2013-03-24
A Poetry Handbook, Mary Oliver
Introduction
***** Exercise
Poems:
- written in emotional freedom
- the content of the language
"A poem that is composed without the sweet and correct formalities of language, which are what sets it apart from the dailiness of ordinary writing, is doomed. It will not fly. It will be raucous and sloppy - the work of an amateur."
Getting Ready
"Writing a poem is not so different - it is a kind of possible love affair between something like the heart (that courageous but also shy factory of emotion) and the learned skills of the conscious mind. They make appointments with each other, and keep them, and something begins to happen. Or, they make appointments with each other but are casual and often fail to keep them: count on it, nothing happens."
*** a passionate relationship and speak what is in tis own portion of your mind, the other responsible and purposeful part
"A final observation. Poetry is a river; many voices travel in it; poem after poem moves along in the exciting crests and falls of the river waves. None is timeless; each arrives in an historical context; almost everything, in the end, passes. But the desire to make a poem, and the world's willingness ti receive it - indeed the world's need of it - these never pass."
Reading Poems
"The truly contemporary creative force is something that is built out of the past, but with a difference."
"To be contemporary is to rise through the stack of the past, like the first through the mountain. Only a heat so deeply and intelligently born can carry a nee idea into the air."
Imitation
"It demands, finally, a thrust of our own imagination - a force, a new idea - to make sure that we do not merely copy, but inherit, and proceed from what we have learned. A poet develops his or her own style slowly, over a long period of working and thinking - thinking about other styles, among other things. Imitation fades as a poet's own style - that is, the poet's own determined goals set out in the technical apparatus that will best achieve those goals - begins to be embraced."
Poetry of the Past
"To be without this felt sensitivity to a poem as a structure of lines and rhythmic energy and repetitive sound is to be forever less equipped, less deft than the poet who dreams of making a new thing can afford to be. Free verse, after all, developed from metrical verse."
"The presentation of metrical verse first is often so off-putting that it is worthwhile letting it rest on the tracks. There is much to be said for the idea of reading, talking about, and imitating contemporary - and I mean congenial contemporary - poems first, and then, later, as students become more confident, ambitious, and sophisticated, suggesting that they move on to (or back to) the difficult patterns of metrical verse."
"The space between daily language and literature is neither terribly deep nor wide, but it does contain a vital difference - of intent and intensity.
**** in structure or statement
"Language, ... , is the medium that will be quick and living - the serviceable clay of one's thoughts."
Poetry of the Present
*** "the familiarity of the language itself - not very different from the language that we use daily - gives confidence."
"One learns by thinking about writing, and by talking about writing - but primarily through writing.
Imitating such poems is an excellent way to realize that they are not very similar after all, but contain differences that are constant, subtle, intense, and radiantly interesting."
"Emotional freedom, the integrity and special quality of one's own work - these are not first things, but final things. Only the patient and diligent, as well as the inspired, ..."
P. 1 Introduction - P. 18 Imitation
A Poetry Handbook: A Prose Guide To Understanding And Writing Poetry
by Mary Oliver
A Harvest Original, Harcourt, Inc. , 1994
2013-03-22
Soul Mountain 1
Soul Mountain 1
"Of course, it isn't hard to find places like Lingtai, Lingqiu, Lingyan and even Lingshan on provincial maps and you know very well that i. The histories and classics, Lingshan appears in works dating back ti the ancient shamanistic work Classic of the Mountains and Seas and the old geographical gazetteer Annotated Water Classic. It was also at Lingshan that Buddha enlightened the Venerable Mahakashyapa." (P. 5)
"They're mostly locals and all know one another. You try using the mellifluous local accent to be friendly, you want to be one of them. You've lived in the city for a long time and need to feel that you have a hometown. You want a hometown so that you'll be able to return to your childhood to recollect long lost memories." (P. 8)
"Today, you can't know what traumas tomorrow will bring. You've learnt through experience everything you need to know. What else are you looking for? When a man gets to middle age shouldn't he look for a peaceful and stable existence, find a not-too-demanding sort of a job, stay in a mediocre position, become a husband and a father, set up a comfortable home, put money in the bank and add to it every month so there'll be something for old age and a little left over fir the next generation?" (P. 9)
"Of course, it isn't hard to find places like Lingtai, Lingqiu, Lingyan and even Lingshan on provincial maps and you know very well that i. The histories and classics, Lingshan appears in works dating back ti the ancient shamanistic work Classic of the Mountains and Seas and the old geographical gazetteer Annotated Water Classic. It was also at Lingshan that Buddha enlightened the Venerable Mahakashyapa." (P. 5)
"They're mostly locals and all know one another. You try using the mellifluous local accent to be friendly, you want to be one of them. You've lived in the city for a long time and need to feel that you have a hometown. You want a hometown so that you'll be able to return to your childhood to recollect long lost memories." (P. 8)
"Today, you can't know what traumas tomorrow will bring. You've learnt through experience everything you need to know. What else are you looking for? When a man gets to middle age shouldn't he look for a peaceful and stable existence, find a not-too-demanding sort of a job, stay in a mediocre position, become a husband and a father, set up a comfortable home, put money in the bank and add to it every month so there'll be something for old age and a little left over fir the next generation?" (P. 9)
A Few Don'ts by an Imagiste, Ezra Pound
"An "Image" is that which presents an intellectual and emotional complex on an instant of time."
"It is the presentation of such a "complex" instantaneously which gives that sense if sudden liberation; that sense of freedom from time limits and space limits; that sense of sudden growth, which we experience in the presence of the greatest works of art."
"Pay no attention to the criticism of men who have never themselves written a notable work. Consider the discrepancies between the actual writing of the Greek poets and dramatists, and the theories of the Graeco-Roman grammarian, concocted to explain their metres."
LANGUAGE
"Use no superfluous word, no adjective, which does not reveal something."
"Don't use such an expression as "dim lands of peace." It dulls the image. It mixes an abstraction with the concrete. It comes from the writer's not realizing that the natural object is always the adequate symbol."
