Allison: Make the beginning more clear, use more subtext
Ana: More details about Timothy, focus more on the message of the story.
Timothy was on the verge of breaking his mother's neck, if she asked him one more time to do her homework for her. But weirded out by these angry thought Timothy calmed himself down and proceeded to follow her orders. Timothy was Melissa's prized possession. Timothy did well in school and always followed her orders. His siblings on the other hand were a living hell. They were all adopted from different parts of the world and bullied Timothy for being the only natural born and most favorited by all. One day Tika started randomly stomping on his feet and Timothy frowned and begged her to stop.
"What?! I don't get what you're saying Timothy. Speak good English!"
"I am speaking properly you're just TOO STUPID to understand!!" Surprised over the curse that came out of his mouth. He ran to the backyard and ate a pound of dirt. "I am sorry Tika! I promise not to say that ever again!"
"Pssh, pussy."
Timothy was so ashamed of what he did that he couldn't show his face to his family and ran away. Along hte way a kind old lady offered him food. "Little boy you look so pale and sick, would you like some porridge?"
"No, ma'am I did something wrong... I called someone the S-word. I don't deserve food." The old lady could not help but laugh. "Oh you're so cute, come ea some food." The old lady then handed it to him and Timothy and wnet on to eat it. "Now tell me the full story." As Timothy explained what happened the old lady tried to influenced him to look out for himself more often because then this place would eat him alive.
"How dare you tell me to go against my family?! What kind of women are you?!!... Oh I am sorry.I'm screaming..."
"Oh my god! You're such a pussy."
"I am not a pussy! Does a pussy do this?" He roared and then stabbed her.
He ran away right after. That's all he ever does. Run away.
Reflection:
Throughout reading my fiction story I realized that I need to cut down on the repitition. I also need to be detailed with the setting and personalities of the character. The change in my character is more subtle than anything and kind of leads the reader into confusion. An example of this is the ending. Although he killed the women Timothy was still a coward because he runs away form his problems. He is just a different kind of coward. I also feel that I need to cut down on the word 'pussy'. I need to show off more that is fearful rather than having multiple secondary characters say it. I need to describe the character more in terms of wealth, race, appearance, and above all go above and beyond in describing why is like this. My grammar mistakes are very obvious in this story and I need to make the story more clear. So that it won't make that audience put my sudden fiction down before even getting to the end.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Reflection #4
There are many steps that are necessary to create a successful story. Many writers refer to this as the writing process. Good writers write with great emotions, while others do not. After participating in writing workshops and reading Hilma Wolitzer’s Embarking Together on a Solitary Journey, I realized the importance of working with others and establishing goals with one another. These techniques help further increase our writing skills. When writing stories there are things I’m afraid of, things that excite me and things that I wish to improve on. In Wolitzer’s essay she discusses how writing workshops have impacted her writing career. Although we are on fairly different levels of writing, I could relate to the scenarios mentioned within her essay. “Most writers’ hearts are divided by ambition and self-doubt” (Pg 264, Wolitzer). I can relate to this quote because I want to write great fiction and at the same time I do not want to waste time creating something that’s not enjoyable for the reader. As a writer there are many things that have constantly caused me to doubt my writing capabilities. I am afraid that when I write I may offend certain people unintentionally or that readers won’t be captivated by my stories. I also think that sometimes the things I write may sound stupid to others although it may make perfect sense to me. If I;m able to get rid of this fear and create something I am confident it, I feel that I would develop better as a writer.
Through my constant involvement in writing workshops, I realized the importance of workshops and started to appreciate them more. “It must also be said that talent can be inhibited, if not destroyed, under the wrong circumstances. So do we actually need all of those workshops?” (Pg 263, Wolitzer). I hated the idea of workshops. I only cared about my writing and if it was good or not. I believed that we all had different intentions when writing our stories. A lot of people wrote about their emotions and poured out their hearts but since I am not a sensitive person I did not care about what I wrote which made everything overwhelming. After sharing my writing in class several times I have realized that I should not be so close minded of others peoples opinions and take others ideas into consideration. When we were assigned to complete certain writing assignments, I actually started to look forward to discovering the different perspectives people had shown within their assignments. Other students seemed to like my ideas. They found them interesting, so that caused my fears to dwindle and my confidence to skyrocket. I was constantly curious on the feedback and criticisms that I’d get. That’s how my excitement with collaboration was established.
The more I write the more successful I feel. By constantly writing, I believe I improve my writing skills. I hope to improve on things such as my vocabulary, sensory writing and imagery as well as my grammar. I would also like to establish an even more unique writing style and improve on my creative writing. I plan on achieving these goals by writing regularly in a journal and reading other writings to gain inspiration.
