LITR 3731: Creative Writing
Student Journal / Portfolio Sample Submission 2005

Sherry Mann

5-2-05

Journal/Portfolio

Introduction

I really liked several of the journal/portfolios posted online from the creative writing course in 2003. I looked though some familiar names of people whom I know usually do great work from what I have seen in previous classes with them. As usual, they wrote lengthy and thoughtful pieces. Their writing was very well organized, and though the requirements were the same for each student, each one seemed impressively unique, especially in his or her stylistic approaches to language and the amount of effort. By reading other students’ journals, it reminded me of things I forgot, and it helped me to look at some ideas in new ways. It also helped me establish my organization. I admired the different styles of writers, and I would not mind imitating some of their qualitative features in my writing. Besides, that is what good writers do. They read, learn from, and imitate other good writers. Throughout my journal, I make several references to Dr. White’s former students.

When I came into Dr. White’s creative writing course, I was not sure where I stood as a writer because I skipped out on a creative writing experience during my high school year. I remember several years ago in 9^th grade, my speech teacher told me that I should take her creative writing class after I wrote a piece in response to a picture. I never took that class, but I wish I would have. Even though I never took that creative writing class in high school, after having taken Dr. White’s course, I feel that my creative touch still exists within me. I was hesitant to take Dr. White’s creative writing course because I felt worried that I would not be able to think of anything interesting especially due to lack of experience in creative writing as well as in life. On the other hand, I learned that it does not matter how much experience you have. Everyone does have some amount of experiences, and that is what makes each and everyone of us creative and unique. According to Jennifer Davis from the 2003 creative writing course, she believes that this course made her “more creative and made me [her] think outside my [her] own box of limited experience.” I could not agree more, and I could not have said it better. It really doesn’t matter how much experience you have; it matters whether you can think beyond the experiences you do have.

As I worked on each genre, I felt I progressed in my ability to write—demonstrating my talent, creativity, humor, and personality. I thought it was interesting how comedy continued to display in each of my writing whether I intended to or not. I ended up taking up that strength and running with it. I accomplished it in especially the ending phrase of my fiction piece, “Prom Date.” With the drama piece, of course, I had a lot of fun with comedy. Drama naturally opens an avenue of comedy, and I am sure several students would agree. Tamrynn Huckabay Fett explained that “drama was not difficult. I [She] found it much more fun than tedious to put words into other people’s mouths.” I found that writing drama was very natural for me just as it is for other writers because we are creatures of imitation. In addition, I find myself to be an animated person, so I happen to pay attention to the way things are said and acted.

At the beginning of the class, I hypothesized that fiction would be my easiest kind of writing. Although it wasn’t easy after all, I did find fiction as my strength. It took me the longest to finish especially because I knew that I would be reading it aloud to the class. Dr. White complimented my fiction’s development, and he thought that it would be fit for publication after a little more revising. I was excited to hear this, and I look forward to working towards this goal.

I have read what some authors of fiction have said about their process of writing. What I learned from them overall is that writing is a journey—you never know where it is going to take you. I definitely experienced this as a writer this semester, especially with my fiction piece. At first, I did not read the requirements for the fiction piece, so I kept writing on and on wondering when I would stop. Luckily I read the requirements before my eyes turned into little buttons. It was strange how each thought would build upon another, and each time I took a break, more ideas would come allowing me to continue with the piece. I saw this as an achievement and strength because I am now able to understand what fiction writers mean when they explain this aspect of their personal process of writing.

Just as I have discovered my strengths in creative writing, I feel like I have been diagnosing my common writing weaknesses throughout this course and especially now that I am looking at everything collectively. Overall, I tend to have most of my problems with consistency, wordiness, point of view, devising titles, and grammar. First of all, I found that I had a hard time devising titles. The play was the easiest to title. However, my poem gave me the hardest time trying to come up with a title. I went from “A Solitary Chance for Fame” to “Sleepers’ Dreams to “American Idol” I ended up using “Sleepers’ Dreams because I made several references to this idea such as the “tiresome crowd,” “dreamers,” and “deliriousness.” I am still not completely satisfied with the title, but I plan to revise it until I am satisfied with it. With the fiction piece, I am also still not completely satisfied with its title, although it works. In addition, I continue to have trouble with point of view. Dr. White stated that my poem almost sounded like I was looking in from the outside, such as viewing the scene on the television. In a sense, I really was viewing everyone else. In addition, with the fiction piece, I had to work closely with point of view in order to create consistency and clarity. I remember not being able to decide on point of view, so as I began writing my fiction piece, the point of view continued to change. I was definitely aware of this problem without being informed. I re-read Stephen Minot’s chapter on point of view in Three Genres: The Writing of Poetry, Fiction, and Drama to make sure whether or not I understood it correctly. I think it is extra hard for me to pin down point of view. One thing I can not help but disagree with is that in literary studies, it is important for point of view to maintain consistency. I seem to conflict with this idea because my mind naturally jumps all over the place when I write. First I might think about how I feel, and then I may judge how others feel, at least that is what I did in my poem.

After I wrote my poem and made revisions due to several draft exchanges, I felt pretty proud of it. On the other hand, after Dr. White provided feedback, it opened my eyes to realize that it still needs a lot of work. I found it really hard to go back on something that I felt was “good stuff.” I honestly feel stumped as to where to take my poem. I would not say that poems are my strongest point. I feel much more comfortable with writing fiction because it is closer to expository writing than poetry is.

After making such revisions to each of my genre pieces, I have definitely surprised myself in the writing I have produced. I really liked the statement made by Jennifer Davis—“I think my greatest progress is not that I have achieved some great realization about myself as a writer, but that I actually did it.” I can agree with her because in the beginning, I felt that I could not do it. I remember asking Dr. White if I should take this course if I’m not sure I can even produce a creative piece. He assured me that after the class is set up and that I have seen several models, then I will start feeling more comfortable. I also asked other literature students if they were taking this course and how they felt about their selves as a writer.  I found that I was not the only one to feel the way I did. Now that I have completed all my pieces and am continuing development, I feel very proud that I achieved my obstacle of producing a piece of poetry, fiction, and drama.

Poetry Development

Earlier Draft

Sleepers’ Dreams

A solitary chance for fame

In an everlasting line,

With cheerfulness and hopefulness,

With perspiration drops

From a teasing sun.

Suspense sets off as dense clouds

Grow with intensity,

With relieving merciless winds

And glimpses of glossy grass,

With lit skies flashing and sparkling

Causing a shift to a place underneath

A worn, ancient bridge

With occasional rumbles,

An area constrained for drops of poop from pigeons,

Patiently waiting for streams to pass.

NBC, ABC, and Fox TV

Cameras spread out sporadically,

Available for dreamers

To steal a piece of their identity,

With hope of representation

Without assurance of fame or humiliation.

Time advances at last.

A swarm of a tiresome but steady Houston crowd

Moves to the Minute Maid Park Stadium,

A dry resort of security and relief.

Sleepers in the stands, benches,

And hard cold cement beds,

All for a chance of auditioning.

Sleepers attempt to dream,

And many do but end up shattered,

By rejections of the judges

Caused by the cold chill of the night,

The exhaustion of practice and anticipation,

The long lines of waiting and standing,

The accumulated nervousness and deliriousness.

The strong defeat the weak once again.

Losers exit to loser land,

Winners exit to hopeless happiness.

For most the attempt was

A suspenseful adventure,

A mild triumph,

An eternally capitulated memory.

No hope to face Simon.

But for me, life is where it should be.

