Three Miles High
It was dark when we arrived. All seven tents set; buckets of fresh warm water outside every open flap. It had taken us all day to reach our campsite, over 14,000 ft high in the Andes. A grinding climb. Made worse by the decrease in oxygen we took in with each labored step. Feet as worn as our tired dusty boots; legs heavy from every gravity-strained step we took. Since breakfast, we had plodded along - stopping, inhaling, exhaling - before continuing up the foot-high worn granite steps. Miles of paths made from heavy stones laid by the Incas through the dense jungle. Itinerant travelers, they moved whole families from the palaces, to religious sanctuaries, and to the fish rich Amazon below. None of it seemed possible. Our patience growing as thin as the air we breathed. But there was no turning back. There was only forward, moving glacially up the interminable rock path. Ignored were the "ughs" and "and I can't do this anymore" that my son groaned.
If the sun shone, we didn't notice. All around us the twisted limbs of trees, an erratic spot of color cutting through the dense wall of green. A bright fuchsia orchid that had some how clung to blossoming life on a side of bark. The sound of rushing water we never saw. The thin air cold and damp. Dangling limbs streaked our clothes wet as we brushed by.
"Good morning," bellowed our guide Manuel. This was our third day and his ritualized greeting as unwelcome as a bucket of cold water. Puffy-eyed and stiff-limbed I shimmied like a taper of down to the front of our tent. The morning light already too bright for my swollen eyes. But there stood Manuel, dressed and shaved; tent folded, bag packed. The annoying epitome of a virile man happy with his place in the world.
But darkness had shrouded our campsite when we arrived. Now in the golden morning light, spread before us a semi-circle of pale blue floating above an undulating carpet of white. A distant peak cutting through the white tufts. Above the clouds, we were sky high.
The rest of our trek would be downhill. In 36 hours we would walk through the monolithic stone walls of the Sun Gate and enter Machu Picchu.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Group 4: Draft # 2
Michelle: Draft 2
The new information added to this draft starts to give the story a shape it lacked. While I feel like the "spine"is not yet there, it's obvious there's much heart in the telling. Perhaps there is a deeper quest of self discovery? My family all came through Ellis Island and settled in the New York area. I knew my grandparents, but the others remain curiosities. Contrary to my family, Michelle's family were homesteaders, a completely different brand of immigrant experience. More open and rangy like the west itself.
The fire remains a compelling launch for the rest of the story. The drama pulls us in, but it also shows us Florence in action and foreshadows the difficulties to come. Florence shows us she is strong and cool headed, the characteristics which fuel her ability to survive and overcome the hardships that will loom large in her future.
There was some really lovely detail which helped me connect with the characters in time and place. "The family huddled around [the fireplace]..." "...his breath clouded before him"...."a Rocky Mountain cyclone couldn't have wrenched her heels from where they stood."
Also effective was the mention of Florence's family objecting to her marriage to Mike. The class tension shown nicely by the wedding announcement placed at the end of the piece. As mentioned in class, Florence is not only a strong woman but also a character strong enough to carry the piece along. Her legacy lives on as a model of pride and fortitude for the generation that succeeds her.
In future rewrites action should be used when possible to help build-out the narrative. It would also help lessen your dependence on descriptive telling. Right now the piece is a little word heavy and this slows down the narrative.
Greg: Strictly Strings - Second Draft
My overall comment for this piece: delightful. I loved all the choices Greg made. Like Hitchkock's film The Rope, the story reads like a seamless take - we never take our eyes off the two main characters; we never leave the room. Use of the present tense reinforces immediacy and a real time feel. The language, like music, has rhythm and beats, which is apropo for his two musician wannabes.
The needed back story is minimal and telegraphic. From a small amount of information we can glean much. The first paragraph a great example of succinct efficient language. It tells us where we are and what these two wannabes are about. It sets us up. Is this a ruse or are these people for real? I wanted to read more.
Dialogue, word play, arc..it has it all. In Providence, provenance of project, some things fall apart, but in Greg's retelling, the beat goes on.
