The Most Dangerous Gamer
I was very confused by this article. The supplementary material did not flesh it out - I watched the video, and it did not clarify my understanding of the matter at hand. Like Cam, I felt like this was more of a profile of the author's appreciation of Blow's work than an actual profile of Blow himself. I did not come away with a sense of understanding him - he was as elusive on paper as he apparently is in person - or his games. Perhaps a more focused video would have aided with that.
I also did not completely understand all the philosophical and technological details of the games described in this. Perhaps it would be easier to do so if I played video games :p
That said, the subject matter was interesting enough. I just feel like Clark may have gotten confused about what his focus was in the process of writing this.
This Must Be The Place
These videos, I think, are an example of things improving with practice. Though I did not connect very well with the chronologically earlier videos, both the profile of the burger joint in Manhattan and the profile on the man who lives in the abandoned Packard plant (now demolished?) have stuck with me for the 24 hours since I first watched them. I found it accessible and, more importantly, interesting - there was definitely a conflict there of 'why does this man live in an abandoned factory?'
I wasn't clear on whether it was more of a profile on the man or the place- though the name of the webseries indicates the place, "Hill" struck me as more of a story about why the man came to live there rather than the factory itself.
I also felt very connected to Prime when watching it - the way that the restaurant was described made it feel very relateable and accessible, even for people who may have never been there or even near there. The way it was described was as an everyrestaurant with something special, which I felt was a good, effective approach and helped the viewer to place it in an approachable context.
The other two videos struck me as rougher and less interesting.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
reading responses, week 4
Wonder Town
I feel like this would have been much more comprehensible if I knew anything about Sonic Youth or about their scene. Although the imagery is technically quite good in this piece, I felt alienated from the piece as a whole, considering I was unfamiliar with much of the terminology. Certainly I can see how this would be a compelling read for anyone familiar with the topic, or with a passing interest in the band and its members, but, as I have neither, it fell flat to me.
Considering my unfamiliarity with the subject matter, although I found certain descriptions compelling, I also found them disturbing - though I suppose there's really no way to sugar coat, for example, a re-enactment of the Manson murders.
I did like the imagery of the band members being more like "conductors" than "players," though, and the description of how they could turn their instruments into a "choir." I suppose this piece is effective, in that after reading it, I looked up some Sonic Youth music on Spotify. Still, since I was largely unfamiliar with everything during my first read of the article, I found my mind wandering. I'm interested to see how people who are in the target audience responded to it.
Shooting an Elephant
I suppose I cannot lambaste Orwell for referring to the Burmese citizens as "yellow," considering the article was written in 1936, but that kind of language was still jarring enough to throw me out of the piece. That aside, the imagery was quite vivid, and I could easily envision everything that happened in this story. I especially appreciated the movement across time and space - I could definitely sense Orwell's representation of himself and could picture myself moving with him through the town, could sense his anxiety and his reactions to everything going on around him, from the death of the villager to the shooting of the elephant.
The death of the elephant was the most vivid part of this essay. Although lines like "The thick blood welled out of him like red velvet, but still he did not die" made me question how, exactly, blood could seem like velvet - that doesn't seem like a likely comparison to me - they also served as very concrete and strong examples of what, exactly, it was like to watch the bullets rip through the elephant's side.
I am only unclear on one thing: Orwell discusses how the best way to kill an elephant is to shoot through the ears. He also continuously talks about what a bad shot he is. I found myself expecting the shot to misfire and actually shoot the elephant in the best possible way (if one can consider any kind of elephant-shooting to be "good"), and I would have liked a little more description about where each bullet landed in order to have a clearer mental picture of how Orwell presumably fell short of the ideal.
Telling True Stories
Although I found much of this repetitive, a lot of it is still at least on the edge of being useful. I agree with Ellen that much of this is "more poetic than technically helpful, more inspiring than informative." I did like the caution Merina puts on reporting other cultures. I also found the question about whether or not to tape interesting, especially after last week's class.
I found that a lot of these little essays and anecdotes gave good advice. However, I walked away from the passages thinking, "well, that's all well and good to hear, but could you provide some concrete examples of how to address these issues" more than once. Don't just tell us that it's important to do something; suggest a way in which to do it effectively. I know that, as a budding writer, I will need to make my own mistakes and learn from my own trials and errors. It would be nice to hear more concrete examples from others about the difficulties they faced too, though, in order to better determine a good starting point.
I also find myself wondering, regularly, how these journalists can afford to follow people around so much when they don't have a book or article deal, as was the case in several situations. I have some strange aversion to so-called "Gonzo journalism" and have not yet been able to identify where these feelings come from - perhaps my Cultural Psychology class primed me to be wary of people who try to immerse themselves in a culture, especially when they are immersing themselves as an obvious outsider - but I know that I will need to work past this aversion in order to be completely able to throw myself into journalism and this class.
