Soon I will be teaching two English classes in my community. My plan is to write my notes on this blog so that both my class and others can follow my unique teaching techniques.
I believe that writing itself is an experiment. Hardly ever does it come out right the first time. Every one of us has had our papers marked straight through with so much red pen that we feel like we have a physical representation of the bloody end of Hamlet.
But, as with Hamlet, no great work is created without that kind of blood. My UCLA screenwriting instructor, Brian Price, put it quite nicely. He said that if we ended with the same story we had at the beginning of the class, he hadn't done his job. Writing must change. Otherwise it becomes stale and boring.
How shall we begin what seems like such a painful process? Experiment. Like a cook, we must find the essential ingredients, then find the right amount of each. If we view writing correctly, we will rejoice when the red pen tells us there is room for improvement.
To be a great writer you must accept critique of your work. Perhaps if you were perfect then you would not have the need to have critiques. But you're not. Trust me. There is always room for improvement. Always.
Zena Dell Lowe, a Screenwriting Professor at Covenant College, said that there are no finished works, only works that are satisfactory. As the famous phrase goes,"Writing is about rewriting".
That is so intimidating. Well, yes. But it can be done. People have been writing novels, plays, screenplays, and articles for years. If you want to write, you can. One of the most important things a writer must have is drive. Sounds too much like a Disney movie does it? If you believe in yourself, you can do it. Eh, Disney got that part right.
Writing is not about getting published or famous. Writing is about understanding yourself and the world around you. If you believe that you have a unique vision of the world, which you do, then write. Other people want to know, understand. Writing is just like a conversation with a captive listener.
You have a captive audience. Why not talk to them?
Monday, July 18, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Experiment 12 - Fashion Layouts
Yes, yes, I did.This is based off of my Senior Integration Project on Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll: Society Through the Eyes of a Child. It was a historical and biological criticism of Carroll's book.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Experiment 11 - The Same But Different
Today I walked home in an altogether musical, bright, sunshine attitude. This was hardly surprising since the weather was warm with no traces of sticky wetness in the air or the temperature precursor to hellfire madness. I had the pleasure of a full 15 minutes walk to my apartment. I realized, in a very Our Town sort of way, that I had walked this path so many times and was completely unfamiliar with what surrounded it. So, I purposely sidestepped the path.
I was happy I did. I found some wildflowers and a wonderfully gnarly stick that looked intimidating. The bark was peeling off, but my chief concerns were, did it have ants and was it rotted?
Since the answers to these questions was a negative, I proudly carried my rather cumbersome stick, or the adventuresome staff, toward my homestead.
There used to be an old house right next to the soccer field. I had always wanted to visit the demolishing site.
So I trudged forward, almost afraid that I was on forbidden ground. I found fascinating bits of house. It is sad to see such a small representation of something that used to be permanent. Well, it was permanent in the sense that I never expected to see it demolished in my lifetime.
There were red painted circular shaped stones that had broken in two. These I couldn't connect to the house in my mind. The ideas of secret societies and hidden treasures played around in my mind long enough for me to recognize...
A stone part of the wall flung into the foliage just beyond the clearing. I thought I might take it home as a souvenir. Unfortunately, as I turned it over, something moved on it.
It seemed odd for there to be something amber moving along, but there they were, an army of ants scurrying in and out of a hole in the stone.
I felt I had invaded a private party and almost apologized audibly to the ants as I tossed them back.
I shook it off and gazed upwards. There was something anchored to the ground that resembled a high jump. But if any jumper so dared to jump it, they would have a quick and fatal meeting with the trees just beyond it.
It was then that two guys hurriedly came toward the empty lot. One on a bike, the other keeping up on foot.
The first kept riding up the hill and looking at me with a quizzical eye. The second slowed, unsure of himself. "We are supposed to meet here right?" He asked the first.
"Yeah he said in the e-mail we were meeting here." The confidence in his voice was slightly shaken.
I lowered my eyes and walked toward the soccer field parking lot. I tried to glance back at the two guys surreptitiously, but even fake spying was never my strong point.
The silence was palatable, pushing me away.
I wondered for a bit if I could sneak back later and discover what the secrecy was about.
I realized though, I would much prefer a nap.
I was happy I did. I found some wildflowers and a wonderfully gnarly stick that looked intimidating. The bark was peeling off, but my chief concerns were, did it have ants and was it rotted?