Michelle: Draft 2
The new information added to this draft starts to give the story a shape it lacked. While I feel like the "spine"is not yet there, it's obvious there's much heart in the telling. Perhaps there is a deeper quest of self discovery? My family all came through Ellis Island and settled in the New York area. I knew my grandparents, but the others remain curiosities. Contrary to my family, Michelle's family were homesteaders, a completely different brand of immigrant experience. More open and rangy like the west itself.
The fire remains a compelling launch for the rest of the story. The drama pulls us in, but it also shows us Florence in action and foreshadows the difficulties to come. Florence shows us she is strong and cool headed, the characteristics which fuel her ability to survive and overcome the hardships that will loom large in her future.
There was some really lovely detail which helped me connect with the characters in time and place. "The family huddled around [the fireplace]..." "...his breath clouded before him"...."a Rocky Mountain cyclone couldn't have wrenched her heels from where they stood."
Also effective was the mention of Florence's family objecting to her marriage to Mike. The class tension shown nicely by the wedding announcement placed at the end of the piece. As mentioned in class, Florence is not only a strong woman but also a character strong enough to carry the piece along. Her legacy lives on as a model of pride and fortitude for the generation that succeeds her.
In future rewrites action should be used when possible to help build-out the narrative. It would also help lessen your dependence on descriptive telling. Right now the piece is a little word heavy and this slows down the narrative.
Greg: Strictly Strings - Second Draft
My overall comment for this piece: delightful. I loved all the choices Greg made. Like Hitchkock's film The Rope, the story reads like a seamless take - we never take our eyes off the two main characters; we never leave the room. Use of the present tense reinforces immediacy and a real time feel. The language, like music, has rhythm and beats, which is apropo for his two musician wannabes.
The needed back story is minimal and telegraphic. From a small amount of information we can glean much. The first paragraph a great example of succinct efficient language. It tells us where we are and what these two wannabes are about. It sets us up. Is this a ruse or are these people for real? I wanted to read more.
Dialogue, word play, arc..it has it all. In Providence, provenance of project, some things fall apart, but in Greg's retelling, the beat goes on.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Journey
Venturing into the unknown can be a thrill or an unmitigated disaster. My first competitive sailing race you could say was a little of both.
My boyfriend (not yet husband) was a big sailor, as was his whole family and crew of childhood friends. He owned a 43 foot C&C yacht, which he liked to sail off the coast of Maine. And we, his family and me, were sailing his boat, somehow named "Common Sense," from Marion, Mass. to Bermuda, an annual race for sailors. It was the summer of 1993, an odd number year, which meant a racing year for cruisers, which was the sailing class of our boat. We were contenders for a prize.
I had some sea legs. Sailed on a variety of boats and in different water ways. Once I hauled for three days and nights, battling oil tankers and over-sized cruise ships, as we brought a tub of a sailboat up from Norfolk, VA to its berth in New York City. But the thought of being mid-ocean, with no sight of land and no Motel 6 for a quick overnight, made me queasy before we even got out to sea.
So, as any woman would do, I got myself outfitted for an uninterrupted life at sea. From a marine supply store I bought a slick yellow suit for foul weather gear, waterproof boots, and a broad brimmed sou'wester that fastened under my chin for safe keeping even if faced with charging wind and rain. For an extra dose of security, a seasickness patch, which I discretely placed behind my left ear.
Race day came. We loaded our gear on the boat and set our high-peaked sails along our 60 foot mast. It's hard to imagine, but sailing races actually have a starting line, and so boats have to tack back and forth, cutting in and out of the wind, dodging the other boats also trying to maintain an optimal starting position. Adding to the usual maneuvering and shouts of "hard a lee," the day was overcast, the air dense. The visibility range shallow with the low hanging clouds and heavy mist. The sea a constant swell of churning white-capped peaks. One boat, losing its bearing in the fog, ran aground. A navy cutter careened into the bow of another ship.