Trina and Trina
This was a very compelling, if entirely depressing, story. I was anxious throughout the entire thing - I understand that LeBlanc had to be removed from her subject in that she couldn't really give her money or intervene, really, but I kept thinking, "I don't know how she can be involved in Trina's life and not want to do more to help her." The matter-of-fact tone helped a great deal in the telling of this; it could have easily run to too sentimental.
Part of me wanted more focus, maybe on just a specific stretch of time within the narrative, but I don't see how LeBlanc could have successfully done that - I know that if only a year of Trina's life, or a month of Trina's life, or one encounter with Trina was told, I would have wanted to know how everything turned out.
I really liked the way this piece ended with the voicemails and nothing else. I think it would have been interesting for LeBlanc to bookend the narrative with voicemails or written missives.
The American Man Age Ten
I find it interesting that Orlean chose to do her profile on random boy Colin Duffy rather than Macaulay Culkin. I think she did a very good job, though, especially of capturing the voice of a ten year old boy. Although her flow and style were somewhat convoluted - the way that this took the form of almost a list of preferences and attributes made it hard to follow - I found this to be a good look into a ten year old's life.
I feel like a lot was glossed over, though. Does Colin not want to be Chun Li because Chun Li is a girl? That's implied, but not explicitly stated. I would have liked to see Orlean go deeper into some of the things she brings up in passing instead of making this an overall superficial expose of the child's life, such as in the Street Fighter scene and also in her observations on Colin's preoccupation with money.
I found the voice of this to be wry, in a good way. Overall an enjoyable read, if a little superficial.
I feel like this would have been much more comprehensible if I knew anything about Sonic Youth or about their scene. Although the imagery is technically quite good in this piece, I felt alienated from the piece as a whole, considering I was unfamiliar with much of the terminology. Certainly I can see how this would be a compelling read for anyone familiar with the topic, or with a passing interest in the band and its members, but, as I have neither, it fell flat to me.
Considering my unfamiliarity with the subject matter, although I found certain descriptions compelling, I also found them disturbing - though I suppose there's really no way to sugar coat, for example, a re-enactment of the Manson murders.
I did like the imagery of the band members being more like "conductors" than "players," though, and the description of how they could turn their instruments into a "choir." I suppose this piece is effective, in that after reading it, I looked up some Sonic Youth music on Spotify. Still, since I was largely unfamiliar with everything during my first read of the article, I found my mind wandering. I'm interested to see how people who are in the target audience responded to it.
Shooting an Elephant
I suppose I cannot lambaste Orwell for referring to the Burmese citizens as "yellow," considering the article was written in 1936, but that kind of language was still jarring enough to throw me out of the piece. That aside, the imagery was quite vivid, and I could easily envision everything that happened in this story. I especially appreciated the movement across time and space - I could definitely sense Orwell's representation of himself and could picture myself moving with him through the town, could sense his anxiety and his reactions to everything going on around him, from the death of the villager to the shooting of the elephant.
The death of the elephant was the most vivid part of this essay. Although lines like "The thick blood welled out of him like red velvet, but still he did not die" made me question how, exactly, blood could seem like velvet - that doesn't seem like a likely comparison to me - they also served as very concrete and strong examples of what, exactly, it was like to watch the bullets rip through the elephant's side.
I am only unclear on one thing: Orwell discusses how the best way to kill an elephant is to shoot through the ears. He also continuously talks about what a bad shot he is. I found myself expecting the shot to misfire and actually shoot the elephant in the best possible way (if one can consider any kind of elephant-shooting to be "good"), and I would have liked a little more description about where each bullet landed in order to have a clearer mental picture of how Orwell presumably fell short of the ideal.
Telling True Stories
Although I found much of this repetitive, a lot of it is still at least on the edge of being useful. I agree with Ellen that much of this is "more poetic than technically helpful, more inspiring than informative." I did like the caution Merina puts on reporting other cultures. I also found the question about whether or not to tape interesting, especially after last week's class.
I found that a lot of these little essays and anecdotes gave good advice. However, I walked away from the passages thinking, "well, that's all well and good to hear, but could you provide some concrete examples of how to address these issues" more than once. Don't just tell us that it's important to do something; suggest a way in which to do it effectively. I know that, as a budding writer, I will need to make my own mistakes and learn from my own trials and errors. It would be nice to hear more concrete examples from others about the difficulties they faced too, though, in order to better determine a good starting point.