"Go in fear if abstractions. Don't retell in mediocre verse what has already been done in good prose."
"Be influenced by as many great artists as you can, but have the decency either to acknowledge the debt outright, or to try to conceal it."
"Don't allow "influence" to mean merely that you mop up the particular decorative vocabulary of some one or two poets whom you happen to admire."
"Use either no ornament or good ornament."
RHYTHM AND RHYME
"Let the candidate fill his mind with the finest cadences he can discover, preferably in a foreign language so that the meaning of the words may be less likely ti divert his attention from the movement."
"Let the neophyte know assonance and alliteration, rhyme immediate and delayed, simple and polyphonic."
"Don't imagine that a thing will "go" in verse just because it's too dull to go in prose."
"Don't be "viewy"-leave that ti the writers of pretty little philosophical essays. Don't be descriptive."
"Consider the way of the scientists rather than the way of an advertising agent for a new soap."
"Don't chop your stuff into separate iambs. Don't make each line stop dead at the end, and then begin every next line with a heave. Let the beginning of the next line catch the rise of the rhythm wave, unless you want a definite longish pause."
"Naturally, your rhythmic structure should not destroy the shape of your words, or their natural sound, or their meaning."
"A rhyme must have in it some slight element of surprise if it is to give pleasure; it need not be bizarre or curious, but it must be well used if used at all."
Polly Honeycombe #2
"Polly.
I have not read so many books for nothing. Novels, Nursee, Novels! A Novel is the only thing to teach a girl life, and the way of the world, and elegant fancies, and love to the end of the chapter." (P. 72)
"Polly.
Lord , Nursee, if it was not for Novels and Love-letters, a girl would have no use for her writing and reading.-But what's here? [reading.] Poetry!" (P. 77)
"Polly.
Lord, Papa, how can you be so angry with me? - I am as dutiful as any girl in the world.- But there's always an uproar in the family about marrying the daughter, and now poor I must suffer in my turn." (P. 86)
"Polly.
Dispose of me!-See there now!-Why you have no notion of these things, Papa!-Your head's so full if trade and commerce, that you would dispose of your daughter like a piece if merchandise-But my heart is my own property, and at nobody's disposal, but my own.-Sure you would not consign me, like a bale of silk, to Ledger and Co.-Eh! Papa!" (P. 87)
"Honeycombe, alone.
Zouns, I shall run mad with vexation-I shall-Was ever man so heartily provoked?-You see now, Gentlemen, [coming forward to the audience.] what a situation I am in!-Instead of happiness and jollity,-My friends and family about me,-A wedding and a dance,-And every thing as it should be,- Here am I, left by myself,-Deserted by my intended son-in-law-Bully'd by an attorney's clerk-My Daughter mad-My Wife in the Vapours-And all's in confusion. -This comes of Cordials and Novels. -Zouns, your Stomachicks are the Devil-And a man might as well turn his Daughter loose in Covent-garden, as trust the cultivation of her mind to
A CIRCULATING LIBRARY." (P. 109)
According to Polly,
"Novels are Hotbeds for your forward Plants.
Not only Sentiments refine the Soul,
But hence we learn to be the Smart and Drole;
Each awkward circumstance for laughter serves,
From Nurse's nonsense to my Mother's NERVES:"
"NOVELS will teach us all the Art of War:" (P. 110)
2013-03-20
Polly Honeycombe #1
"But why need an English Author put himself to that trouble, when the learned and impartial gentlemen of the Reviews are so ready to take it off his hands, unless it were, like Dryden, to turn the thunder of the Critkck's own artillery against himself, and to confute it anticipate his censures, by proving the Fable, Characters, Sentiments, and Language, to be excellent, or, if indeed there were some parts of it inferior to the rest, such parts were purposely underwritten, in order to set off the superior to more advantage? This, indeed, Dryden has often done, and done so inimitably; that I shall not attempt it after him. To the Gentlemen, therefore, above mentioned, the self-impannelled Jury of the English Court of Criticism, without Challenge, I put myself on my Trial for the High Crime of writing for the Stage, trusting that their candour will send me a good deliverance."
"The Good Gentleman, hurt at the confusion, and in pain for my success, tells me with much warmth, and as dogmatically as any Male Critick could possibly do, that She is astonished at my attempting to violate the received laws of the Drama-That the Catastrophe (that was really her word) is directly contrary to all known rules-That the several Characters, instead of being dismissed, one by one, should have been industriously kept together, to make a bow to the audience at the dropping of the curtain-That, not withstanding any confusion, created by the Girl's whimsical passion for Novels, in the course of the Piece, all parties should be perfectly reconciled to each other at last."
On Preface, pg. 59-60
"Polly Honeycombe"
George Colman the Elder
Edited by David A. Brewer
Broadview edition, 2012
2013-03-17
Poetry for dummies #1
Part 1) Reading and Understanding Poetry
Chapter 1) Poetry 101
What is Poetry and Why do People write it?
"Poetry is the practice of creating artworks using language." (P. 10)
Unique elements make poetry special are
1) Attentiveness, 2) Concentration, 3) Experiment, 4) Originality, 5) Form
Poets: exploring experience through the written words, every kind of experiences, and the emotions and feelings, into art through the way he uses language.
- Creating an intense emotional experience
- Drawing attention to something that is true
Bringing Poetry into Your Life
- Checking out libraries
- Browsing through bookstore
- Attending readings
- Seeking cyber-poetry
Terms:
Metaphor: unspoken comparison
Similes: comparison using "like" and "as"
Anthology: collections of poems from different poets
Reading Poetry Aloud
- Why you should read poems aloud
1) Poets design their poems to be read aloud
2) You'll experience the whole poem if you read it aloud: sound and rhythm
3) You'll understand and remember more if you read aloud.
- The basic steps to good reading
1) Have the right tools handy: a dictionary, a book about the history and forms of poetry
2) Read silently first: Scope out the poem, get some background information> Read the poem silently, to yourself> Take notes as your read silently, if you want-it becomes a sort of journal for them, a history of their reading and their thought processes over time.