Amidst the jostling of the start, the queasiness I anticipated far out at sea, swept over me like a rogue wave. With all ears trained to hear the gun crack that would announce the start of the race, I leaned over the windward side of the boat and heaved.
Readings for 4/19: Detail and Description
Before I go into any commentary, I have to confess to a mega dose of writer's envy after reading David Foster Wallace's "Shipping Out." I had read one strange short piece of his about a boy contortionist that ran in a New Yorker, but it had none of the irony or deft use of language and structure as this piece. I also confess to needing a dictionary I was circling so many words I'd never seen before.
My favorite line: "Trudy is fifty-six and looks - and I mean this in the nicest possible way - rather like Jackie Gleason in drag..." The description goes on, creating a woman who we intuitively know well and have seen before.
But I can't admire Wallace's prodigious detail without also complimenting his structure. Each section with a heading is a mini scene unto itself that helps to create a whole. And with each additional character and detail, Wallace pulls us into his descriptive weave of life aboard the 7NC. Like a Picasso painting, we see the whole from different vantage points. Distorted, or should I say reflecting, Wallace's particlar brand of being.
A streaming 20,000 words, the piece is long, has no real drama except for his moments of macabre and despair, but I savored, and giggled and sighed over every word.
The Wreck of the Lady Mary is a solid piece of more traditional reporting and writing. Where Wallace hinges his telling on personality and culture, Amy Ellis Nutt takes us on a dramatic journey. Because her reporting is so good, and because she has access to the lone survivor, Nutt can take us to the scene of the tragedy at sea, unspooling events as they occurred real time. Like with Wallace, the structure of this piece fuels us into the heart of the tragedy. We are with each of the crew members as they say depart from their families, not knowing it will be their last goodbye, and head out to sea on their last fishing expedition.
With dialogue such as "salvame por favor," we know these are immigrant men. A fisherman remarks, "there are no skid marks on the ocean," and we know how quickly the sea can destroy and swallow up any evidence. When Arias finds himself hanging for dear life onto the plank he salvaged and brought on board, the story's arc comes full circle.
It also leaves me wanting to read more.
Black Lamb and Grey Falcon: Part 1 by Rebecca West I found the most tedious. I was interested in the history she related but was distracted by her wordiness. She is a descriptive writer; she has a penchant for sharing small telling bits and a patient way of unspooling her words, but I just wanted her to get to the point sooner.
Not by coincidence, all three pieces start with a compelling intro that sets the stage and tone for the story to come.
Venturing into the unknown can be a thrill or an unmitigated disaster. My first competitive sailing race you could say was a little of both.
My boyfriend (not yet husband) was a big sailor, as was his whole family and crew of childhood friends. He owned a 43 foot C&C yacht, which he liked to sail off the coast of Maine. And we, his family and me, were sailing his boat, somehow named "Common Sense," from Marion, Mass. to Bermuda, an annual race for sailors. It was the summer of 1993, an odd number year, which meant a racing year for cruisers, which was the sailing class of our boat. We were contenders for a prize.
I had some sea legs. Sailed on a variety of boats and in different water ways. Once I hauled for three days and nights, battling oil tankers and over-sized cruise ships, as we brought a tub of a sailboat up from Norfolk, VA to its berth in New York City. But the thought of being mid-ocean, with no sight of land and no Motel 6 for a quick overnight, made me queasy before we even got out to sea.
So, as any woman would do, I got myself outfitted for an uninterrupted life at sea. From a marine supply store I bought a slick yellow suit for foul weather gear, waterproof boots, and a broad brimmed sou'wester that fastened under my chin for safe keeping even if faced with charging wind and rain. For an extra dose of security, a seasickness patch, which I discretely placed behind my left ear.
Race day came. We loaded our gear on the boat and set our high-peaked sails along our 60 foot mast. It's hard to imagine, but sailing races actually have a starting line, and so boats have to tack back and forth, cutting in and out of the wind, dodging the other boats also trying to maintain an optimal starting position. Adding to the usual maneuvering and shouts of "hard a lee," the day was overcast, the air dense. The visibility range shallow with the low hanging clouds and heavy mist. The sea a constant swell of churning white-capped peaks. One boat, losing its bearing in the fog, ran aground. A navy cutter careened into the bow of another ship.
