Alrighty then, since I wrote a novella for the last bit, I feel perfectly justified in skimping on the word count here...unless I start ranting, in which case you, dear reader, will receive much more than you want and will likely close this window to escape the rubbish.
"A Native Hill" by Wendell Berry (edited/introduced by Norman Wirzba)
Okay, I think I'm starting to sense a trend here along the lines of mucho description and bits of everyday life. Looks likes, once again, we have major imagery and symbolism...though this one makes more of a reflective tie between present, history, and environmentalism. Honestly, while I'd probably love this if I were a green freak or history buff, it strikes me as loads of description (more than I care to see at once) interspersed with preachy rambling. It almost has that "message within personal experience" vibe "Paris to the Moon" has at the beginning...but then it just keeps going on and on and on. For that sort of length, I think you need an audience with a super high interest level, or a captive audience (like college students). That, or just write it in a never ending blog post; they're perfect for protracted reflection sessions. :)
"Narrative Life" by Gian Pagnucci
Well, if I weren't fearing and dreading the Twitterive assignment before, I sure am now. The stories of our lives? I'll admit, some of the stuff I hear is pretty story-worthy, but it always seems to be someone else's life. Now, I think that may be a byproduct of the typical "grass looks greener on the other side" syndrome, but looking at my own life...
It takes me back to that first(?) day of class when the prof asked us to write down a "secret," preferably something embarrassing so that the people might laugh and be entertained. I couldn't think of anything I would put under "secret." Yes, I have spit takes and clumsiness and more regrets/shameful moments than I'd like, but there's really nothing I wouldn't tell if asked, nothing "secret." I guess life, written as is, at least, seems too mundane.
Pagnucci talks about preserving your past...I've kind of already lost most of it. ^^;; There are things I'll remember if something else sparks them, but it's not like an archive I can just search and open at will. And in general, I don't really mind the memories fading.
Don't get me wrong. I love stories. I doubt I'd be a Writing major if I didn't. But while I'll put bits of myself in my stories, I'm not sure how I feel about writing "my stories" if that makes any sense.
じゃまた
"A Native Hill" by Wendell Berry (edited/introduced by Norman Wirzba)
Okay, I think I'm starting to sense a trend here along the lines of mucho description and bits of everyday life. Looks likes, once again, we have major imagery and symbolism...though this one makes more of a reflective tie between present, history, and environmentalism. Honestly, while I'd probably love this if I were a green freak or history buff, it strikes me as loads of description (more than I care to see at once) interspersed with preachy rambling. It almost has that "message within personal experience" vibe "Paris to the Moon" has at the beginning...but then it just keeps going on and on and on. For that sort of length, I think you need an audience with a super high interest level, or a captive audience (like college students). That, or just write it in a never ending blog post; they're perfect for protracted reflection sessions. :)
"Narrative Life" by Gian Pagnucci
Well, if I weren't fearing and dreading the Twitterive assignment before, I sure am now. The stories of our lives? I'll admit, some of the stuff I hear is pretty story-worthy, but it always seems to be someone else's life. Now, I think that may be a byproduct of the typical "grass looks greener on the other side" syndrome, but looking at my own life...
It takes me back to that first(?) day of class when the prof asked us to write down a "secret," preferably something embarrassing so that the people might laugh and be entertained. I couldn't think of anything I would put under "secret." Yes, I have spit takes and clumsiness and more regrets/shameful moments than I'd like, but there's really nothing I wouldn't tell if asked, nothing "secret." I guess life, written as is, at least, seems too mundane.
Pagnucci talks about preserving your past...I've kind of already lost most of it. ^^;; There are things I'll remember if something else sparks them, but it's not like an archive I can just search and open at will. And in general, I don't really mind the memories fading.
Don't get me wrong. I love stories. I doubt I'd be a Writing major if I didn't. But while I'll put bits of myself in my stories, I'm not sure how I feel about writing "my stories" if that makes any sense.
じゃまた
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