Akins's essay, "Survivors." This is one of my favorite lines:

"A branch lay at my feet, it must not have been able to fight the wind, and I picked it up and began hacking at the beast with horns before me. Red droplets fell and plopped upon the ground."

I like this passage because it shows, in just a couple short sentences, the sense of adventure and vividness of imagination that permeates this essay. The child's sense of urgency and fear turns this shrub into a foe, these berries into lifeblood. It's cool.



Now, for Turquoise Coney's essay, "Don't Surprise Me":

"Ms. Betty was always nice to me and the other children in the neighborhood but I couldn't get over the fact that she looked like a witch who would turn me into a rat as soon as I stepped in the door."

I love this sentence because of the fact that it shows just how irrational childhood fear is. Even though this woman, Ms. Betty, was always perfectly sweet to the neighborhood kids, they still think she's going to turn evil as soon as they step foot into her cluttered apartment. It's something I remember from my own childhood--there was this woman down the street who was really friendly, but when that woman opened up her mouth to laugh, she let our a cackle so fierce that it chilled me to the core. Terrifying.



"Bluff" by Emily Haymans

"That's how really cold cans of drinks smell to me; like thin, shiny fish scales."

There is so much emotion hiding just beneath the surface of this essay--but the serious-child voice just brushes over all of it. This sentence is an example of how the child-like and simple way of looking at things offers some sort of larger commentary. The detail here is olfactory--which is difficult to achieve, but makes for poignant writing. Awesome. I think Emily really nailed the child voice--she took it seriously, but gave it that curious, rambling manner that so overwhelmingly characterizes the story-telling of children.


Beth Godwin's essay, "The Dirty Bird"

Before I state my favorite line in this essay, it's necessary to give a bit of background. This is a line of dialogue from the narrator's sister, with one word of the narrator's internal response to follow:
" 'I'll have one, too.' Copycat. "

This essay plays with the idea of having a child narrator who internally reacts to the scene around her. This line illustrates the simple beautiy in using such a technique. It can be quick, smart, chuckle-worthy. I think that it's also a very difficult technique to use--if one's not careful the internal monologue can be overwhelming. It can seem unrealistic or forced, but I think this line shows a wonderful example of exactly when to use it.



And finally, we have my favorite line (or, more appropriately, one of my favorite lines) from
Shaun DeLoach's untitled childhood essay:

"I sunk my hands in mud until it snuggled up into my nails and past the crevices between my fingers until my hands were blanketed."

This is how Shaun opens up his essay--with the feeling of cool, soft, fabulous mud surrounding our fingers. Because when one reads Shaun's writing, it's not just the narrator who experiences the events of the essay, but rather the reader as well. We can't help but feel it because the narrator gives us enough sensory details to bring us into the world. This is just so necessary when it comes to understanding the child's view of the world around him.

Neal Brautigan's Childhood essay, "Backyards"

"The bees didn't do nothing to me, it's true. Actually I think they're pretty neat--buzzing around, stopping on a dime in midair in front of me, scanning my insides, wondering what I am."

I think sentences like this one ground this essay in childhood. There's a lot of heavy stuff going on here--bee cadavers for money, welcomed strangers dropping children, parents reacting violently--and this brings us back into that child mindset after reading all of that. It's that idea that we know it's maybe not so good to kill things--even bugs--but that it's grampa-sanctioned and at least fairly lucrative, so we do it anyway. There are sort of a lot ideas going on here--we've got the commentary on grandpa, on dad, on the stranger, on mom, on killing bees, on making money, on feeling out of place in class...it's a lot. I actually wonder how much the perfume section is needed, or how it really adds to the others. I understand how it ties in, but I think taking it out would add more emphasis on the bigger issues at work in the text.

William Beeson's Childhood Essay

"I find myself slashing vehemently and tumbling over the side of the pool out of the water."

I love this line because it is a perfect description of how children deal with fear. The essay lingers over the idea of something at the bottom of the pool--which is, I think, something that every kid with access to a pool obsesses over. Children dwell on these thoughts. They try to explain to themselves how something so scary could come about. They actually talk themselves into fearing the thing. Here is the final manifestation of childhood fear--the breathless and frantic escape from the thing that we've created. It's true to life.

Tara Lee Abernathy's childhood essay

"It looks like the sun has exploded. Nothing but white everywhere."

This is a beautiful description of snow. I like how Tara went with the brightness of snow (which, I'm sure was her first impression) rather than the whole "fluffy" image. I really like this language, but I think the image is not quite right. The image that popped into my mind when I read this line was golden sunlight, but seeing as it's nighttime, I think the imagery should be blue-er if I can say that. What about saying, "It looks like the moon has exploded"? That would be just as powerful, and it would also give it a dreamier feel.

"Games of Cuts and Bruises," chapter 5 in Hemchand Gossai's, River Crossings

"I, of course, was wrong as I assumed that the brief interlude in which I saw him and where typically he was involved in teaching, was what gave final shape to his life" (74).

I love this portrayal of how a student views the life of his teacher. It's something that I remember from my own youth--when I saw a teacher of mine out in "the real world" I was always shocked to see a husband with them or children, or the fact that teachers need groceries too. It's really a very strange idea, but I think it's universal, this idea that for children--people exist only in the form the children can see. My mother, a teacher at an elementary school, fears ordering an alcoholic drink when she's in public, just in case one of her students comes into the restaurant. I think this is a great example of the kinds of things that most people forget about when they grow older (when they finally understand that teaching is a JOB, not a personality), but that Dr. Gossai has included in his writing.

Vladimir Nabokov, chapter 3 from Speak, Memory

It was really difficult for me to decide on a quotation in chapter 3 of Speak, Memory. I think that's because the English major in me likes for these quotations to link back to the entire theme of the chapter--which is going to be difficult in this situation. So, here goes:

"Aunt Pasha's last words were: 'That's interesting. Now I understand. Everything is water, vsyo-voda" (68).

The reason this particular passage stands out to me is, first of all, that the thought is intriguing. Why would a dying woman say, "Now I understand. Everything is water"? It's just curious (yes, I just used the word curious like a British person would-Americans really just use it as a description of a person's mental state). It's odd. It makes us stop and think about it. Which leads me into my second point: Nabokov basically floods us with names and family history in this chapter. But what I do like is that while he does this he gives us interesting little stories about each one to keep our attention. Some might argue that there aren't enough stories to compensate for the tiresome length of the list of names, but I think it's at least a redeeming quality in this rather heavy chapter.

Vladimir Nabokov, chapter 2 Speak, Memory

"For a moment, before they [the mushrooms she'd collected] were bundled away by a servant to a place she knew nothing about, to a doom that did not interest her, she would stand there admiring them, in a glow of quiet contentment" (44).

I selected this passage because it is a beautiful portrayal of human life. Rather than describing what his mother's dress looked like or the way she wore her hair, Nabokov shows us how she spent damp afternoons. This is just so much more careful--it's so much more personal. We see who she is and we fall in love with her through the eyes of her own child. She is beautiful, poetic, whimsical.