Terms:
Stanzas: groups of lines
Allusions: references to persons, places, things, or history
- Note surprise and unfamiliar words
***** "Stop, repeat, go back, dwell." If you really like certain lines, reread and enjoy them again. If the poem is in a book you own, underline the part you like or note it in the margin. And keep your dictionary by your side so that you can look up words you're not familiar with.
- Find an engaged, conversational tone
- Don't rush
Terms:
Alliteration: the repetition of initial consonant sounds
- Pause for power: 1) Any punctuated pause, including dashes, commas, semicolons, or periods. 2) Any surprise. 3) The end of one stanza (or group of lines) and the beginning of another. 4) The ends of lines
- Pay attention to line endings
- Treat white space as time
- Do it more than once
Writing Poetry
- Becoming a poet
1) Discover as much as you can about the poetic craft, 2) Become as sensitive as you can, both of life and to language, 3) Think divergently, 4) Make time for yourself to write, 5) Be disciplined
- Keeping a poetic journal
Terms:
Journal: a repository containing ideas, images, subjects for poems, drafts of poems, other people's poetry
Found Objects: things you pick up that inspire you or that could become the basis for poems, such as someone else's grocery list
- Trying your hand at a writing exercise
1) Write down a very mundane, straightforward prose statement about the outside world
2) Now pay closer attention to the thing you just wrote about: brainstorm
3) Concentrate on your subject and come up with a few new ways of presenting or describing the thing your original statement was about: reject anything that seems familiar or secondhand
4) Write at least two passages of poetry on the subject, experimenting with different forms
5) Now rewrite one of the passage in as few words as you can.
Poetry for dummies
Wiley Publishing Inc., 2001
The poetry center, John Timpane, Ph. D, Maureen Watts
Chapter 1: Poetry 101, p. 7-30
Chapter 1) Poetry 101
What is Poetry and Why do People write it?
"Poetry is the practice of creating artworks using language." (P. 10)
Unique elements make poetry special are
1) Attentiveness, 2) Concentration, 3) Experiment, 4) Originality, 5) Form
Poets: exploring experience through the written words, every kind of experiences, and the emotions and feelings, into art through the way he uses language.
- Creating an intense emotional experience
- Drawing attention to something that is true
Bringing Poetry into Your Life
- Checking out libraries
- Browsing through bookstore
- Attending readings
- Seeking cyber-poetry
Terms:
Metaphor: unspoken comparison
Similes: comparison using "like" and "as"
Anthology: collections of poems from different poets
Reading Poetry Aloud
- Why you should read poems aloud
1) Poets design their poems to be read aloud
2) You'll experience the whole poem if you read it aloud: sound and rhythm
3) You'll understand and remember more if you read aloud.
- The basic steps to good reading
1) Have the right tools handy: a dictionary, a book about the history and forms of poetry
2) Read silently first: Scope out the poem, get some background information> Read the poem silently, to yourself> Take notes as your read silently, if you want-it becomes a sort of journal for them, a history of their reading and their thought processes over time.
Terms:
Stanzas: groups of lines
Allusions: references to persons, places, things, or history
- Note surprise and unfamiliar words
***** "Stop, repeat, go back, dwell." If you really like certain lines, reread and enjoy them again. If the poem is in a book you own, underline the part you like or note it in the margin. And keep your dictionary by your side so that you can look up words you're not familiar with.
- Find an engaged, conversational tone
- Don't rush
Terms:
Alliteration: the repetition of initial consonant sounds
- Pause for power: 1) Any punctuated pause, including dashes, commas, semicolons, or periods. 2) Any surprise. 3) The end of one stanza (or group of lines) and the beginning of another. 4) The ends of lines
- Pay attention to line endings
- Treat white space as time
- Do it more than once
Writing Poetry
- Becoming a poet
1) Discover as much as you can about the poetic craft, 2) Become as sensitive as you can, both of life and to language, 3) Think divergently, 4) Make time for yourself to write, 5) Be disciplined
- Keeping a poetic journal
Terms:
Journal: a repository containing ideas, images, subjects for poems, drafts of poems, other people's poetry
Found Objects: things you pick up that inspire you or that could become the basis for poems, such as someone else's grocery list
- Trying your hand at a writing exercise
1) Write down a very mundane, straightforward prose statement about the outside world
2) Now pay closer attention to the thing you just wrote about: brainstorm
3) Concentrate on your subject and come up with a few new ways of presenting or describing the thing your original statement was about: reject anything that seems familiar or secondhand
4) Write at least two passages of poetry on the subject, experimenting with different forms
5) Now rewrite one of the passage in as few words as you can.
Poetry for dummies
Wiley Publishing Inc., 2001
The poetry center, John Timpane, Ph. D, Maureen Watts
Chapter 1: Poetry 101, p. 7-30
2013-03-15
First draft, Light
Genesis 1:1-5
"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light "day," and the darkness he called "night." And there was evening, and there was morning-the first day."
Before she read the Word, her life was formless and empty, and the darkness was all around and over her mind. Alrhough she had some love, faith, and hope, they did not stay in right place and just hovered around her soul. Her life was in a wrong way, such as money, fame, power, sex. She always felt that emptiness even though everyone seemed to love her. Once when formless emptiness overwhelmed her emotion and thought, she decided to commit suicide. She brought some Aspirins and locked herself into her room; however, the fear of pain, death and hell made her hesitated and heard the Word. Before calling the end of life, she opened the Book called "Holy Bible," and she heard the Word, "Everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16, NIV) She started to cry and the Word confirmed the message, "I have told you these things, so that in me hou may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33, NIV) In her dark, depressed mind and soul, the Word turned on the light, and she saw someone right next to her, who protect and guide her to save from the death. When she realized that she was not alone, the greatest peace covered her. Still she needed to be formed and fulfilled, the direction of her life changed to the right way, from the death to the eternal life.
"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
And God said, "Let there be light," and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light "day," and the darkness he called "night." And there was evening, and there was morning-the first day."