I also find myself wondering, regularly, how these journalists can afford to follow people around so much when they don't have a book or article deal, as was the case in several situations. I have some strange aversion to so-called "Gonzo journalism" and have not yet been able to identify where these feelings come from - perhaps my Cultural Psychology class primed me to be wary of people who try to immerse themselves in a culture, especially when they are immersing themselves as an obvious outsider - but I know that I will need to work past this aversion in order to be completely able to throw myself into journalism and this class.
Trina and Trina
This was a very compelling, if entirely depressing, story. I was anxious throughout the entire thing - I understand that LeBlanc had to be removed from her subject in that she couldn't really give her money or intervene, really, but I kept thinking, "I don't know how she can be involved in Trina's life and not want to do more to help her." The matter-of-fact tone helped a great deal in the telling of this; it could have easily run to too sentimental.
Part of me wanted more focus, maybe on just a specific stretch of time within the narrative, but I don't see how LeBlanc could have successfully done that - I know that if only a year of Trina's life, or a month of Trina's life, or one encounter with Trina was told, I would have wanted to know how everything turned out.
I really liked the way this piece ended with the voicemails and nothing else. I think it would have been interesting for LeBlanc to bookend the narrative with voicemails or written missives.
The American Man Age Ten
I find it interesting that Orlean chose to do her profile on random boy Colin Duffy rather than Macaulay Culkin. I think she did a very good job, though, especially of capturing the voice of a ten year old boy. Although her flow and style were somewhat convoluted - the way that this took the form of almost a list of preferences and attributes made it hard to follow - I found this to be a good look into a ten year old's life.
I feel like a lot was glossed over, though. Does Colin not want to be Chun Li because Chun Li is a girl? That's implied, but not explicitly stated. I would have liked to see Orlean go deeper into some of the things she brings up in passing instead of making this an overall superficial expose of the child's life, such as in the Street Fighter scene and also in her observations on Colin's preoccupation with money.
I found the voice of this to be wry, in a good way. Overall an enjoyable read, if a little superficial.
Profile Pitch
I intend on doing exactly what I described in class last week: I plan on doing a profile on the Kalamazoo Model Railroad Historical Society. KMRHS has been active for fifty years, and the rules of participating - and the layout of the model railroad tracks - have stayed consistent throughout (some mountains have moved in the tracks, but everything is still accurate to the year 1960 - no models are from after that year). I am interested, specifically, in what draws people to a place and an activity that one of its members described as "like a computer game, but in 3D, and not as fast." Members put in considerable time and effort to make sure the tracks and trains are running smoothly (and accurately; this includes keeping the electrical wiring up to date and functional) and into refurbishing their prize possession: a real, full-size old caboose that has been restored to its original glory and is now used as a main method of attraction. They also make sure the headquarters are open to public for certain set hours twice a week, and attend regular Operating Session where they run the trains according to a specific schedule.
I am interested in what drives people to spend this time and effort on model trains. Previous encounters with KMRHS members have made it clear to me that they find this an important creative pursuit. I want to know more about how participating lets them express themselves, and whether there is a common thread in the pasts of the members that draws them to participate. I'm also interested to see what comes up when I'm interviewing members. I plan on interviewing two or three to get a good sense of KMRHS.
I am interested in what drives people to spend this time and effort on model trains. Previous encounters with KMRHS members have made it clear to me that they find this an important creative pursuit. I want to know more about how participating lets them express themselves, and whether there is a common thread in the pasts of the members that draws them to participate. I'm also interested to see what comes up when I'm interviewing members. I plan on interviewing two or three to get a good sense of KMRHS.
Revision
Problem/Situation: I'm trying to make a good impression
I am running desperately late to dinner – five hours late, in fact. I've been re-routed twice, and so I am arriving at 12:30 AM, rather than 5:30 PM, as I promised the woman I'm meeting.
For the fourth time in six weeks, I'm on my way to the home of a stranger named Jessica, my overnight bag in the trunk of their car. This time, I'm in Atlanta, my winter coat bundled under my arm, the windows of the car rolled all the way down because the night breeze negates the need for air conditioning. I'm in the back seat next my host. Driving tonight is her roommate's boyfriend, a burly type who is currently speaking loudly over the noise of the highway at night. We've already exhausted the topic of how tired I am after my travels (very), and how frustrated I am that I'm getting in late (not very). The boy driving the car has already asked me "does poor dear need food? Alcohol?" and, even though the only food I've eaten since this morning is the cheese and crackers snack I bought on the plane, even though we're driving past multiple 24-hour restaurants, I say no.