Draft Exchange + Further Comments from Instructor after Final Poetry Submission

I conferred with Karen Daniel to do my draft exchange. She suggested several changes including editing and revision. She found some redundant areas that I could condense. She pointed out words and/or phrases that were unclear to the reader, repetitive, wordy, and/or contained incorrect vocabulary. She also pointed out areas she enjoyed such as the line “Without assurance of fame or humiliation” because I added a fresh idea. One would automatically think I would only say “fame” here, but I also added “humiliation” to represent  a new thought.

Karen had the courage to tell me which line she did not like. Fortunately, it was only one line, “An area constrained for drops of poop from pigeons.” First of all, I used incorrect terminology. Second of all, I used a word that was inconsistent with the more mature language. I joked that when pigeons are messing around you, your maturity level decreases. However, I respected her opinion, and I started to agree the more I reviewed the poem. She suggested that I could change the line to “Painted with drops of poop from pigeons.” I could tell that the line was getting closer to its final revision. I played with the line a bit, and I finally revised it by keeping the new word, “painted,” and deleting the silly word.

I also had concerns about my poem that Karen was able to help me out with. For example, in my original version, I did not mention a word about singing in the poem. I had a phrase in mind, “Echoes of melodious annoyances,” to add but did not know where to insert it into the poem. Karen seamlessly suggested an area to place my phrase, and it fit perfectly. She liked it because it gave the poem a break from rhyming in stanza four. However, later I decided to intentionally make this stanza sound jingly and annoyingly melodious, so I switched the words, “melodious annoyances” to “annoying melodies” causing more rhyme in that stanza. It better fits the message in that stanza.

I also conferred with Audra Caldwell (online student). She informed me of the wordiness of my first draft. She suggested that I delete “With” at the beginning of two different lines because she stated that “it jumbles it up for the readers.” She also found stanza three confusing and unclear to the reader, so it “did nothing for her.”

Following her advice I worked diligently on deleting such repetitions and wordiness. I revised my third stanza several times until I felt completely satisfied. I wanted to make it clear what was going on in that stanza. I felt it was important to have it in there because it was one of the time consuming events of the experience. All of us were underneath this bridge for hours waiting for the rain to pass and waiting for a speaker to announce what was to happen next.

I showed Audra my revised version of stanza three, and she liked it. However, she stated that she understood the stanza only after I explained what was going on. So I changed it again, and this was when I deleted a line that threw off the meaning—“With occasional rumbles”—meaning that I would occasionally hear cars pass over the bridge. I was trying to touch on the sense of hearing in the poem, but it just wasn’t fitting with the context. It just seemed to throw off the meaning anywhere I placed it.

I felt really satisfied with my final version. I even added some extra structure. In my 6^th stanza, I tried to make the structure/appearance of that stanza represent the accumulated negative experiences that hindered mine and several others’ chances at making it in that audition. I also added some punctuation such as the dashes to help the flow and to make the poem easier to follow.

After turning in my final version to Dr. White, he opened my eyes to a new perspective of my poem. He offered further insight and suggestions. He explained that he was a bit frustrated when he first began to read my poem because I did not provide a clear context for the poem until later in the poem. As a result, I tried a few of his suggestions (see Appendix for copies of email from instructor), but he and I felt that further revision was still necessary. I honestly am not real sure as how to revise this piece. I have several options, but I am simply uncertain where to begin. I think this is due to the idea that it is hard to change the ideas that you feel are a part of your identity. However, I really enjoyed my experience in trying out for American Idol, and I want this to perhaps come out more in this poem. I already wrote a journal from my experience, which really captured the moment. Maybe the moment has already passed me by, which may have been the reason for the lack of enlivenment in my poem. Dr. White also mentioned that the poem almost sounds as though I was watching this event on television, so I needed to make it clearer with point of view, especially in deciding first or third person narrator. However, in a sense, I was sort of viewing everyone else because I did not truly have my heart in my experience. It was sort of one of those things that you do just “for the fun of it” or simply to see what happens. I plan to continue working with the clarity and “to enliven” my poem as Dr. White suggested.

I made a couple of changes after conferring with Dr. White, but the work is obviously still in progress. I added an epigraph as follows in order to set the context for the poem. I tried a previous epigraph, but it was too long, so I tried again. In the first stanza, I changed “A” to “My” to make it clearer that I was referring to my once in a life time chance for fame.

Sleepers’ Dreams

(I intended to camp out in a tent while waiting in line for three days for my turn to audition for American Idol, but unexpected weather arose. As a result, we temporarily were moved underneath a bridge and later allowed to sleep inside the Minute Maid Stadium.)

My solitary chance for fame

In an everlasting line,

Filled with joy and optimism.

Yet, perspiration drops

From a teasing sun.

To see more, click on Link to Final Poetry Submission.

Fiction Development

Earlier Draft

Young Love

Off in the distance, a lonely little red bird skips around from branch to branch moving its frail body. He seems so richly colored in comparison with the pale green but glistening leaves, but the bush looks like it will just curdle up and die if the bird does not hurry up and fly away. And it does. It darts its way to another potential home, which has probably been sitting there for centuries.  The thick branches that curled toward the sky had lost its brown color, and it remained scaled like a snake with scales of pale white and insipid green. The old branches and the twigs wrap around each other almost eternally. It reminds me of love that lasts forever. It figures. Only the trees would have it, thought Braunie. The bird looks around as though puzzled but flew away as soon as the front door opened.

“I wish I was a bird,” Braunie says. She sits on the steps of the porch underneath another worn tree that seems to hold on for dear life with its knarled and pale brown branches that hang directly over her head.

“You’re such a dork. You come up with the most stupid things,” says her sister, Rachel.

“Yeah, well, birds seem to have it so easy. They get to hop around and fly.”

“Aren’t you about to leave to go pick up your loser?” Rachel asked.

“Rachel, don’t call him that. You don’t even know him,” replied Braunie.

“Oh, I know them kind of guys, and I know them well.”

“I’m sure you do,” snickered Braunie. Rachel was a lean girl, one of those girls you just want to trade bodies with, except you’d want to keep your own head. She wasn’t the brightest girl; well she just didn’t make the brightest decision when it came to down to guys. But here I am today about to pick up a hot date.

Rachel went on describing how the guy should be the one to pick the girls up and that people seem to have it all backwards these days.

“I’m just thinking. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just tired of staying in bed and depressed all day long. I can’t be like this forever,” says Braunie.

“You better be careful. Don’t get desperate and fall into this guys arms like you did Scotty.”

“Will you shut up about Scotty. He’s the last person I want to talk about. I’m leaving now.”

I was hoping that Brian would take my mind off of Scotty. Scot was my ex-boyfriend’s name; I would always call him cutey, but he hated it. I guess he thought it took his manhood away, so I called him Scot with a y. It sounded close enough to cutey to me anyways; he wouldn’t get it. Well, things didn’t work out for us. He said that he felt that we should separate because of our differences in beliefs. I was Catholic, and I strictly believed in abstinence, and he strictly believed in well, the opposite. I was taken by surprise when he wanted to break up, but a little voice would always tell me that something wasn’t right. I took the opportunity to break up when I could because I knew I wouldn’t do it if he didn’t.  

I knew that prom was near, and I was not going to go single. For some reason, in the back of mind, I wanted Scotty to see me with another guy. I would not let him think that I didn’t know how to initiate another relationship. I had always told him that I was afraid to talk to other guys before I met him. We only started dating because my sister didn’t want to date him, and she passed him to me. She never really expected and even wanted us to date. She just selfishly passed him on to me to get rid of him; she simply saw right through him. She met him as a friend, but he liked her more. She has already been around the block with most of the guys her age in school. I never did really figure out why she thought twice about Scotty. Well, I’m here. He sure looks tired. Oops. Maybe I should have left when I called and said I was on my way. I just haven’t been myself lately.

It’s about time. Man this girl is hot. I guess good things do come to those who wait, Brian thought.