Vladimir Nabokov, chapter 1 from Speak, Memory

There is such beautiful writing in this memoir! Here's a good quote:

"Nothing is sweeter or stranger than to ponder those first thrills. They belong to the harmonious world of a perfect childhood and, as such, possess a naturally plastic form in one's memory, which can be set down with hardly any effort" (24-25)

It is odd--how we remember certain things about our childhood. What is truly bizarre for me is the sorts of details one can remember. For example, from a family vacation I remember the smell of burning leaves and the red leash and harness on my stuffed animal. I remember that my parents brought with them a hotplate--how it was so strange to see a stove in a singualr format. But for me at least, it's not as easy as Nabokov lets us believe. For me it's not plastic. I cannot remember how we spent our days or the types of clothing that any of my family members wore. I have no idea how old I was. For me, though a few joyous details are there, writing down these memories is nothing like Nabokov says. The memory I chose to write about in my childhood essay is from when I was nearly nine--not nearly as impressive as Naokov's recollections from when he was four!

Michael Pearson, "Researching Your Own Life" (pg45)

"What I didn't realize until I was far into the story was that...my memory was stimulated by my research into my own past, that the story of the past came alive for me as I engaged in the adventure of going back, of once again searching for what had seemingly been lost" (Pearson 47).

I've heard a lot of stuff just like this from my creative writing courses--that once you start the process of delving into your own memory, things come to you out of the blue. It's weird, actually, I've noticed a similar thing this semester. When I began working on my autobiography, an image of my brother and me running around and catching fireflies in the expansive back yard of our great aunt and uncle's house just sort of popped into my head. I remember it clearly, but it had just slipped away from me up until that point. So, because I had a newly found memory to work with, the work in my childhood essay was exciting--fresh. It felt like experiencing the magic all over again. Similarly, through talking to my mother, I was able to make connections between this vacation to West Virginia and Ohio to a really well-defined memory I still have--that of Hurricane Andrew. I just love how all of these things seem to play together in the mind.

Phillip Lopate, "Writing Personal Essays: On the Necessity of Turning Oneself Into a Character" (38)

Good essay! Lopate brings up things about turning yourself (as the narrator of an essay) into a character that I have never thought about before. He talks about how self-curiosity is a quality that will allow readers to connect with the narrator in a way that self-hate or self-hate cannot. My favorite line (and this might be cheating, because it's the concluding sentence of the essay) is:

Turning oneself into a character "means you have achieved sufficient distance to begin to see yourself in the round: a necessary precondition to transcending the ego--or at least writing personal essays that can touch other people." (44)

Lopate talks a lot about what makes a good "I"/narrator. But here is where he really gets down to it. A narrator that readers can connect with is the only type of narrator that is going to mean anything in the long run. This "sufficient distance" is how you make a lasting piece of literature and not just a self-involved rant, tirade, or Psalm of contentment--which-ever it may be.

Philip Gerard, Chapter 6, "What Form Will It Take?"

I think Gerard brings up some important stuff in this chapter. I especially like the lines:

"It is not the great writers but the amateurs who hide behind a gauze of complexity, whose writing is deliberately difficult and unnecessarily obscure... The art of the craft of writing is to make it seem effortless, transparent as window glass, to make the difficult look easy." (97)

And to that I say: ain't that the truth. How many times have I restated the same thing over and over again in slightly different and overly flowery language when I have absolutely no purpose in writing a paper? Way too many times. I don't do that anymore--at least, I don't think I do that anymore. Maybe only when I'm tired. Anyway--It's something that a lot of people do--they try to cover up the fact that they don't actually have anything substantial to stand on with pretty words and convoluted, tri-part thesis statements. It's not good--but it happens. A lot. So, Gerard is basically calling us out--he's saying: Listen, that's not good writing. There's really no excuse for it because it comes from either laziness or directionlessness--both of which cloud the writing process. Thanks for the tip, Gerard. Concise writing is the way to go! I'll try to keep that in mind. I should probably try to keep that in mind when it comes to these blog postings...

Gerard, Chapter 5, "On Assignment"

This chapter was a fun one--I always like it when writers teach the reader through their own stories, so reading about Gerard's search for Hemingway's Paris was good. It's interesting, personal, and insightful. And, the idea of going on assignment, and especially to a large European city, builds vivid images in my head of the London I was just pulled away from. So, here's the quote:

"It's exactly the unexpected, the thing you never counted on, the problem that inspires an inventive solution, than can carry a fairly predictable piece to a new level."

This is the same thing I seem to keep getting from the readings so far this semester: we start out in one direction, but personal experience and the text itself force us to find new ways of looking at things. Gerard says here that if we listen and are flexible, then we can find the story.

Gerard, Chapter 4, "The Art of the Interview"

I guess this is an important chapter seeing as we're about to actually start on (some of my peers may have already taken the initial steps--ghasp!) our immersion projects and interviewing people is an important part of that. Okay, so here's my quote:

To "fashion a piece of artistic truth, a true story [,]...requires sound judgement and the craft to capture truth in the exact words of another person--exact, but not entire and not verbatim. Not the whole truth, but at least nothing but the truth." (75)

Using the words of someone you've talked to is a lot different than using direct literary quotations in an academic paper. All of a sudden, the focus is away from some non-feeling text and on a living, breathing person. A person who may or may not read your work. That's pretty scary if you ask me. Just from my experience of writing about my family, I've been terrified that my mom or dad would get ahold of my essay and get their feelings hurt. Not always, of course, but sometimes. When I'm getting deeper than just talking about how my cast smelled when I went to Jeckyll Island in the fifth grade. So I can only imagine how stressful it can be to incorporate the words of someone who doesn't already love you into your writing...although, now that I'm thinking about it: it might just be easier. I'm not sure; I'll let you know later. Either way, I think Gerard's words are important ones to keep in mind--as the writers, we're responsible for the way we make people look and it's necessary to tell the truth, to be kind and honest.

Beverly Lowry, "The Shadow Knows"

Woah, this is a really intense essay. I was totally sucked into it--I didn't even stop to make notes in the margin (and that's weird for me!). Such powerful writing! Compelling language. Great pace. She keeps us constantly involved through her wonderful use of characterization, her attention to dialogue, her blending of description with the things she imagines. It's beautiful, well organized, horrifying. The quotation I've chosen to use here is an example of Lowry's use of characterization:

"Luther makes statements like this, statements that clearly--to him--have some
kind of resonance. And then he will pause, waiting for a
response, I can't tell to what. After a beat, he goes on."
(259)

This is a much more effective way to show the reader what Luther is like rather than just saying, "Luther says some weird things about his son." Reading it, we get an idea of just how the conversation flows between the writer and this man in addition to the words that they said. Lowry's words make this character pop up off the page--we can almost see him, watch his "potato face" as he speaks indirectly about his boy. Awesome writing. The characters, including the narrator herself, are dynamic.

Carolyn Forche, "Emergence"

I really enjoyed reading this essay. Forche has some beautiful sentences, and I have tons of places in my book that are starred, underlined, or bracketed. I find myself often in awe in the midst of all of this--reading writers writing about creating creative nonfiction (yikes). I'm in awe not only from seeing the style and skill of each writer independently, but also from seeing time and again the same sorts of observations from many of the essays I've read. This passage is an example of one such recurring idea:

"This was a work happening with me which was not about me, having to do with attention rather than intention, a work which would eventually disclose itself as self-altering rather than self-expressive." (306)

The idea of the writer who learns from her own writing is not a new one. Gerrard talks about how sometimes we think we know where something is going, only to learn that we've got to abandon that plan and let the text speak for itself. It is a strange notion: that a text works on another level--one of paying attention to the world and letting it form rather than making it come about through force. It's definitely something to think about. It also seems like an insurmountable obstacle for people who have to have things finshed by a deadline. How does one get past this? By starting work earlier than usual? I guess that would be the only plausible solution, but even then, how can we be sure that the time will be right for what we are doing? How do we know how much distance we should put between the experience and the draft?