In order to follow through with my plans, I need to stay focused when writing. I need to avoid any distractions whenever possible so I can concentrate on perfecting my stories and getting my point across. “Writing fiction is a solitary occupation but not really a lonely one” (263, Wolitzer). This quote shows that although I need to be concentrated on my own work it is also beneficial if I gain help from others from time to time to help me as well as them to stay on task. I plan on doing this by sharing techniques that have helped me and tell them different methods of writing fiction or maybe even influence others to adopt my own methods. The writing process is a difficult one but with the help of others and my own efforts I know that my writing can improve and all my fears can go away. I feel like my writing already developed tremendously since the beginning but I still have a lot more to learn, and when I learn these things I should share it to the world as well.
1. Wolitzer, Hilma. “Embarking Together on Solitary Journey’s”. Writers on Writing:Collected Essays from the New York Times.Smiley, Jane, and John Darnton.261-268.Print.
Through my constant involvement in writing workshops, I realized the importance of workshops and started to appreciate them more. “It must also be said that talent can be inhibited, if not destroyed, under the wrong circumstances. So do we actually need all of those workshops?” (Pg 263, Wolitzer). I hated the idea of workshops. I only cared about my writing and if it was good or not. I believed that we all had different intentions when writing our stories. A lot of people wrote about their emotions and poured out their hearts but since I am not a sensitive person I did not care about what I wrote which made everything overwhelming. After sharing my writing in class several times I have realized that I should not be so close minded of others peoples opinions and take others ideas into consideration. When we were assigned to complete certain writing assignments, I actually started to look forward to discovering the different perspectives people had shown within their assignments. Other students seemed to like my ideas. They found them interesting, so that caused my fears to dwindle and my confidence to skyrocket. I was constantly curious on the feedback and criticisms that I’d get. That’s how my excitement with collaboration was established.
The more I write the more successful I feel. By constantly writing, I believe I improve my writing skills. I hope to improve on things such as my vocabulary, sensory writing and imagery as well as my grammar. I would also like to establish an even more unique writing style and improve on my creative writing. I plan on achieving these goals by writing regularly in a journal and reading other writings to gain inspiration.
In order to follow through with my plans, I need to stay focused when writing. I need to avoid any distractions whenever possible so I can concentrate on perfecting my stories and getting my point across. “Writing fiction is a solitary occupation but not really a lonely one” (263, Wolitzer). This quote shows that although I need to be concentrated on my own work it is also beneficial if I gain help from others from time to time to help me as well as them to stay on task. I plan on doing this by sharing techniques that have helped me and tell them different methods of writing fiction or maybe even influence others to adopt my own methods. The writing process is a difficult one but with the help of others and my own efforts I know that my writing can improve and all my fears can go away. I feel like my writing already developed tremendously since the beginning but I still have a lot more to learn, and when I learn these things I should share it to the world as well.
1. Wolitzer, Hilma. “Embarking Together on Solitary Journey’s”. Writers on Writing:Collected Essays from the New York Times.Smiley, Jane, and John Darnton.261-268.Print.
Journal #10
A) Sometimes in this world people's appearance do not match their attitude. A perfect example would be Ginger. With her legs decorated with veins, covered in fishnet stockings she immediately doesn't exude style. She is the kind of girl that gives up her seat for a pregnant women once you step onto a train cart. She smiles her genuine smile despite having a face caked with make up, which is not so pleasing to the eye. Everyone stares at her wide-eyed with her bustier put on tight to extenuate her figure. Rich old women give her dirty looks but she does not mind it and says 'Sorry' if ever in their way. When the unfortunate pass her buy she looks into her fake juicy couture bag and gives them some form of charity without fail. And, today she gave a man $20 dollars despite the fact that, that was all she had in order to eat for the week.
B) Unfortunately, my limo broke down so my granddaughter and I had to go onto the disgusting train. There was no taxi in site. Nothing. We literally had no choice. My daughter looked so cute, dressed in her Louis Vuitton boats and designer dress. I hope nobody down there tarnishes it. She was a beautiful sight to see unlike this tramp I saw wearing fishnet stocking as I got onto the D train. As I shoved my way through that classless girl I made sure my grandchildren would not touch her. I took my handkerchief and held on to the pole. I was risking my health in this dirty place! "Come on, sweetie hold my hand." I told my grandchild. Suddenly, a scrawny tan young man walked onto the train cart asking for money. I tilted my head up and grasped my grandchild. How disgusting I thought. I then saw the tramp hand him a $20. As if she created some kind of miracle, it's not like you can buy anything with that. I felt so bad for my granddaughter Clarissa having to see such a sight. She began to cry but I could understand so I promised her a fancy dinner once we got back.
B) Unfortunately, my limo broke down so my granddaughter and I had to go onto the disgusting train. There was no taxi in site. Nothing. We literally had no choice. My daughter looked so cute, dressed in her Louis Vuitton boats and designer dress. I hope nobody down there tarnishes it. She was a beautiful sight to see unlike this tramp I saw wearing fishnet stocking as I got onto the D train. As I shoved my way through that classless girl I made sure my grandchildren would not touch her. I took my handkerchief and held on to the pole. I was risking my health in this dirty place! "Come on, sweetie hold my hand." I told my grandchild. Suddenly, a scrawny tan young man walked onto the train cart asking for money. I tilted my head up and grasped my grandchild. How disgusting I thought. I then saw the tramp hand him a $20. As if she created some kind of miracle, it's not like you can buy anything with that. I felt so bad for my granddaughter Clarissa having to see such a sight. She began to cry but I could understand so I promised her a fancy dinner once we got back.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Journal #9 - Subtext script
Diogenesis started digging through his closet to find out what to wear for school. As he got out his grandmother frowned and said "How come I couldn't see it?"