“Hey Brian, sorry for the wait. Are you ready?”

“No problem, I’m ready. Let me tell my dad that I’m leaving.”

“Okay.” This is strange for me. My parents passed away in a fatal car accident when I was fifteen. The car overturned in a car pileup going about seventy miles per hour. Since then, I’ve been living with my grandparents for two years. They give me so much freedom that I don’t have to worry about telling them when and where I go. They forget anyways. I’m so used to doing things for myself that it seems strange when friends make a big deal about receiving permission, curfews, rules, and whatever else. The only bad thing that I have to do when needed is work. My grandparents are retired, but they only make enough to barely support themselves. They have just enough to buy me and my sister second hand clothing and, of course, food and girl stuff. If I wanted anything else, I had to buy it. That meant I had to work. Prom is approaching, and I must have a prom dress. I applied in the summer to work at Landry’s at the Kemah boardwalk, and I went through the training. I start working tomorrow at Landry’s, and I’ll work every weekend.

“So where are we going?” asked Brian.

“I was thinking the mall.” 

“The mall? You don’t want to go to the movies?”

I didn’t like going to the movies. It made me think of Scotty. That’s all we ever did was watch movies. Brian tried again. “What about the ferry in Galveston? Do you want to go on the ferry?” I really could not get my mind off of Scotty. That was another one of our special places where we went to on dates, especially when we were younger and were looking for a cheap place to hang out.

“Sure,” I said. “We’ll go to the movies then make a trip to the ferry.” I might as well work on getting Scotty off of my mind.

I met Brian through my friends at school. They were tired of me being all depressed and single, so they tried to match me up with someone. The initiator of them all was Tessa. She was dating a guy from Texas City, and he had a good-looking friend who was single, named Brian.

At the movies, he puts his arm around me, and I sit as stiff as a board. I was so thankful when we got out of the movies. The sun was already setting when we left the theater. We get to the ferry, and unfortunately there’s a long line. I actually feel silly in the car next to this guy that I hardly knew. What were we supposed to do? I could tell he had an idea of what he wanted to do. Out of no where he comes up with the line, “You know what I’m thinking about?” I uninterestingly answer, “what?” He answers, “How beautiful you are.” He leans over towards me and tries to kiss me. I was so grossed out. I mean how lame! I went ahead and let him drool in my mouth. I needed a date to prom anyways, and I could use him. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes, my favorite features. He was tall and well-built, but for some reason he didn’t quite interest me. However, he and I would look good as a couple at prom. Later I drop him off, and I’m set for a date for prom. I just need a dress.

Revision Account + Further Comments from Instructor after Final Fiction Submission

            This was my first fiction piece, so I had a hard time getting started in deciding what I should write. What inspired me to write this story was when I looked outside my kitchen window over the sink as I was washing the dishes. While I was enjoying the scenery outside, I saw a pretty red bird darting its way around the yard. I thought to myself, this could be a metaphor for a story. I also took a close look at the trees, which they were quite old and perhaps rotten. I thought these could be written in some detail for a story. I headed off to my computer and typed up what I saw.  After I typed up the description, I walked away from it keeping in mind where I might take the story. I wanted to start the story off with this appealing description coming from the perspective of one of the characters in the story. It took me a while to decide who would be the viewer of this particular scene. At first, I used an unimportant character who was observing this while waiting for his date to pick him up. However, I wasn’t satisfied, and the story was not flowing like I wanted it. Therefore, I allowed the main character to view this scene. By making the protagonist view this scenery, it helped my story flourish.

I had trouble with point of view. At first, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to include a third or first person narrator. I decided to use first person narrator because I wanted the story to uphold a teenager voice, and I felt that the use of “I” made the story seem more personal for the reader. One problem several students in the class noted was the use of first person with Brian. They felt it interrupted the flow, so I changed this to third person. I also added more comedy in this paragraph as many suggested. I had trouble trying to decide what to designate the fiction piece. At first I titled the story, Young Love, but it seemed too austere. A class member suggested the title, Prom Date. I thought it had potential, so I considered it. I labeled my final version as the suggested name, but I still hope to devise a more satisfying title. One student questioned the length of the past relationship between Braunie and Scott. I did not address this in the story, but I implied that they had dated for several years. To make it clearer, I later added that they dated in their sophomore and junior years as Dr. White thought would maintain the language. Just as I fixed several mechanic issues, I corrected several tense errors in my writing that were addressed in class. I shifted several times, so I corrected this to create consistency in my story. Dr. White suggested that it was not absolutely necessary to change all of the consistency errors because the story contained plain enough language, and it was coming from the point of view of a teenager—teenagers are not always consistent thinkers. I ended up changing the verb tenses and writing out several of the contractions to prevent distractions. I did not fix the shift in tone because I agreed with Dr. White that it correlated with a teenager’s mind. Many students felt I lacked a transition when Braunie arrived at Brian’s house, and the easiest way to fix this problem was moving the new idea to the next paragraph. Daniel Davis wanted more comedy at the point when the characters were leaving the theater. I used Daniel’s suggestion of having Brian state an inappropriate comment at this point. I also took into account that I used a standard car wreck when explaining the death of the protagonist’s parents. Instead of providing too much unnecessary information, I briefly mentioned the death without including any rich details. A few peers in class felt I did not tie the description in with the story strong enough. However, I didn’t want to overdo it; I wanted to leave the connection a bit subtle to allow for imagination.  I appreciated Dr. White’s and a few others defense in how my description did satisfactorily connect with the story.

I hope I did not take away the impact of the style by changing several of the consistency problems. I wanted to maintain the “ring of truth” that Dr. White described. However, I feel that the story still works; at least I increased the level of intelligence for the protagonist. Now she’s more suitable for a senior. Writing fiction does require that you maintain consistency. You have to make sure each character maintains their character, that the author or narrator does not contradict themselves. I felt I might have been contradicting myself when dealing with my characters. On the other hand, teenagers are a bit more complicated than that. I think if I were to stay too consistent with their descriptions and actions, then I might be at risk of creating flat characters. If I were to change anything, I might have emailed to the respondent, Daniel Davis, my final draft to see if he had any further suggestions or comments. For now, I am happy with my description at the beginning at the story and how it connects with the protagonist, but I would like to continue to explore this possible issue by receiving further suggestions and ideas.

After submitting my final submission, Dr. White emailed me to tell me that after “another round of polish,” he felt my piece could be submitted for publication. I really liked my fiction piece, but I felt flattered and surprised at this statement. I never thought to submit anything for publication because I never wrote anything that I anticipated for publication. He offered an opportunity to confer further about my paper before submitting it to Bayousphere or elsewhere. He explained that I mainly need to make a few editing corrections along with extending what I am doing right. I plan to develop and edit this piece a bit further with Dr. White’s assistance (See Appendix for copies of email from instructor).

Link to Final Fiction Submission

Drama Development

Earlier Draft

Restrictions

Characters:

Dr. White: 9^th grade English instructor, very strict and unrealistic

Bonnie: a student, eager to participate in discussion, protests

Jamie: a student, did not make a stop at the restroom before class

Micah: a student, sent to the office for what the instructor considers inappropriate behavior

Tara: a student, insults the teacher, protests

Karen: a student, stirs up the class to protest against the teacher’s wishes

Mary Kay: a student, protests

Daniel: principal

Class: all the characters above plus Jamie, Jennifer, Andrea, Alissa, and Lindsay

Concept Sentence: The instructor leads the lecture like every other ordinary day while the 9^th grade students try to participate, but he continues to ignorantly discourage student-centered discussion or any sort of freedom.

Dr. White: Today we are going to learn about similes and metaphors.