Laura Wexler, "Saying Good-Bye to 'Once Upon a Time,' or Implementing Postmodernism in Creative Nonfiction."

Wow, what a mouthful of a title--I bet some of my English profs would be pleased.

This essay was a little bit inflated, if you ask me, but I did find a quote to orient back to Gerard's book. Here it is:
"Your positionality affects your perceptions of the world and, at the same time, your perceptions of the world affect your positionality."
Okay, so I guess this pretty much goes back to what Gerard was saying about how you have to know who you are before you figure out what you need to write about. Wexler is saying much of the same thing. She's saying that who we are paints the way we see the world. Which, I guess is true. But at the same time, I think it's important to try to maintain an open mind. I also think that Wexler had a few more useful bits of knowledge to bestow upon us, but overall, I wasn't struck with her genius while reading this essay. Of course the style of the essay should reflect back to the tone and theme. Duh.

Philip Gerard, Chapter 11, "Law and Ethics"

Gerard tells us:

"Writing is a way of life. It uses all of your talent, your energy, your passion, even your doubt and failings. It is a complete use of your personality."

I love this idea, and I love that it's true of creative nonfiction. It's a shame we can't see more of the personality in academic writing--I think it would really liven things up! It's so interesting to create yourself as a character, to speak candidly to a reader who trusts you to tell the truth--so you try to. It's weird to try to look at your own life and make connections to something bigger than yourself. And reading Gerard makes me want to do just that. Better yet, he gives hope that it's not an impossible feat, even if "It's not fun, exactly: It's difficult, soul-searching work of the most exacting kind."

Philip Gerard, Chapter 3, "Researching"

Here's a good point from Gerard:

"All narratives move through time and space."

He says this in the context of telling aspiring creative nonfiction writers about the value of looking to maps for information about a subject. So, it's a good quote because it actually gives us an important piece of advise, but it also reminds us that literature (even contemporary essays) do not exist in a vacuum. An entire world is going on around this piece, and it is our job (as someone who aspires to tell the story as truthfully as we can) to understand and acknowledge this fact in our writing. This chapter is a good resource, totally chalk full of words of wisdom. That's always helpful.

Philip Gerard, Chapter 2, "Finding an Original Subject"

This is a really good chapter for those of us who are just starting out in the genre of creative nonfiction. For one thing, I really took comfort in the short passage:

"The writer has to take raw data and somehow refine it toward meaning.
Sometimes the interest is obvious, in a general way; other times it is not
obvious to anyone, even the writer."

I guess I was sort of under the impression that good ideas just sort of flow to good writers. But I think Gerard makes it clear here (and in subsequent chapters) that we often set out to write something only to discover that we've got something entirely different--and that something can be difficult to pin down. This is good news for me!

Annie Dillard, "Flying in the Middle of Art"

I just realized that I didn't do my blog for this essay last week, so here it is now!

I have TONS of favorite lines from this essay, but this one really made me think:
"Nothing on earth is more gladdening that knowing we must roll up our sleeves and move back the boundaries of the humanly possible once more." (Dillard, 360)

Okay, so not only does this relate to writing creative nonfiction (in the sense that we are constantly on the look-out for seeing life in new lights) but it also relates to what we want out of literature in general: a clearer, more detailed understanding of the human condition. So, basically, what Dillard is saying is that even after writing (and just living) for so many years, she still has moments where she has to sand back and say, "Woah. I never thought about that before--I never even knew that was possible." And I guess that's a really good thing. After all, sensing these moments helps us to open our eyes and our minds. When we see new things, it helps us to remember that we will see new things, if only we allow ourselves to. Nice.

Christopher Merrill, "Sarajevo I"

After reading this chapter excerpted from Merrill's book, I'm glad I had already read his companion essay (an essay about how he formed the book), "Every Hell is Different: Notes on War Writing." It definitely helped me to have a deeper level of understanding through the text and an appreciation for Merrill's writing process. I can't even imagine writing about war. So, I guess getting an inside look into Merrill's head was a really good thing for me (as someone who is trying to explore the genre of creative nonfiction) to see. He's got some really great writing in this chapter and I love the way he uses scene interwoven with background on the political situation in Bosnia during that time. It's awesome. And I have the feeling that this is what it's all about--it's what puts the "creative" in creative nonfiction. Once again, I'm having a really hard time trying to find a specific line to reference here. So, I'll just choose one that was really poignant:

"The hospital floors are streaked with blood--no water can be spared to clean them--and the refridgerated space in the morgue is too small to handle all the dead."

This is the kind of detail that we don't get from watching the news. This is the kind of detail that really makes us feel like we're there, that makes us see it through Merrill's eyes. We can almost smell the irony-sour smell and imagine ourselves walking around pools of human blood to get to those still trying to fight off death. These are the details that make us care, that make all of the political talk resonate in a way that says: these are not faceless, nameless creatures--they, these people, are sons, best friends, students, three-year old children. They delight when water runs through their pipes, they are gunned down for trying to find food, they mourn their loved ones, they cry out when their important institutions are destroyed.

Merrill's style and use of detail make this a piece that's not about "war" as a distant and high idea, but about the people who feel it's effects.

Christopher Merrill, "Every Hell is Different: Notes on War Writing"

This is a pretty short essay (only three solid pages in the anthology), but I am still having a rediculously hard time trying to pick out one sentence that really struck me. I guess I can go with a couple of lines from the conclusion, because here Merrill brings home his point of the whole essay:

"My travels in Bosnia had only begun, and I would have to read hundreds of books of history, politics, and literature in order to better understand what I had experienced in these various war zones. But I had glimpsed a way to write the book."

I guess when you're living this experience, for Merrill it was living in the middle of war-torn Bosnia, it's difficult to see past the horror of what is going on around you and try to orginize your thoughts on writing about it. Maybe it seems too overwhelming. So, I guess what we can learn from reading this essay is the fact that developing creative nonfiction about difficult issues isn't just going to write itself--it's not going to come easily--we're going to have to coax it out of our experiences and our thoughts. And maybe a little bit of distance will help us to do this.

Carolyn Forche, "The 'New' Literature"

Forche quotes Kapuscinski:

"As a writer you have experienced this event in your own skin, and it is your experience...that gives your story it's coherence"
(p 112)

I think this quotation really gets down to what creative nonfiction embodies that journalism cannot. The writer is always present--they have voices that are clearly subjective, even if they try to be as honest as possible.

Beverly Lowry, "Not the Killing but Why"

"On the way, I sat on the back bench of the bus, got sick from carbon monoxide fumes, threw up on my skirt...That was about all I knew of Oklahoma."
Beverly Lowry, "Not the Killing but Why" (pg.99)

I love what Lowry is doing with this description. In addition to using it as a basis for: look at how little I knew about this place; she is also creating a bond with the reader. By sharing something embarrassing with us, she shows us that we can trust her. Trust is very important in nonfiction.

Alan Cheuse, "Finding a Story, or Using the Whole Pig"

May favorite thing that Cheuse does in this essay is located in the penultimate paragraph (I never get to use that word! How exciting!). Cheuse writes: "everything I've said in this piece is true to the best of my knowledge, except that my mentor...did not make the following statement, which, in the spirit of his advice, I am about to ascribe to him" (Writing Creative Nonfiction 37) . This is great! It's a perfect example of how to make things up in creative nonfiction: you can only do it if you let the reader know what's going on and if it furthers your essay in some essential way. So, in using this technique, Cheuse creates a narrative circle--he unites the intro with the conclusion and makes us smile at the same time. Wonderful!

