LITR 3731 Creative Writing UHCL journal / portfolio sample submission 2005

Karen Daniel

Introduction

I initially enrolled in this creative writing class because I felt that creative writing was by biggest weakness, and as a future English teacher, I felt it was important to become more comfortable with the process. I consider myself an extremely capable analytical writer, but I have not done any creative writing since high school. Of all the literature, classes I have taken in college this class scared me the most. I expected to be the only one who did not possess an extensive portfolio of past works, and to be the only one who was not comfortable allowing others to read my writing.

The poetry assignment made me more nervous and uncomfortable than the rest of the assignments. While I wrote poetry extensively in high school, and still treasure the poems that I wrote then, I did not think of myself as a poetic sort of person, especially as it is my least favorite type of literature to read. I have never been able to comprehend the deep and multiple meanings that people seem to get from reading poems and therefore have never liked addressing poems in class. Of course, I ended up being one of the first people in class to present, and I was much happier with what I wrote than I thought I would be. I had every intention of turning in a revision of something I had written 25 years ago, but I ended up writing a new piece, and the process reminded me how much I had loved to write poetry years ago.

For some reason I was not as uncomfortable with the short story assignment even though I have never written any sort of fiction stories in the past. I found it easier to write since I decided to write about what I know best. Writing about my children was one of the simplest things I have ever done, and their reaction to it was a wonderful gift!

I found the drama to be the most overwhelming assignment. Like most of the class, I was baffled about how to go about writing dialog. In the end, I found it to be the most enjoyable of all the assignments. It was such great fun to act out everyone’s scripts and to discuss them afterwards. The laughter it brought to the classroom was a welcome relief from the serious nature of most of my classes. The most interesting thing about doing the dramas was getting to know the perceptions that each person has about the variety of people in their classes. They were hysterical.

Overall, the class that I was the most afraid to take ended up being one of the most enjoyable classes I have ever participated in. I know that some of us will take this class with us as we continue to review and assist each other in out future writing. It has been an invaluable experience. I have long planned to use a workshop format when teaching high school English, and it was helpful to see the workshop in action as a student.

Poetry

Antique Lace

Handkerchiefs, scarves, and costume jewelry.

Richly framed portraits of a 50’s debutante.

Carefully preserved lace--remembrances of past revelry.

The softly lingering, almost sensuous scent

That permeates clothing, carefully chosen, once cherished…

And a comfort to us that are left behind.

But it's not enough to portray the woman,

A daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, and friend.

Incessant vibrancy and delicate elegance.

Courage to fight for life that was grounded in her religious conviction

And the never ebbing devotion of my father…

In the perfectly planned suburban life.

Holding hands, cuddling on the couch

Physical proof of the strength of the marriage

Of the two Southern Louisiana Catholic, school kids

That lasted forever, growing stronger…

And ending much too soon.

Interfering with all of out dreams of the future.

Favorite recipes inadequately prepared at holidays.

Family celebrations, lacking luster taken for granted

In wonderfully carefree cozy childhoods.

A life relegated to antiquated articles, cherished

And blended eternally with tender memories of our mother.

Original:

Handkerchiefs, scarves, and costume jewelry

Richly framed portraits of a 50’s debutante

Carefully preserved lace, remembrances of past revelry

The almost sensuous, softly lingering scent

That permeates clothing, once cherished, carefully chosen.

Insufficient representations of a woman,

A daughter, wife, Mother, Gran, and friend.

Incessant vibrancy tempering delicate elegance

Inspiring courage found in religious conviction

And the never ebbing devotion of my Father.

Favorite recipes inadequately prepared at holidays

Family celebrations lacking the luster taken for granted

In wonderfully carefree cozy childhoods.

A life relegated to antiquated articles, cherished

and blended perpetually with tender memories of our Mother.

First Revision:

Handkerchiefs, scarves, costume jewelry.

Richly framed portraits of a 50’s debutante.

Carefully preserved lace--remembrances of past revelry.

The softly lingering, almost sensuous scent

that permeates clothing, carefully chosen, once cherished

Insufficient representations of a woman;

a daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, and friend.

Incessant vibrancy, delicate elegance.

Courage found in religious conviction

and the never ebbing devotion of my father.