I'm not here for a romantic entanglement, but it might as well be one. After a good night's sleep, my time in Atlanta will be spent going through essentially the same motions I did in Lexington, Kentucky and Oxford, Ohio: I will butter up to this girl, asking questions about her life and her interests, for the rest of the night. In the morning, we will head downtown, where I will spend the day in thirty-minute sessions with a number of different people, again painting myself in the most attractive light possible, conscious of my body and whether the way I'm holding myself conveys enough interest in the people I'm talking to, asking insightful questions that display a sense of familiarity with the work of the people in question. We will eat together, laugh together, and spend the better part of the day trying to impress each other. I'm pitching myself to them; they are trying to sell me on their program. It's important to like and be liked, here: if everything goes well, these people will be key players in the next five-to-seven years of my life.
I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open, and an even harder time following the way that the conversation ebbs and flows around me. The boyfriend – I can't remember his name even though I was introduced to him not fifteen minutes ago, and I’m too embarrassed to ask for a repeat – cracks a bad joke, and I spend the next five minutes fighting through the haze of travel in my brain to try and remember a favorite joke to share, in turn. A question directed at me jolts me out of my reflection.
"You're from Michigan, right? Do you even know what Waffle House is?"
And here's my in. These meetups, if you can call them that, are all about talking up my own best attributes. Most of the time, this means discussing my research experience and interests, but I like finding points of connection outside of that – with the first person I spent the night with, I connected through music taste. The fact that, despite my best efforts, I couldn't really find anything with the second just made it really clear to me how important it is to find similarities outside of academics, which led to my desperate leap toward connecting with the third over our first late-in-life experiences driving in winter weather.
"I actually grew up in Kentucky," I tell him. "Waffle House is totally my jam." And the four of us – the girl I'm staying with, her roommate, and the boyfriend – lapse into a very intense discussion about how each Waffle House has its own personality, to the point where one is almost a completely different restaurant from the next. I mention my personal favorite in my hometown, where the employees bring in tomatoes from their gardens in the summer and the late-night waitress uses the singular noun "honey" as a plural to address groups of people. I also bring up my least favorite location, where I am consistently neglected by the waitresses no matter when I go and where, once, a cockroach fell from a light fixture into my cup of water.
Atlanta is the promised land of Waffle Houses – I count six on my way from the airport to their house, each one associated with a detailed story that I listen to avidly and, regrettably, forget as soon as we hit the next one. Still, by the time we finally get home, I know which ones to avoid and which ones to seek out, and when each one experiences its morning rush.
I could be interviewing for any type of job, or preparing for any type of informal dating: hooking up, bind date, speed dating. The fact that I'm waiting to interview for a clinical psych PhD program is almost unimportant to me right now. I'm still sitting in the backseat of this car, struggling to keep my eyes open. I still can't remember the joke that I want to tell. When we get to Jessica's house, I crawl into bed and fall immediately asleep.
I'm half in love with the program well before lunch the next day, enough that when I am eventually put on the alternates list, and ultimately fail to be offered admission, I still plan on re-applying.
I remember the joke halfway through an interview with the head of the program the next day, and have to hide a smile. Discussing the importance of a diverse population base for both research and for clinical practica is not the time to tell someone that the Revolutionary War general told the cowardly private, "Chicken, catch a Tory."
First development: I'm running very late – resolved by my arrivalResolution: I fail to make a good impression
Second development: I am too tired to be very present in the conversation – resolved by our discussion of Waffle House, and by my going to sleep
I am running desperately late to dinner – five hours late, in fact. I've been re-routed twice, and so I am arriving at 12:30 AM, rather than 5:30 PM, as I promised the woman I'm meeting.
For the fourth time in six weeks, I'm on my way to the home of a stranger named Jessica, my overnight bag in the trunk of their car. This time, I'm in Atlanta, my winter coat bundled under my arm, the windows of the car rolled all the way down because the night breeze negates the need for air conditioning. I'm in the back seat next my host. Driving tonight is her roommate's boyfriend, a burly type who is currently speaking loudly over the noise of the highway at night. We've already exhausted the topic of how tired I am after my travels (very), and how frustrated I am that I'm getting in late (not very). The boy driving the car has already asked me "does poor dear need food? Alcohol?" and, even though the only food I've eaten since this morning is the cheese and crackers snack I bought on the plane, even though we're driving past multiple 24-hour restaurants, I say no.
I'm not here for a romantic entanglement, but it might as well be one. After a good night's sleep, my time in Atlanta will be spent going through essentially the same motions I did in Lexington, Kentucky and Oxford, Ohio: I will butter up to this girl, asking questions about her life and her interests, for the rest of the night. In the morning, we will head downtown, where I will spend the day in thirty-minute sessions with a number of different people, again painting myself in the most attractive light possible, conscious of my body and whether the way I'm holding myself conveys enough interest in the people I'm talking to, asking insightful questions that display a sense of familiarity with the work of the people in question. We will eat together, laugh together, and spend the better part of the day trying to impress each other. I'm pitching myself to them; they are trying to sell me on their program. It's important to like and be liked, here: if everything goes well, these people will be key players in the next five-to-seven years of my life.