Amidst the jostling of the start, the queasiness I anticipated far out at sea, swept over me like a rogue wave. With all ears trained to hear the gun crack that would announce the start of the race, I leaned over the windward side of the boat and heaved.
Readings for 4/19: Detail and Description
Before I go into any commentary, I have to confess to a mega dose of writer's envy after reading David Foster Wallace's "Shipping Out." I had read one strange short piece of his about a boy contortionist that ran in a New Yorker, but it had none of the irony or deft use of language and structure as this piece. I also confess to needing a dictionary I was circling so many words I'd never seen before.
My favorite line: "Trudy is fifty-six and looks - and I mean this in the nicest possible way - rather like Jackie Gleason in drag..." The description goes on, creating a woman who we intuitively know well and have seen before.
But I can't admire Wallace's prodigious detail without also complimenting his structure. Each section with a heading is a mini scene unto itself that helps to create a whole. And with each additional character and detail, Wallace pulls us into his descriptive weave of life aboard the 7NC. Like a Picasso painting, we see the whole from different vantage points. Distorted, or should I say reflecting, Wallace's particlar brand of being.
A streaming 20,000 words, the piece is long, has no real drama except for his moments of macabre and despair, but I savored, and giggled and sighed over every word.
The Wreck of the Lady Mary is a solid piece of more traditional reporting and writing. Where Wallace hinges his telling on personality and culture, Amy Ellis Nutt takes us on a dramatic journey. Because her reporting is so good, and because she has access to the lone survivor, Nutt can take us to the scene of the tragedy at sea, unspooling events as they occurred real time. Like with Wallace, the structure of this piece fuels us into the heart of the tragedy. We are with each of the crew members as they say depart from their families, not knowing it will be their last goodbye, and head out to sea on their last fishing expedition.
With dialogue such as "salvame por favor," we know these are immigrant men. A fisherman remarks, "there are no skid marks on the ocean," and we know how quickly the sea can destroy and swallow up any evidence. When Arias finds himself hanging for dear life onto the plank he salvaged and brought on board, the story's arc comes full circle.
It also leaves me wanting to read more.
Black Lamb and Grey Falcon: Part 1 by Rebecca West I found the most tedious. I was interested in the history she related but was distracted by her wordiness. She is a descriptive writer; she has a penchant for sharing small telling bits and a patient way of unspooling her words, but I just wanted her to get to the point sooner.
Not by coincidence, all three pieces start with a compelling intro that sets the stage and tone for the story to come.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Comments on G3 - Draft #2
ML: The Jim Dandy
Lots of great descriptions and well crafted scenes. You've also expanded the story - dynamic and characters - which gives you lots to work with as you move towards honing the center of your story. Right now you seem to be writing around the thread that should carry your point-of-view rather than using it to pull us along.
Loved how you introduced your father, your need for money, and your intent to get a car. "She's better off working and providing for herself..If you're not the man to give it to her; she'll find one that will." I'm with you. I worked all through high school (and college) earning the money I needed for clothes, etc. Don't ever remember getting money from my parents.
Also, the work culture inside Friendly's has lots of play to it. Much can be made of your manager Joe who thinks he's "Mr. Corporate" and the rest of you scheming to rip Friendly's off as avidly as Corporate tries to impose cost saving measures. You've already set the stage with your cast of characters and your walk-on star, Betty.
Perhaps as Paige mentioned in class, your 3 uniforms can provide a natural structure to progression and time.
When proofreading, pay special attention to grammar and tenses.
A great scoop into teenage life. Keep it going!
Myra's World: 2
You've given us so much more than we had before. Mary is starting to become a real woman with real issues. But I still want/need more. I want to know what Mary looks like: is her her gray or dyed, permed or short; does she wear sensible shoes with her skirts and hose or does she wear sneakers with slacks; glasses, hearing aid, scarf, hat, gloves? What make is her car? Is her apartment tidy? Color theme? Curtains? She notices curtains in her old home when she drives by. Why is she doing this?