Favorite recipes inadequately prepared at holidays.

Family celebrations lacking luster taken for granted

in wonderfully carefree cozy childhoods.

A life relegated to antiquated articles, cherished

and blended perpetually with tender memories of our mother.

Second Revision:

Handkerchiefs, scarves, costume jewelry.

Richly framed portraits

of a 50’s debutante.

Carefully preserved lace--

remembrances of past revelry.

The softly lingering,

almost sensuous scent

that permeates clothing,

carefully chosen,

once cherished…

and a comfort to us that are left behind.

But it's not enough

to portray the woman;

a daughter, wife, mother,

grandmother, and friend.

Incessant vibrancy,

delicate elegance.

Her courage to fight for life

that was found

in her religious conviction

and the never ebbing

devotion of my father…

in the perfectly planned suburban life.

Holding hands,

cuddling on the couch

Physical proof of the strength

of the marriage of the two

Southern Louisiana

Catholic school kids

That lasted forever,

growing stronger…

and ending much too soon.

Favorite recipes

improperly prepared at holidays.

Family celebrations

lacking luster

taken for granted

in wonderfully carefree

cozy childhoods.

A life relegated to antiquated articles,

cherished and blended eternally

with tender memories of our mother.

Revision Process:

I originally wrote this poem because it just sort-of popped into my head. I showed to Dr. Gorman the next day and he suggested that I make minor revisions such as eliminating a couple of words, but for the most part, he said that he really liked it. He liked the wording but some of the people who read it thought the language was strange and thought I should simplify it. When Dr. White suggested that I add another stanza addressing some other issues, I was unsure how to do it, but I woke up in the middle of the night with it clearly in my head and had to wake up and write it down. In the process of integrating this new stanza, I decided that I wanted to change the entire layout of the poem to make it less structured. As much as I liked the original I think I like this better, although it was difficult for me to change some of the wording.

Before submitting this portfolio, I made further changes to the poem. I agreed with Dr. White that changing the rhythm and format of the poem had been a mistake so I transformed it back to the original format, while adding some lines and changing a few words. I really prefer the poem with longer, more complicated lines. I am still not entirely sure I am okay with the third stanza. Therefore, I still consider it somewhat a work in progress, but I am much more comfortable with the sound of it than I was when I submitted it. Writing a poem after so many years was a thoroughly enjoyable and educational exercise. I hope that I am able to continue to express myself in this manner.

Fiction

The Winner

The longer I sat on the hot, metal bleachers, the warmer the evening seemed to get. Typical of Texas in late May, the weather was stifling, and I impatiently wiped at my forehead, trying to stay ahead of the dampness that was ruining my makeup. The crowd grew in size as the time for the ceremony grew closer. I tried to make light conversation with the people who stopped to say hi to me, most of them former classmates of my husband from long ago. I knew that, as alumni of the high school in which we were all gathered, they would have a special feeling of nostalgia tonight.

I stared at the newly covered track, glistening with the colors of the school. I had spent countless hours and evenings watching my daughter compete here, running sprints and races with a speed that sometimes amazed me. Of all the coaches she has had over the years, the track coach is my favorite, always putting the kids in front of the win.

As I sat waiting, my mind began to wander back in time to the evening of her first race, her first victory, and what would be the first of many accomplishments in her young life. It all seemed so long ago, as far away as the city in which it all began.

* * *

We walked slowly, weaving through the throngs of carnival goers, careful to avoid a collision between the distracted crowd and our dark gray and red stroller where our one-year-old Therese slept restlessly. She had never liked the confinement of a moving vehicle of any kind, making a lie out of the advice given to all new parents that the way to calm a cranky baby was to take them for a long car ride. She was already making her mark on our little world with her refusal to be confined or strapped into anything. Of course, my arms were another matter, as I never seemed to have a free moment to myself without the weight of my second daughter dragging me down.

My husband touched my shoulder.

"I'll be right back," he said with a grin. As usual, he could not resist the booths advertising pretzels and cotton candy. He could be so much like a kid himself.

"Hurry up, okay?"

"Sure, I know you can't live without me." His sarcasm was not without truth. It was hard to keep track of both kids without him near me!