Before she read the Word, her life was formless and empty, and the darkness was all around and over her mind. Alrhough she had some love, faith, and hope, they did not stay in right place and just hovered around her soul. Her life was in a wrong way, such as money, fame, power, sex. She always felt that emptiness even though everyone seemed to love her. Once when formless emptiness overwhelmed her emotion and thought, she decided to commit suicide. She brought some Aspirins and locked herself into her room; however, the fear of pain, death and hell made her hesitated and heard the Word. Before calling the end of life, she opened the Book called "Holy Bible," and she heard the Word, "Everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." (John 3:16, NIV) She started to cry and the Word confirmed the message, "I have told you these things, so that in me hou may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33, NIV) In her dark, depressed mind and soul, the Word turned on the light, and she saw someone right next to her, who protect and guide her to save from the death. When she realized that she was not alone, the greatest peace covered her. Still she needed to be formed and fulfilled, the direction of her life changed to the right way, from the death to the eternal life.
2013-03-12
First draft, All of Sudden
Life is the loneliest subject on the earth. Human beings have no choice to leave the world together since entering it alone, and solitude become the burden that everyone has its own to take care for thier life long, either visible or invisible. Although a few people found their lovers with God's blessing, who would protect and love them till thier death, due to the faded meaning of marriage, even love became the one moment instant feeling to enjoy. Since an uncertain moment, my sensibility neither desire nore reject the love. Some part of mine deadly desire, but the other part thought it as an annoying and bothersome feeling. I became lethagic because if not knowing why I felt and how to fulfill the emptiness. Once I failed to get over lethagy, my life would be affected by losing confidence or thinking negatively. When everything that the most people do and get easily became the hardest thing for me, made me feel nothing and useless. Others easily said focusing on the life help to get through it, but it only work for the working moment. When the night time before falling asleep, once again, I needed t fight against the overwhelming solitude. To change this solitude to happiness, something new happen and new people put fresh air. And everything requires the effort. However, the effort doesn't guarantee the success. Even though the effor provide the small achievement, it also made feel some failure easily. That is all about life. We can feel them because of being alive, and with them, we won't get bored. While making some effort to put some fresh, lovely air into the life, happinies come right in front of me. As usual, i went to school, did homeworks, and met some people. One day, I randomly joined the lunch with friends, and there was an unexpected one, who couldn't get close to.
Recently, I became interested in flash fictions which only have less than a thousand words, usually around three hundreds words, and desired to write some. I have no idea how to write, but keep writing to practice them. Hope it help me to establish my writing skills.
2013-03-08
Writing Fiction for dummies #1
Part 1) Getting Ready to Write Fiction
Chapter 1) Fiction Writing Basics
* 5 urban legends that can hurt you
Legend #1. You are not smart enough to write a novel.
> The main thing any novelist needs is the ability to tap into her own emotional wellsprings and create a story that can move her readers.
> Fiction writers are exceptionally honest people who don't balk at telling their own inner truths.
Legend #2. You are not talented enough ti write a novel.
> "Persistence"
Legend #3. You have nothing to write about.
> If you've ever known fear, joy, rejection, love, rage, pleasure, pain, feast, or famine, then you have plenty to write about.
Legend #4. You have to know people to get a novel published.
> All you have to do is show around what you have, and the right people will find you.
Legend #5. You will forget your friends when you are famous.
* 4 stages on the road to publication
1. Concentrating on craft
> Nobody ever got good at writing by talking about it. Or hearing about it. Or reading about it. You get good at writing by doing it. Then you get your work critiqued, figure out what's not up to par, and try it again. And again. And again.
> By writing, by getting it critiqued, by studying the craft of fiction, by writing some more.
2. Tackling the proposal
> *** Book Proposal, Synopsis, Query Letter
> By writing, by studying how to write a proposal, by writing that first practice proposal, by testing the proposal at writing conferences.
3. Perfecting their pitches
> By striving for perfection in craft, by polishing proposals, by pitching projects to live agents or editors.
4. Preparing to become authors
> By ignoring rejections and continuing to submit a polished project until a publisher buys it.
*** Getting Yourself Organized
4 things to turn great ideas into great stories
1. Story World: "setting" or "milieu," the world in which your story takes place.
2. Characters: having a past, a present, & a future.
3. Plot
4. Theme: a core idea.
[Editing your fiction: great writing never happens in the first draft. It happens when you edit your work - keeping what works, chucking what doesn't, and polishing it all till it gleams.
* Reworking your characters so that they come fully alive & revising your storyline at all six layers of plot.]
note taking from
"Writing Fiction for Dummies"
by Randy Ingermanson and Peter Economy,
Wiley Publishing, Inc., Indianapolis, Indiana.
Ingermanson, Randy, and Peter Economy. Writing Fiction for dummies. Indianapolis: Wiley Publishing, Inc., 2010. 9-19. Print
Chapter 1) Fiction Writing Basics
* 5 urban legends that can hurt you
Legend #1. You are not smart enough to write a novel.
> The main thing any novelist needs is the ability to tap into her own emotional wellsprings and create a story that can move her readers.
> Fiction writers are exceptionally honest people who don't balk at telling their own inner truths.
Legend #2. You are not talented enough ti write a novel.
> "Persistence"
Legend #3. You have nothing to write about.
> If you've ever known fear, joy, rejection, love, rage, pleasure, pain, feast, or famine, then you have plenty to write about.
Legend #4. You have to know people to get a novel published.
> All you have to do is show around what you have, and the right people will find you.
Legend #5. You will forget your friends when you are famous.
* 4 stages on the road to publication
1. Concentrating on craft
> Nobody ever got good at writing by talking about it. Or hearing about it. Or reading about it. You get good at writing by doing it. Then you get your work critiqued, figure out what's not up to par, and try it again. And again. And again.
> By writing, by getting it critiqued, by studying the craft of fiction, by writing some more.
2. Tackling the proposal
> *** Book Proposal, Synopsis, Query Letter
> By writing, by studying how to write a proposal, by writing that first practice proposal, by testing the proposal at writing conferences.
3. Perfecting their pitches
> By striving for perfection in craft, by polishing proposals, by pitching projects to live agents or editors.