Any precious objects? Belongings she thinks are missing but wants?
Mary's downsizing from her house to a senior apt coupled with losing Paul is huge. I've done this with my own father. Everything shifts and changes; daily routines filled with adjustments.
As we were talking in class about the spine of your story, I wondered if this was a story about loss or about Mary's resilience? Seems like she is experiencing both. Perhaps that is a tension you can weave into what you write.
AMY: Surgery Draft One
Amy, you've got us hooked. The drama and tension is implicit in every scene. As a reader I was as incredulous as you and your family as you started to realize your dad's surgery was not going to end well. A harrowing realization. Who doesn't want to resist feeling that helpless?
I think it's great that you are able to take us from the waiting room into the operating room; from family drama to clinical drama. And everything shifts accordingly: voice, language, characters. In fact, I would push it even further. Take us even deeper into the clinical world of Dr. Shale and what is going on in the OR. Dramatize the difference btwn the two environments.
The details you've inserted are just right. Spare but telling; they keep us focused on the action.
I too think a simple device, like time on the clock or day part shows on the TV, might work to punctuate the structure of the story and the passing of time. Not much time elapses but drama unfolds simultaneously in two rooms.
Best of luck with this piece.
ML: The Jim Dandy
Lots of great descriptions and well crafted scenes. You've also expanded the story - dynamic and characters - which gives you lots to work with as you move towards honing the center of your story. Right now you seem to be writing around the thread that should carry your point-of-view rather than using it to pull us along.
Loved how you introduced your father, your need for money, and your intent to get a car. "She's better off working and providing for herself..If you're not the man to give it to her; she'll find one that will." I'm with you. I worked all through high school (and college) earning the money I needed for clothes, etc. Don't ever remember getting money from my parents.
Also, the work culture inside Friendly's has lots of play to it. Much can be made of your manager Joe who thinks he's "Mr. Corporate" and the rest of you scheming to rip Friendly's off as avidly as Corporate tries to impose cost saving measures. You've already set the stage with your cast of characters and your walk-on star, Betty.
Perhaps as Paige mentioned in class, your 3 uniforms can provide a natural structure to progression and time.
When proofreading, pay special attention to grammar and tenses.
A great scoop into teenage life. Keep it going!
Myra's World: 2
You've given us so much more than we had before. Mary is starting to become a real woman with real issues. But I still want/need more. I want to know what Mary looks like: is her her gray or dyed, permed or short; does she wear sensible shoes with her skirts and hose or does she wear sneakers with slacks; glasses, hearing aid, scarf, hat, gloves? What make is her car? Is her apartment tidy? Color theme? Curtains? She notices curtains in her old home when she drives by. Why is she doing this?
Any precious objects? Belongings she thinks are missing but wants?
Mary's downsizing from her house to a senior apt coupled with losing Paul is huge. I've done this with my own father. Everything shifts and changes; daily routines filled with adjustments.
As we were talking in class about the spine of your story, I wondered if this was a story about loss or about Mary's resilience? Seems like she is experiencing both. Perhaps that is a tension you can weave into what you write.
AMY: Surgery Draft One
Amy, you've got us hooked. The drama and tension is implicit in every scene. As a reader I was as incredulous as you and your family as you started to realize your dad's surgery was not going to end well. A harrowing realization. Who doesn't want to resist feeling that helpless?
I think it's great that you are able to take us from the waiting room into the operating room; from family drama to clinical drama. And everything shifts accordingly: voice, language, characters. In fact, I would push it even further. Take us even deeper into the clinical world of Dr. Shale and what is going on in the OR. Dramatize the difference btwn the two environments.
The details you've inserted are just right. Spare but telling; they keep us focused on the action.
I too think a simple device, like time on the clock or day part shows on the TV, might work to punctuate the structure of the story and the passing of time. Not much time elapses but drama unfolds simultaneously in two rooms.