Bonnie: I think—

Dr. White: Okay, there are no “I thinks” involved, and you did not raise your hand to speak. A metaphor is a comparison without the use of like or as.

(Everyone makes a loud sigh as though thinking, here we go again.)

Jamie: (Raises hand)

Dr. White: Yes Jamie?

Jamie: May I go to the restroom?

Dr. White: No, you had a chance before class. You will just have to wait.

Bonnie: I have an example of a metaphor.

Dr. White: Uh. You need to raise your hand before speaking. That is our first procedure. What do we do when we break a procedure?

Bonnie: But I didn’t even—

Dr. White: (Sternly) What is to be done when we break the first procedure?

Bonnie: (Frustrated and sarcastically) We recite the procedure we break.

Dr. White: Very good. Now will you please recite the first procedure?

Bonnie: (Shakes her head out of frustration and rolls her eyes. She speaks sarcastically.)

Do not speak without raising your hand.

Dr. White: Super!

Micah: (whispers to Lindsay) Man, he acts like we are little kids. I can not wait until we get out of here.

Dr. White: Micah, would you like to share with the class of what is so important that you would have the nerve to interrupt my lecture.

Micah: Man, what lecture? You’re too busy trying to correct everyone who you think needs to be corrected. Besides, I don’t have to share anything. You don’t care to hear anyways.

Dr. White: Micah, you can go directly to the office. Your comment is severe enough that it looks as though you need a visit to the principal’s office. (He grabs a refraction slip, writes on the slip, and hands it to him. Micah snatches the paper and storms out the room.)

Jamie: Dr. White, I really need to go to the restroom.

Dr. White: If I let you go, that means the whole class will think they may go during class. If you really need to go, you will have to ask permission from the entire group of students.

Jamie: Whatever. (Desperate enough so she complies but speaks sarcastically.) Everyone, is it okay if I go to the restroom?

(Class does not answer. They act as though they are dumbfounded.)

Jamie: Dr. White, they don’t care.

Dr. White: You may not go until you get an answer.

Jamie: This is ridiculous.

Dr. White: Well then perhaps you will think twice before setting up your own ridiculous situation.

Jamie: Whatever! I have to go.

Dr. White: Not until you get an answer.

Jamie: Oh my Word! What are you?! Will ya’ll please say yes so that I can go the freaking restroom?

Class: (loudly and in an annoyed tone)Yes!

Dr. White: Okay, you may go.

Jamie: (Rolls her eyes, sighs, and leaves for good.)

Dr. White: Okay, where were we?

Bonnie: You were talking about—

Dr. White: Oh yes, I remember. What is a simile?

(No one raises their hand to speak.)

Dr. White: A simile is a comparison using like or as.

(Everyone sighs loudly.)

Tara: (Raises hand)

Dr. White: Yes Tara?

Tara: I know an example of a simile.

Dr. White: Okay?

Tara: My teacher is as dumb as a dog. (The class laughs.) Oh, and I added alliteration too.

Dr. White: We are not discussing alliteration, and you are lucky that you are using third person. A more accurate example would be, the girl is like a flower. To make that a metaphor you simply take the word, like, out of the statement. Okay, we are going to take a quiz over what we just learned. Get out a piece of paper.

Karen: (whispers to Jennifer) What could possibly be on the quiz? He only went over a couple of ideas. This is crazy.

Mary Kay: (whispers to Andrea) I know. What is his deal?

Dr. White: Ladies, there should be no talking at this time.

(The announcement comes on as Dr. White distributes the quiz.)

Daniel (Principal): Teachers, at this time, you may release your students to attend the assembly in the auditorium. The assembly will address the issue of drinking and driving. I look forward to this assembly, and I’m sure you, that includes both students and teachers, will find this informative and extremely helpful. Thank you and you all have a nice day.

Karen: Hey, you didn’t tell us about an assembly today. You are going to let us go, right?

Dr. White: You have an important quiz you must take, and we have an activity following this. I’m sorry but my work comes first.

Karen: Uh uh. There’s no way in hell I’m going to miss that assembly for this ridiculous quiz or for some other assignment. I’m leaving. (Stands up and walks towards the door but turns around to face the other students)Is anyone with me? (Everyone hesitates to answer.) Come on guys! You know that we have a right to go to that assembly!

Dr. White: Karen have a seat. You are being very disrespectful. Would you like to visit the principal’s office?

Karen: Dr. White, I am not a child, and you cannot make us sit here like prisoners. You like that. That was a simile. Now I made a 100 on my quiz. I’m out of here.

Mary Kay: (Stands up and walks towards the door with Karen.)Wait Karen, I’m going too. (Karen waits.)

Dr. White: Oh I see how this is going to be. Well, I have plenty of time for writing out detention slips.

Karen and Mary Kay: (almost simultaneously) Whatever.

 Bonnie: I’m going too. (Stands up and walk toward the other protesting students.) The principal told all teachers to dismiss the class. Later.

Lindsay: I agree (joins the others)

Dr. White: (frustrated) Alright, let’s all jump on the bandwagon. Any other takers?

Tara: Yes (joins the others)

Karen: Anyone else?

(No more students left. The other half of the class, who were afraid of the consequences, remained seated and upset that they still had to take the quiz.

Dr. White: I’m sorry that those students misbehaved as they did. Please get started on your quiz while I write out my detention slips.

Theme Sentence: Respect is easily lost when we don’t respect others’ needs and interests.

Revision Account

As I began brainstorming about what to write about for my drama piece, I began thinking about my first disastrous substituting experiences. As a result, I thought about writing about a bad experience as a beginning substitute teacher. I then thought about writing about a first year teacher having the worst case scenario. I went to sleep on this and tried thinking of other classroom situations. I dreamt all night, and I came up with an idea when I awoke. The idea came to me about a teacher who tried to come across strict and used the traditional approach of teaching but overdid it. I think sub-consciously in my mind I was thinking about a first year teacher because of my previous brainstorming.

What I found interesting was that my first draft of the play ended up presenting itself as a stereotypical play of teachers. The one thing I intended to do in my first draft was write in the concept sentence that this was a first year teacher, and I did not do so. I guess I thought it was straight forward until I was shown another perspective of the play, the stereotypical aspect that this idea holds true for many teachers. By adding that the teacher in this play is a first year teacher, I think this would have made a whole other impact on the play, of which I truly intended. It would have caused us to have more sympathy for the teacher opposed to the stereotypical unrealistic and strict teacher. Then again, my first draft sort of stands as though it works because many teachers are, in a sense, victimized of being thought of this way, so the play holds some truth. So my question for the class was to find out which way worked best-- leaving the teacher as the stereotyped teacher or to include that this was a first year teacher, to make it more believable, and to cause empathy for the teacher, if the sympathy hadn’t been gained already. They agreed that I should make it clear that this was a first year teacher because it would make it more believable.

Students seemed to want more humor in the scene. They provided several helpful suggestions such as adding a comment by the teacher about correcting the student, Jamie, with the use of “can” and “may.” Dr. White thought that I should add more of the simile/metaphor business, in which the students would use similes or metaphors in an insulting way towards the teacher to show that they knew more than what the teacher gave them credit for. Dr. White suggested that I break up a statement given by the character, Micah. He explained that I needed to include student responses. He also explained that the teacher in the play tended to act as though his authority was of more importance than the principal’s, yet the teacher still threatened the students that they would go to the principal’s office if they did not behave appropriately. Dr. White suggested that I slow down a sentence stated by the character, Karen, so that the reader has time to process the humor. He also explained that my ending scene was a bit flat, so Daniel Davis offered a helpful suggestion to have the principal end the play by telling the teacher, “there will be no ‘I thinks.’ ” Another class member suggested that I show more of how the teacher’s mood may have escalated in some way.