4. Preparing to become authors
> By ignoring rejections and continuing to submit a polished project until a publisher buys it.
*** Getting Yourself Organized
4 things to turn great ideas into great stories
1. Story World: "setting" or "milieu," the world in which your story takes place.
2. Characters: having a past, a present, & a future.
3. Plot
4. Theme: a core idea.
[Editing your fiction: great writing never happens in the first draft. It happens when you edit your work - keeping what works, chucking what doesn't, and polishing it all till it gleams.
* Reworking your characters so that they come fully alive & revising your storyline at all six layers of plot.]
note taking from
"Writing Fiction for Dummies"
by Randy Ingermanson and Peter Economy,
Wiley Publishing, Inc., Indianapolis, Indiana.
Ingermanson, Randy, and Peter Economy. Writing Fiction for dummies. Indianapolis: Wiley Publishing, Inc., 2010. 9-19. Print
First draft, Virgin Grace White
Virgin Grace White
Under the heavy, dark clouds, it was raining all day long, and thick, huge raindrop kept knocking on the window to tell the story of what they had been watching and listening to while traveling around the world. Also they deserving to sneak into and glance at the secret didn’t seem to stop annoying or entertaining people. Inside of the window, there was a young, tiny, beautiful girl sitting in front of the desk to write something on a blank white paper. It seemed like a daily journal or a love letter. With warmness and coziness, the music was whispering to her ears quietly.
“My tea’s gone cold I’m wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can’t see at all.
And even if I could it’ll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It’s not so bad.”
Holding a pen and thinking deeply of what she had done and what she could write took her for a while to make a pen dance as she felt, joyfully and happily. As soon as the song hit the climax with a girl screaming, the story was written.
My name is Grace White. I just turned to eighteen years old and after graduation, I am leaving for college with my boyfriend, Phil Wright. I am a daughter of the Baptist Minister and growing up as a daughter of the pastor made me morally strict and conservative. I had to be pure, clean, smart, gentle, and especially morally perfect. I needed to be home before ten o’clock and was not allowed to sleep over at any place without parents. I was not allowed to hang out with friends who were not Christians and not allowed to listen to any types of music. Only music I was allowed to listen was Hymn, Contemporary Christian Music, or classic one such as Chopin. Listening to Pop, especially Rap and Hip-Hop became the sin. Because of my parents, at church and home, I needed to act like a good girl, studying hard and keeping my faith in the religion; however, at school, staying away from pressure let me feel free to be myself. Unless I made any remarkable troubles, there was no one to make me a bad person. There was no one to tell me that listening to pop music is bad, to make comments on my clothes, or make me feel guilty about anything. I love my school friends way more than church one. From my perspective, my church friends are all fakes. They act nicely and gently to me and adore me without knowing me well enough to talk about me, because of my father. They never know how hard to live under the restriction that oppressed me, and today, I, who they praised for the moral perfection, committed the sin. According to my father, having sex before marriage is the sin as well as drinking and smoking.
Today was our fourth anniversary with my faithful boyfriend, Phil Wright. I believed him more than anyone else in the earth. He is the only one who understands and loves the way I am. Last four years, he gave me so much love and faith, and I wanted to give him something back. I still remember the first time I saw him. In my memory, we were in same English and mathematic classes. Although I was not really interested in any type of men or making a boyfriend, he grabbed my attention. He was taller than six feet and his body was well shaped, which made him confident on his appearance. He was outgoing, funny, smart, somehow rude, but gentle. His kindness was only for me, not for any other girls, that made me more special. When he came to say “hi,” I was frozen. I could not figure out the reasons, but the way I felt made me revealed another side of mine. When he first hugged me, I could feel and hear his heartbeat which proved me how much he loved me. During dinner, we talked about last four years, and after having a nice dinner, we went to his house. While giggling, hugging, and kissing on his bed, I told him about my feeling for him and he replied short and sweet, but strong three words, “I love you.” With the romantic mood overwhelming around us, the sin was committed. Although my religion, parents, and maybe church people would place me into the sin, I loved the moment sharing love feeling each other more deeply. It was unforgettable in my life, and I believe that he is the one I love in this world and as he told me. Although my virginity was gone, sweet happiness holds me tightly. Although I was not a person who kept writing journals and not sure how long it will last, wanted to keep this happiness and the moment I first made love with the best man in the world.
It seemed her happiness would last forever and Grace White was more than sure of her feeling of happiness, relationship and future with Phil. When she came into the room, she kept singing and dancing and her smiles and laughs did not leave her alone. Sometimes, with full of smiles on her face, she mumbled, thought, dreamed, and imagined herself, and suddenly kicked in the air and rolled her body in the bed with shyness. Although her sweet talks on the phone and lovely feeling toward her lover still worked on her heart and went around her mind, a small, but thick, dark cloud came close to her window to let her know that there would be raining soon.
About a month later, she sat in front of the desk, put her journal, and started reading the day she first made love. It seemed that something went wrong, something happened. While reading her journal, she started to smile again, but her eyes got watery. Once looking at the date she wrote the journal on her first physical relationship with Phil, she checked on the calendar about the date of her period. She bit her thumb nail, and her eyes rolled around quickly. To hide her anxiety, she put earphones on her ears and turned on the music.
“My tea’s gone cold I’m wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can’t see at all.
And even if I could it’ll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It’s not so bad.”
She calmed herself down and tried to start writing, but a bell ringing interrupted everything. She grimaced at the irritation and picked up the phone. As soon as she checked that it was Phil, all bad feeling fading away let her smile. She went to sit on the bed.
“Hello?”
She started to talk with him about her life and listen to him, and since their talks lasted longer, raindrops put their ears on the window as close as possible. Although she put the blanket over her head, they could still hear her. Her secret wanted to sneak out and came to the raindrops.
“Phil, I missed my period.” Grace said.
“Oh, are you sick? Are you okay?” Phil started to worry and asked her.
“No, I feel great. I am just worrying about…“
“About?”