"See what?"
"Never mind," and she continued to walked sluggishly to the kitchen.
The little boy laid his outfit on his bed for school. He wanted to impress his crush with his new outfit and hairdo. When he walked into the kitchen he shooed his mother's smoke away from his face. He stood with his arms cross and began to nag at her.
"Abuelita, can I get breakfast? I am a growing boy," he frowned.
"A boy..." she said kissing her teeth. She inhaled her cigarette praying it would make a difference and she threw a banana at him. "Here you go, eat up."
"I want real food!"
"That's all you're gonna get! You better start getting used to it."
"But grandmommy, I'm starving!"
"Then have a cigarette. It'll help you sleep at night."
Diogenesis grabbed the cigarette and lit it. He looked at his mother's hair in disgust and wondered how somebody could think of having such a blend of grey and orange lay on top of their head like a nest. He turned to his grandmother and put the lit cigarette on her hair.
"Shave your ugly hair, I hate when people are so sloppy!" he yelled. She roared and proceeded to choke him. He punched her chest.
"Psssh, women," he snickered as his grandmother whaled in pain.
"Michael! Tell your son to calm down! I have to deal with my customer this morning."
After her dealing was done she went to her grandson's room and yelled at him. "I want you to tell me who influenced you? Was it a psychologist? A cop? Was it a teacher? A classmate? Who told you it was acceptable?"
"No one, abuela!"
"Then if no one said it then who said you can be like that!"
"I am naturally like this."
"No can be 'naturally' anything. Just like I do not naturally care about you! It's your fault. You made me feel this way towards you. But, if you do not want to tell me who then you can walk to school by yourself. You are not a part of this family. We're strong people!" she screeched and smacked him beside the head.
When he fell she began to cackle. He started to limp outside the door only to hear his father yelling at the television as if the person through the television screen could hear him. "Fine, i'd rather be on my own anyways."
He then skipped to the exit door of his apartment building and opened the door. Through the apartment window the grandmother continued to yell. "Never have I met someone so worthless!" she sad as she put her hands through he tangled and burnt hair. When he crossed the street he saw two people holding hands and smiling at each other as if it didn't matter what people felt about their public display of affection. He walked towards the school and looked past his girlfriend Tina. "I do not want to be with you any more."
"See what?"
"Never mind," and she continued to walked sluggishly to the kitchen.
The little boy laid his outfit on his bed for school. He wanted to impress his crush with his new outfit and hairdo. When he walked into the kitchen he shooed his mother's smoke away from his face. He stood with his arms cross and began to nag at her.
"Abuelita, can I get breakfast? I am a growing boy," he frowned.
"A boy..." she said kissing her teeth. She inhaled her cigarette praying it would make a difference and she threw a banana at him. "Here you go, eat up."
"I want real food!"
"That's all you're gonna get! You better start getting used to it."
"But grandmommy, I'm starving!"
"Then have a cigarette. It'll help you sleep at night."
Diogenesis grabbed the cigarette and lit it. He looked at his mother's hair in disgust and wondered how somebody could think of having such a blend of grey and orange lay on top of their head like a nest. He turned to his grandmother and put the lit cigarette on her hair.
"Shave your ugly hair, I hate when people are so sloppy!" he yelled. She roared and proceeded to choke him. He punched her chest.
"Psssh, women," he snickered as his grandmother whaled in pain.
"Michael! Tell your son to calm down! I have to deal with my customer this morning."
After her dealing was done she went to her grandson's room and yelled at him. "I want you to tell me who influenced you? Was it a psychologist? A cop? Was it a teacher? A classmate? Who told you it was acceptable?"
"No one, abuela!"
"Then if no one said it then who said you can be like that!"
"I am naturally like this."
"No can be 'naturally' anything. Just like I do not naturally care about you! It's your fault. You made me feel this way towards you. But, if you do not want to tell me who then you can walk to school by yourself. You are not a part of this family. We're strong people!" she screeched and smacked him beside the head.
When he fell she began to cackle. He started to limp outside the door only to hear his father yelling at the television as if the person through the television screen could hear him. "Fine, i'd rather be on my own anyways."
He then skipped to the exit door of his apartment building and opened the door. Through the apartment window the grandmother continued to yell. "Never have I met someone so worthless!" she sad as she put her hands through he tangled and burnt hair. When he crossed the street he saw two people holding hands and smiling at each other as if it didn't matter what people felt about their public display of affection. He walked towards the school and looked past his girlfriend Tina. "I do not want to be with you any more."
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