Trying to renew my writing life this week through my class at Millersville, so I am dusting the cobwebs off of this blog, taking a risk, and posting to Slice of Life.
This poem was inspired by Ralph Fletcher's "Good Old Days" Sometimes I remember the frantic first years, three little towheads fresh from their baths lined up on the couch, buddies clutched in hands, eyes glued to Elmo's World as I move around the cramped living room, complaining about the clutter. I tuck Thomas trains in bins and baby dolls in carriages straightening the mess of a summer day of play. Now, my living room is spotless, no legos to step on or fingerprints to wipe. But, I can't imagine why I ever wished for this.
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What intentional decisions did you make as an author?
While writing “That Voice” I had to make many decisions that, hopefully, improved the quality of the piece. In my first draft, I started with the scene when the main character has a confrontation with the teacher, but in my revisions, I decided to use that scene as a flashback and start the story with a short phrase that would reappear later in a key way. I think this creates a subtle “Again & Again.” The revised lead also allowed me to use more precise words for a stronger effect (see underlined sections below) That voice. Even with the music from his favorite band, Screaming Rhinos, blasting through the speakers, he couldn’t erase that nagging, condescending voice from his mind. J.D. sat in the Baltimore rush-hour traffic, realizing that he now had one more reason to despise her. I also made significant changes in the revision process when I deleted the detention scene. As I re-read it, I realized that it did not add or reveal any new information about the characters or the plot, and quite honestly, it was boring. By deleting that, I could improve the pace of my story and keep the reader’s interest. What were you most proud of in your piece and what do you still feel needed more work? I am most proud of the scene where JD first sees this new singer and slowly realizes where he has heard that voice before. I think I have strong word choice and like the way I varied my sentences. I especially like the sentence that has an interrupting phrase describing how the singer is dressed. I have underlined some of the precise words that bring this section of the story to life for the reader. Smoke billowed onto the stage and the strobe lights flashed. Through the haze, J.D. could make out a drummer, lead guitarist, and bass guitarist. Suddenly, the lead singer burst onto the stage. J.D. stared as the lead singer, dressed in leather pants and a glittering silver tank top grabbed the microphone and started belting out a song. J.D. could make out a tattoo on her left arm. But what made the singer so stunning was her long red hair that curled in waves down around her shoulders. I feel that I still need to work on some of my dialogue to make it more realistic. The teacher’s dialogue was effective, but JD needs to sound more like a teenager. “Long story. Let’s just say I had to have a little chat with the English teacher who dresses like my grandma, even though she’s half her age. That old witch Stevens hates me. I can tell by the way she glares at me through her nerdy glasses.” Although I was trying to use this dialogue to reveal a little more about the teacher’s personality, I don’t think any teenager would talk like this. How might the skills and understandings gained from this piece of writing help you moving forward? After writing this story, I realize how important it is to create a believable character. Using a picture for inspiration and then answering the character questionnaire helped me to realize that what JD really wanted was his teacher’s acceptance, and what better way to get her acceptance than to realize that they actually had a lot in common. Just as he thought she misjudged him, he also misjudged her, and this helped to create a solid conflict for the story. I also realize that I have to be willing to delete scenes that do not add to my story. If I had kept the detention scene or even the scene about the rest of the concert after he recognizes his teacher, I would have bored my reader. I fantasize about being one of those adorable runners. You know the ones - pink flushed cheeks, pony tail bouncing with each stride, a few beads of sweat making my skin oh-so-dewy! The reality is -- I am a mess when I run. Beat-red, flushed face, hair drenched with sweat and plastered to my forehead, no bouncing pony tail or dewy cheeks -- just one hot mess. Sometimes I worry about people seeing me run. It is risky to throw on a pair of sneakers and jog through the neighborhood. What if a student or parent sees me? That is probably why I like running early, before most people are out and about. Surprisingly, I've learned to accept and appreciate the messiness. I'm even a bit proud of it. It's a sign that I've worked hard, that my aging muscles can still do what they were designed to do. I realize, too, that running is a lot like writing. Sometimes (most times) writing is grueling and messy and risky. But every once in a while, I hit my stride, my breathing steadies, I forget about everything else, and I just go. Go with my legs or go with my words, embracing the beautiful mess of the process. Kayaking on a beautiful summer evening sounds like complete relaxation to most people, but the thought of my maiden voyage on Long Arm Dam brought more that a little fear to my mind. As a not-so-great swimmer, I had been avoiding paddling the trusty yellow Potomac on any body of water. Any time my husband asked, I was armed with an excuse. On Friday night, I had finally run out of excuses and was forced to face my fears head on. Driving to the dam, I sat quietly in the passenger seat, envisioning myself capsized, trapped beneath the kayak, sinking to the bottom of the lake, despite wearing a life jacket. Despite Eric's assurances that I would probably not flip and most definitely would not sink, I was still unconvinced. With trepidation, I climbed into the kayak, clutching the paddle. Eric gently nudged the craft onto the smooth water. Once I adjusted my balance and fell into a rhythm with my paddling, the fears fled and the peacefulness of the evening quieted my reeling mind. My grip on the paddle loosened, and my arms and legs relaxed. I paddled along, watching two herons take flight, maybe trying to chase us away from a nest with their loud squawking. We inched along the shoreline, spotting some birds and other wildlife. In the more shallow parts of the lake, we could see bass and other fish swimming just below the surface. An hour later, as the kayak scraped the rocky shore and I climbed out, I declared that kayaking was my new-found hobby, a stress-reliever and calorie torcher, all wrapped up in one. And if I was really lucky, It might even help to tone my flappy triceps, too.
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Remember -- we are free to write the worst junk in America, as long as we keep looking for ways to make it less junky :) Archives
June 2018
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