I took all these great ideas into account, and I worked diligently with them. In response to Dr. White’s statement about the issue of authority, I added this idea to my theme sentence, and I also added some character dialogue concerning this issue. I kept my concept sentence the same as the original because I felt it worked. I made my revisions in addition to adding or revising narration for each character. I also made several grammar corrections. I really feel satisfied with the way the play flows now. While adding some of my revisions, I deleted only a few lines of unnecessary dialogue. I also added a few lines of dialogue and revised a few lines in accordance with how each student read the lines aloud in class. For example, when the teacher stated that Jamie must receive permission from everyone in order to go to the restroom, I overheard a student say, “Oh, my gosh,” which was not in the script.  As a result, I added this dialogue in that section.

Final Drama Version

Restrictions

by Sherry Mann

Characters

Dr. White: a first year 9^th grade English instructor, very strict and unrealistic

Bonnie: a student, eager to participate in discussion, protests

Jamie: a student, did not make a stop at the restroom before class

Micah: a student, sent to the office for what the instructor considers inappropriate behavior

Tara: a student, insults the teacher, protests

Karen: a student, stirs up the class to protest against the teacher’s wishes

Mary Kay: a student, protests

Principal Daniel: principal, provides an announcement, rebukes Dr. White

Class: all the characters above in addition to Jennifer, Andrea, Alissa, and Lindsay

Concept Sentence

The instructor leads the lecture like every other ordinary day while the 9^th grade students try to participate, but he continues to ignorantly discourage student-centered discussion or any sort of freedom.

Dr. White: Today we are going to learn about similes and metaphors.

Bonnie: I think—

Dr. White: Okay, there are no “I thinks” involved, and you did not raise your hand to speak. A metaphor is a comparison without the use of like or as.

(Everyone makes a loud sigh as though thinking, here we go again.)

Jamie: (raises hand)

Dr. White: Yes Jamie?

Jamie: Can I go to the restroom?

Dr. White: I don’t know. Can you?

Jamie: (annoyed) May I go to the restroom?

Dr. White: No, you had a chance before class. You will just have to wait. (Jamie rolls her eyes out of frustration and continues to fidget in her seat.)

Bonnie: I have an example of a metaphor.

Dr. White: Uh. You need to raise your hand before speaking. That is our first procedure. What do we do when we break a procedure?

Bonnie: But I didn’t even—

Dr. White: (sternly) What is to be done when we break the first procedure?

Bonnie: (sarcastically) We recite the procedure we break.

Dr. White: Very good. Now will you please recite the first procedure?

Bonnie: (shakes her head out of frustration, rolls her eyes, speaks sarcastically)

Do not speak without raising your hand.

Dr. White: Super!

Micah: (whispers to Tara) Man, he acts like we are little kids. I can not wait until we get out of here.

Dr. White: Micah, would you like to share with the class of what is so important that you would have the nerve to interrupt my lecture?

Micah: Man, what lecture? You’re too busy trying to correct everyone who you think needs to be corrected.

Class: Whooooooooo.

Micah: Besides, I don’t have to share anything. You don’t care anyways.

Dr. White: Micah, you can go directly to the office. Your comment is severe enough that it looks as though you need a visit to the principal’s office. (Dr. White grabs a refraction slip, writes on the slip, and hands it to him. Micah snatches the paper and storms out the room.)

Jamie: (unable to sit still) Dr. White, I really need to go to the restroom.

Dr. White: If I let you go, that means the whole class will think they may go during class. If you really need to go, you will have to ask permission from the entire group of students.

Karen: (sarcastically and annoyed) Oh, my Gosh.

Jamie: Whatever. (desperate enough, so complies but speaks sarcastically) Everyone, is it okay if I go to the restroom?

(Class does not answer. They act as though they are dumbfounded.)

Jamie: Dr. White, they don’t care.

Dr. White: You may not go until you get an answer.

Jamie: This is ridiculous!

Dr. White: Well then, perhaps you will think twice before setting up your own ridiculous situation.

Jamie: Whatever! I have to go.

Dr. White: Not until you get an answer.

Jamie: Oh my Word! What are you?! Will ya’ll please say yes so that I can go the freaking restroom?!

Class: (loudly and in an annoyed tone) Yes!

Dr. White: Okay, you may go.

Jamie: (Rolls her eyes, sighs, and leaves for good)

Dr. White: Okay, where were we?

Bonnie: You were talking about—

Dr. White: Oh yes, I remember. What is a simile?

(No one raises their hand to speak.)

Dr. White: A simile is a comparison using like or as.

Class: (sighs loudly)

Tara: (raises hand)

Dr. White: Yes Tara?

Tara: I know an example of a simile.

Dr. White: Okay?

Tara: My teacher is as dumb as a dog. (The class laughs.) Oh, and I added alliteration too.

Dr. White: We are not discussing alliteration, and you are lucky that you are using third person. A more accurate example would be--the girl is like a flower. To make that a metaphor, you simply take the word, like, out of the statement. Okay, we are going to take a quiz over what we just learned. Get out a piece of paper.

Karen: (whispers to Mary Kay) What could possibly be on the quiz? He only went over a couple of ideas. This is crazy.

Mary Kay: (whispers to Karen) I know. What is his deal?

Dr. White: Ladies, there should be no talking at this time.

(The announcement comes on as Dr. White distributes the quiz.)

Principal Daniel: Teachers, at this time, you may release your students to attend the assembly in the auditorium. The assembly will address the issue of drinking and driving. I look forward to this assembly, and I’m sure you, that includes both students and teachers, will find this informative and extremely helpful. Thank you and have a great day.

(Class gets all stirred up and excited.)

Tara: Yes! It’s like a miracle.

Bonnie: (laughs at Tara’s statement, quietly speaking to the class) Tara just said another simile. (playing the teacher) To make that statement into a metaphor, simply take the word, like, out of the statement, and it will read--it’s a miracle.

Mary Kay: (smiling) You’re such a dork.

Class: (laughs)

Dr. White: Students, this is a quiz. There should be no talking!

Karen: (ignoring his demand) Hey, you didn’t tell us about an assembly today. You are going to let us go, at least after the quiz, right?

Dr. White: We have an activity following this. I’m sorry, but my work comes first.

Karen: Do you think you’re better than the principal or something?

Dr. White: (rubbing his head as it turns red) Karen, get to work.

Karen: Uh uh. There’s no way in hell I’m going to miss that assembly for this ridiculous quiz or for some other assignment. I’m leaving. (stands up, walks towards the door, then turns around to face the other students) Is anyone with me? (Everyone hesitates to answer.) Come on guys! You know that we have a right to go to that assembly!

Dr. White: (continues to rub his head) Karen have a seat. You are being very disrespectful. Would you like to visit the principal’s office?

Karen: Dr. White, I am not a child, and you cannot make us sit here like prisoners….like prisoners….hey, that was a simile. You like that? Now I made a 100 on my quiz. I’m out of here.

Mary Kay: (stands up and walks towards the door with Karen) Wait Karen, I’m going too. (Karen waits.)

Dr. White: (begins to feel faint, starts fanning himself) Oh….oh  I see how this is going to be. Well, I have plenty of time for writing out detention slips.

Karen and Mary Kay: (almost simultaneously) Whatever.

Bonnie: I’m going too. (stands up and walks toward the other protesting students) The principal did tell all teachers to dismiss the class. Later.

Lindsay: I agree. (joins the others)

Dr. White: (frustrated) Alright, let’s all jump on the bandwagon! Any other takers?

Tara: Yes. (joins the others)

Karen: Anyone else?

(No more students leave. Only four students, who are afraid of the consequences, remain seated and upset that they still have to take the quiz.)

