Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Week 3





Never bend your head. Always hold it high. Look the world straight in the eye.
–Helen Keller


Good day! How was your weekend? I spent a part of mine wondering at the journey we all take, as I often do,  that is filled with strange twists and turns, enough to bewilder us at times.   I once watched a documentary film called Ballet Russe that featured the "stars" of the original company, a small group of individuals now elderly but who in their youth kept alive a ballet tradition that might otherwise have been lost, and who represent the living history of modern classical ballet. They brought the art to small midwestern towns where people had never seen anything like it, introduced it to America and beyond. They didn't know at the time just how new and influential a force they were. Years later they can recount the stories of hard work and excitement and some privation all the training and touring entailed, many of them just 12-14 when they began performing. Their knowledge, and their memories, continue to inspire people. They were drawn by the beauty and exhilaration of the dance, their love and passion for it, and for performing. All the while, they were creating a legacy.

In a sense it's what we all do. In ways small or large, our thoughts and actions in response to life create  effects, for good or ill, and we live the consequences.  Have you seen Pan's Labyrinth (2006), directed by Guillermo del Toro?  It is a beautiful film, a modern fairy tale about a young girl's struggle to make sense of multiple changes and certain threats and dangers. She discovers seemingly magical sources of power that take the form, in part, of fantastic creatures that live in a spooky, labyrinthine netherworld. There she is told she is the heiress to an ancient title, a Princess, in fact, and given certain tasks to "prove" herself fit. She must learn to trust herself throughout, for things are not simply what they seem, and her survival, and that of others, depends upon her knowing what is what, and making the right call.

The twists and turns and dark corners and curves of the labyrinth are a symbol of the human unconscious, a cryptic "force" whose messengers can guide us on our life's path; though we must rightly interpret and wisely use this force, for it can be dangerous. Pan is an ancient nature God, associated with fertility and spring, with shepherds and their flocks, and is often depicted playing a pipe.  When we walk, and listen to the wind, feeling it on our skin, and the solid ground under our feet, we may sometimes hear in the wind the sound of his piping.

Today we will pick up where we left off last week and that was with directions to practice writing in a primarily descriptive mode.  You were to choose a suitable subject and bring it to vivid life in so many details and in such a way as to create a unified impression.  Descriptive work makes a reader sense and understand the physical aspects of a given subject and the attitude of the author in conveying the subject, whether of awe, wonder, fear, loathing, love, etcetera.  We will spend some time with this and review punctuation and grammar topics.

             See the photos at the following link of ten of the world's beauty spots.  You might describe what you see in one or another:  http://www.adventure-journal.com/2013/10/the-aj-list-the-10-most-beautiful-places-on-earth/.  Have any photo links to suggest?


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Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogroves, 
And the mome raths outgrabe.
                                     Lewis Carroll's opening lines in "The Jabberwocky"

Before we go on to our next assignment, we'll practice the sentence, catching up on last week's exercises on sentence structure and punctuation.  We'll look at the additive or cumulative structure, if we have time.                                    
     
 Last week we saw that English syntax consists fundamentally of a grammatical subject and predicate. The subject is typically a noun or noun phrase or a verbal functioning as a noun.  The verb is the base of the predicate and operates as a linking mechanism (no action:  I am a teacher) or designates the action put in play by the subject, which we can think of as an actor or agent.                                                                                                                      The direct object is usually a noun or noun phrase following the verb and that receives or takes the action of the verb.  We do well to keep subjects and verbs at the head of a sentence, and together, with the subordinate elements following after (naturally, they are exceptions).



Bill struck the match.  I lit the cigarette.  We shared a smoke one warm summer night.

Here is a poem that expresses the relationship (sort of) between syntax elements:

     One day the Nouns were clustered in the street.
     An adjective walked by, with her dark beauty
     The nouns were struck, moved, changed.
     The next day a Verb drove up, and created the Sentence.
           – Kenneth Koch, "Permanently" (referenced in Stanley Fish's How to Write a Sentence)

Words exist in logical relationships with each other, and discovering those relationships will help you understand syntax better, and the sentences you create.

Not all verbs take an object, but for now we will play with the basic structure and build ever more layered sentences by adding predicate elements, modifying words, phrases, and clauses to the first simple sentence (independent clause), as in the following examples, in which the main clause is italicized:  

A customer shot me a dirty look, long and low, as if I had in some way offended her deeply, though I could not but think myself innocent, and unjustly vilified. 