My six-year-old ran ahead, dizzy with the excitement of the lights and bells and the call of the carnies. The opposite of her clingy sister, Christina was a traveler, always running off on some adventure, causing me a different sort of exhaustion as she refused to even hold my hand, let alone let me carry her slight figure that made her look much younger than she really was. In her pink shorts and white tank top, she ran away, ignoring my instructions to hold onto the side of her sister's stroller, safely within my reach.

Just as I was trying to decide whether to hold onto the stroller, and keep the crowd from jostling it, or to run after my older daughter before she could disappear forever between the unending masses of people, I saw my husband approaching. He was laughing at the confusion and frustration he could so easily read on my face.

"I sure hope that pretzel was worth it babe! You want to go and get your daughter before she finds a sideshow to join?"

Still laughing at my question, he jogged off; easily overtaking her, and admonishing her softly, brought her back within my reach.

It had seemed like such a great idea to bring my young family to the annual fair that I had loved for so many years. I was quickly beginning to second-guess my decision as my irritation mounted, and my always-cheerful husband began to get on my nerves with his laid back reaction to the idea of losing my precocious eldest daughter. His annoying calmness was in sharp contrast to Christina's constant chatter.

"Mommy, can we get some cotton candy?"

"Mommy, can I play this game?"

"Mommy, can I go on this ride?"

Geez, hadn't daddy been her first word? Why was it all directed at me?

I knew I was being very unreasonable. I was still young enough at 23 to remember how it felt to be a kid at the fair, showing my animals and trying to lose my parents so I could hang out with my friends.

A lot of my irritation came from the fact that I needed to get out of the sun. Sweat was beading on my forehead and soaking through my faded blue jean shorts and my Hard Rock Café tee shirt. We had barely walked through the gate before the heat had begun to overwhelm me. How my husband could walk around in Wranglers, a flannel shirt, and work boots was beyond my comprehension. I thought I was going to faint in the balmy Southern California, July weather, still in the 90's at 7:30 p.m.

"Can we please go find some place to sit down in the shade and rest before I totally come unglued?" I asked pleadingly.

"Sure babe, lets go see what the crowd in that tent up there is. At least we’ll be in the shade and maybe you can chill out."

I knew he was making fun of me with his subtle word play and smiled grimly as I followed him to the red and white striped, covered pavilion next to the radio station kiosk, the letter KCBQ loudly painted in neon colors on the black background of the bus. As we grew closer, loud pop music suddenly blared out of the massive speakers set up on the walkway.

"Just great" I muttered as my sleeping angel suddenly erupted into a ball of screaming, red-faced, angry baby! Picking her up, I held her close and covered her ears as I continued to follow Thomas up the walk, into the tent and into the shaded refuge that was our goal. At least now, my six-year-old would have something to amuse her. She seemed to have developed a penchant for torturing her younger sister. The sisterly bond and love I had imagined as she had so anxiously awaited the birth of her first sibling had not panned out. She seemed to be perpetually jealous of her needy baby sister, and I had begun to notice the pleasure she seemed to take in Therese's distress.

Perhaps if I could put her sister down for more than half an hour I could give her more attention, but at this point, that seemed a distant dream.

"Look Mom! Look Dad! It’s a race for babies. Can we enter Therese? Pleeeeese!!!!"

"Wow, check this out. It's a baby diaper derby. I'll bet my Wobbles could easily beat all of these kids. What do you think babe? Should I enter her?"

I laughed at his use of Therese's pet name.

"You are going to be calling her that when she is 25 years old and walking down the aisle at her wedding!"

"You got that right. She will probably still be wobbling around then if she doesn't start to walk soon."

I laughed uneasily at his reference to our only real concern about our youngest daughter. Her doctor assured us that she would start to walk when she was ready, but it seemed to be taking an extra long time, and I worried about it as I watched my friends' babies walk at nine months.

"Sure, go and sign her up. She is probably the oldest baby here and all we have to do is sit at the finish line and let her sister hold her at the starting line. She will be out of the blocks so fast the other kids won't stand a chance. God forbid she should be more than a foot away from me for more than 30 seconds!"

I watched as he walked up to the registration table, glancing at the towering display of Huggies diapers stacked precariously on the stage. I was a little bit uneasy about entering her. As competitive as I was I never liked to lose, and watching one of my children compete was just as nerve-wracking as competing myself.