I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open, and an even harder time following the way that the conversation ebbs and flows around me. The boyfriend – I can't remember his name even though I was introduced to him not fifteen minutes ago, and I’m too embarrassed to ask for a repeat – cracks a bad joke, and I spend the next five minutes fighting through the haze of travel in my brain to try and remember a favorite joke to share, in turn. A question directed at me jolts me out of my reflection.
"You're from Michigan, right? Do you even know what Waffle House is?"
And here's my in. These meetups, if you can call them that, are all about talking up my own best attributes. Most of the time, this means discussing my research experience and interests, but I like finding points of connection outside of that – with the first person I spent the night with, I connected through music taste. The fact that, despite my best efforts, I couldn't really find anything with the second just made it really clear to me how important it is to find similarities outside of academics, which led to my desperate leap toward connecting with the third over our first late-in-life experiences driving in winter weather.
"I actually grew up in Kentucky," I tell him. "Waffle House is totally my jam." And the four of us – the girl I'm staying with, her roommate, and the boyfriend – lapse into a very intense discussion about how each Waffle House has its own personality, to the point where one is almost a completely different restaurant from the next. I mention my personal favorite in my hometown, where the employees bring in tomatoes from their gardens in the summer and the late-night waitress uses the singular noun "honey" as a plural to address groups of people. I also bring up my least favorite location, where I am consistently neglected by the waitresses no matter when I go and where, once, a cockroach fell from a light fixture into my cup of water.
Atlanta is the promised land of Waffle Houses – I count six on my way from the airport to their house, each one associated with a detailed story that I listen to avidly and, regrettably, forget as soon as we hit the next one. Still, by the time we finally get home, I know which ones to avoid and which ones to seek out, and when each one experiences its morning rush.
I could be interviewing for any type of job, or preparing for any type of informal dating: hooking up, bind date, speed dating. The fact that I'm waiting to interview for a clinical psych PhD program is almost unimportant to me right now. I'm still sitting in the backseat of this car, struggling to keep my eyes open. I still can't remember the joke that I want to tell. When we get to Jessica's house, I crawl into bed and fall immediately asleep.
I'm half in love with the program well before lunch the next day, enough that when I am eventually put on the alternates list, and ultimately fail to be offered admission, I still plan on re-applying.
I remember the joke halfway through an interview with the head of the program the next day, and have to hide a smile. Discussing the importance of a diverse population base for both research and for clinical practica is not the time to tell someone that the Revolutionary War general told the cowardly private, "Chicken, catch a Tory."
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
reading responses, week 3
Emergence (podcast)
I find it difficult to just sit and listen without multitasking, so that was my biggest stumbling block in consuming this narrative. Still, as an individual who works on a podcast (recording and editing segments - I don't put together the finished product but I do know the work that entails. I think it would be safe to say that I'm more interested in the production of audio segments and podcasts in general than the product), I have a lot of appreciation for the final editing of this radio segment. I felt like the extraneous sounds detracted from the overall message - when there was music playing behind the discussion, I found the music distracting me from what was being said. There were also some discordant sound effects, especially towards the beginning of the radio segment, that pulled me out of the narrative and made it difficult for me to become re-involved.
The way the narrative was constructed, though, both within description, and the way that actual vocal inflection could be directly heard, was quite compelling.
My issue, however, is that I am a visual learner - books and images stay with me a lot better than audio. I have listened to the segment three times, and I still can't draw any major points away from it. Maybe the issue is the length - when I was younger, I listened to NPR religiously when driving to and from school, and I always found the five-minute segments quite interesting and easy to attend to, and the longer segments more difficult to take in.
Jacob's Ladder (Atlantic article)
As someone who is actively interested in Africa, African politics, and African history, this piece automatically appealed to me. I appreciated that it provided background on South Africa - I know a decent amount of South African history, but nowhere near as much as I know about Eastern Africa. Although very little of the information given was new to me, it was nice to have a refresher, and I'm certain that what was given would be especially helpful for people who are unfamiliar with South African history and politics.
I know this was a piece on Jacob Zuma, and it is a well-executed piece. However, I kept finding myself wanting more of Khumalo's story - what are her thoughts on Zuma's life, and on her own life? How did she react when Zuma went into politics after promising he wouldn't? What are her feelings on the rape scandal and subsequent trial, and especially to Zuma's form of "protection" against HIV? I would have also liked more opinions from lay people, including the woman with the cross mentioned towards the end of the piece.