In the following example, the main clause and the subordinate elements are laid out in outline:
 1.The women whispered late into the night,
     2.  their voices rising and falling softly,
           3.  while I,
                4.  a mere six years old,
                     5.  dreamed of a time when I, too, would have a world as rich as theirs seemed to me then.


We punctuate for two reasons:  one, to order the pace of reading; two, to separate words, phrases, and clause into groups for the sake of clarity and readability and emphasis.
  The period has been described as a stop sign; the comma a speed bump; the semi-colon a "rolling stop"; the parenthetical a detour; the colon a flashing yellow light indicating something's up ahead; and the dash as "a tree branch in the road"(Writing Tools, Roy Peters Clark).  Punctuation rules have been standardized, but options and play remain.  We'll review today beginning with the comma, a mark that indicates where one reading aloud would likely pause, and which sets off modifying words and phrases and clauses by asking one to slow down and see the constituent units.   The semi-colon works well to set off large blocks of text, particularly where commas are already at work; and to show the contrast between cause elements on either side in balanced and parallel sentence constructions.


Punctuation Homework:

*The following URL leads to an excellent article on the common errors of comma placement:
  
I have created a practice set of sentences to illustrate comma placement in additive structures where some information is essential and some non-essential, as discussed in the article above.  I will distribute it in class.

Complete also the set of exercises on using possessive constructions and the apostrophe to show possession:  http://bartelby.com/141/




                http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/607/04/    (sentence fragments)



Narrative Work 

Writing is for many people a very satisfying way of exploring where they have been and where they may be going, and why.   In Why I Write, Joan Didion says: "We are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and screamed, forget who we were."

Autobiographical narratives are structured as stories about the writer himself or herself, what some have called "core stories,"  and they are related to our core beliefs.  Fiction writers often repeat such stories using different characters and situations with telltale resemblances.  They show an individual caught in some way or facing something troublesome, which has to be dealt with or overcome in some measure. The story or stories show the author both recounting and reflecting on personal experience, making sense of it, putting it in some meaningful frame to be understood and thus communicated to a reader. Such essays may have an historical, social, and/or psychological frame, delving into the events, the changes, the lessons, and particularly the themes that have shaped the author's life. Who one has been, and is, is the central focus and the story elements–character, setting, action–serve to dramatize the life. Description is used to convey the physical characteristics of person, places, and things, to bring them vividly to life in the reader's imagination, in specific forms, colors, shapes, sounds, scents–whatever the key sensations.


Narration pulls together the  basic elements of story:  character, with whatever history and personality and motivation allow for insight into the action at the heart of the story; plot, the arranged action/events/scenes that show how a certain conflict arises and develops ; setting, which brings a clear sense of time and place and the force they exert;  narrative point of view, the perspective of the storyteller or narrator; and theme, the idea(s) put into play by all the elements together, whether of innocence, experience, youth, age, promise, loss, death . . . .

The reporter's basic questions are a shorthand means of remembering to get the essentials:

What happened?
Who was involved?
When?
Where?
Why did this happen?
How did it happen?


Storytelling or narration proceeds by means of two methods:  scene and/or summary.  Scene creation involves portraying place and character and action by means of specific detail, dialogue, and vivid imagery.  Summary involves minimizing detail for the sake of brevity and maximum inclusion.  Most storytellers do some of both, selecting the most dramatic or revealing moments to portray in scenes, and moving quickly through related events of lesser narrative importance or interest.


The following paragraph is shaped as summary narrative:

A hundred thousand people were killed by the atomic bomb, and these six were among the survivors. They still wonder why they lived when so many others died. Each of them counts many small items of chance or volition–a step taken in time, a decision to go indoors, catching one streetcar instead of the next–that spared him. And now each knows that in the act of survival he lived a dozen lives and saw more death than he ever thought he would see. At the time, none of them knew anything.
John Hersey, Hiroshima

We imagine the action that took place in the event referenced above, but the writer does not show us the exploding bomb, the fire and smoke and devastation all around. The wails of the living, and the dying.