Dr. White: (very upset and rubbing his head) I….I’m sorry that those students misbehaved as they did. Please get started on your quiz while I write out my detention slips.

(After a few minutes have passed, the principal buzzes Dr. White privately.)

Principal: Dr. White?

Dr. White: Yes?

Principal: Why is it that some of your students are still in the classroom after I announced to release all students to the assembly? I spoke with several upset students.

Dr. White: (wiping a bead of sweat off his face) Well, um, you see, I think—

Principal: Okay, there will be no, “I thinks” involved! Now, send all those students down, or I’ll see you in the principal’s office!

(Students exit.)

Theme Sentence

Respect is easily lost when we don’t respect others’ needs, interests, or authority.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Overall Summary

            At the beginning I feared mostly drama and poetry. I had no clue how I could write a drama piece because I never anticipated or experienced writing drama. Surprisingly, drama was the easiest for me. When I read poetry, I usually find it too abstract and beyond my comprehension, so I dreaded the thought of having to produce it. I admire poetry by Emily Dickinson and William Wordsworth, but as far as imitating that kind of work—that’s just not me. I was told that poetry is inspired by a strong emotion, and it is best when written in the moment of time. I was hoping that I would experience something emotional, so that I could give it a try. Well, nothing happened, fortunately. As a result, I thought and thought about what in the past affected me greatly. I thought about when I was depressed from the loss of my first love, and beyond that I could not really think of any emotionally charged experience. Finally, I remembered my American Idol journal. Why didn’t I think of that to begin with? I wrote a whole expository journal on my experience. I read through it hoping some feelings would come back. I went to sleep on it, and after I awoke, ideas came pouring out like a miracle. I grabbed an old piece of paper and a pen and started writing the first ideas that came to mind then moved to the computer. Writing the fiction, of course, took me the longest. I had to keep writing and revisiting. When I came to a point in which I ran out of ideas to move on, then I would walk away and continue to ponder as I ran an errand or something else in which I did alone— this was basically my writing process for each genre I produced throughout the semester.

I think I found my niche in creative writing. I know that I enjoy young adult literature. Much of it is vibrant and refreshing. My past instructor, Dr. Ruth Cox did such a great job providing book talks that really persuaded and motivated us to check those books out from her and read them. I read several young adult novels that semester. I just recently read “Speak” by Laurie Halse Anderson, which I adored her witty style of writing, especially her comical and creative use of images. As a result, I have noticed my style geared in the young adult genre in both my work of fiction and play.

            Dr. White’s course has really made me regret having never taken the opportunity to take that creative writing course that my past speech teacher encouraged me to take. I wonder where my writing would be at this point. Oh well, things happen for a reason. On the other hand, I am thankful that I have taken this course because it has reminded me that I have a talent that was once hidden from me and others. I really want to attempt to publish my fiction piece, at the least. As far as continuing with another creative writing course, I honestly do not know if I should or not. I plan to begin as an English teacher and progress into a remedial reading professor. I wanted to walk away from this class having created models for my students. Now, I not only have models I created, but wonderful models that my classmates are willing to share with others. In addition to several great models, I have gained the skills and understanding of the pedagogical process of the writing workshop. I would love to use this type of class structure in my future classroom. I have always wanted a workshop style in my classroom, and the way in which this workshop was setup really fits my kind of learning style, and I think it benefited several of the other students in this class. Everyone seemed to really enjoy it. This was my favorite class that I have yet taken at University of Houston-Clear Lake. I know that I have read that previous line from several other students in their journal/portfolio. If I and several others enjoyed this class, then students in a high school setting would probably enjoy it just as much. I know that at their age many crave to show off their intelligence. It is important to have a student-centered classroom, and the writing workshop truly provides that opportunity. As a future English teacher, I would alternate days in which I provide this kind of structure. To add variety, I would use another structure for teaching reading, but I really want to use this pedagogical structure for days when I teach writing.

The writing workshop has helped me to be able to offer more constructive criticism to writers. I took several opportunities to help other students in class as well as outside of class. I helped students in their draft exchanges by email. When I provided help, I tried to be as thorough, clear, and helpful as possible. I highlighted using various colors to represent different ideas, which I explained in detail to each writer. I highlighted sentences and phrases that I felt were extraordinary in some way, meaning it wouldn’t hurt to extend further on those same sorts of qualities. I also highlighted sentences that I felt needed revision in some way. At the end of each paper, I offered an overall summary of how I felt about their paper and how they might further develop their writing. I read some really good pieces. I especially remember reading Karen Daniel’s rough draft and then one of her final drafts. It was amazing to see how my and other peer suggestions enormously improved the outcome of her writing (See Appendix for email copies of draft exchanges beyond my own).

I agree with Tamrynn Huckabay Fett that, “[. . .] I am capable of writing anything, but not on my own.” I learned that writing is impossible to achieve alone. Through a workshop structure, I have found it very helpful and insightful. It helped open my avenues of thinking about and perceiving my writing. I know I could not have created my latest work without the assistance of others. I now understand the importance of having peer groups and the instructor to offer suggestions and comments. Everyone for the most part, if they did not offer constructive criticism, then they offered a compliment. I found that even a compliment motivated me to continue to revise and create further development and revision. I really enjoyed the workshop atmosphere. I was open to criticism, and I appreciated all the suggestions and comments that I could get. Now, I feel like I am a better writer because my fellow students and instructor helped me to become aware of both my weaknesses and strengths.

Appendix

LITR 3731 2005 instructor's response to poetry submission:

"White, Craig" <whitec@uhcl.edu> wrote:—

Dear Sherry,

Your poem and your report were both substantial in content and pleasantly
readable in style, thanks.

Concentrating on the poem, the more I read, the more I liked. That implies
that I didn't like the way it started, which is true, mainly because I
simply couldn't tell what it was about and what perspective it was being
told from. As the poem proceeded, enough details accumulated to get my
bearings. But I fear that a lot of readers would share my perplexity over
the opening and simply give up before going far enough to achieve clarity.

So I suggest that, in your final version for the journal-portfolio, you
offer your reader a bit more help, more orientation, up front. Here are some
suggestions-you might try at least one, or some combination, or come up with
some ideas yourself.

1. Use "American Idol" or some variation for a title for the poem.

2. Consider an explanatory epigraph following the title-maybe just a brief
phrase or two explaining the situation, context, setting, etc.

3. This approach might be harder, but that could mean it's better-try
working some more concrete details of the situation into the opening
stanzas. Since these specific, down-to-earth details actually do start
showing up further along, I think you could do this without spoiling the
poem or making it unpoetic.

My other broad suggestion would be to pin down the perspective of the
speaker of the poem. As we went along I couldn't tell whether this was
something you were really participating in, or something you were watching
on TV.

One possible way to manage all these details and contexts might be to make
the poem somewhat more comic. It's almost comic already, which is not a
put-down. Your plain style approaches a deadpan delivery. You could mix the
comic what-a-scene approach and still keep the sense of wonder that the
later stanzas cultivate.

I'm making a lot of suggestions here, but the poem gave a lot to work with,
which is real praise.

I wrote—

Hi Dr. White,

I appreciate your suggestions. It's funny because when I emailed my readers to go over my poem, I told them a little background. For some reason, it didn't dawn on me at that point that I had an obvious problem with my poem. I remember reading one of my first drafts in which it wasn't clear at all that I was talking about American Idol, and I went back and made a few changes. For example, the "Simon" line and the line about "annoying melodies." However that does come more towards the end.