“I am worrying about pregnancy.” Grace whispered.
“Oh …” Phil could not hide the embarrassment, but continued to talk, “did you get a pregnancy test?”
“No, not yet.” She answered.
“Grace, I don’t think you are pregnant. No worry. It was only once, and its possibility is very low. Tomorrow, I will get the self pregnancy test kit. Until something happen, do not worry. Even if something happens, do not worry. I am and will be with you whatsoever happens to you. I love you.”
“I love you, too. I should go to bed, now. You relieved me from all the anxieties. I am just scared to tell my parents when it comes out to pregnant.”
“On, Grace. Don’t worry, first. It won’t happen. Just sleep and relax yourself.”
“Okay, See you tomorrow at school!” she hung up with a big smile and went back to the desk. Once again, she started to write the journal.
I just realized that I missed my period this month, which made me really worry about the pregnancy and myself. Is it possible that having sex only once can make a baby? Then, am I pregnant? If I really am, then what should I do? How should I tell my parents? What can I say them? What will my parents tell me about it? Hope I am not pregnant as Phil said.
But, ironically, after talking with Phil, I feel relief and even little great. Because of what he said, “I am and will be with you although whatever happen to you. I love you,” my anxiety was fleeing away and made me think about the further relationship and future with Phil. Having children looking like whom I love and making the life together might be great. I remember the day making love and what he said after all. Nice warm air around us, feeling him through whole body made me, and being surrounded by his strong arms made me feel secure and comfortable emotionally. I cannot forget his eyes. There was no doubt that he is the one I have in my life.
After moving a pen around the white blank paper, she rested her chin on her hands and went into the deep thought.
Next day, Grace brought a self pregnancy test kit in her backpack. She read the direction very carefully and went into the bathroom. Although time went away, she did not seem to get out of the bathroom. After about an hour, she came out from the bathroom with a white stick in her hand. She was crying. She called someone, maybe Phil, and with little talk, she left the room.
Almost 9:00 p.m., she came back and started to cry quietly. She cried and prayed for hours and hours and fell asleep.
After more than a month, there was still a song singing sadly in her ears, while sitting in front of her antique, wooden desk right in front of the window. For her, the song was well mixed with the rainy day and made her more melancholy. She rested her chin on her both hands and went into the deep thought.
“My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It's not so bad.”
As soon as she woke up from the unrealistic and ideal dream of her future, she started to write her journal.
Since I had an abortion, I have dreamed the same thing, which made me freak out. Although she was still a baby and hard to tell whether a girl or a boy by appearance, I could tell she was a girl. In the beginning, I could not even see her, but as soon as she held my right hand, she grew up so fast. However, I was afraid. I didn’t want her to be with me, because I was all by myself. I was alone. I took her hand off of me, and she melt into the blood. Red blood on the grey background emphasized the death of one’s life, and cried out, “why did you kill me? Why did you kill me?” Even though I ran away, it kept following me and asked, “Why did you kill me? Why did you kill me, mom?” it was the nightmare I had every night.
I shouldn’t have been acting like a fool. I should not believe any one. There were nothing true, and his love was not, too. After graduation, I killed the baby I desired to see with Phil, but when Phil ran away, there was nothing left for me. By myself, I could not tell my parents because I was afraid of what they would say and how the other people looked at me. The sweetest dream ended up as a tragedy and I am not only the sinner who broke the natural order, but also the real sinner who kill the baby. I should have done before my parents knew that I got a baby; however, it cost too much pain and guilt. When I brought the self pregnancy test kit to Phil, when he saw that I was pregnant, I saw his eyes were shaken. I have never expected how he treated me and said to me. When I went to meet him, I saw he was sure of that there would be one line, but when he saw that there were two lines, he did not say anything for about thirty minutes. There was only awkward silence between us, and he said, “I’m sorry.” I asked him back, “what are you sorry for?” But he did not answer, just rode me back home. At that moment, I could not get what he meant. After, He avoided me, and a week later, he came to meet me and asked me abortion. As soon as he had said what he wanted to say, he ran away from me. He went to Africa missionary trip for three months. There was no way I could contact him, and there was nothing I could say him. I did not say or ask him anything. Yes, it was him. It was him who gave up on me. It was him who killed my baby, and it was me who actually killed my baby. After abortion, there was a baby appearing in my dream and kept asking me why I killed her. How can I be away from this guilty conscience? How can I relieve from all the pain I am paying for, right now? How can I remove the burden of murder? How can I...?
After writing her journal, she disappeared. She was gone forever. There were only white chrysanthemums on her desk. She died. She killed herself. It might be too much pressure for her. She might be immature to get controlled over everything happened around her. Although her physical appearance seemed to be an adult, her spirituality and mentality were still young to control. What made her insisted to tell the other. She could tell her sister, if she was afraid of her father. They don’t know the answer since the dead wouldn’t say anything; however, her young immature decision brought the tragedy to Whites.
Every night, her father came into her room and cried. When her mother found him cry, both cried together. Her sister came into her room, and tried to feel her in her bed. But she was gone and never came back.
On her desk, there were two letters.
To, my beloved daughter, Grace White
Grace, my beloved daughter, Grace. We really miss you from the bottom of our heart. Grace, I am really sorry for making you guilty and not teaching the most important thing. Whatever you had done, we love you. Whoever you are, we love you the way you are, because you are wonderful being yourself, and there was no one who can say that you are the sinner because we all are the sinner. With the grace of God, there was nothing unforgivable and unforgettable, and there was no one who could judge the others. I am really sorry that I forced you to live the way I wanted you to. Grace, rest in peace and hope to see you again.
From, you father, David White
To, Grace White
Grace, I am really sorry that I did not keep my words. I was really scared of everything. I did not know what I could do and what I should do. I was also afraid of telling my parents and facing the problem. I believed that abortion was the answer for everything, but it wasn’t. I really want to take my responsibility and prove that I do really love you all my heart. Would you marry me? Although I know after disappointment, it is hard to recover the relationship, I do not want to miss you and I do want to be your husband as soon as I get back to United States. Hope this letter gets to you before you are going through abortion. I am really sorry and love you so much. I will do my best to love you.