Narration does more than suggest, it shows action:

When I pulled the trigger I did not hear the bang or feel the kick–one never does when a shot goes home–but I heard the devilish roar of glee that went up from the crowd. In that instant, in too short a time, one would have thought, even for the bullet to go there, a mysterious, terrible change had come over the elephant. He neither stirred nor fell, but every line of his body had altered. He looked suddenly sticken, shrunken, immensely old, as though the frightful impact of the bullet had paralyzed him without knocking him down. At last, after what seemed a long time–it might have been five seconds, I dare say–he sagged flabbily to his knees. His mouth slobbered. An enormous senility seemed to have settled upon him. One could have imagined him thousands of years old. I fired again into the same spot. At the second shot he did not collapse but climbed with desperate slowness to his feet and stood weakly upright, with legs sagging and head drooping. I fired a third time. That was the shot that did for him. You could see the agony of it jolt his whole body and knock the last remnant of strength from his legs. But in falling he seemed for a moment to rise, for as his hind legs collapsed beneath him he seemed to tower upward like a huge rock toppling, his trunk reaching skywards like a tree. He trumpeted, for the first and only time. And then down he came, his belly towards me, with a crash that seemed to shake the ground even where I lay.
George Orwell, "Shooting an Elephant"


Notice how Orwell works the elements of sight, sound, movement in space, and deep feeling into the account, revealing only at the last line he has been lying down, firing up at the huge animal whose final collapse reverberates in our imagination.

Consider well the opening paragraph, as it should serve to draw the reader in to the story subject.  Choose concrete, specific words to relay setting and the emotions at the heart of your piece.  The following is the start of a roughly 5000 word biographical essay about the ballet dancer Mikhail Baryshnikov, who defected to the West in 1974, and returned at age 50 to pay homage to his roots and dance for all those who had in some way shaped him.

     It is raining, and Mikhail Baryshnikov is standing in a courtyard in Riga, the capital of Latvia, pointing up at two corner windows of an old stucco building that was probably yellow once.  With him are his companion, Lisa Rhinehart, a former dancer with American Ballet Theatre, and two of his children–Peter, eight, and Aleksandra, or Shura, sixteen.  He is showing them the house where he grew up. "It's Soviet communal apartment," he says to the children.  "In one apartment, five families.  Mother and Father have room at corner.  See?  Big window.  Mother and Father sleep there, we eat there, table there.  Then other little room, mostly just two beds, for half brother, Vladimir, and me.  In other rooms, other people.  For fifteen, sixteen people, one kitchen, one toilet, one bathroom, room with bathtub.  But no hot water for bath.  On Tuesday and Saturday, Vladimir and I go with Father to public bath."
      I open the front door of the building and peer into the dark hallway.  Let's go up," I suggest.  "No," he says.  "I can't."  It is more than a quarter century since he was here last.
                                                                                      from "The Soloist," by Joan Acocella

Freewriting Prompts:

* Find an old photograph of yourself.  Describe in detail what you see and what you remember of the circumstances surrounding that moment.  What has happened to the child, adolescent or person you were then and the one you are today?  What lessons have been inscribed in those happenings?  What do you know now that you didn't then?

* Draw a cartoon of your family.  Make each member a character.  Write a list of moments central to the life and circumstances that came with being one of this family.  Freewrite on any that promise an interesting story and that show how you and your family got on, for better or for worse.

* Think back to your first day of school.  What was it like?  What lessons have stayed with you?  Who is memorable, and why?  Drop yourself into a scene and explore the ideas or themes that arise.  How important are they today?  Can you trace the influence of a certain individual or event on the thoughts, feelings or attitudes you have today?

Graded Writing Assignment #3: Construct a multi-paragraph essay (no less than three paragraphs and 350 words) that narrates an experience or event that reveals something about the world we live in.  It may be descriptive of a place, a time, a person, an object, or an idea.  You may use first-person voice, the familiar "I" that we use in conversations about ourselves, or you may third-person narration, referring to others using nouns and third-person pronouns.  We may get time to work on it in class; nonetheless, you will revise and bring it to class week 3.   Make sure to double space the lines, to use 11 point type in Times font, and to indent the first paragraph (and all paragraph beginnings). Try for 350-500 words. Underline in text the 
explicit thesis idea or write at the bottom of the page the implicit thesis idea. Bring this essay to class week 3.

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Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Week 2






Renew thyself completely each day; do it again, and again, and forever again.
–Chinese Inscription Cited by Thoreau in Walden


  Welcome back and Good day to you all.  I hope all is well.   