I tried some of your approaches.  I only changed one word to help with perspective. I wasn't sure what else to change, but I still have time to think about it. In the first line, I changed "A solitary chance for fame" to "My solitary chance for fame."  I wrote an epigraph, but I'm not sure if I babbled on too much and spoiled the poem. I went ahead and changed the title to American Idol, but after providing the epigraph, would that title even be necessary? I added in "standing" at the beginning of line 2 to make it clear that I was actually standing in a line and that all that description of the sunny day changing to rain wasn't an abstract feeling or idea. You know what. I think I'm going to leave out "standing" because my epigraph makes that pretty clear. (Sorry, I'm thinking as a write.) Well, please take a look at the few changes and see what you think.

Thanks,

Sherry Mann

"White, Craig" <whitec@uhcl.edu> wrote:—

Hi, Sherry, thanks for the reply and revision. I can post this revision with your submission, or you can work on it a little more, which I'd suggest. Your revisions are heading in the right direction, but yes, you're right, the epigraph is probably a bit too wordy and prosaic. Give just enough information to get the poem started and (maybe) account for some of the references in the poem. We probably don't need dates, etc.

Sorry if I'm not answering your questions about the first stanza specifically, but generally I just feel that you want to have another go at those opening lines. You want to evoke more of a sense of wonder, luminosity, desire concerning the Idol-quest. You've made a good start at sketching the scene, but you need to enliven it.

Again sorry if I'm not rising to what you're asking for--but that's the way poetry critiques work sometimes! Anyway welcome to ask again and help me focus.

I wrote: —

No, don't post the submission yet. I was just troubleshooting with the poem. Thanks again for the suggestions. I'm still going to work at it. I'm not sure how to enliven it, but I'll keep that in mind as I revise it.

Thanks,

Sherry Mann

"White, Craig" <whitec@uhcl.edu> wrote:—

Sherry, one possibility for "enlivening" might be to try to remember and evoke whatever it was that drew you to the event--?

"White, Craig" <whitec@uhcl.edu> wrote: —

I continue to like your fiction piece, Sherry, and I appreciate your
thoughtful account of its development.

I like the changes you've made in the fiction piece. Overall the piece is at
a higher level without the previous gaps or crosses.

I could write more, but most of my comments are simply editing details. So I
invite you to sit down with me sometime, anytime as we did before for a
quick once-over. With another round of polish you could certainly consider
submitting it to Bayousphere or elsewhere.

I wrote: —

Thank you Dr. White. I definitely would like to confer for any editing suggestions. I could shoot for sometime in the summer. I would need to find out your office hours, but I could always email to see when you are available.

Thanks again,

Sherry Mann

"White, Craig" <whitec@uhcl.edu> wrote: —

Thanks for the note, Sherry, and follow through as convenient. I like the way your piece is developing, and I only saw a few areas where you can extend what you're doing right.

Account of participation in draft exchange(s) beyond my own

Karen Daniel <kayleed@direcway.com> wrote: —

I know I am sending this out a little late but if some of you would read it and tell me what you think, make suggestions, etc...I would appreciate it.  Audra, I know I need yours for the exchange.  This is sort of a personal story so if it is boring or stupid, sorry up front. Thanks!

I wrote: —

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.

The Winner

            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 slept restlessly.  Therese (Who is Therese? Isn’t this supposed to be the narrator, “I.” Or is this a friend of the narrator’s? If so, make that a little clearer without adding too much.) (What confused me here was “making a lie out of the advice.” What do you mean? Did Theresa make a lie out of the advice and who told her this? I’m not a parent, so I guess that’s why I don’t get it.)never liked to be confined to 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 a mover and a shaker, already making her mark on the 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 six-year-old ran ahead, dizzy with the excitement of the lights and bells and the call of the carnies.  The opposite of her sister (Maybe you could set up a clearer contrast here. I mean I know it’s clear, but perhaps you can say something like, “My baby slept peacefully while Christina was running off on some adventure…”) , Christina was a handful, 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, and waking Therese up, or to run after my older daughter before she could disappear forever between the unending masses of people, I saw my husband approaching.  (I made the previous change about your sleeping daughter, so that you can delete a few words already understood in this highlighted sentence above. This sentence was a bit too long for me, so maybe that will help some.) 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 my daughter before she finds a sideshow to join?"

Still laughing 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 (You could probably delete this word.) family to the annual fair that I had loved for so many years.  Now I was 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.  I was already tired of listening to Christina's constant chatter.] (Maybe you could change the part in brackets to perhaps liven it a little with, “Just as I was reflecting on how thrilled I was to have brought my family to the annual fair that I have loved for so many years, my nerves began to fiddle. I admire my husband’s always cheerful attitude, but this moment did not so adore me with his laid back reaction to the idea of losing my precocious eldest daughter. Not only was I dealing with his annoying calmness, but my daughter was rattling on with constant chatter.” This is only a suggestion. What you have works, but this is just another way handle writing it.)

"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 totally 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. 

            The problem was 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 began 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 will 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 is 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." (Great dialogue!) 

            I laughed uneasily at his reference to our only 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 (comma) 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 (guide?) her.  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 (You intended for the narrator and the baby’s name to be Therese, right? I think that’s a good idea as long as it doesn’t get confusing for the reader, and I think you make it very clear here.) 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 definitely 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. (This is such a good paragraph that really increase in pace. I’m going to stop highlighting in blue at this point, because I’ll end up highlighting everything.)

            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 yelling of the crowd that had gathered.  (Awesome description! I can so visualize this hilarious scene.)

            But not Therese!  She took one look back 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. 

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.Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Karen Daniel <kayleed@direcway.com> wrote: —

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...but 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 babies name.  Will that fix it?  I am worried if you got it from somewhere else it may add to the confusion!

I wrote: —

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. 

Karen Daniel <kayleed@direcway.com> wrote: —

Hey, I know you are both as busy as me but if you get a minute could you check out the changes, especially at the beginning, and see if it still flows okay?  Thanks so much for the suggestions you both gave me! 

I wrote: —

It flows really well! I really like the change you made at the beginning. I like the whole setup-from the beginning scene to the flashback back to the original scene. The ending is powerful; it almost makes you cry. You are such a great writer!

 Top of Form

Hey Sherry,

 I know this is a bit late in the game, but I was wondering if you had

time to give any thoughts on my fiction piece. This is my first attempt at fiction, so it is a bit rough.  Let me know

what you think.

Hey Daniel,

I made a few suggestions, comments, and suggestions on your paper. Nice job.

“I can’t sleep and if we wait till tomorrow we waste a whole day!” John said as his friends unroll their sleeping bags on the floor of an Abilene motel.

“Come on man!” said Tim, already zipped into his nylon cocoon, “We’ve been driving all day, its 12:30 in the morning…..need sleepy sleep”

“You guys are pansies – I’ll even drive till the sun comes up, you can sleep in the car.  I just need one person to stay up with me.”

A brief silence… “I’ll do it, lets go” said Billy, reversing his bedding plans with beginning the painful process of rolling those impossible sleeping bags back up. Billy had always been that guy.  Up for anything with for? the boys. (awkward)

“That’s my boy! Come on guys, use the can and get your stuff, we’re going to Colorado!  Just like old times.” John walked over and kicked Tim in the side. He was already half asleep.

“Man…you guys are retarded.” He moaned as he got up, knowing his ride was leaving with or without him.

            So the three who had been friends since before they could remember made their way to the car, loaded as much as they could in the trunk and squeezed the rest in the back.  The sun had set hours ago on the flat-lined horizon of Texas, but they were just beginning the second leg of their journey back to the paradise of their youth. 

“I am ready to see mountains,” John said pulling out of the parking lot with a speed that reflected his fervor.

“Me too, it’s been way too long (comma)” Said  said Billy, settling in, obviously excited, but quiet.

“How about you Tim?”

            No answer, he was already asleep in the back, curled up like a fat cat in a shoebox, looking remarkably comfortable considering the space.