Best of luck with this piece.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Scene Exercise, 4/12
The horse's flanks began to quiver and its nostrils flared when we heard the rush of the river. Behind a screen of brush and story high trees a muddy rush of spring water split our trail in two. The bristly hair of the horse's long tail switched back and forth as it slowly picked its way along the rocky path toward the river bank. Despite the shade from the surrounding canopy of green, the late afternoon heat had caused a light sheen to cover the horse's neck. We had been riding an hour and my mouth was dry.
The path cut a sudden right and there the river opened in front of us. Dark and gnarly, hugging the edges of its banks high up to the tree line. None of us had ever entered flowing water on a horse before. The guide had warned us not to let the horses go down. But in the muggy heat, I too felt pulled towards the water. I would swim if I could.
Without breaking its stride the horses silently stepped into the river's downstream current. One, two, three steps in and the water was thigh high on the horse, up to the tips of its mane. If I left my feet glued in the stirrups, the water would course up my jeans and soak me up to my knees. Slowly, I disentangled my feet and shimmied my knees up the flanks of the horse, hunched up as if on a rocking horse.
On we went, the horses rolling with the current, more graceful than on land. With knees up, one hand on the horn and one holding the reigns, I wondered if this was the day I would go swimming with horses.
Readings for 4/12
Obviously a gruesome batch of stories revolving around life and death; life or death; who lives and who dies and why?
But in addition to the common theme, it was also interesting that three of them were written about events that the authors were not there to observe. The Long Fall, The Jumpers, and Alive were all second and third hand accounts written as first hand stories. Alive to me was the most effective. I didnt feel the author working as hard as I did in the other pieces. It was also an excerpt from a book, which could support that observation. Both Fall and Jumpers engage us with a character that threads us through the story.
In 193, Hollandsworth observes the trial and has access to the main character. We're with him all the way. But despite how close we are to the character and the action, much remains unknown and unresolved. There are two sides to Wright's gruesome tale. Hollandsworth appropriately restrains from showing us his bias. (Don't think I could have done the same!!)
Group 2: Draft 2
Sylvia: Lucky Thirteen
This story was fun and easy to read and I couldn't help think what a great young adult book this would be.
While the piece has natural flow, great scenes, good description, and characters that we want to tag along with, I'm still not sure where you are going with this. The narrative arc is illusive. Of course, you may know, but as a reader I want to know the point of what I am reading.
In it's current iteration, this is a slice of life story. if you point me in a direction, I'll go there with you!
Stephen: Draft 2
I really like the way you have opened up the story, given it more breathing room and invited us into this world. While your narrative threads are clear - your interest in juditso, the dojo/master scenes, and the history of the sport - the transitions could be smoother. You have room for a better weave and a smoother telling. Perhaps more background in certain places would help. Also, less telling and more showing.
For example,when you enter the gym you write "the building is warm and smells like a gym." Great place to describe what's going on rather than assume I will figure it out. Or when talking about Kano, you share great intimate detail, but wondered about the source for the exchange between Kano's father and himself. Loved the use of Japanese, but wasn't always clear to me what the terms were referencing. I often had to stop and reread.
But what I really enjoyed most was when you popped up in the story. You are clearly on a quest and I want to know more about that. Your intro with "The Karate Kid" is spot on, but again you want to tell us more than trust your showing. Dive in. I'll get you have an obsession by the way you describe that scene.
John: Draft 2
You've clearly added more to your piece, but I miss not starting with "Brian William was reading the newspaper on September 11" scene. It hooked me in and lets me know immediately this guy is quirky and an Afghan authority.
I also really liked the detail you shared: "likes to measure the quality of any book about the Mayflower by skipping to its chapter on the first Thanksgiving." Funny and telling!
While the story has expanded, I'm still missing a focus, a center to your piece. You're telling me more about Williams but not sure I know why I should care. You also tell me he's not "altruistic" about teaching at UMD and he doesn't feel "stuck." Why does this detail matter? What are you telling us about Williams?
