Assignments, prompts and general musings
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Scene Showing:
"On January 29, 1951, David Lacks sat behind the wheel of his old Buick, watching the rain fall. He was parked under a towering oak tree outside Johns Hopkins Hospital with three of his children—two still in diapers—waiting for their mother, Henrietta. A few minutes earlier she'd jumped out of the car, pulled her jacket over her head, and scurried into the hospital, past the "colored" bathroom, the only one she was allowed to use. In the next building, under an elegant domed copper roof, a ten-and-a-half-foot marble statue of Jesus stood, arms spread wide, holding court over what was once the main entrance of Hopkins. No one in Henrietta's family ever saw a Hopkins doctor without visiting the Jesus statue, laying flowers at his feet, saying a prayer, and rubbing his big toe for good luck. But that day Henrietta didn't stop." (page 2) This scene is an excellent example of showing because of how it grabs the reader and pulls them right into the paragraph. The author paints the scene of Mr. Lacks, sitting in his old car, perfectly - one can almost hear the rain beating down on the Buick's roof. The descriptions used further into the paragraph further make the scene come to like, making it a scene full of vibrant imagery. Scene Telling: "Today, nearly 60 years after Henrietta's death, her body lies in an unmarked grave in Clover, Virginia. But her cells are still among the most widely used in labs worldwide—bought and sold by the billions. Though those cells have done wonders for science, Henrietta—whose legacy involves the birth of bioethics and the grim history of experimentation on African-Americans—is all but forgotten."
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I turn the gas stove on and listen to its sleepy, defiant click as I lower my head towards the blue flame, a cigarette in my mouth. Instinctively, I reach to quickly pull my hair back – it’s getting much too long, she always told me – and tuck it behind my ears, safe from the flame’s entrancing dance. As I stand upright an inhale I am greeted with clarity for the first time in weeks. That clarity, however, is fleeting and turns to emptiness as I turn and lock eyes with her.
It’s late and her pale skin is near-translucent in our dimly lit apartment. She is stunning, almost ethereal in the evening. She stands before me, silent, but her eyes tell a sad story. I take a drag of my cigarette and want nothing more than to tell her that everything’s going to be alright. This dingy apartment, our life together, it’s all up from here. I want to make her feel safe when I myself feel nothing but fear and uncertainty. I will have to lie to her, but she will see through it. My eyes will betray me. My brain tells my body to move closer to her; that the words I stumble over in my head will come flowing out as I reach for her delicate arm. The moment I step, however, she is no longer there, rushing past me and fading into the other room as my cigarette’s smoke rises into nothingness. I follow her and am greeted by a home torn apart. Brown boxes have taken over the apartment, tokens of our life together packed away. There is nothing left but the barren wasteland of shattered hopes and broken promises. Feeling helpless, I reach for the keys in my pocket and fumble with them, hoping more than anything that these small pieces of metal will inspire something courageous from me. The words never come. She stands stock still, her small frame engulfed by the surrounding boxes and I swear, despite her tear-stained eyes, that she has never looked lovelier. “It doesn’t have to be the end of us,” I cough out as I exhale again, hoping my words will inspire some emotion from her. “I love you.” Gracefully, she steps towards me, quickly, assuredly. I watch, feeling like a bystander as her hand opens up and she whips it across my face. It stings in a way that I sometimes still feel, even four years later. “You’re the one who is leaving,” she reminds me before turning and entering our bedroom. I taste blood in my mouth and drag deeply on my cigarette. Ten Chapters From My Life:
Freewrite based off of one item from the above list: Turning my back on the city of Pittsburgh was by and large one of the hardest decisions I have ever made in my adult life. I chose to leave behind love, a group of amazing people and an ever-evolving adventure. In return, I got an overwhelming sense of emptiness and an uncomfortable roof over my head. This is not to say that everything I left behind was strictly good, however, amid the friendship and the love I also left years of failure with them. Returning to my home and moving on with my life seemed easy in practice. I would pack my belongings, get in my car and return to the land of my childhood. This such as these, I have found, are rarely ever so simple. As much as I rationalized my actions, uprooting my life was a terrifying proposition. Upon reading both articles, I cannot help but look towards my own writing habits and compare. The assigned articles portray two remarkably interesting takes on the writing process. The first, by Carolyn Chute, shows that no matter how busy and hectic one's life is at a given moment, there is a story in every second. Chute writes of her seemingly monotonous day with a wonderful grasp of the narrative structure, turning mundane facts into engrossing sentences.
The second article paints the impressive routines of the great Ernest Hemingway in an understandable light. As one of the most prolific writers of all time, reading of Hemingway's methods during his time spent writing is enough for any reader to immediately eschew their own habits and attempt to utilize what worked for the great author. After taking time and going through both articles, it is important to inspect the various habits and distractions that I personally face when writing; specifically the ones that arise in relation to setting aside time to do schoolwork. In this modern age, virtually all writing - academic or personal - is done sitting in front of a computer screen. This, of course, is a blessing and a curse. While the computer is a necessity when it comes to writing papers, it is also the leading distraction that I face and must overcome. All too often, a writing session can begin with the best intentions, only to wind up a veritable failure once one too many internet tabs are opened. Learning to manage my writing and shy away from the inherent distractions provided by the internet is easily the largest issue I face when attempting to write. Upon mastering the ability to put aside petty distractions, I wholeheartedly believe that I can become a better writer, as can anyone else in the world. My philosophy on writing better is that it is a simple skill to learn to improve if one is willing. As someone who writes everyday, I think that simply putting the time aside to sit down and put word to paper is the easiest way to genuinely improve. Simply becoming a better writer, however, does not mean that I choose bigger, better words or keep more people entertained at a given time. To me, being a better writer is an intensely personal, never-ending journey. To expand on this, look no further than Hemingway himself. Arguably the most influential writer of all time, Hemingway was notoriously short in his writing, never wasting extra words on a description. This is why there is no real way to be a 'better writer' than before, as this notion is different to everyone. As I have stated before, as long as I can set aside the time to write and feel more comfortable each day telling my story of the world as I see it, I have gotten better as a writer. The six strategies I will use to become a better writer each day are as follows:
I am personally quite thrilled at the idea of using a blog format for our class assignments. Outside of school, I am the Managing Editor of an entertainment website, so I am very familiar with blog-style layouts and formatting. Besides being familiar with the platform, I think that turning in assignments and curating our own personal blog is a perfect way for me and the rest of my classmates to better learn about composition in this modern, digital age. Almost everyone has some kind of digital footprint in 2014 and utilizing a blog in order to learn and grow as writers is a natural fit.
My goals for this course are simple. Through the next five weeks of class, I aim to improve my writing skills as much as I possibly can. As someone who has always enjoyed writing and telling stories, I aim to learn how to further my skills to the best of my abilities with the tools and advice gathered from class. I hope to learn how to better find my voice in all styles of writing - from nonfiction to creative and argumentative forms. Additionally, due to the expedited nature of this summer course, I hope to learn how to better manage my time, as juggling this class and working at the same time will take dedication and perseverance.
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