Since the answers to these questions was a negative, I proudly carried my rather cumbersome stick, or the adventuresome staff, toward my homestead.
There used to be an old house right next to the soccer field. I had always wanted to visit the demolishing site.
So I trudged forward, almost afraid that I was on forbidden ground. I found fascinating bits of house. It is sad to see such a small representation of something that used to be permanent. Well, it was permanent in the sense that I never expected to see it demolished in my lifetime.
There were red painted circular shaped stones that had broken in two. These I couldn't connect to the house in my mind. The ideas of secret societies and hidden treasures played around in my mind long enough for me to recognize...
A stone part of the wall flung into the foliage just beyond the clearing. I thought I might take it home as a souvenir. Unfortunately, as I turned it over, something moved on it.
It seemed odd for there to be something amber moving along, but there they were, an army of ants scurrying in and out of a hole in the stone.
I felt I had invaded a private party and almost apologized audibly to the ants as I tossed them back.
I shook it off and gazed upwards. There was something anchored to the ground that resembled a high jump. But if any jumper so dared to jump it, they would have a quick and fatal meeting with the trees just beyond it.
It was then that two guys hurriedly came toward the empty lot. One on a bike, the other keeping up on foot.
The first kept riding up the hill and looking at me with a quizzical eye. The second slowed, unsure of himself. "We are supposed to meet here right?" He asked the first.
"Yeah he said in the e-mail we were meeting here." The confidence in his voice was slightly shaken.
I lowered my eyes and walked toward the soccer field parking lot. I tried to glance back at the two guys surreptitiously, but even fake spying was never my strong point.
The silence was palatable, pushing me away.
I wondered for a bit if I could sneak back later and discover what the secrecy was about.
I realized though, I would much prefer a nap.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Experiment 10 - My Horrible Dear
I have always loved you. You have cut me deep. You isolated me. Tearing my heart until all I could do was bleed. I felt a hollow joy when you reigned in my heart. All the things I saw through your eyes were sickly gold. Now my world is deep colors. I am independent from the plans you had of fame and status. I have no flash, nothing to set me above. You think Checkmate. But I don't play chess anymore. I am apart. Those who love you cannot see me. You have always hated me, and now you make no pretense to your feelings. But now I can dance without fear. I can sing to the heart. I know that my new hope is only a baby and that you are strong, but those painful and calculated steps are more beautiful to my Lover than any mountain I can climb. So, my pride, I hope we become enemies.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Experiment 9 - Alone
There is one moment in the day where I was completely alone. When you feel completely alone it is not all about the space in which you are put. I was, incidentally, in a very large space with an adequate stage in front of me. There was something about the room that was so full of emptiness. If I can describe it, I will think of myself as having conquered something. It was only for as long as one can think, "I am alone" that I was actually alone. I felt forlorn, like I needed to move from this awfully empty space, yet, when someone came in, I felt as though they were entering into my private sanctuary, encroaching on my solitude. Some may call this bipolar. I think it is an experiment in positive and negative space. When I was alone I felt the negative space repelling me. When someone came in, I felt the positive space fill up so much room that the other person could not possibly fit. And, yet, the physics of my mind was overturned, and I...had a classmate.
Experiment 8 - Present Tense Picture Monologue
The assignment was to pick a scenario described in our book and write a monologue about it using pictures in our mind of what is happening. This stretched me as a writer because I generally don't write like I am presently seeing something. This monologue felt more like the action section I am used to putting at the beginning of each scene in screenplays.
The flames are just starting to be visible. 5. Coming out the windows and lapping up the sides onto the roof. 4. They caress the houses on both sides. Houses are crashing like dominoes. 3. Big Ben tolls and flames dance at its base. 2. London Bridge's wires snap and flail as it falls into the Thames. 1. Ash billows over London. Now I can only see the cloud.
So, my character was supposed to be having a dream about London burning and was counting down until its destruction.
The flames are just starting to be visible. 5. Coming out the windows and lapping up the sides onto the roof. 4. They caress the houses on both sides. Houses are crashing like dominoes. 3. Big Ben tolls and flames dance at its base. 2. London Bridge's wires snap and flail as it falls into the Thames. 1. Ash billows over London. Now I can only see the cloud.
So, my character was supposed to be having a dream about London burning and was counting down until its destruction.
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