First:  please look at the sentences posted at last week's page and ready for some review of sentence syntax and the parts of speech in English.  Also, review the basic sentence patterns and types posted here below.




Sentence Type 1: The simple sentence has one subject and one predicate, the base of which is always a verb or verb phrase. And in English, the subject usually comes up front, followed by the verb and other predicate elements such as direct and indirect objects. This subject-verb combo is called a clause, an independent clause, because it expresses a grammatically complete, stand-alone thought.  Examples follow here:

Jesus wept. 

Style has meaning.

Birds sing.  And bees hum.

Nuts! (that is/was nuts, this is/was nuts, he is nuts, etc., where "that", "this", "he" are the subjects and "is" the verb, with "nuts" describing the situation or person, as an adjective or subject complement).

What is the subject in each of the preceding sentences? 
 Jesus.  Style.  Birds.  Bees.  And the verbs?  Wept and has and sing and hum, and some form of the "be" verb":  is, was, are, were . . .

And in the following?

The house is surrounded by razor wire.

He and I fight too often. We cannot be good for one another. 

After spring sunset, mist rises from the river, spreading like a flood.

From a bough, floating down river, insect song.  (Sentence fragment here . . . no verb).

They slept on the floor. 

The girl raised the flag. 


Note:   inverted syntax order: Subject follows the verb instead of preceding it.  Lovable he isn't.  Tall grow the pines on the hills.

Normal order: A fly is in my soup. With an expletive (which delays the subject) it looks like this: There is a fly in my soup.


Sentence type 2: The compound sentence has at least two independent subject and verb combinations or clauses, and no dependent clauses. Each independent clause is joined by means of some conjunction or coordinating punctuation:

Autumn is a sad season, but I love it anyway. (coordinating conjunction but preceded by a comma)
Name the baby Huey, or I'll cut you out of my will.
The class was young, eager, and intelligent, and the teacher delighted in their presence.
The sky grew black, and the wind died; an ominous quiet hung over the whole city. (semi-colon used, no coordinating conjunction required)
My mind is made up; however, I do want to discuss the decision with you. 
(A semi-colon is required with the adverbial conjunction however.)


Any of the seven short coordinating conjunctions can be used before the comma to join independent clauses:  for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so:  they can be remembered as FANBOYS.

*A semi-colon (;) must be used before adverbial conjunctions joining independent clauses:  however, indeed, therefore, thus, in fact, moreover, in addition, consequently, still, etcetera.


Sentence Type 3: The 
complex sentence is composed of one independent clause and at least one dependent clause.  

My man left me, though it was I who begged him to go.

Those who live in glass houses should not cast stones.

Many people believe that God does not exist.


Sentence Type 4:  The compound-complex sentence has at least two independent clauses and one dependent clause.


As I waited for the bus, the sun beat down all around me, and I shivered in my thoughts.

Because she said nothing, we assumed that she wanted nothing, but her mother knew better.

She and her sister Amina are dancers, and they work at parties around town when they can. 

While John shopped for groceries, two armed men forced their way into his home; fortunately, his wife and children were away.


Examples of subordinating conjunctions––those used in from of dependent clauses–– include the following:  because, that, which, who, when, while, where, wherever, though, as though, although, since, as, if, as if, unless, et al .

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Second Upload your homework essay 1 to your desktop.  We will review formatting and content concerns and then share a few of the essays by means of the student drive (the Y-drive on your computer).


Third:  Scroll down through the remainder of today's page to acquaint yourselves with its contents, assignments, homework, etecetera. Then come back to the top to read several paragraph examples more closely.  Do this each week, and let me know where clarification is wanted.  I am here to serve you.


      In writing we seek perspective on our subject and a stance or idea to frame it. The frame, which involves the topic idea of each paragraph, and the thesis idea of the entire piece, tells a reader what to make of the subject.   Say the subject–the raw material–is some event we can't shake from memory, whether from childhood, adolescence, or our adult life. Something happened and the memory of it must be interpreted, its elements clarified and meaning revealed in the writing we do about it. It's not easy, but that is the challenge.  A composition of even a single paragraph must organize itself around an idea, stated or implied; this is the thesis or topic idea. Ideally, each supporting sentence relates to the paragraph topic, alternating between the general ideas and specific supporting details, and the finished effect is of a unified, coherent, organized whole that fulfills a certain purpose.  Some of the most common means of organizing a paragraph include description, narration, illustration (example), comparison/contrast, process, cause and effect, definition, and argument. 