My husband returned carrying a card with the number five scribbled darkly upon it. This certainly didn’t appear to be any big deal. I would pacify Christina by letting Therese crawl down the bright green, white striped, indoor-outdoor carpeting placed under the awning that we had come to, seeking shade. Then we could be on our way, perhaps taking the kids to ride on my favorite carnival attraction, the carousel.

As we waited with the rest of the hopeful parents for the beginning of the derby to be called, Therese suddenly stood up, laughing and taking one, precious, precarious step. My heart fluttered excitedly, and then……….

“No!!!!!!!! Don’t walk now!” I cried.

Therese fell on her bottom, crying in confusion, the proud look of a moment before disappearing as her face fell.

“Oh baby, it’s alright. Let Mommy hold you for now.” I wondered if I was some horrible parent, holding my baby just to keep her from finally walking for the selfish motivation of winning a stupid race!

Just then, a man approached, telling all of us that the fun was about to begin. Therese was hardly in a good mood, but this could work in our favor. If she were crying, she would really be a momma’s girl and come running, or rather crawling, to me as fast as her chubby little legs would carry her.

As we approached lane five, I realized that my petite little angel was sandwiched between two burly baby boys. How would she ever compete? They would probably gang up and roll her before she could get out of the blocks! I handed her to her sister, her piercing screams of protest instantly attracting the attention of anyone within the confines of the mile around the tent! Thomas and I walked, laughing, to the other end of the lane. It sure seemed to be taking a long time for the race to start. Poor Christina was struggling to hold her screaming sister, and I could tell her virtually non-existent patience was wearing thin.

Just then, the man announced, “Crawlers, take your mark!” A loud buzzer blared and the babies began crawling all over the place. The two boys that had been on both sides of my daughter sat up, staring at each other and laughing. Another little baby girl crawled in circles, ignoring the cries of her Daddy at the finish line, smiling at her desperate mother who tried to encourage her to “go see Daddy.” The rest of them, ten in all, seemed to be crawling with no particular purpose, confused by all of the noise and the yelling of the crowd that had gathered.

But not Therese! She took one look at her sister and never looked back, crawling as fast as possible, a determined look on her face. She wanted her Mommy! I groaned, as five or six feet before the finish line she stopped, sitting up and waving to the crowd.

“Oh no!” She was so enthralled by the attention that she wanted the cheers of the crowd more than the safety of my arms. I sighed in relief as, laughing gleefully, she lunged towards my waiting arms, and the infamy of the winners’ circle.

Thomas grabbed her up, swinging her around excitedly. We walked to the stage, knowing that the bright blue ribbon, and shiny silver cup, were to be the concrete proof we would need to brag to the world about the superiority of our daughter. Christina ran up, grabbing her sister’s hand, and looking at the ribbon with wonder and envy. As we received the prizes, took pictures, and began to walk happily away, the man stopped us.

“How are you planning to take these home?”

“Take what home?” Thomas asked.

“The years supply of diapers.”

My heart jumped with joy as I looked with awe at the tower of diapers that decorated the stage in front of me. Not only was my daughter the best baby in all of San Diego county, she had earned a prize that would help to relieve the serious financial strain we had found ourselves under since I had quit my job to stay home with my children!

I put Therese down on the mat to write down our contact information and watched her stand up, take a couple of wobbly steps, and walk happily towards her smiling sister.

* * *

The sun was just setting in the sky as I sat and watched Therese stand, taking a couple of unsteady steps, before walking confidently up the green carpet to the stage where her principal waited to hand her the paper that had been 13 years in the making. I knew that rather than crawl towards her parents she would forever be walking in her own direction from now on. Just like 17 years ago, I was torn between the happiness of watching her walk, and the desire to see her sit and crawl, forever in the safety of my reach. She looked up at me in the bleachers, and smiling brightly, walked away.

Since some of us have been sending drafts to each as a group, I just sent the original draft out to our circle, asking for advice and feedback from any of them who could send it. I particularly asked Audra for feedback since we are required to include her in our exchange. I was really anxious to get feedback as I have never written a story of any kind before, and was afraid this personal adaptation would be boring to other people.