From, Phil Wright
However, they were too late to change the thing right. She was already gone and never came back. There was still a song whispering in her ears, to say that it would be okay.
“My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It's not so bad.”
While listening to "Stan," by Eminem, A huge inspiration stoke my heart and decided to write about an abortion. This is my first draft, and I am sure that there are many grammatical errors and things to revise. However, just want to share my inspiration with others.
Under the heavy, dark clouds, it was raining all day long, and thick, huge raindrop kept knocking on the window to tell the story of what they had been watching and listening to while traveling around the world. Also they deserving to sneak into and glance at the secret didn’t seem to stop annoying or entertaining people. Inside of the window, there was a young, tiny, beautiful girl sitting in front of the desk to write something on a blank white paper. It seemed like a daily journal or a love letter. With warmness and coziness, the music was whispering to her ears quietly.
“My tea’s gone cold I’m wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can’t see at all.
And even if I could it’ll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It’s not so bad.”
Holding a pen and thinking deeply of what she had done and what she could write took her for a while to make a pen dance as she felt, joyfully and happily. As soon as the song hit the climax with a girl screaming, the story was written.
My name is Grace White. I just turned to eighteen years old and after graduation, I am leaving for college with my boyfriend, Phil Wright. I am a daughter of the Baptist Minister and growing up as a daughter of the pastor made me morally strict and conservative. I had to be pure, clean, smart, gentle, and especially morally perfect. I needed to be home before ten o’clock and was not allowed to sleep over at any place without parents. I was not allowed to hang out with friends who were not Christians and not allowed to listen to any types of music. Only music I was allowed to listen was Hymn, Contemporary Christian Music, or classic one such as Chopin. Listening to Pop, especially Rap and Hip-Hop became the sin. Because of my parents, at church and home, I needed to act like a good girl, studying hard and keeping my faith in the religion; however, at school, staying away from pressure let me feel free to be myself. Unless I made any remarkable troubles, there was no one to make me a bad person. There was no one to tell me that listening to pop music is bad, to make comments on my clothes, or make me feel guilty about anything. I love my school friends way more than church one. From my perspective, my church friends are all fakes. They act nicely and gently to me and adore me without knowing me well enough to talk about me, because of my father. They never know how hard to live under the restriction that oppressed me, and today, I, who they praised for the moral perfection, committed the sin. According to my father, having sex before marriage is the sin as well as drinking and smoking.
Today was our fourth anniversary with my faithful boyfriend, Phil Wright. I believed him more than anyone else in the earth. He is the only one who understands and loves the way I am. Last four years, he gave me so much love and faith, and I wanted to give him something back. I still remember the first time I saw him. In my memory, we were in same English and mathematic classes. Although I was not really interested in any type of men or making a boyfriend, he grabbed my attention. He was taller than six feet and his body was well shaped, which made him confident on his appearance. He was outgoing, funny, smart, somehow rude, but gentle. His kindness was only for me, not for any other girls, that made me more special. When he came to say “hi,” I was frozen. I could not figure out the reasons, but the way I felt made me revealed another side of mine. When he first hugged me, I could feel and hear his heartbeat which proved me how much he loved me. During dinner, we talked about last four years, and after having a nice dinner, we went to his house. While giggling, hugging, and kissing on his bed, I told him about my feeling for him and he replied short and sweet, but strong three words, “I love you.” With the romantic mood overwhelming around us, the sin was committed. Although my religion, parents, and maybe church people would place me into the sin, I loved the moment sharing love feeling each other more deeply. It was unforgettable in my life, and I believe that he is the one I love in this world and as he told me. Although my virginity was gone, sweet happiness holds me tightly. Although I was not a person who kept writing journals and not sure how long it will last, wanted to keep this happiness and the moment I first made love with the best man in the world.
It seemed her happiness would last forever and Grace White was more than sure of her feeling of happiness, relationship and future with Phil. When she came into the room, she kept singing and dancing and her smiles and laughs did not leave her alone. Sometimes, with full of smiles on her face, she mumbled, thought, dreamed, and imagined herself, and suddenly kicked in the air and rolled her body in the bed with shyness. Although her sweet talks on the phone and lovely feeling toward her lover still worked on her heart and went around her mind, a small, but thick, dark cloud came close to her window to let her know that there would be raining soon.
About a month later, she sat in front of the desk, put her journal, and started reading the day she first made love. It seemed that something went wrong, something happened. While reading her journal, she started to smile again, but her eyes got watery. Once looking at the date she wrote the journal on her first physical relationship with Phil, she checked on the calendar about the date of her period. She bit her thumb nail, and her eyes rolled around quickly. To hide her anxiety, she put earphones on her ears and turned on the music.
“My tea’s gone cold I’m wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can’t see at all.
And even if I could it’ll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It’s not so bad.”
She calmed herself down and tried to start writing, but a bell ringing interrupted everything. She grimaced at the irritation and picked up the phone. As soon as she checked that it was Phil, all bad feeling fading away let her smile. She went to sit on the bed.
“Hello?”
She started to talk with him about her life and listen to him, and since their talks lasted longer, raindrops put their ears on the window as close as possible. Although she put the blanket over her head, they could still hear her. Her secret wanted to sneak out and came to the raindrops.
“Phil, I missed my period.” Grace said.
“Oh, are you sick? Are you okay?” Phil started to worry and asked her.
“No, I feel great. I am just worrying about…“
“About?”
“I am worrying about pregnancy.” Grace whispered.
“Oh …” Phil could not hide the embarrassment, but continued to talk, “did you get a pregnancy test?”
“No, not yet.” She answered.
“Grace, I don’t think you are pregnant. No worry. It was only once, and its possibility is very low. Tomorrow, I will get the self pregnancy test kit. Until something happen, do not worry. Even if something happens, do not worry. I am and will be with you whatsoever happens to you. I love you.”
“I love you, too. I should go to bed, now. You relieved me from all the anxieties. I am just scared to tell my parents when it comes out to pregnant.”