“I’m glad you’re here man,” said John, hitting Billy on the leg.  “I miss hanging out.” He knew these last few years hadn’t been easy on Billy, everyone it seems hit fast forward on life and he was stuck watching reruns. (Why is he stuck watching reruns?)  That’s why he had planned this trip back to the mountains.  He needed to know they were still there.

            Colorado was more than a vacation spot, but it wasn’t really home either, it never was.  It was more like one of those gas stations on I-10 in the desert that you know you had better stop at to get gas, because you won’t have the chance again till your you’re stranded. Colorado broke the monotony, sure, but it did more than that, it made the lifelines jump a little higher for those weeks they spent there in the summers from seventh grade to junior year. 

            Not (Replace Not with Only) two CD changes had happened until John realized he was the only one left awake.  Billy had made an effort, but at 3am, anyone is tired.  John sat in the driver’s seat, wide eyed, perplexed at how he could lay awake at night, with his wife, in their king sized bed, counting the hours until he thoughtfully found sleep. Bet at any moment he felt as though sleep would chase him down this quiet highway in the Texas panhandle.  Maybe it was the song of the road; the hum of the engine ever so often accompanied with the percussion of reflectors, or as John liked to call them, road brail. 

            It had been a while since he had made this drive, but all the turns rise up in his memory, unfolding nostalgia from the wrinkles of time. Can it really have been three years since we’ve done this? It seems like a week ago! But time is funny that way, it moves slower than the eye can see, but faster than the heart can know. His eyes drifted past his own hand resting on the steering wheel to land on his wedding ring. So much has changed he thought has it only been three years?  

            As John fought the dreams from creeping into his mind, a familiar stench crept into his nose. 

“Tim!  Geez man!  Put a cork in it!” he said, rolling down all four windows from his driver’s seat control center. 

            The cold air shook them all out of their drowsiness.  They were already in New Mexico, they could tell by the change in temperature. It is strange the closer you get to the sun, the colder it gets.

“Man Tim!  You still do that in your sleep! You’re twenty two bro…..twenty two” Billy laughed as he stuck his head out of the window.

He sat up groggily, “Are we finally out of that God forsaken hole called Texas?

“Yeah man, we’re near mountains, you can’t see them, but it’s good to know they’re there.” John replied. Something in his voice had changed with the temperature.

They all strained to find a hole in the horizon, but this was a black night

“Man… this isn’t going to be the same is it?” said Billy, as though something clicked.  “I mean, three years ago, things were normal, you know.  When did we all grow up?  We’re still the same, but we’re not, you know.” He had been looking forward to this trip all year, but something was wrong.

(Maybe some where around this area you could flashback to a specific event or experience that you all went through together. I don’t know. This could add a personal touch. It could help the reader sympathize with the boys in understanding how close they were.)

Tim picked up on Billy’s trailing thought as if something in all of their minds was finding a voice for the first time, “yeah, I mean three years ago this would have been it for me!  Colorado.  I can’t really figure out what happened but I know as soon as we get settled in up there, I going to want to be home.”  Tim had already spent the first half of the trip either on the phone with his fiancé or grading papers. “I mean life’s back there…”

Billy sank back in his seat as if heavier.

“Well that’s what’s weird, I love the place in Colorado, but I don’t feel like I need it anymore, you know?” said John, as if he was just figuring it out. “That’s where we got recharged, but it seems like now we’ve all found out how to do that without a 17 hour drive.”

Silence slipped into the car, but nobody noticed, all busy with their own thoughts.  Miles passed by, and out of the passenger side windows, they could see the first signs that morning was coming. 

“I wasn’t ready for this!”  Billy said with passion that seemed to surprise himself as he awoke from a dizzying maze of thought. “I don’t want things to be like this, and it pisses me off. You guys say you don’t need this anymore, but I do. And I feel like you guys have passed me up. Not on purpose, but you have. What am I supposed to do?”

The purple sky swallowed up the question. It wasn’t one any of them could answer.  But the road went on beneath them and in minutes the sun shed its first light on what they all had been longing to see.  Mountains.  They had been driving through them for hours, they could tell because some of them were shrinking in the rearview.  It just took driving through the night.

I see that you are using the phrase that the mountains are “shrinking in the rearview” to sort of reflect their relationship. It seems that you are trying to use mountains as a symbol in that aspect. You could describe the physical aspect of the mountains in such a way (in perhaps one sentence) that also reflects the relationship of the boys. That’s just a suggestion.

            I highlighted some phrases and sentences in blue where you had really good descriptions, or I just simply liked it. I could have highlighted all of it, but I my favorite parts. There are a few grammar mistakes in there. Just read it aloud and mark as you go. I marked a few, but I figured I should focus on your content rather than the grammar aspect.

            I made a few suggestions throughout your paper. I really liked your story. I think it’s pretty universal in how we all have to go in our own directions when we hit adulthood. All we have left is memories, and our old friends are usually still there, but something always feels like it’s missing.

Clair Butler wrote: —

Hi There,

My name is Claire and I'm in your Creative Writing Class. I was hoping you could take a moment to look over my poem for the draft exchange. Any comments would be greatly appreciated. Thanks so much for your time!

I wrote: —

Hi Claire!

It took me a good while to figure out what your poem was about. I read the title and tried really hard to see how it fit creation. I looked up just about every word, because unfortunately and ironically, I don't have that grand of vocabulary. However, I now see what your poem is about--a baby in your womb. Duh! Silly me. Are you pregnant? I thought your poem was beautiful. The language and the flow was wonderful. I'm not sure what to suggest. The only thing I saw after reading it several times with the dictionary at hand, was the line that says, "Engage the guardian within me." Are you calling the baby "the guardian?" Is creation "the guardian.?"  I don't know. It wasn't clear to me. I like the title because if the reader is like me, the title will definitely give the reader a focus and grasp on the meaning. Beautiful job! Let me know if you have any questions.

Claire wrote: —

Sherry,

Thanks so much for the input! I'm trying to make some changes based on your advice. Just to answer your question, the second stanza, where I say "engage the guardian within me" I was talking about feeling him move, and feeling protective of him -- I was the guardian. Oh, and the title, Creation, was just a reference to the life being created. I'll try to make a few things more clear. Thanks so much for your help and the nice things you had to say!

Bonnie Napoli wrote: —

Hey guys it's Bonnie... I was just wondering if you could look at my poem and help me out for the draft exchange.  Thanks (and be gentle... poetry is not my cup o' tea)  Talk to you later : )

I will paste it and attach just in case.  (I don't have a title either)

~Bonnie

I wrote: —

I wouldn't call this a cheesy poem because the way you made it jingly implies the tone of your poem. It's an interesting poem. The reader would think that if you steal someone's ideas without giving credit then you are wrong, but in this case you believe the other person is wrong. It makes the reader wonder about what the situation is?

I can definitely feel the rhythm of your poem, and you have a lot of obvious ryhme. Is there some reason you only used one question mark for punctuation? If that's the message here or the theme that you want for this poem, maybe you could use that as the title. If you don't want a long title, then you could title it something like "Losing Glory." The following line, "But the thought of my success" is a bit wordy. I think you could could still keep the rythym if you just say "But my thought of success" or But the thought of success."

In addition, I like your play on the word "thunder:"

So here is the thunder

that you did not earn

It makes me think that perhaps you worked in a group, in which you did most of the work and a member thought the whole group was going to get credit, praise or fame. But in all actuality someone realized that you provided most of the ideas, and you got the credit. I don't know, but that's what I got out of this.

By the way, I couldn't open the attachment because I don't have Microsoft Works. However, you did paste it in the message. Everything is centered in one stanza. Is that how you wanted it? I just wanted to make sure, but I think it works fine. If you have any questions just email or call at 832-385-9319 or 409-986-9731.