Unfortunately, most of the feedback I received was flattering but not very helpful. Most of the respondents, including Audra, simply told me that they loved it and not to change anything. Jennifer was the only one who originally responded in a useful way, and her comments and suggestions were a great help. Andrea also made some small suggestions to me that helped the flow of the paper. Later, Sherry sent me a wonderful exchange that helped me to finalize my draft.

I was much happier with my story after receiving the feedback that I got from the class and thought the suggestions that were made helped to make the story stronger. I made use of a lot of them, sometimes after clarifying what the readers were actually suggesting.

Very nice work!!!!! I love it!!! I'm sending it back with a couple things highlighted in green. I do have one suggestion though. I like the jump forward to graduation at the end, but I was wondering if you could put something at the beginning about the graduation too. Like maybe the mom is sitting there, waiting for the event to start or watching her daughter and thinking back to that day at the carnival. Then go into the carnival thing, and end with the same ending at the graduation. Does that make sense? That is such a sweet story. You captured the moment perfectly. I felt like I was there and experiencing it, which is exactly what you want a reader to do. :) Well done!!

Thanks Jennifer! I am just thrilled that people seem to like it. I have never written any sort of story before. It was sort of fun. I thought some about opening at the graduation but I really can't think of how to do it. Any suggestions? Maybe just sitting and describing the atmosphere or the physical surroundings like I do at the opening of this one?

Yea, like, describe the surroundings, the uncomfortable chairs, etc., looking over at the daughter, how she looks (physically and emotionally - is she nervous? does she look excited?), what it took for her to get here, thinking back on her childhood in reverse. how fast it went by, high school was a blur, ... blah blah.. or she's always been a winner, like when she played sports or a musical instrument in high school and won the spelling bee in junior high and excelled in something else (dance or little league) in elementary school... "As I sit here and reminisce about my daughter, I especially remember when she set the precedent for the rest of her childhood.” You could write that line better than me, but I'm just trying to give you an idea. :) Well, I hope this helps. Your story is really great and I can't imagine you not getting an A on it just the way it is. I think you could get it published in a literary magazine. Seriously. :) I hope you don't give up on it because there are plenty of people that would get enjoyment from it. See ya Monday, Jennifer

I offered several comments and suggestions throughout your paper. The stuff highlighted in blue meant that I really liked it. If it's in green, there's either a confusion or some sort of problem I came across. The stuff in yellow and bold are my explanations, and I gave some more insight at the end. Good luck! And nice paper by the way. If you have any further questions, let me know.

I really enjoyed reading this. It was interesting how you built up to the climactic action. I feel like a dork saying this, but it almost gave me chills when I got towards the end of your paper because it was getting so good. You were almost in danger of losing the reader at the beginning, but it was a nice contrast in how you were feeling at the fair from the beginning to the end. The pace really picked up quick when the idea of the derby race approached. However, on the note of the possibility of losing your reader at the beginning, you may want to try adding a little more dialogue but not much. I highlighted sentences in blue that either livened your writing, it was a good description, the wording was nicely constructed, or I just simply liked it. If you give a little more of these kinds of narration or dialogue at the beginning, your paper is well on its way.

Okay, I am a little confused about where I give the impression that the narrator's name is Therese. I realized that I never named the narrator, they are just "babe" and "mommy" etc... However, somewhere I must give you that impression and I need to fix that. I am going to change the first two sentences to make it clearer that it is the baby's name. Will that fix it? I am worried if you got it from somewhere else it may add to the confusion!

Yes, that should fix it. I got confused from just the part I mentioned. Now that I look back, I can see that that was the baby you intended to describe, but it was that one phrase that led me to think that maybe you were describing the narrator or someone else. When I thought that it could have been the narrator that you were trying to describe, I was thinking you made a mistake and forgot to write the word "I" to keep it in first person.

Ok , I have to admit you got a tear at the end. Great Job. I was especially able to relate to the mother about the safety of mommy’s arms. I loved the story and could feel every feeling the mother was having and every reaction the father was having. Very realistic and true. I did not think it was boring at all. Great job. Don’t change a thing. ~Audra.

Karen, you understand this all to well. I was just saying to my husband last night can't the girls say daddy. It was driving me crazy while I was trying to study and get some relaxation.