“On, Grace. Don’t worry, first. It won’t happen. Just sleep and relax yourself.”
“Okay, See you tomorrow at school!” she hung up with a big smile and went back to the desk. Once again, she started to write the journal.
I just realized that I missed my period this month, which made me really worry about the pregnancy and myself. Is it possible that having sex only once can make a baby? Then, am I pregnant? If I really am, then what should I do? How should I tell my parents? What can I say them? What will my parents tell me about it? Hope I am not pregnant as Phil said.
But, ironically, after talking with Phil, I feel relief and even little great. Because of what he said, “I am and will be with you although whatever happen to you. I love you,” my anxiety was fleeing away and made me think about the further relationship and future with Phil. Having children looking like whom I love and making the life together might be great. I remember the day making love and what he said after all. Nice warm air around us, feeling him through whole body made me, and being surrounded by his strong arms made me feel secure and comfortable emotionally. I cannot forget his eyes. There was no doubt that he is the one I have in my life.
After moving a pen around the white blank paper, she rested her chin on her hands and went into the deep thought.
Next day, Grace brought a self pregnancy test kit in her backpack. She read the direction very carefully and went into the bathroom. Although time went away, she did not seem to get out of the bathroom. After about an hour, she came out from the bathroom with a white stick in her hand. She was crying. She called someone, maybe Phil, and with little talk, she left the room.
Almost 9:00 p.m., she came back and started to cry quietly. She cried and prayed for hours and hours and fell asleep.
After more than a month, there was still a song singing sadly in her ears, while sitting in front of her antique, wooden desk right in front of the window. For her, the song was well mixed with the rainy day and made her more melancholy. She rested her chin on her both hands and went into the deep thought.
“My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It's not so bad.”
As soon as she woke up from the unrealistic and ideal dream of her future, she started to write her journal.
Since I had an abortion, I have dreamed the same thing, which made me freak out. Although she was still a baby and hard to tell whether a girl or a boy by appearance, I could tell she was a girl. In the beginning, I could not even see her, but as soon as she held my right hand, she grew up so fast. However, I was afraid. I didn’t want her to be with me, because I was all by myself. I was alone. I took her hand off of me, and she melt into the blood. Red blood on the grey background emphasized the death of one’s life, and cried out, “why did you kill me? Why did you kill me?” Even though I ran away, it kept following me and asked, “Why did you kill me? Why did you kill me, mom?” it was the nightmare I had every night.
I shouldn’t have been acting like a fool. I should not believe any one. There were nothing true, and his love was not, too. After graduation, I killed the baby I desired to see with Phil, but when Phil ran away, there was nothing left for me. By myself, I could not tell my parents because I was afraid of what they would say and how the other people looked at me. The sweetest dream ended up as a tragedy and I am not only the sinner who broke the natural order, but also the real sinner who kill the baby. I should have done before my parents knew that I got a baby; however, it cost too much pain and guilt. When I brought the self pregnancy test kit to Phil, when he saw that I was pregnant, I saw his eyes were shaken. I have never expected how he treated me and said to me. When I went to meet him, I saw he was sure of that there would be one line, but when he saw that there were two lines, he did not say anything for about thirty minutes. There was only awkward silence between us, and he said, “I’m sorry.” I asked him back, “what are you sorry for?” But he did not answer, just rode me back home. At that moment, I could not get what he meant. After, He avoided me, and a week later, he came to meet me and asked me abortion. As soon as he had said what he wanted to say, he ran away from me. He went to Africa missionary trip for three months. There was no way I could contact him, and there was nothing I could say him. I did not say or ask him anything. Yes, it was him. It was him who gave up on me. It was him who killed my baby, and it was me who actually killed my baby. After abortion, there was a baby appearing in my dream and kept asking me why I killed her. How can I be away from this guilty conscience? How can I relieve from all the pain I am paying for, right now? How can I remove the burden of murder? How can I...?
After writing her journal, she disappeared. She was gone forever. There were only white chrysanthemums on her desk. She died. She killed herself. It might be too much pressure for her. She might be immature to get controlled over everything happened around her. Although her physical appearance seemed to be an adult, her spirituality and mentality were still young to control. What made her insisted to tell the other. She could tell her sister, if she was afraid of her father. They don’t know the answer since the dead wouldn’t say anything; however, her young immature decision brought the tragedy to Whites.
Every night, her father came into her room and cried. When her mother found him cry, both cried together. Her sister came into her room, and tried to feel her in her bed. But she was gone and never came back.
On her desk, there were two letters.
To, my beloved daughter, Grace White
Grace, my beloved daughter, Grace. We really miss you from the bottom of our heart. Grace, I am really sorry for making you guilty and not teaching the most important thing. Whatever you had done, we love you. Whoever you are, we love you the way you are, because you are wonderful being yourself, and there was no one who can say that you are the sinner because we all are the sinner. With the grace of God, there was nothing unforgivable and unforgettable, and there was no one who could judge the others. I am really sorry that I forced you to live the way I wanted you to. Grace, rest in peace and hope to see you again.
From, you father, David White
To, Grace White
Grace, I am really sorry that I did not keep my words. I was really scared of everything. I did not know what I could do and what I should do. I was also afraid of telling my parents and facing the problem. I believed that abortion was the answer for everything, but it wasn’t. I really want to take my responsibility and prove that I do really love you all my heart. Would you marry me? Although I know after disappointment, it is hard to recover the relationship, I do not want to miss you and I do want to be your husband as soon as I get back to United States. Hope this letter gets to you before you are going through abortion. I am really sorry and love you so much. I will do my best to love you.
From, Phil Wright
However, they were too late to change the thing right. She was already gone and never came back. There was still a song whispering in her ears, to say that it would be okay.
“My tea's gone cold I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window
And I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'll all be grey
But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it’s not so bad
It's not so bad.”
While listening to "Stan," by Eminem, A huge inspiration stoke my heart and decided to write about an abortion. This is my first draft, and I am sure that there are many grammatical errors and things to revise. However, just want to share my inspiration with others.
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