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In the following examples, whose topic ideas, where explicit, are in bold letters, note how the authors have organized the material:

The first paragraph here is developed with historical and descriptive facts that testify to the hardiness of the cockroach:

     The cockroaches that inhabit many city apartments and homes are parasites that are almost impossible to exterminate completely.  One hundred seventy million years older than the dinosaur, the cockroach, with its five eyes and six legs, can hide in the dark for weeks without food or water.  Whenever a new roach poison is created, some of the insects become immune.  And in one year a female can have 35,000 offspring.  This, coupled with the fact that there are, at last count, fifty-five kinds of roaches in the United States, makes us hope only to control the pest but probably never to kill the species completely.

Development by means of illustration, examples that support the topic idea:

Some couples who are determined to reveal their individuality are getting married in unusual ceremonies.  For example, a couple employed as line workers for the telephone company exchanged their wedding vows clad in jeans and climbing equipment atop a brightly decorated telephone pole while the justice of the peace shouted instructions from the ground.  Elsewhere, a couple dressed in swimsuits were married on the high diving board of a local swimming pool because they felt that swimming was an important part of their lives.  In another instance, one couple was wed at the firehouse where the groom was a fireman because the bride wanted to make their wedding just a little different.  Another wedding was held in a jet plane at 10,000 feet above the earth.  The wedding ceremony has become another way for people to show their individuality today.

 Development by means of a brief story:

Perhaps city residents and wild animals were never meant to go together, even in zoos.  Recently a visitor to a large city zoo, ignoring all fences and warning signs, put his arm into the cage of a six-year-old polar bear.  Perhaps the man wanted to feed the bear, or even tease him.  But the bear, basically a citizen of the wilds, almost instantly sprang forward and sank his teeth into the man's hand.  As the man screamed for help, and the bear's keeper tried to get the bear under control, the bear sucked in more of the man's arm.  Finally, a policeman had to shoot and kill the bear so that man's arm could be released.  Thus, there was the killing of a polar bear and the wounding of a city resident, two animals who were meant to be residents of their own worlds, not each other's.

Identify the means of development of the following paragraphs, and the topic ideas that unify each:

Hanging in the trees, as if caught there, is a sickle of a moon.  Its wan light scatters shadows on the snow below, only obscuring further the forest that this man negotiates now as much by feel as by sight.  He is on foot and on his own save for a single dog, which runs ahead, eager to be heading home at last.  All around, the black trunks of oak, pine, and poplar soar into the dark above the scrub and deadfall, and their branches form a tattered canopy overhead.  Slender birches, whiter than the snow, seem to emit a light of their own, but it is like the coat of an animal in winter:  cold to the touch and for itself alone.  All is quiet in this dormant, frozen world.  It is so cold that spit will freeze before it lands; so cold that a tree, brittle as straw and unable to contain its expanding sap, may spontaneously explode.  As they progress, man and dog alike leave behind a wake of heat, and the contrails of their breath hang in pale clouds above their tracks.  Their scent stays close in the windless dark, but their footfalls carry and so, with every step, they announce themselves to the night.
Despite the bitter cold, the man wears rubber boots better suited to the rain; his clothes, too, are surprisingly light, considering that he has been out all day, searching.  His gun has grown heavy on his shoulder, as have his rucksack and cartridge belt.  But he knows this route like the back of his hand, and he is almost within sight of his cabin.  Now, at last, he can allow himself the possibility of relief.  Perhaps he imagines the lantern he will light and the fire he will build; perhaps he imagines the burdens he will soon lay down.  The water in the kettle is certainly frozen, but the stove is thinly walled and soon it will glow fiercely against the cold and dark, just as his own body is doing now.  Soon enough, there will be hot tea and a cigarette, followed by rice, meat, and more cigarettes.  Maybe a shot or two of vodka, if there is any left.  He savors this ritual and knows it by rote.  Then, as the familiar angles takes shape across the clearing, the dog collides with a scent as with a wall and stops short, growling.  They are hunting partners and the man understands:  someone is there by the cabin.  The hackles on the dog’s back and on his own neck rise together.
 Together, they hear a rumble in the dark that seems to come from everywhere at once.
                          – The Tiger:  A True Story of Vengeance and Survival,  by John Vaillant