Story time: what is the difference between mover/shaker and running off on your own adventure? You said the kids were different. That is just a question for my own benefit because I didn't know.

third paragraph you say my daughter-could you change that to our daughter or even better your daughter and use the all mighty sentence why is it when she is doing something wrong she is my daughter or some such. Mary Kay will catch this: take out that in paragraph five/six where is says "the problem is that I" it flows better. The story pace/content/interest is fantastic. I couldn't see a very good turn out for the mother's day and saw all kinds of grumpiness, but it turned around. It had drama and comedy and kept the interest as I read. I take it this has happened to you and that time seems to fly when you watch your children grow. It was a terrific short story. Andrea

Thanks so much Andrea. Yes this was a personal experience that actually happened over a one month time period, but how boring would that sound! Thanks for the wording suggestions, I think they really improve the flow of the paper. What I meant about them being different is that one of them wants to be near me all the time, while the other one is always running away. (They are still like that today!)

I think the two main changes to my story as a result of the draft exchanges were improving the flow and producing a better link between the beginning of the story and the end. Adding the section at the beginning about sitting and waiting for "the ceremony" to begin, without actually stating that it was a graduation, was difficult, but I think it really adds to the story. I did not want to say at the beginning that I was at a graduation ceremony, but putting this part in takes away some of the "surprise" at the end that could throw a reader off. Also, Sherry's suggestion to add some dialog in nearer to the beginning made a lot of sense, and took away from what might have been boring narrative.

I was a little frustrated at the start at the lack of helpful suggestions. While I was glad that many people liked the story a lot, I know that it had, and probably still has, wide room for improvement. When Jennifer first suggested changing the beginning I was a little resistant but think it worked out for the best in the end.

Overall, I really like the draft exchanges better than the in class presentations. It was more helpful to me the have ongoing conversations about my work over an extended period. It is easier to question things in writing and more productive to be able to look at it all in print. Now that I have done this myself, I will be better at commenting on other's writings in the future. If I was going to change anything I think that I would ask more questions of the people who simply said they liked it to help them to look more closely at the work. I was unsure about my feelings towards this manuscript before doing the exchange, and now I feel really great about the way it sounds, although I think that I will improve upon it even more after getting feedback on the changes that I have already made.

Once again, I have made minor changes to the story before submitting it. I understood some of Dr. White’s comments about the ambiguity of the description of my younger daughter, and about the language in some of the sentences being flat, so I addressed those issues before submitting the portfolio. I also took Tara’s comments about the use of contractions into account and attempted the change some of the more formal language. I really like this story and hope to expand upon it as my daughters grow older and reach new landmarks in their lives.

Concept Sentence: One young and clueless girl tries her best to fit in, but she turns out making things worse as she insults the students in her class.

Jamie: (Looking around at the class) ~~What~~what did you all get on your midterms?

Mary: (Looking at her like she is a bug or something) None of your business.

Jamie: I got an 'A' too, but I didn't read a single book. I am so smart. I didn't read any of the books in my junior AP English Class either. I didn't need to.

Dr. White: Okay, lets get started. I know a lot of you took Creative Writing in high school. How many of you think that your writing has matured as you have grown up?

Jamie: Because, I was already perfect in high school. I still am. It's really irritating to always be in a class with so many stupid people. I was the smartest person in my junior year AP English class also.

Dr. White: Well, perhaps you will change your views as you get older and more mature.

Mary: And if she doesn’t' shut up she is not going to have the chance to get any older!

Dr. White: (Looking at Jamie with disbelief) Okay then, lets go on. How do you all plan to structure your literature classes when you begin to teach?

Tara: I really like this workshop format. I think kids would really like it also.

Sherry: Yes, it will really allow them to develop into better writers and allow them to express themselves in so many ways.

Jamie: No way, it would only work if you separate the smart kids from the stupid kids! You don't want to make the smart kids be in the same class with the idiots. That's what happened to me in my junior AP English class. I was so smart in high school and it is really irritating to always be the smartest person in class!

Andrea: (Under her breath) ~~You~~you sure don't have to worry about that in this class!

Dr. White: All right, before break will you all pass your research papers down to the end of your aisles and I will come by and pick them up.