I want to know more and I want to know why.
The horse's flanks began to quiver and its nostrils flared when we heard the rush of the river. Behind a screen of brush and story high trees a muddy rush of spring water split our trail in two. The bristly hair of the horse's long tail switched back and forth as it slowly picked its way along the rocky path toward the river bank. Despite the shade from the surrounding canopy of green, the late afternoon heat had caused a light sheen to cover the horse's neck. We had been riding an hour and my mouth was dry.
The path cut a sudden right and there the river opened in front of us. Dark and gnarly, hugging the edges of its banks high up to the tree line. None of us had ever entered flowing water on a horse before. The guide had warned us not to let the horses go down. But in the muggy heat, I too felt pulled towards the water. I would swim if I could.
Without breaking its stride the horses silently stepped into the river's downstream current. One, two, three steps in and the water was thigh high on the horse, up to the tips of its mane. If I left my feet glued in the stirrups, the water would course up my jeans and soak me up to my knees. Slowly, I disentangled my feet and shimmied my knees up the flanks of the horse, hunched up as if on a rocking horse.
On we went, the horses rolling with the current, more graceful than on land. With knees up, one hand on the horn and one holding the reigns, I wondered if this was the day I would go swimming with horses.
Readings for 4/12
Obviously a gruesome batch of stories revolving around life and death; life or death; who lives and who dies and why?
But in addition to the common theme, it was also interesting that three of them were written about events that the authors were not there to observe. The Long Fall, The Jumpers, and Alive were all second and third hand accounts written as first hand stories. Alive to me was the most effective. I didnt feel the author working as hard as I did in the other pieces. It was also an excerpt from a book, which could support that observation. Both Fall and Jumpers engage us with a character that threads us through the story.
In 193, Hollandsworth observes the trial and has access to the main character. We're with him all the way. But despite how close we are to the character and the action, much remains unknown and unresolved. There are two sides to Wright's gruesome tale. Hollandsworth appropriately restrains from showing us his bias. (Don't think I could have done the same!!)
Group 2: Draft 2
Sylvia: Lucky Thirteen
This story was fun and easy to read and I couldn't help think what a great young adult book this would be.
While the piece has natural flow, great scenes, good description, and characters that we want to tag along with, I'm still not sure where you are going with this. The narrative arc is illusive. Of course, you may know, but as a reader I want to know the point of what I am reading.
In it's current iteration, this is a slice of life story. if you point me in a direction, I'll go there with you!
Stephen: Draft 2
I really like the way you have opened up the story, given it more breathing room and invited us into this world. While your narrative threads are clear - your interest in juditso, the dojo/master scenes, and the history of the sport - the transitions could be smoother. You have room for a better weave and a smoother telling. Perhaps more background in certain places would help. Also, less telling and more showing.
For example,when you enter the gym you write "the building is warm and smells like a gym." Great place to describe what's going on rather than assume I will figure it out. Or when talking about Kano, you share great intimate detail, but wondered about the source for the exchange between Kano's father and himself. Loved the use of Japanese, but wasn't always clear to me what the terms were referencing. I often had to stop and reread.
But what I really enjoyed most was when you popped up in the story. You are clearly on a quest and I want to know more about that. Your intro with "The Karate Kid" is spot on, but again you want to tell us more than trust your showing. Dive in. I'll get you have an obsession by the way you describe that scene.
John: Draft 2
You've clearly added more to your piece, but I miss not starting with "Brian William was reading the newspaper on September 11" scene. It hooked me in and lets me know immediately this guy is quirky and an Afghan authority.
I also really liked the detail you shared: "likes to measure the quality of any book about the Mayflower by skipping to its chapter on the first Thanksgiving." Funny and telling!
While the story has expanded, I'm still missing a focus, a center to your piece. You're telling me more about Williams but not sure I know why I should care. You also tell me he's not "altruistic" about teaching at UMD and he doesn't feel "stuck." Why does this detail matter? What are you telling us about Williams?
I want to know more and I want to know why.
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