Why bother?  That really is the big question facing us as individuals hoping to do something about climate change, and it’s not an easy one to answer.  I don’t know about you, but for me the most upsetting moment in An Inconvenient Truth came long after Al Gore scared the hell out of me, constructing an utterly convincing case that the very survival of life on earth as we know it is threatened by climate change.  No, the really the dark moment came during the closing credits, when we are asked to . . . change our light bulbs.  Tat’s when it got depressing.  The immense disproportion between the magnitude of the problem Gore had described and the puniness of what he was asking us to do about it was enough to sink your heart.                                                                                                                                                     
–Michael Pollan  “Why Bother?”
                                                                                                                                                

Everything is changing. . . . This is a prediction I can make with absolute certainty. As human beings, we are constantly in a state of change. Our bodies change every day. Our attitudes are constantly evolving. Something that we swore by five years ago is now almost impossible for us to imagine ourselves believing. The clothes we wore a few years back now look strange to us in old photographs. The things we take for granted as absolutes, impervious to change, are, in fact, constantly doing just that. Granite boulders become sand in time. Beaches erode and shape new shorelines. Our buildings become outdated and are replaced with modern structures that also will be torn down. Even those things which last thousands of years, such as the Pyramids and the Acropolis, also are changing. This simple insight is very important to grasp if you want to be a no-limit person, and are desirous of raising no-limit children. Everything you feel, think, see, and touch is constantly changing.
–Wayne Dyer, What Do You Really Want For Your Children?


Starting about one million years ago, the fossil record shows an accelerating growth of the human brain. It expanded at first at the rate of of one cubic inch of additional gray matter every hundred thousand years: then the growth rate doubled; it doubled again; and finally it doubled once more. Five hundred thousand years ago the rate of growth hit its peak. At that time, the brain was expanding at the phenomenal rate of ten cubic inches every hundred thousand years. No other organ in the history of life is known to have grown as fast. –Robert Jastrow, Until the Sun Dies


What my mother never told me was how fast time passes in adult life. I remember, when I was little, thinking I would live to be at least as old as my grandmother, who was dynamic even at ninety-two, the age at which she died. Now I see those ninety-two years hurtling by me. And my mother never told me how much fun sex could be, or what a discovery it is. Of course, I'm of an age when mothers really didn't tell you much about anything. 
My mother never told me the facts of life. –Joyce Susskind, "Surprises in a Woman's Life"


There is but one way to celebrate a plump ripe plum–polish it on your shirt, see your face in the silvery black shine, then open wide, lock your lips on the skin, sink your teeth into the sensuous center, suck in the flesh, slurp up the juices.  Ah!  The purple of it all.
–James Ciletti, "Ode to a Ripe Plum"


Note:  Some paragraphs, particularly ones descriptive or narrative have no directly stated topic idea (as in some f those above), but the idea is implied, the purpose of the paragraph clear, and the development shows unity and coherence.  The term coherence refers to the orderly, intelligible arrangement of sentences, phrases, and words.  Repetition of key words and use of transitions are two ways of creating coherence.  Transitions  are words and phrases that clarify the connections between thoughts, for example:  now, then, after all, finally, for example, in the meantime, indeed, thus, likewise, similarly, on the one hand, on the other hand, naturally, of course, in conclusion, etc.  






The following excerpt is from Mark Twain's Autobiography, and filled with his sense of  rural charm:  

    As I have said, I spent some time of every year at the farm until I was twelve or thirteen years old.  The life which I led there with my cousins was full of charm, and so is the memory of it yet.  I can call back the solemn twilight and mystery of the deep woods, the earthy smells, the faint odors of the wild flowers, the sheen of rain-washed foliage, the rattling clatter of drops when the wind shook the trees, the far-off hammering of woodpeckers and the muffled drumming of wood pheasants in the remoteness of the forest, the snapshot glimpses of disturbed wild creatures scurrying through the grass–I can call it all back and make it as real as it ever was, and as blessed.  I can call back the prairie, and its loneliness and peace, and a vast hawk hanging motionless in the sky, with his wings spread wide and the blue of the vault showing through the fringe of their end feathers.  I can see the woods in their autumn dress, the oaks purple, the hickories washed with gold, the maples and the sumachs luminous with crimson fires, and I can hear the rustle make by the fallen leaves as we plowed through them. . . .