Jamie: Well, I am so smart I am sure he will give me an 'A' anyhow. Due dates and penalties are only for people who are not as smart as I am. My papers are so good they should be publicated.

Sherry: You sure are conceited Jamie, and Bonnie is right, that's not a word.

Jamie: (Shouting) Yes it is!!! It means to publish something. God, do you all just have GEDs instead of high school diplomas? It really ticks me off to have to be in class with people who only have a GED! I am so much smarter than that!

Tara: (Standing up) You know Jamie, a lot of us have GEDs, and we are not stupid.

Jamie: Yes you are. If you were as smart as me, you would have graduated from high school.

Sherry: That was really mean Jamie. Some people have other reasons for not getting diplomas, and it's not right to make assumptions about them.

Jamie: Well, they’re just idiots, and colleges shouldn't let them in so that I have to be in class with them.

Andrea: God Jamie, what were you, the valedictorian of your graduating class or something.

Jamie: Nope, but that was just because so many of my teachers hated me, especially my junior AP English teacher. I did get to walk somewhere behind her though! My mom and grandma made sure I was at least in the running. Man, those people below me were so stupid! I don’t even know how they let them graduate. It makes my high school look bad!

Jennifer: (Sarcastically) Yes, if they were stupider than you are then it's a wonder they even made it to high school at all.

Theme Sentence: Sometimes people with low self-esteem feel the need to impress others by inflating their abilities in order to make them appear more than they are.

This was so much more fun than I had thought it would be! Once I started writing the drama scene, it just sort of took on a life of its own.

While I was pretty happy with the overall theme of my drama presentation, the class offered some helpful suggestions to fix some of the issues I was struggling with. I had already e-mailed it out to my classmates and they had helped me before reading it aloud.

I got the idea for my drama presentation from discussing an ongoing issue a number of us were having with a classmate. All of us agreed that while she added humor to our lives, students like this present a real problem to classrooms. I was trying to find a topic that would be funny while at the same time opening up useful classroom discussion.

The biggest problem I had was with the concept and theme sentences. I was having trouble stepping back and generalizing as the topic was close to my life. Jennifer was a huge help in this area, and while I did not actually use her sentences, she gave me the inspiration I needed to attack the problem.

Finally, after reading the drama scene aloud, I made these changes with the assistance of the class:

At the suggestion of readers I changed some of the language to more simple, informal dialog to make it seem more realistic.

Sherry: Yes, it will really allow them to develop into better writers and allow them to express themselves in so many ways.

*Changed ‘one hour later’ to ‘after one hour of Dr. White lecturing’ to clarify idea

Page 4 the class thought that perhaps my reference to her class standing was over-the-top. While there was some disagreement, the general consensus was that I should have her make excuses about why she was not the class valedictorian.

Andrea: God Jamie, what were you, the valedictorian of your graduating class or something.

Jamie: Nope, but that was just because so many of my teachers hated me, especially my junior AP English teacher. I did get to walk somewhere behind her though! My mom and grandma made sure I was at least ~~but I was 180~~^th ~~out of 202.~~in the running. Man, those people below me were so stupid! I don’t even know how they let them graduate. It makes my high school look bad!

Jennifer: (Sarcastically) Yes, if they were stupider than you are then it's a wonder they even made it to high school at all.

Theme Sentence: Sometimes people with low self-esteem feel the need to impress others by inflating their abilities in order to make them more than they are.~~with their~~

I was unhappy with the wording of the theme sentence and the class had some good ideas to help me tighten it up somewhat.

We opened as normal going over the business for the week. This week we mostly discussed the reading assignment and the fact that while it is a bit longer than usual, it is the last of our reading assignments and we are "liberated" from the book after that.

Then we discussed the drama assignment and went over the requirements of 3-5 pages, a concept sentence, and theme sentence, and a list of characters. Dr. White suggested that we look at some of the past scripts and we gave him a hard time about there being people in the script we are going to do next week that we have never heard of. It is an adaptation of a past semester and the names were not all changed.

After the business, Amy Harkins read her story. It was about a pregnant woman getting on an airplane. We questioned her meaning about the husband's clothes, liked her descriptions, thought she needed to switch gears between drama and comedy a little better and that she needed to decide on a tone and stick with it. We suggested that she either take out the part about taking a short nap in the airport or make it have some greater meaning, such as that the nap made her miss her plane. We were especially impressed with her writing after finding out during the break that she has never had a child. She writes humorously about pregnancy and it seems like she has experienced it first hand.

After the break, Sherry read her story entitled Young Love. We suggested she tie the beginning in a little better but overall we loved her story and talked mostly about tone, tense, and grammar. Dr. White noted that he liked her style of writing. We wanted to know more about what sort of guy Brian is.

Finally, we had our weekly discussion about the readings. We discussed the conventions of characterization, dialog, and thoughts. We discussed the story Obst VW. Class was finished after this.

Well, that about covers it so let me know if you have any questions about what I addressed. Have a great week, and thanks again for you positive feedback of my story!

Other e-mail draft exchanges: I participated in a number of draft exchanges other than my own this semester. I read all of Jennifer's submissions. I read Mary's short story and poem, read Andrea's drama scene, and tried to help her with some of the problems she was having. I also read her short story, which reminded me, so much of the genre of mystery that I love to read for entertainment.

The first jp I read was Robert Andresakis's. Robert was a fellow student of mine at the university and I have always had the utmost respect for his writing ability. It was especially interesting to me to read about his lack of confidence concerning creative writing. Additionally, to hear him say he was shy about presenting his work was a welcome relief.

I then read Jennifer Davis's portfolio. She wrote some wonderful things and it surprised me that she, as well as Robert, struggled with some of the assignments in this class.

Lastly, I read Dawn Dobson's portfolio. Her introduction rang so similar to mine that I felt a connection with her. It is funny how many students felt intimidated by the poetry section, and Dawn and I had common feelings about the short story fiction section. Additionally, hers seemed to be the most through of the three.

The most important thing that I learned about from reading their works was the idea that I was not alone in initial feeling that I lacked the ability to be a good creative writer. Our guest author stressed the idea that good writers are not usually born that way, but hearing it from fellow students whose works I respect, has a stronger impact on me than hearing it from a professional writer. I was afraid that my journal portfolio might be too casual but after reading theirs, I felt better about mine.

I am so glad that I enrolled in this class. While I was already acquainted with a number of students in the class, I got to know them much more personally after sharing with them in our workshops. As a teacher, this is the format I plan to use in my class and after participating as a student, I am more determined to make this work for me and my students.

At the beginning of this class, I did not consider myself to be a creative writer. I have had confidence in my academic writing for a long time, but was very insecure about writing fiction. If it had not been for this class I probably would never have considered writing short stories or drama scenes, and might never have written another poem. My confidence in myself, and therefore my ability to be a better teacher, has increased immensely during the semester.

I think that my strongest genre is writing fiction short stories. I have so many memories from which to draw, and as an avid reader, I have been exposed to the fiction writing of many various writers. I found the short story not only easy to write, but satisfying in an entirely different way than the poetry and drama. Poetry has always been very personal to me as a way to express my inner emotions. Writing a short story was different in that I was anxious to share my story with others, thus sharing a piece of my life with them.

I loved being able to hear and discuss the works of other students. I am really amazed and impressed at the talent and creativity of my classmates, and hope to be able to share the experience with my students later on.

I tend to be a rather introverted person (don’t laugh), and when thinking things through I talk a lot to myself rather than to others. Writing about experiences helps me to think them through on a different level.

One of the most difficult things for me to face this semester is the idea that there are people for whom my language and way of expressing myself may be inappropriate. I grew up with a mother who was the most well spoken and well-read person I have ever been in contact with. I never realized how much of her vocabulary I had picked up (or passed on to my children) as being normal. Growing up in that environment tends to shape your perceptions of what "most" people do and it is helpful to me as a future teacher to realize that I may need to back up a few steps and communicate in simpler language. The fact that some adults had to look words I used up in a dictionary was a wake-up call to me. When you get so used to writing academic Literature papers your views can be quite skewed. This is something I obviously need to work on in the future.

As I stated earlier, I am glad that I decided to take this class before graduating. I hope to be able to bring a wealth of new knowledge and insight into my classroom as I begin teaching high school literature next year. Thank you for the wonderful experience.