Gerard Ch 1

So, I finished reading the first chapter of Philip Gerard's book Creative Nonfiction and I wanted to draw attention to my absolute favorite line from what I have read so far. On page eleven, Gerard describes what is almost impossible (well, maybe just difficult) to produce. He says: "Good writing is elegant--cleanly arresting rather than gaudy or merely decorative." Which, in itself is a clean, concise way of writing. Ah, the simple ease of reading elegant prose. Isn't that the goal? But then, it is so difficult to actually do--you leave too much out and you sound like a seven-year old. But you put too much in and you sound like an arrogant ass hole. What we need is a poetic balance. Something that is work to produce and complete ease to read. Nicely said, Gerard. That's definitely food for thought.

Reading "A Private Landscape" by Melissa Pritchard

Wow. I just finished reading this piece of short fiction ("A Private Landscape" by Melissa Pritchard) and all I want to do is talk to someone about it--which, for me, is a sign that this is an excellent piece of literature. I guess this blog will have to do.

It felt like every single line worked tirelessly to give the reader an understanding of the protagonist and her surroundings. God, it's fabulous. This writing is fabulous. I want more than anything to be able to produce this type of writing someday. Okay, so the plot is that basically this woman feels totally old, useless, and unneeded by her husband and only daughter. Her daughter is starting to "come of age" (as we say in the literary world) and her husband is confused by seeing his wife diminish while his daughter blossoms in her sexuality. For her daughter's fourteenth birthday, the narrator picks out a white horse with a gray underbelly (like the moon) to give to her. Through the descriptions of the horse, how it is treated, and what it means, we get a better understanding of the protagonist's inner thoughts. She narrates "The horse, sapped by domesticity, confined by fences, has disillusioned me. I expected more from it" (131). Clearly (and this is the author's amazing ability shining through) the narrator is "talking" about the horse, but she is thinking about her own life. She is disillusioned by the ideas of marriage and family. The text is flawless in its use of different layers of meaning. Pritchard does this so fluidly that while reading this piece, I was aware of my jaw dropping--staring open mouthed--at the pages. God, I want to do that. This is seriously, like, the best thing I've read in a long time.

Reading "Lust" by Susan Minot

Oh my gosh, this is such an awesome piece of fiction. What Minot basically does is, in tons of little and extraordinarily vivid snapshots, chronicles the desperation and emptiness that one woman feels after carrying on countless lustful encounters with different guys. Throughout the story (if you can call it that, because it reads more like an essay), snippets of strict exposition give us an idea of what is going on internally while her "body" does its thing. The reason I use the word "body" is that she, early on in the text, describes herself in this way: "he got up again to close the door, then came back to me, a body waiting on the rug" (218). These portions of exposition are typically written in the second person. I thought it was interesting that the narrator could explicitly describe her sexual encounters with the pronoun "I," but then, when she started talking about the feeling of emptiness that comes with them, she had to switch it to "you." This is a subtle, but powerful technique. Another thing that I found interesting is that she referred to the guys she messes around with as "boys." Not men, not guys, but boys. This gives them a certain immaturity in a really subtle and implicit way. Awesome writing.

Nancy Mairs "On Being a Cripple"

I really have respect for Nancy Mairs. This woman, pardon my French, has gohones. In this essay, she paints a real portrait of who she is now, living with a debilitating disease. With painful, embarrassing truth and comedic relief, she unblinkingly tells it like it is. I think the introduction to this essay is particularly poignant because Mairs begins the essay with an antedote about falling in a public restroom. Along with this, there are certain other detail that make the essay seem really honest.

I love the line, "One may also lose one's sense of humor. That's the easiest to lose and the hardest to survive without" (91). She uses other powerful techniques such as when she makes an interesting list of what/who she "is." Along with being a writing teacher and a "superb, if messy, cook," she also can "do italic writing and, in an emergency, bathe an oil-soaked cat." These details are effective because they give us a good idea about the kind of person this woman is--about what is important to her. It's really a fantastic essay. If you haven't read it yet, you should.

T.J. McLeod's "A Day in the Life"

In this creative nonfiction essay, T.J. gives us a glimpse of the first day of school, his senior year. He uses a good mix of exposition and scene to make the reader feel as if she is looking in on reality. One of my absolute favorite aspects of this essay is the voice that is carried throughout. It's so natural. There were a few lines in here specifically which made me think that this is an effective voice. One of these lines was in the introductory paragraph: "I remember daydreaming...walking off the stage, strait into my mother's Maxima." I thought this was hilarious. I also enjoyed a line a few paragraphs down on the first page: "every classroom made me feel like I was in the clearance section at Foot Locker." Sentences like these make the tone of the piece very comfortable and conversational.

There are lots of tense changes in this piece. I guess one could think that they add to the converational tone of the piece, since we often do this when we are talking. "I said to her, then I'm like, and she said," and so on and so forth. However, some readers may not appreciate this trait in the essay. There are just a few little places where I would like to see different wording. For one thing, Tasha's smile is described as "gentle, [and] warming" twice. This is exactly the same phrase and althought I like the imagery it brings, I would life to see something different instead. Another issue I had (which was also minor) is that there seemed to be an inconsistancy with when literature class takes place. At the beginning of the essay, the narrator remembers "daydreaming in my first period Literature class." He then goes to "Home economics," where he meets Tasha. After this, the narrator explains: "During my literature class all I was able to think about was Tasha." So, either he has two lit classes, or there is an oversight in the text. This should be fixed for credibility. Otherwise, I really like this essay!!!

Sean Kelly’s untitled creative nonfiction essay

In this short essay, Sean attempts to give the reader a glimpse (and only a glimpse) of his life where his only getaway from dull, boring life is a solo trip to the movies…even though he’d rather have a girlfriend. There are some really witty lines in this essay. I particularly like the “42 flight of stares” on the second page (even though they are burning a “whole” into Sean’s back, which should be “hole”). I like how the narrator drops quotes in this essay and then reflects them. I really wanted to know who the first quote is from, though—if it has a known source. Heck, even if it doesn’t have a known source, I’d like to know that too (I guess that’s the English major in me that gave a little internal scream when I couldn’t find a citation anywhere!).

I do like that this essay gives us a back stage pass to the brain of the narrator. It’s almost as though we’re taking an illegal peek—and finding out things that we never knew or even thought to ask—just by reading this. For this reason, I think expanding on this fact would help to strengthen the essay. Give us even more of an inside look—maybe just give us a string of fragmented memories rather than straight exposition. That could be cool. I don’t know. Obviously this essay wants to be different. Maybe just let it shape itself even more—give it freedom to be formless.

Jaime McNair “To the Beach”

This essay uses different points of view to narrate one childhood event. Overall, I like this style, and I think it is effective in that it each section is distinctive with a specific voice and tone. I love the language of the first section—it’s almost like prose poetry. Actually, I wonder if this could be played up even more to just paint a really descriptive picture (which it already does, I was just thinking). Otherwise, I think this set up is really cool.

This essay has some major grammatical errors, and I know that’s not what we should be workshopping, but I found this to be very distracting from the prose. There were lots of problems like using “to” rather than “too” or “there” rather than “their.” These types of misstates will not be caught by Word, and so it’s really important to carefully proofread when you’re handing out your work to other people. I also had a bit of a problem with the very last paragraph of the essay. Although the bit about the crab hole and the hair tie is probably meant to be thematic—almost like a loss of innocence—it seems completely fictional. How could the children possibly know this if they have already left? And, is this even typical crab behavior? The readers should not have to ask questions about the validity of the essay because it takes away from the point.

Anthony Setari “Little Blonde Boy”

This essay describes the events of one night where the narrator and his girlfriend see a little boy (who happens to be Sonya’s son) who makes the pair realize that they want a family…eventually. This is spelled out for the reader all neat and tidy in the last paragraph of the essay. I wanted to know (while reading this essay) why Ryan isn’t very socially savvy. I mean, she’s in college, right? How does she not know how to mingle? Did she go to high school? Was she home schooled? Did she just arrive here from K-Pax? I think knowing more about her character will help the reader identify with these two characters—both as individuals and as a couple.

I think this is my major concern with this essay. I don’t have any idea of who this girl is, so I get absolutely no satisfaction from reading that she wants a baby one day. I think the little boy is a good medium to show the couple’s closeness, and I think he has good presence, but I want this essay to be more about Ryan than him. Without knowing her very well, the line “She was my tagalong. That was her job” can seem a bit disrespectful. It just makes the narrator seem like not a very nice guy, and it makes the conclusion seem false. Help us see the value of this relationship and this essay will be easier to digest. It seems a bit falsely cheesy as it is.

Jen Morriss “‘Other Grandparents’ Essay”

This essay starts off with a bit of exposition, explaining about her daughter’s “other grandparents” who constantly bring bags and bags of useless things they found at rummage sales. Jen’s descriptions of the individual items are hilarious. I love the line: “It was like 1987 exploded on my kitchen table” (1). The essay is filled with little humorous details, which I think make it a fun essay.

Although I think this is excellent material for an essay, I am wondering if we get a bit too much of the same thing over and over again. I was laughing out loud at the start of the essay, but as it went on, I felt like it started to drag. Maybe what we need is a little break in the sarcastic exposition—or possibly a little bit of a distraction from being directly inside the author’s head. There is the one scene, where the grandparents bring over the bag filled with overalls, that could be grounded in more action rather than having it consist almost entirely inside the author’s head. Technically, this is already a scene, but it lacks the feeling of slowing down time like we talked about in class. More dialogue might help keep the reader interested in seeing what is going on, and help fight an aspect of predictability. I would also love to see a more descriptive title, since there is so much detail in this essay.

The Moral Point of View

BbB (pg 103-109)

This chapter kind of reminds me of the passage about metaphor that I quoted in a previous post (Lamott 77). Lamott says in that passage that metaphors only work if the writer truly believes in the underlying principle behind the metaphor. This chapter is basically an extension on this idea—writing, real literature, is only powerful if there is a human truth behind it. As my tenth grade English teacher taught us, archetypes are at the heart of literature, and without them, literature is useless. Without these archetypes, the written word is nothing more than mindless drivel—anything but insightful and therefore completely useless. Mrs. Gasaway knew her stuff…I guess that’s why she got the Honors kids. Anne Lamott takes this idea a step further. She says, “If your deepest beliefs drive your writing, they will not only keep your work from being contrived but will help you discover what drives your characters” (105). Clearly, Lamott knows her stuff, too.

Looking Around

BbB (pg 97-102)

Why does every chapter of this book open my eyes a little wider? This is it. Isn’t it? This is what it’s all about. This is why. I mean, do I even have to say anything? Listen to Anne Lamott!

Think of those times when you’ve read prose or poetry that is presented in such a way that you have a fleeting sense of being startled by beauty or insight, by a glimpse into someone’s soul. All of a sudden everything seems to fit together or at least to have some meaning for a moment. This is our goal as writers, I think; to help others have this sense of—please forgive me—wonder, of seeing things anew, things that can catch us off guard, that break in on our small, bordered worlds. (99-100)

This is, so far, my favorite passage in this book. I think this woman is amazing.

False Starts and Plot Treatment

BbB (pg 80-92)

These were really great chapters. It is so refreshing to hear a real experience that a real, successful, intelligent, witty writer has had, in which she comes very close to swearing off writing entirely. It really doesn’t inspire a lot of hope in me, however, that from what Lamott has said, this kind of thing will NEVER STOP HAPPENING! I can’t even imagine working on something for three years—that I am completely in love with—and then hearing the “I’m sorry…” that Lamott heard. That is TERRIFYING. It’s so easy to say that I am going to be a successful writer one of these days—that both the general populace and the critics will love my work in two obviously different, yet exhilarating ways. But, that’s totally not going to happen, is it? It’s not. And that is so sad. But, I guess there’s always hope. Lamott has it right here: if you work and work and work and work and work, then sometimes, sometimes, life pans out. I appreciate Lamott’s honesty.

Dialogue and Set Design

BbB (pg 64-79)

Once again, I am captured by the genius of Anne Lamott. I am finally (now that Spring Break is coming to its sad conclusion, and I sit in the back seat of a rented giant Chevy Tahoe riding the hapless and numbing hours between Key Largo and Statesboro, Georgia) FINALLY catching up on the workload that was previously attempting to drown me. I feel better after my week off, and I now feel like I can calmly and patiently work on the things which I have been diligently avoiding (to make room for more pressing assignments), such as reading Bird by Bird for this class. I hate being slammed, because I would much, MUCH rather read Lamott than Melville, but—such is life, I suppose. Anyway, I digress (as usual), and should therefore talk about the reading that was due like eighteen weeks ago (a slight exaggeration). So, I will start like the true English major that I am (try as I may to adapt myself to being a writer rather than a reader) by using a direct quotation to illustrate Lamott’s genius:

I wish there were an easier, softer way, a short cut, but this is the nature of most good writing: that you find out things as you go along. Then you go back and rewrite. (71)

I love that Lamott tells us that it is okay (and perfectly rational, logical, and even smart) to let things happen even when it’s shitty—just to figure out what we are writing. I mean, she has told us this all along, but I love hearing (or rather, reading) it every time I do. I NEED this reassurance. Rewriting is necessary. That’s great news, because I certainly do a lot of it.
I also love what she says about using metaphors when we write:

Metaphors are a great language tool, because they explain the unknown in
terms of the known. But they only work if they resonate in the heart of the writer. (77)

This makes so much sense to me! I read it and it hit me like a punch in the stomach. I guess it’s just that I’m new to the whole writing thing, and I haven’t really dappled in the literary wealth of metaphor (I mean, I’ve never been on the creative side of metaphor, just the side where you try to pick it apart). So…I like reading this. I like hearing Lamott talk about being real. It will only work if I (the writer) feel it—believe it. I’ll have to work on this.

"Notes of Anxiety" by Kristi Winger

First of all, let me just say that this title is brilliant! Oh, how I love puns! I think Kristi has done an excellent job with dropping us into a specific moment in time, and keeping us involved and interested. This is definitely a great subject for an essay--I mean, the fact that someone can excel in music without even being able to read it is quite a feat, not to mention thematic for life. I think Kristi's narration has great voice. The essay is strong in its conversational tone and it helps the reader to really get deep into the head of the narrator. One thing that I think would help to keep us informed, however, is some background information--tell us why no one (not even a band teacher!) ever taught you how to read music. I think this would help us to really connect with the narrator, so we don't have to just guess and be uncertain about the facts that underlie the essay.

There could also be a lot more concrete details. Many of the sentences are a bit ambiguous because of the prevalent use of nondescript words like "it," "they," and "this." Be more specific with what you actually mean, and your reader will feel more involved in the scene. There are already some really great, detailed points in here (like the stomach on the floor, which made me physically cringe when someone stepped on it--which is GOOD!!)--so you're already off to a good start. Just bring more of that in! There are also just a couple (and I've pointed them out in my copy) of tense shifts within the essay, but this is easily fixed. Just one last comment: I want to sense from reading this essay is how much your trumpet means to you. Like, if it were that scary for me to be found out, I probably wouldn't play in band! So, make us understand and FEEL your love for playing. Make us understand why you do it, even though it's hard sometimes.

Untitled Creative Non-fiction Essay by Meg Yeary

In her essay, Meg uses a compilation of different source materials (such as journal entries, letters, and emails) to depict for a reader her year spent as an exchange student in Germany. I think it's really great that these are real letters and journal entries from her trip. I mean, that definitely solves the problem of us not exactly remembering every detail of what we want to write about. I also like that it is not only one type of source--the different sections read differently because of their variety. Using the acceptance letter as an introduction is a strong start.

One thing I think would really add to this essay is the element of the writer at her desk: in other words, I want to see/hear/read the current Meg's voice, looking back on all of these sections and giving us some insight about what is really going on. It could be a cool feature to write all of this into a scene--with Meg sitting on her bed (or wherever, but someplace with some physical description to give us a good, concrete setting and keep us glued to the piece), flipping through her journal. I want a description of the cover of the journal, the way it feels in her hands, the color of the ink, the variety of handwriting inside of it. I think bringing these details into the essay would help us get grounded for what we are going to read inside the journal. These details would tell us about Meg, and give us a closer glimpse of the journal that is so important in this essay. This technique, Meg remembering these events as she reads through her journal and/or scrapbook and reflecting on them with her current voice, would also be a great way to give the reader many more concrete details, which would help us get involved in the essay. I wrote on my copy off Meg's essay: "I want to see/taste/hear/smell/feel Germany," and this can only be achieved by giving us these sensory details that we crave. This information would also help shape the essay into some kind of travel narrative, which might be a really great direction for this piece.

"Circles" by Meg Yeary

I think this is a very sweet poem. I like the idea of writing about wedding rings--"Affection / In metal form." Actually I really love that line. I know we had a lot of people in class in discord about it, but what I really like is that it is a different way to talk about something that is already associated with too many cliches. Actually, I would be interested in seeing something really come about with this idea. Some other way to look at wedding bands. I like the simplistic language of the poem, almost like the clean line on a white gold band. But I want to see the poem take a different sort of shape--something more unique. I'm also not sure about the title. Is "Circles" appropriate? Maybe something different would be more fitting.

"Things I Love About You" by Kristi Winger

Oh! I love this poem! I think Kristi has some really really great details in here. It made me smile and swoon and I love that. I love that it gave me a real reaction. A happy reaction. I think this poem is effective because we get a real, very vivid picture of this guy and of some of the physical things that makes Kristi drawn to him. This poem shows us the playful nature of their relationship with lines like: "Your...dirt stained GSU hat / That I try to wash every time you wear it." I get a good idea of what they are like together. Teasing and playful and loving. All warm. I love the "crisp stone grey sheets" because that's exactly what my boyfriend has as well (he's actually my fiance now, that's just really weird to say!). They're just the opposite of mine, which are soft and pastel. So, I like the masculine details. Very good.

I'd be interested in seeing how this poem could change by just taking out some of the little words like "in," "an," "which," and "that." Maybe just play up the stream of images a little bit more. I'd also like to see another way to describe the pair in the sheets without using a cliche metaphor like "a burrito." Try something more original--more you. This poem is very brave--you talk about details that I would be too shy to write about. I think this is a really strong attribute. I just want to see it polished. No major changes.

"Life and Death" by Anthony Setari

This poem is hilarious! I really appreciated the conversational tone and the fact that humor is used to illustrate a situation that we've all lived through--that feeling that anything (even being hit by a bus) would be better than doing what it is we know we need to do. In this case, it's taking a test that the narrator is not at all prepared for. The poem takes us through a front-seat look at the workings of a panicked mind, one that thinks, "Oh why didn't I study?" One thing I love about this poem is the fact that, although it is written simply and in a very relaxed style, the writer still effectively uses literary devices to achieve his goal. One such example of this is the repitition of the line "hit by a bus" in the second stanza. The first time this phrase is used, it is simply a mundane fact, but the second time, the writer packs a punch: "bam, hit by a bus" (my italics). This is both attention-getting and humorous, so it works really well to keep the reader interested in what is going to happen to this character(/narrator). I also really like the energy in this piece. The last three lines of stanza three are great when it comes to energy. They are short and perfectly puntuated to express enthusiasm without being obnoxious (in the way that enthusiam can sometimes be).

I'd like to see a little bit of editing in a second draft. The first stanza on the second page is a little bit wordy and messy in general. Especially the part where the M.E. states his mind. I'm not sure how I feel about the last stanza. I both like it and want something different at the same time--although I'm not sure how I managed that. I think it's funny and ironic, but it's a little bit deux ex machina. Like, Oh! Lookie here! The narrator is gone. Dead. Even though he didn't actaully see a bus! Or hear one. But I don't know. Maybe it works for this particular poem. I don't know. I guess Anthony will have to make up his own mind on this one and just ignore all of us.

"The Moment" by Latisa Robinson

In this poem, Latisa first sculpts the image of her as the loving mother, with a new child "nestled in my arms." She contemplates his life--from his first steps to the birth his own child. We have this image in our heads and then Latisa turns the poem completely: we learn close to the end that "this moment" is not actually happening, opposed to what we have been led to believe. We then see the inner-workings of her heart. We understand that this is a dream, a wish for the future, a fantasy that only time can bring about. I think this is a really effective technique--I totally didn't see the ending coming, but I am glad I couldn't see it. For this reason, I think "The Moment" gives the reader a shocking ending and the lasting impression of what this moment will be when she finally is able to get it.

I love the title and opening line to this poem. I think they read very well together and because of this, the reader is brought immediately into the poem. We cannot help but be sucked in because the poem makes us. One idea I have for another draft is to place real, concrete images and details in place of words like "star athlete, smart," and "popular." I think it would be effective to illustrate the crumpled jersey on his bedroom floor that reeks of last night's victory, or hear the telephone ring, with the endless stream of femal voices, asking for him. These are more specific than perhaps a "moment" in time would produce, but I think it would be a very good way to make the reader want to see this kid too. Then, he would be more than just the narrator's son, and would become for the reader, a real human being with real human characteristics--flaws and wonderful attributes alike. I guess the difference would be for the reader, not the author. I think it would help to make the reader care about him, and in turn, care about her getting him; however, it could take away from the brevity of the poem (both in words and lasting images). That, of course, is just an idea.

"Dreams" by Mark Mycroft

I enjoyed reading Mark's poem. It describes the elusive nature of dreams, and how they can both delight and haunt us. In the end, Mark says that he holds the dreams "close, / so as not to dream of yesterday." Although I pretty much followed along up to this point, I am confised about what the final line means. I like how the poem itself seems to be difficult to get a firm grasp of--that, like dreams, the poem seems to be its own entity which doesn't care if you get it or not. So, I think the style of the poem fits the subject matter.

My favorite line is in the third stanza: "dancing through the maze of my thoughts." I think I like this line because it is beautiful and whimsical, much like dreams enivitably are. Because I think this is such an effective line, I would like to see more like it. For example, rather than saying "Tomorrow seems to never come," why not say something more (for lack of a better word) dreamy. I also think that adding some form of imagery would help bring the reader in. The poem is very abstract, which fits with the idea of "dreams" but, I think some concrete detail (like the dancing through the maze) would help pull the reader in. There are a few lines that I thought were a bit confusing. The first example of this is the second line of the poem, "when only you're going to dream." I think the wording of this line makes it difficult to completely understand. I was also confused by the line, "dreams that I chase while they chase me." I think that in order for this symbol/image to be effective, it should either be rephrased or built upon. I think this is a really good start for a poem, but I'd be interested in seeing another draft.

Reading "The Undertaking" by Thomas Lynch

So, after class today, I decided that I should probably actually read this essay. I'm glad I did. It's wonderful--I was really shocked how much of an emotional response it elicits at the end. I mean, we had talked about it in class, but it's totally different than actually reading and experiencing the essay. I know this already, of course. I also generally try to be on top of things when it comes to reading, but these past two weeks have just sort of slipped away from me...

Anyway, back to Lynch. I love (among so many others) the last line of the essay:

Milo had become the idea of himself, a permanent fixture of the third person and past tense, his widow's loss of appetite and trouble sleeping, the absence in places where we look for him, our habits of him breaking, our phantom limb, our one hand washing the other. (Lynch 11)

God, it's so true. I really connected with this line, especially the absence where we look for him, and "our habits of him breaking." My dog died over Christmas break. I know this isn't the same as losing a spouse, but it's fresh and it's my stinging twinge of loss. Jackie was thirteen years old with cancer on her spine. In the middle of the night, she couldn't stand up, and later that day, my mother drove her to the vet and explored the options. She was put down shortly after 9:00 am. This was the Tuesday of finals. No one told me until that Saturday, not wanting me to grieve while attempting to keep all of my external stresses under rein. I was going to come home, but kept postponing it, until finally, Mom had to tell me over the phone.

Going home is weird now. It's exactly as Lynch describes.

School Lunches

(BbB 33-38)

I actually read this section a while ago. I just kept right on reading when we were assigned the sections on Perfectionism and Polaroids. Now, looking back on my post, I see that I didn't actually say anything about it then, so I guess I should now. I'm going to say this: I think Anne Lamott is funny. Better, I think she has some awesome ideas. Just brainstorming about my own school lunch experience brought back a plethera of colorful and sickening images. This woman is obviously a genious. How can one feel writer's block if one simply sits down and describes (in detail) the snippets of hundreds of school lunch experiences? It's brilliance.

"Dear Jaime" by Jaime McNair

Typically, I am not very excited by the idea of letter poems, but this one is different. In this poem, the author uses two different voices with opposing lines in response to each other. The last word of each line is matched with the same word on the next line, but this time it is issued a new meaning, new connotation. From reading this, the reader gets the sense that this guy, Phil, is just feeding Jaime cheesy lines over and over again, and she is looking at them one at a time, with disgust. This was a unique way to go about the letter poem, and because of that, I had to read it several times to make sure I got all of the details. I think one of my issues with reading it was a form thing. I wonder what other types of set-up the author could use to illustrate that these are two (which are distinctly different) voices. I think I just had a hard time following the progression of the lines on the page. What most likely adds to this is the fact that many of the lines begin with “I,” and many of the same words are used from one line to the next. Some of these lines would be easier to digest if there was a little bit of space between them, like:

I won’t give into his lies anymore.

“I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

It’s just visually easy to jump from place to place, and I think that hurts flow a little bit. This is all pretty much a format problem, and I may be the only one who feels this way. I also wanted to see some more creative spins from one line to another, rather than just plainly stating the opposite from one character to the next. The poem definitely shows attitude, which is great. I can totally hear you telling this guy off, but I want to see it in a more concrete way. Rather than just saying “I won’t give into his lies,” why not give us some example of one of these vial and odious lies which would make us go, “Oh yeah, you tell him, girl!” I also noticed a little bit of an issue with who the character Jaime is addressing. At first she says, “I thought you [my italics] wanted us to end” and then later, “If I take him back, this will go on forever.” This should just be normalized to avoid any confusion.

"Rehab: A Love Story" by T. Jarrel McLeod

I think this poem is a total success. It successfully compares love, and the struggle to get over a lost love, to a drug addiction. I think T. J. has some really effective line breaks in here that help to emphasize specific words and ideas—I think my favorite example of this is the one-word line, “Relapse.” I love how this particular line serves as a slight turn in the poem, there’s a little shift. I love the word “seep” in the sixth line. I’d like to see more language with that kind of resonance to it, but I think the language of the poem as it is does a good job reflecting the content.

In another draft of this poem, I’d like to see more lists like the one that opens the poem. I feel this is a very effective way to draw a reader in and make us really feel the severity of the situations. By weighing us down with lists of what is going on in your healing process, we can in turn come to feel the density. Lay it on us, T.J. I’d also like to see the ending lines go in a different direction, but I don’t really have any real recommendations. I guess the only thing to do is do what feels right in this particular poem. I don’t know. I like this poem a lot, and I don’t really know what I want from the last two lines. Sorry I can’t help. Oh, and I love the title. Definitely keep the title.

"In Your Eyes" by Sean Kelly

I think this poem is really sweet! I want someone to tell me “Every answer I ever wanted to know / Lies in your eyes” after comparing them to Saturn and sparkly stars! It’s a beautiful image, and as a girl, I can’t help but swoon. Okay, as a peer reviewing (girl) student in this particular workshopping class, I am forced to do more than swoon. I must critique! Okay, I think the purpose of this poem is pretty self-explanatory. In a series of stanzas, the author of this poem reflects on the eyes of his loved one, and how those are the eyes that he will always want to search when lighting the “wick of the future” (a beautiful line, and image). He gets lost in this moment, lost in those eyes, and then has to snap himself out of it to ask the other person to “Be mine till you are wrinkly.”

There are two things (among the tons that I love) that I am not certain about in this poem. My first critique is the phrase “Shut up…..” all by itself among the stanzas. I think that the poet is saying this to himself, and not to his loved one, but it’s a little bit unclear. I don’t think he should be telling the person whom he wants to grow old with to “shut up,” so it only makes sense that he is telling himself to snap out of it. But, I still don’t like it in there. I think there is such a beautiful tone throughout the poem that this line really just completely clashes. It also disturbs me because it is the one line that stands out the most, since it is in a “stanza” all to itself. This must be purposeful. I am getting that it is a change in the tone of the poem, but I wonder if there is a better (less harsh) option for such a sweet poem. My second concern is the very last line: “Cus’ the eyes never grow old.” To be honest, I just don’t like the “Cus’.” It seems way to cheesy and informal for the rest of the poem witch is so beautiful. Maybe what the author is attempting to achieve here is to illustrate pompous wordy love compared to (more real) comfortable, casual love. Maybe. I’m not sure. I guess my English major training is making me like the pompous love better, though. Hmmm… I guess that will just have to be something we talk about in workshop.

"Ahh...." by Val Harrison

Before reading the last three lines of the poem, I thought that the purpose of this poem was just a walk down memory lane—I thought that the author just wanted us to come along with her and see something that we all experienced through her eyes. Then I got to the conclusion of the poem, and I had to question that interpretation. After reflecting on a moment of youthful joy—and the memory of that scramble for change when one hears the ice cream truck—the author concludes with the lines: “Huh? / O that’s right / I’m just in Starbucks before class….” This makes me think that maybe the theme is that some things never change. Actually, I originally thought that the idea behind the flash into the present was to say something about the poem being written right before the deadline, but that seemed really inconsistent with the poem’s tone. So, I like my other interpretation better. I think it makes more sense to see that the author lets us know that this ice cream habit has grown and matured into something just a little bit different, but obviously related.

Now that I think I’ve figured out the mysterious last three lines, I am wondering if they are as effective as they could be. It did take me kind of a long time to come up with that explanation—and I'd like to think I’m not a total idiot when it comes to poetry. This is definitely an experimental type of ending, and for that I applaud the author, but I wonder if there is another way to possibly do it. Maybe this could be achieved better if the poem were broken up into sections. Or, it’s possible that even an extra line in there would make the transition a little bit smoother. I know it sounds like a contradiction that space would make something smoother, but I think the way it currently exists in the text is more than a little bit jarring. I realize that this is probably written in a way to mimic the awakening from a daydream, so that we (as the readers of the poem) can experience what the author is experiencing, but I still don’t really feel like it’s exactly as it could be.

"Inspired by the Blue green Notebook" by Constance Jackson

Hahaha, there are such wonderful allusions in this poem! As an English major (like the author), I cannot help but laugh…and even maybe cry a little. I think this poem is wonderfully effective stylistically. I love the fact that it is broken up into two distinctly different (yet terrifyingly related) sections. It’s so beautifully poetic and clever. Obviously, the purpose in this poem is to use these two sections together to create a mocking commentary on the author’s view of life, knowledge, literature, and (possibly even) religion.

One thing I find particularly effective is the author’s use of line breaks in Part I. For example, with my first reading, I wasn’t at all expecting the line, “God is pretty much going to wax me”—and because of that, I (as the reader) feel pretty “waxed” by the poem at this turn. Another example of this effective tool comes a few lines down: “stopped beating and yelling at grandma / in between sermons.” Clearly, every line is intentionally spaced. Another thing I love is the fact that the last line of Part I leads us directly into Part II, therefore giving us some kind of unity when otherwise there would not be. I love this section, first because it’s just fun to see the rulers of hell talking in such a casual way about the destruction of a human soul, secondly because it’s clever. One thing I didn’t get was the sound that Prince of Darkness makes: “ft-ft-ftftft.” All I can figure is that it was some sort of hissing, but I found myself distracted from the poem with trying to figure out this sound. Oh my god, I LOVE the last line. I cracked up the first time I read it. I’m also not quite sure about the characterization about the two dwellers of Sheol. It seens kinda like Satan is a little bit out of it, which seems backwards to me, although that’s probably exactly the point. He knows more than the boss, but he still has to “Bend over.” I guess that says something…

"Looking Back" by Ditoria Geddis

Wow. This is a really heavy poem. My response to it (which is not necessarily important) is very much “reader response.” Like, I’m having a difficult time trying to look at it from a formalist approach (which I find to be the easiest when it comes to peer review, because it uses the text and only the text as an analytical lens, rather than trying to talk about biographical information or possible cultural influences). Jeez, sorry. I didn’t mean to get all English majory there—I guess I should just try to get to the point. Okay, my point is that I am trying to look at the language, style, and purpose of the poem, but all I can think about is what I’ve learned in my Writing and Healing class about the power of telling. Anyway, because of this, I think the purpose of this poem is for the narrator (I say narrator, not author, because I don’t want to thrust this onto the writer of the poem if it is untrue,) to get something, a painful and haunting memory, off of her chest. The purpose feels like an attempt—through writing—to get past a traumatic situation.

For me, the poem is definitely powerful because it deals with such a difficult subject. Okay, now I’m just going to look at what is on the page (which I should have been doing before). One thing that I think is effective as it is, is the fact that certain words are emphasized by having their own lines: words like, “locks,” “problems,” and “MY UNCLE.” Actually, since I just brought that up, I’m not sure that placing “my uncle” in all caps really adds anything to the poem. It seems too obvious. What about playing around more with the style to bring it out even more, rather than resorting to something so mundane as capitalization. What about, rather than just giving it its own line, giving it its own little section, like:

Because it brings tears to my eyes
That someone so close could do this to me

My uncle

Whose [which should be who’s (who is)] supposed to be my protector,
From male invaders

That’s just an idea, of course. I’d also like to see some of the language tightened up. Some of the little words could be eliminated to keep the language more intense, which would (in turn) create more intensity overall in the poem.

"Bringing Sexy Back" by Sheila Garlow

I like this poem. I think it’s a wonderful image—one that I can see quite clearly. Sister in the hallway, wearing a hideously ugly brown suit, and dancing like Justin Timberlake, while the rest of the family (except for the narrator) is oblivious to these shenanigans (oh yeah, I said shenanigans!). I think the author makes her purpose quite clear with the theme spelled out in the concluding stanza: “And I think to myself, how lucky I am, / to have her as my sister.” Garlow paints us a picture, then explains why it is important. We know exactly what to think, and we know exactly what the author wants to tell her.

One thing I really like is the casual tone of the poem. I really feel what it’s like to be standing there with the narrator, watching her sister dance. One thing I want to know (that I only just realized that, after writing the previous sentence) is where exactly the narrator is located. I kinda want to know if she is sitting with the rest of her family, and she can just see where her sister is, or if she is actually standing in the hallway, too. This detail would just help to add to the scene and really bring us into the action of the poem. I personally am not fond of the term “poo-brown,” not that I find it offensive, but maybe even a little bit too immature. I think even “shit-brown” would be an improvement, but I realize that this is a detail that helps us get to know the narrator, and if that’s what she thinks then maybe that’s what should stay. I also wonder if it is necessary to have the theme of the poem explicitly spelled out. Maybe just leaving us with the details of this moment would be enough for us to pick up on. Just an idea… Oh! And now that I’ve read the poem, I love the title!

"just a moment of realization" by Adam Deal

I have now read this poem several times, and I can honestly say that I really like it, but I still (even after much searching and honing on my mad literary skills) find the text a little bit elusive. I see that we have two people, romantically involved, having a conversation that is so rattling to the senses that it is compared to (in metaphor) “Cascading Light Storms.” By the way, I love how this is capitalized, because otherwise I would not have identified it as a noun, so therefore, that’s definitely a great technique. And while we’re on the subject of light, I am happy to notice that there is a lot of it in this poem—thereby using the same word to play with different images. Light is an interesting symbol to use because it is so transient and elusive, yet it is something that we completely depend on, and even crave. So, I love the recurring “light” motif. The only thing I wonder about is the fact that the same word (light) is used twice, and in close proximity, in one line: “defused like the light of the cascading Light Storms.” To me, this was a little bit distracting, even though I totally understand the idea of wanting to keep that word in the reader’s mind (which I think is ultimately achieved).

Now, I guess, for the issues…Like I said, I really like this poem. I think the language is absolutely gorgeous. I love lines like “”Jangling sound ricochets amid times that never came about.” And I love how this particular line is followed by the next: “Never came about, but.” It’s good. It flows well and it modifies the idea from one line to the next, much like the light motif is doing. My concern is the fact that I don’t really feel privy to the conversation at hand. I mean, what I do have are fragments of thoughts, taken completely out of context. All of what is never as perfect as less? This is my major concern with the poem—I just don’t really get the dynamic of the conversation, and I feel like I should. I understand that the narrator discovers something in the short span of time that these lines take up—I get the fact that he has a “moment of realization.” I think the language of the poem makes that very clear—“light” is definitely being shed on the issue (ha ha)—with language like “And this time it feels real.” So, if that’s the point, then I think the author has achieved his goal. I just wonder exactly what they are talking about, and that kinda bugs me.