Here is another Twain excerpt, on a sunset:  "I still kept in mind a certain wonderful sunset which I witnessed when steamboating was new to me.  A broad expanse of the river was turned to blood; in the middle distance the red hue brightened into gold, through which a solitary log came floating, black and conspicuous; in one place a long, slanting mark lay sparkling upon the water; in another the surface was broken by boiling, tumbling rings, that were as many-tinted as an opal."

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Description brings the sensory world before us, as we see it, hear it, smell it, feel it, taste it, know it.  Typically, the writer strives to create what is called a dominant impression or effect, from the array of supporting details.  The focus and angle of view are controlled and manipulated to put such an impression across, be the subject a person, place, thing, or situation.  Specific names and facts are also frequently used in description.

 At times description stands alone, but it always enhances and particularizes all kinds of writing.  Think images–of people, things, places–sometimes very narrowly focused and detailed, sometimes sketched in, impressionistic and evocative of some overarching feeling, impression, atmosphere, or mood.  Fine description begins with close observation of your subject, physically or mentally.  Some of us have vivid recall of certain subjects, and some prefer to study first-hand, in the here and now, the world as it offers itself to us.

The places we remember from the past, those we see right before us, or those we see in looking into the future– the real and imagined landscapes of our journeys– may interest you. What was it like to be there? What did you see? hear? touch? smell? taste? feel? Were you in a mansion, on a mountain, walking a boulevard or navigating narrow city streets? Were you in Morocco or Miami? Was your neighborhood a place where kids played in the street and dogs barked excitedly, where sometimes the flood waters rose to knee height and frogs and snakes made wild companions? Did folks sit on the porch, or did they live behind privacy gates and drive fancy cars? Can you describe your home of homes? And how does it compare to other homes, other places? What makes the place distinct? What gives it character? What kinds of life, what kinds of people and things and what jobs does one find there? If you consulted a map, what would the map reveal or tell?

Writing about place may take the form of a travel journal or memoir; or it may be a guide to those seeking to discover some part of the world from an armchair at home or in advance of making an actual visit. Often people write about the landscapes or cityscapes that they have come to love through long connection. We may become seemingly indifferent to where we live, no longer noticing the particulars, the everyday features and patterns. Sometimes we have to go away to start seeing the world around us. We are nonetheless surrounded by objects; the elemental trees, clouds, sky, rocks, rivers, and fields; and the constructed world of houses, classrooms, malls, towns, and roadways with all that lies beside.  We also remember certain people, certain things, whose presence before us or in memory is closely associated with the events of our life. 

    Writing descriptively means bringing to a reader's mind the particular aspects that define the essence of your subject––be it a place or setting, a person, or a thing. We stand on whatever ground, sit on whatever chair, stroll whatever paths or sidewalks, swim the river or climb that tree, eat those berries, smell those blossoms, marvel at the moon, swelter in the heat and the dust of late summer, or shiver in the icy blasts that make street corners formidable.  Images are all around as the faces and the figures of every created or imagined thing.  




                                          Smith River, CA


Writing Assignment (#2): 
       Iin 350 words or more, conjure a precise and compelling portrait of a place, person and/or thing) you know well.  Use both objectively observed details, and subjective impressions and responses.  You may adopt a stationary or fixed observer perspective, or you may opt for that of the moving observer. Underline your thesis idea if it is stated, or type it out at the bottom of the page if it is implicit (clearly suggested but nowhere actually stated).   And remember, your essay should carry a point!

Title the essay. Double space the lines and tab indent for each paragraph.


Topic Suggestions:

Describe a place where you found or find refuge, a sense of peace and well-being, or excitement and challenge.

Describe any particular thing–food, clothing, picture– you find stimulating in some specific way.

Describe the neighborhood you grew up in and the influence it had on you.

Describe someone  you have come to know familiarly and the affect he or she has on you.


Check out this video for an idea:  a description of your personal style:  http://www.nytimes.com/video/fashion/100000002606486/fashion-in-san-francisco-mission-district-street-style.html


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Grammar Review Work: Verb conjugations, tense forms and usage. Review the material on verb forms and use at the following URLs: