Random Freewrite 2: Week of 3/28/11

(This is from our classroom exercise. I don't know how good these are, but it was a lot of fun to go over the top with it.)

ORIGINAL

When it rained today, I had two thoughts: of starving lions overseas and people drowned where I once lived. It was cold, and I took a jacket, and I had two thoughts: of polar bears on thinning ice and people homeless in the snow. I didn't speak of cold or wet again, but I'm sure to forget this feeling weeks from now, or months. I wish I could staple memory to my mind or set my brain to vibrate an alarm once or twice a week to remind me: "Today is someone else's hell."

ACADEMIC

Upon observing the heavy precipitation that overcast the day, I considered, in turn, malnourishment among lions in the sub-Saharan region and the death toll of the recent earthquake in Northeast Asia. By and by, the temperature dropped and upon gathering my jacket, I considered, in turn, global warming as it concerns the survival of wildlife in the Arctic and Asians suffering hypothermia. I refrained from further discussion on the manner of my discomfort; however, it is certain that I shall lose this transient thought to less remote concerns, be it a fortnight or two, or even several rotations of the moon from this hour forth. Given the capability to do so, I would attach this knowledge to my brow, or, that excluding, set the mechanism of my brain to sound its alarm of remembrance at select hours throughout the week. To say just this: "My fortune should not exclude me from the realization that others are less privileged today."

ROMANTIC

The downpour drenched its wretchedness into my very soul, and I was overwhelmed by the tragedy of lions hungering in rags of bone, and the poor people of Asia swept away by ferocious tides of windswept Earth. My room grew chill, and I reached shivering to my soul for the gentle embrace of my dearest husbands gift to me, my sweet mink canopy. Oh! The terrible anguish I endured in that moment for the polar bears walking winter's last march, and those poor Asians huddling together without the tender comfort of their mother's roof. I could not speak again of suffering, no, my throat was swollen shut. I knew I shall forget this pitiful hour and turn again to my own life's sheltered wants. But if I could, I would stab this fleeting charity into my bosom, and brandish the bells of mercy like a siren in my brain. That I might never forget: "I am blessed. Alas, poor world!"

12-YEAR-OLD

It was soooo wet outside, like whoa. I didn't wanna go to school. I mean, c'mon! But Mom was like, "Think of the starving lions" and "There are people in Asia dying" like she always does. So. Friggin'. Random. And I was like, "So?" But of course she got mad and pushed me out anyway. And it was freezing cold, too! But she was like, "Think of the polar bears dying!" and "There are people in Asia freezing!" Seriously? Like, she's not even joking. Like, totally hardcore. Over bears and some dudes in China or whatever! So I was like, "Yeah, that really makes me want to go to school. NOT." And she loses it, like, "Why do I bother? You'll forget it tomorrow." (Duh.) But I wouldn't, 'cuz she'd take Dad's staple gun to my head with it or something, or, like, put an alarm clock in my pillow to give me nightmares, just to tell me: "You got it easy!" Yeah, right.

Random Freewrite 1: Week of 3/28/11

(I apologize for copious use of adjectives and adverbs.)

Two Tails

an episode

(2)

[Some days later.]

They lounged silently in the overgrown pasture under the large oak. It had been three hours since they had last stopped, and the Dog finally relented to the Sheep's request for a moment to rest. The Sheep sat with eir head drooping low, breathing quieter now than minutes ago. Ey spoke rarely in the course of a day, though when ey spoke, it came out in a clear and easy bleat. The Dog fretted over em, just a little bit. Ey emself had so far had plenty to eat, playing Lassie for the crowds at Burger Kings and KFCs, but the Sheep hadn't eaten at all. The Dog was sure the monstrous blob of wool hid very bony ribs.

The Dog decided that now was the time to play Parent. Pep and cheer.

"Eat, drink, rest," ey announced. "Those are Big Things. Very important. Okay?"

It sounded very inspirational to em, but the Sheep only stared. A glob of wool with shuttered eyes. The Dog continued, struggling to recall the speech they'd heard when they had first left home some months ago. "Stay sharp and alert. Be ready to run and fight and… and stuff. Very important stuff. Sleep when--um, sleep in turns. Be--"

"Why are you having such trouble remembering what Mom taught us?" the Sheep asked suddenly. "It's only been a few weeks since we turned. Dogs are supposed to have better brains than Sheep."

Put like that, the Dog didn't quite know how to answer the question, so ey confronted the insult, instead.

"I am smarter."

"You're losing it," came the bleat.

Now, it was true that the Dog's vocabulary was slipping. Somewhat. Just a little bit. Hardly enough to notice, really. A rough bark could blur the edge nicely. A steady whine could completely cover the gaps by inducing a temporary deafness in eir audience. Ey was growing quite good at that. But what the Sheep perhaps forgot was that Dogs are excellent judges of tone and mood. And the Dog clearly heard that this bleat jiggled in the Sheep's throat more than it had previously.

Eir own bark became sharper in response.

"I'm using mine more!"

The quip didn't turn out to be quite the witty retort that the Dog had planned. Ey wanted to say something far more demoralizing, but ey could only stare blankly as seconds ticked by. Eir brain could no longer recall how to phrase snark in compound sentences. Ey'd never realized what a gift it had been. Ey doubted the Sheep would appreciate the loss.

No, of course not. Sheep had no patience for fun. The Dog was being frowned at. Familiar sibling eyes were made further alien and vaguely sinister by the Sheepish slits. With layer upon unkempt layer of once-white wool now corded with dirt and grass, the Sheep looked like a glob of grey matter left out in the rain.

I can't believe we're related.

"Brains aren't a non-renewable resource," snooted the Sheep. "Brains don't come with an expiration date. You can't run out of brains."

The Dog glared but could not speak, and in the absence of eir reply, the silence stretched out painfully. That a Glob of Grey Matter should say this to em felt the cruelest cut of all. Ey had never felt so fluffy and small. Ey tapped eir ridiculous tail against the grass as eir mind worked to latch on to something. Anything. Ey was certain ey was using eir brain more, just certain of it. After all, the Sheep just sat and walked and sat again all day long. Ey barely even spoke. Still, the Dog had to wonder why this Brain business seemed so darn easy for the Sheep, because, for pete's sake, weren't Dogs above Sheep on the food chain? That had to count for something. Nobody said, "Just look at that incredibly badass Sheep!"

Then again, this particular Sheep had proven eir brain. Ey had been right about the Bats last night, after all. Not the cool kind that sucked blood--the Dog remembered those--but the everyday kind that were rabid and lived in caves or abandoned barns going bump in the night. The Dog had known that in eir head, ey had, but instinct to eat had overridden eir smarts. It had taken the Sheep to stop em from chasing the Bats. That was becoming a trend.

The Dog stared across the tall grass at the slit-eyed Sheep and felt very fluffy and wrong.

Fugly-eyed smartass.

Defeat made a Dog cranky. And a Dog loaded with Complex Issues will become downright pissy.

So in the absence of a witty retort and in the fine tradition of both Man and Dog, ey took a cue and lifted eir leg.

"Hey!" The Sheep scampered away, eir bleating frenzied and indignant.

The Dog's aim had always been perfect. And the Sheep was trapped in eir woolly sponge. Sucks to be Sheep. Perhaps the Sheep would beg some kind farmer to shave em now and look less like a waterlogged Brain. Two in one triumph. Not bad.

The Dog couldn't laugh, not like ey did before. But eir open-mouthed pant had the same effect on the Sheep, and ey knew it. Ey flaunted it broadly as the Sheep stumbled off, stomping a disgruntled path across the old pasture. The Dog brandished eir tail high over eir back like a flag and trotted forward in a jaunty gait as ey followed after, keeping eir one-Sheep flock ever in front of em.

It wasn't until some minutes later, when a paw landed in something soft and moist and steaming hot, that the Dog remembered their Mom's warnings on karma.

Life wasn't very fair at all.

Reading Response 2: Week of 3/28/11

Steering the Craft

Chapter 6

Subject Pronoun and Verb

I felt so disconcerted reading this chapter. I agree with Le Guin on the passive voice, including her comment that there is a time and place for it. However, when it came to point of view and tense, it was hard not to look back on the first short story I wrote for class and how I was doing everything that she emphatically said to avoid: present tense and second person. That was the first time I'd ever written a story or anything outside of some brief bad poetry in second person, but present tense is something I find myself falling into for both poetry and prose. I don't think of it as more immediate, or past tense as more removed; I'm not trying to construct some artificial closeness with the reader. I don't even think about why I lean towards it. The best I can think of as a reason is that sometimes, I just like the rhythm and flow of words in present tense more than I do in past tense. Something about the "-ed," I guess. I realize that most of what I've written has been kept to myself, and present tense can be off-putting to many readers, as Le Guin said. I still think it has its own time and place and its own worth as a valid tense, and I can't see myself stepping away from it entirely. But I do need to keep her arguments in mind and use them to critique myself objectively, particularly for short stories. (The novel I'm working on is past tense.) As far as the person of the verb, as I think I mentioned before, I dislike first person and usually lean towards third person limited (sometimes spanning several points of view) rather than third person omniscient. I find both third person omniscient and first person too thin: the latter in scope and the former in depth.

Reading Response 1: Week of 3/28/11

Steering the Craft

Chapter 5

Adjective and Adverb

This was a fun chapter for exercises, particularly trying to use little or no adjectives and adverbs (which I tend to overuse in poetry, especially) in a descriptive paragraph. In our excercise during class, I found that one of the biggest changes from draft to draft was the verbs. I didn't consciously intend to, but I think in my trying to best illustrate this or that character or voice, I changed how they categorized the action (verb) in every sentence. It was a good lesson because I think we tend to forget verbs when we try to be descriptive, and what this taught me is that verbs can be the most dynamic descriptions of all.

Junkyard Quotes: Week of 3/28/11

1) "They are all subsistence farmers, and if they don't have a good harvest, they starve."

The CEO of GoDaddy explaining his elephant-hunting. That's neither here nor there for me at the moment. What struck me was his use of the word "subsistence" as a category of farming societies, rather than farming as a type of subsistence society. I'm so used to the anthropological use of the word "subsistence" that it throws me every time I hear someone use the phrase "subsistence farming." I guess one of the things about writing is to be aware that language evolves and that the same phrase might be nonsense in one context but have proper meaning in another. And not only that, but also to research whether or not a commonly used word or phrase is grammatically correct.

2) "There's a profound difference between 'I got outplayed today' vs. 'I choked'; implicit in the second is that your competitor could never have beaten you if you hadn't choked. It's a third rate, classless move and that's why truly fierce competitors never say it."

Someone on Television Without Pity message boards complaining about Richard Blais winning Top Chef. The breakdown of semantics would be an interesting discussion if not for the fact that it's a loaded argument to begin with: the poster isn't interested in debating the validity of both sides, only in presenting his or her own. I would argue, among other things, that "truly fierce" and "classless" are not automatically confined to either/or usage.

3) "You're having coffee alone at 7:30 in the morning."

Some guy on a tv show, explaining why the woman seated opposite him is single. Among other things, this attitude marks why I have an allergy to most romantic relationships on tv. The autonomy of female characters is forfeited almost by default. There are not enough BOOs and HISSes for that.

4) "While most reasonable people see women and men as equals, few (if any) dare to claim that femininity is masculinity's equal."

Julia Serano of Whipping Girl said this, and I'm unfamiliar with the series (or novel or whatever it is), but found this quote on TVTropes and felt compelled to think about it for a while. It's too much to go into, but I wonder sometimes at the implicit premise here: why is feminine value measured against masculinity to begin with? That reminds me of women in fiction who are "worthwhile" female role models, not because of what they're doing, but because they can do it as well as any man. When will we reach the point when that suggestion is met with a "What's 'man' got to do with it?"

Also from TVTropes:

5) "Anvilicious: A portmanteau of anvil and delicious, malicious or vicious, depending on the usage, anvilicious describes a writer's and/or director's use of an artistic element, be it line of dialogue, visual motif, or plot point, to so obviously or unsubtly convey a particular message that they may as well etch it onto an anvil and drop it on your head."

I mentioned Supernatural in my reaction to "A Good Man Is Hard To Find," and nothing describes exactly why I have gone from adoring the show to loathing the very faces of its heroes as well as this word. This is part of why "Popular Mechanics" worked for me so well and O'Connor's story didn't.

Classmate Response: Week of 3/28/11

Katie Evans: Cindermanly

==========

This was a fun poem. I appreciated the irony of using a fairy tale perhaps best known for its themes of abuse and poor-made-rich to express the point of view of a man "enslaved" by his wife. (This is random, but it made me think of a common Japanese joke. The word for "husband" is "shujin." Lengthen the "u" sound to "shuujin," and you have the Japanese word for "prisoner.") I loved the cute way you used images from the fairy tale that we're familiar with (the Disney version, certainly) and how you included various phrases that added extra dimensions. "All I want is a night out with the boys" made me think of that song by KISS, which might or might not have been intentional but it adds this great macho layer to what he's longing for. I thought you captured his voice very clearly at times: "When did I become Cinderella?" and "Do all my chores, but don't tell my wife." Other times, the voice felt a little more general, "A land where a man can be a man / a place where I belong." I think you could take this voice even deeper to paint a picture of a very specific man with a very specific wife. "No singing critters" sounds like a very Southern dialect talking, so perhaps you could use that as a springboard to expand on his personality. Also, maybe you can work some of the irony into him addressing his "fairy godmother," which, given that this is a macho guy wanting to do "manly" things, is somewhat ironic given how he's likely to view someone he addresses as "fairy." Great job!