I guess this is what Franklin would refer to as not telling the story at hand - though the story told was very interesting and very well-done, I kept finding myself attracted more to the "silent women" that Zuma and the author of the piece, Douglas Foster, referred to than to Zuma himself. I would have definitely appreciated a little more about others an their reactions to him, and a little less about Zuma, himself.
Writing for Story
I have some serious problems with this book (I livetweeted them, actually, but rather than re-posting the tweets here (most of the tweets are visceral, knee-jerk reactions to specific passages I found questionable or even offensive, generally for personal reasons), I will incorporate some of my tweeted points into my response to this book), so I'm going to be honest here: I felt like, though the message was important, the delivery left a lot to be desired. Technically, the book is quite useful, especially when Franklin breaks down the parts of the narrative, and the best way to approach each part. I even appreciated the story he told of the adolescent writer. However, the devil is in the details and I must say that I'm disappointed with much of what I read. I definitely feel like the vehicle for making the points Franklin made was lacking. For starters, although the chapters on Polishing and The Nature of Art and Artists had really salient content, I did not feel like his points - especially about the need for consistent clarity - were met in the writing samples he gave. Maybe I'm just a product of my education, with irrelevant preconceptions that arguments are made stronger when you bring in outside evidence rather than just using your own points, but I thought that he would have been able to make his case a lot better had he used writing samples produced by other people, rather than himself. As it is, I felt that his holding his own writing as an example of what writing should be came across as very cocky, and rather unfounded.
I understand that they are technically good pieces, though I felt like they were quite vague in areas. Especially in the case of "Mrs Kelly's Monster" - I read that narrative twice before continuing onto the chapters about structure and outline, and still, when Franklin pointed out exactly what "clever choices" he made with his structuring and polishing of that piece, it was inevitably something that I had either not noticed, or felt was very heavy-handed.
I still did manage to bookmark several things that I know I will draw from as I continue on in the future. I already have a strong outlining system that has served me well in the past, but I will be taking on aspects of his, especially with regards to matching up the introduction and resolution of conflicts. I also found the list of no-no verbs quite useful, as well as the concept of identifying and removing "woodwork" from the final product (unless you have a flair for making it work after years of practice).
Also, as a side note: I realize the book is copyrighted 1986 and that times were ultimately different then, but by 1972, the officially-sanctioned term for Trisomy 21 had switched from "Mongoloid" to "Down syndrome;" a change not echoed in this work.
Questions for the Class
I find it difficult to just sit and listen without multitasking, so that was my biggest stumbling block in consuming this narrative. Still, as an individual who works on a podcast (recording and editing segments - I don't put together the finished product but I do know the work that entails. I think it would be safe to say that I'm more interested in the production of audio segments and podcasts in general than the product), I have a lot of appreciation for the final editing of this radio segment. I felt like the extraneous sounds detracted from the overall message - when there was music playing behind the discussion, I found the music distracting me from what was being said. There were also some discordant sound effects, especially towards the beginning of the radio segment, that pulled me out of the narrative and made it difficult for me to become re-involved.
The way the narrative was constructed, though, both within description, and the way that actual vocal inflection could be directly heard, was quite compelling.
My issue, however, is that I am a visual learner - books and images stay with me a lot better than audio. I have listened to the segment three times, and I still can't draw any major points away from it. Maybe the issue is the length - when I was younger, I listened to NPR religiously when driving to and from school, and I always found the five-minute segments quite interesting and easy to attend to, and the longer segments more difficult to take in.
Jacob's Ladder (Atlantic article)
As someone who is actively interested in Africa, African politics, and African history, this piece automatically appealed to me. I appreciated that it provided background on South Africa - I know a decent amount of South African history, but nowhere near as much as I know about Eastern Africa. Although very little of the information given was new to me, it was nice to have a refresher, and I'm certain that what was given would be especially helpful for people who are unfamiliar with South African history and politics.
I know this was a piece on Jacob Zuma, and it is a well-executed piece. However, I kept finding myself wanting more of Khumalo's story - what are her thoughts on Zuma's life, and on her own life? How did she react when Zuma went into politics after promising he wouldn't? What are her feelings on the rape scandal and subsequent trial, and especially to Zuma's form of "protection" against HIV? I would have also liked more opinions from lay people, including the woman with the cross mentioned towards the end of the piece.
I guess this is what Franklin would refer to as not telling the story at hand - though the story told was very interesting and very well-done, I kept finding myself attracted more to the "silent women" that Zuma and the author of the piece, Douglas Foster, referred to than to Zuma himself. I would have definitely appreciated a little more about others an their reactions to him, and a little less about Zuma, himself.
Writing for Story
I have some serious problems with this book (I livetweeted them, actually, but rather than re-posting the tweets here (most of the tweets are visceral, knee-jerk reactions to specific passages I found questionable or even offensive, generally for personal reasons), I will incorporate some of my tweeted points into my response to this book), so I'm going to be honest here: I felt like, though the message was important, the delivery left a lot to be desired. Technically, the book is quite useful, especially when Franklin breaks down the parts of the narrative, and the best way to approach each part. I even appreciated the story he told of the adolescent writer. However, the devil is in the details and I must say that I'm disappointed with much of what I read. I definitely feel like the vehicle for making the points Franklin made was lacking. For starters, although the chapters on Polishing and The Nature of Art and Artists had really salient content, I did not feel like his points - especially about the need for consistent clarity - were met in the writing samples he gave. Maybe I'm just a product of my education, with irrelevant preconceptions that arguments are made stronger when you bring in outside evidence rather than just using your own points, but I thought that he would have been able to make his case a lot better had he used writing samples produced by other people, rather than himself. As it is, I felt that his holding his own writing as an example of what writing should be came across as very cocky, and rather unfounded.
I understand that they are technically good pieces, though I felt like they were quite vague in areas. Especially in the case of "Mrs Kelly's Monster" - I read that narrative twice before continuing onto the chapters about structure and outline, and still, when Franklin pointed out exactly what "clever choices" he made with his structuring and polishing of that piece, it was inevitably something that I had either not noticed, or felt was very heavy-handed.
I still did manage to bookmark several things that I know I will draw from as I continue on in the future. I already have a strong outlining system that has served me well in the past, but I will be taking on aspects of his, especially with regards to matching up the introduction and resolution of conflicts. I also found the list of no-no verbs quite useful, as well as the concept of identifying and removing "woodwork" from the final product (unless you have a flair for making it work after years of practice).
Also, as a side note: I realize the book is copyrighted 1986 and that times were ultimately different then, but by 1972, the officially-sanctioned term for Trisomy 21 had switched from "Mongoloid" to "Down syndrome;" a change not echoed in this work.
Questions for the Class
- Do you consider the outlining structure Franklin proposes to be effective for your writing style? Do you think that there's another way of outlining that works better for you? Do you outline your works now, and, if not, do you now plan on starting to do so? How can you adapt the outline structure he provides to best suit your needs?
- Have you been guilty of "woodwork" in the past? If so, what actions did you take in order to eliminate it? It can be difficult to decide that a beautiful passage that you've written is woodwork, so what suggestions do you have for noticing woodwork in your own future pieces?
- Consider both "Mrs. Kelly's Monster" and "The Ballad of Old Man Peters" in the context of what Franklin says about Polishing your work, and about The Nature of Art and Artists. What about these narratives worked for you? Did anything not work for you? Why/why not?
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
On writing the personal narrative
I found it somewhat difficult to write my narrative on the interview process, especially at Georgia State, to the extent where I have a Word document with around six different starts, three different endings, and a whole heck of a lot of discarded paragraphs. Nothing was really coming out the way I wanted it to; I ultimately just selected the draft that felt the most complete with the knowledge that I could workshop it to pieces and end up with something stronger.
One of my biggest struggles was that I wanted it to be a Modern Love-type piece, because of the analogies between blind dating/speed dating/hook up culture and the interview process for clinical psych programs. However, I was too uncertain about doing something like that, and ended up sacrificing a lot of potential quality detail in order to fit it into the constraints for a Lives narrative.
The other issue is that I do not want this to come across as a story of failure; rather, I want it to be a somewhat humorous reflection on how crazy interviews really are: you meet with complete strangers for a very condensed amount of time wherein you have to consistently stress what a great fit you are. There is no time to be "off" in this process, and you have to rely significantly on making a good first impression because there's not time for much else - much like first dates. This is why I don't want to mention how the interviews actually went (uncertainly; I am an alternate at several of the programs I applied to and won't find out if I will be invited to the programs for a while yet).
Overall, I know I have a solid start, but I also have a lot of ends that don't really connect. In workshop, I hope to forge those connections and make a concrete decision about what to keep and what to discard. I also hope to decide whether this work would better identify as Lives or a Modern Love submission :)
One of my biggest struggles was that I wanted it to be a Modern Love-type piece, because of the analogies between blind dating/speed dating/hook up culture and the interview process for clinical psych programs. However, I was too uncertain about doing something like that, and ended up sacrificing a lot of potential quality detail in order to fit it into the constraints for a Lives narrative.
The other issue is that I do not want this to come across as a story of failure; rather, I want it to be a somewhat humorous reflection on how crazy interviews really are: you meet with complete strangers for a very condensed amount of time wherein you have to consistently stress what a great fit you are. There is no time to be "off" in this process, and you have to rely significantly on making a good first impression because there's not time for much else - much like first dates. This is why I don't want to mention how the interviews actually went (uncertainly; I am an alternate at several of the programs I applied to and won't find out if I will be invited to the programs for a while yet).
Overall, I know I have a solid start, but I also have a lot of ends that don't really connect. In workshop, I hope to forge those connections and make a concrete decision about what to keep and what to discard. I also hope to decide whether this work would better identify as Lives or a Modern Love submission :)
Monday, April 2, 2012
I know that this needs a lot of work. I initially wanted to extend it and make it a riff on a Modern Love essay, but I wasn't sure that it was relationshippy enough, but since I shortened it, it might not be action-heavy enough.
This is therefore intended for the "Lives" section of the New York Times.
Personal Essay: The Unifying Force of Waffle House
This is therefore intended for the "Lives" section of the New York Times.
I am exhausted. I was supposed to have one layover on my flight in, forty-five minutes in the Detroit airport. My first flight was so late that I missed my connection by three minutes, though, so I was rerouted through Columbus. When I got there, the pilot for my last flight called in sick, so I was rerouted yet again, this time through LaGuardia. Instead of arriving at 5:30 pm, I got in shortly after midnight.
For the fourth time in six weeks, I'm on my way to the home of a stranger, my overnight bag in the trunk of their car. This time, I'm in Atlanta, my winter coat bundled under my arm, the windows of the car rolled all the way down because the night breeze negates the need for air conditioning. I'm in the back seat next to the woman I'm staying with. Driving tonight is her roommate's boyfriend, a burly type who is currently speaking loudly over the noise of the highway at night. They've been telling me a story, something about a mishap of a friend at a Waffle House near their home, when a thought hits the boyfriend.
"You're from Michigan, right? Do you even know what Waffle House is?"
And here's my in. These meetups, if you can call them that, are all about talking up my own best attributes. Most of the time, this means discussing my research experience and interests, but I like finding points of connection outside of that – with the first person, I connected through music taste. The fact that, despite my best efforts, I couldn't really find anything with the second just made it really clear to me how important it is to find similarities outside of academics, which led to my desperate leap onto connecting with the third over our first late-in-life experiences driving in winter weather.
"I actually grew up in Kentucky," I tell him. "Waffle House is totally my jam." And the four of us – the girl I'm staying with, her roommate, and the boyfriend – lapse into a very intense discussion about how each Waffle House has its own personality, to the point where one is almost a completely different restaurant from the next. I mention my personal favorite in my hometown, where the employees bring in tomatoes from their gardens in the summer and the late-night waitress uses the singular noun "honey" as a plural to address groups of people. I also bring up my least favorite location, where I am consistently neglected by the waitresses no matter when I go and where, once, a cockroach fell from a light fixture into my cup of water. Atlanta is the promised land of Waffle Houses – I count six on my way from the airport to their house – and by the time we finally get home, I know which ones to avoid and which ones to seek out, even if they're ridiculously busy.
I'm not here for a romantic entanglement, but it might as well be one. After a good night's sleep, my time in Atlanta will be spent going through essentially the same motions I did in Lexington, Kentucky and Oxford, Ohio: I will butter up to this girl, asking questions about her life and her interests, for the rest of the night. In the morning, we will head downtown, where I will spend the day in thirty-minute sessions with a number of different people, again painting myself in the most attractive light possible, conscious of my body and whether the way I'm holding myself conveys enough interest in the people I'm talking to, asking insightful questions that display a sense of familiarity with the work of the people in question. We will eat together, laugh together, and spend the better part of the day trying to impress each other. It's important to be like and be liked, here: if everything goes well, these people will be key players in the next five-to-seven years of my life.
I could be interviewing for any type of job, or preparing for any type of informal dating: hooking up, bind date, speed dating. The fact that I'm waiting to interview for a clinical psych PhD program is basically unimportant to me right now. I'm still sitting in the backseat of this car, fighting through my travel-exhaustion to try and to remember a really bad joke I heard six months ago, because I'm awful at coming up with them on my own, and this is where our conversation has moved to.
I remember the joke halfway through an interview with the head of the program the next day, and have to hide a smile. Discussing the importance of a diverse population base for both research and for clinical practica is not the time to tell someone that the Revolutionary War general told the cowardly private, "Chicken, catch a Tory."
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