OPENING 8
I feel opening 8 was the most effective as it always kept the reader at arms length and never directly informed them what was happening, leaving it to how they interpreted it. I like this technique of showing and not telling, which I tried to incorporate into my story as well as the gruesome aspect. Also, the way in which something so simple such as a butchers and shopping are changed into a complete opposite of how we usually think of them and this is done by using ominous pathetic fallacy. Finally I like the way nothing seems rushed and the story just flows quite slowly, which symbolizes how relaxed the character is.
A Strange Catch
Fishing at night is a lottery: you either scoop the jackpot, or go home empty handed. I religiously put my money in each week, reassuring myself that this is my week, only to watch some fat, inexperienced geezer haul out a 15kg carp and claim “he just got lucky”. My advice to you is: printout your own ticket, weighing all the odds in your favor and ensuring you win.
There are numerous ways of doing this, such as: making sure you are the only one fishing or even stealing someone else’s line. However my way is surely the best. I mean when you are 5 or 6 the thrill of not knowing what you have caught is almost uncontainable but as you grow older the characteristic tug of a carp and dead weight of an old shoe are easily distinguishable and a physical sedative. By putting your own ‘fish’ in there it makes it easier as you know what your up against; no point stepping in the ring ready to battle an old lady when Ricky Hatton’s standing in front of you.
Setting up my line and attaching my bait, the currents of the river slowly begin to change and I feel the hairs on my neck abruptly salute the chill as I move towards the bank. Staring at his lifeless lonely body, I kiss my brother goodbye then toss him into the river, before hurrying back to my seat to make sure I don’t miss the opportunity. As my numbers are drawn I feel a gentle tug on my line and while a cruel smile floats across my face, I know it’s my game, my set, my catch…
Saturday, 24 January 2009
Task 34; Sirens
Opening 7
In Frey’s opening, everything is being revealed, rolled out and unravelled with the character and reader side by side through his actions– this is what I found to be extremely effective. The lack in description of surroundings allows the reader to visualise for themselves the situation, the confusion and the whereabouts of the character, heightening our curiosity also.
But the main juice, the seeded centre of the fruit, is Frey’s use of speech. Useless banter and boring chit-chat, but in this case it drags the story forward, whilst answering questions through the character’s questions, not to mention the effect it has alongside the short and snappy “Nothingness” that comes to the main character.
Sirens
My right hand smashes palm down into the top of my alarm clock, whilst my head continues to be sledge hammered into my thin pillow. I rest my left hand on my burning forehead, and blink a few times to regain the eyesight that I had lost the previous night. The unclean air of the room runs laps around my bare legs; whilst the mosquito bites begin to take on their parasite aftereffects of, well, being itchy. My arms feel clammy and unwashed. My hair probably resembles something close to a mop, or maybe a bowl of spaghetti. The mop is probably closest.
Then he walks into the room.
“You awake yet?”
The question is so stupid I almost want to laugh.
“No, I’m dreaming with my eyes open.”
“You want something to drink?”
“With ice.”
“You going to brush your teeth first?”
“No.”
Despite his IQ of 140, he’s still as stupid as an ass.
I role over onto my side and fall straight into the floorboards, face down. Gun shots continue to pelt into targets somewhere far away. I stroll into the only necessity that we have out here; the buckets of water that we have to call a shower.
My hair is drenched and my eyes are once again, blurry. He strolls back into the room behind my closed wet door and walks over to lean against it, back facing me.
“You ever thought it would be like this?”
“Like what?”
“This.”
“Being what I am, doing what I do?”
“Yes.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Then there was the usual pause.
“Do you want your towel?”
“Please.”
I open the door and outstretch my left hand. Then the sirens begin to scream.
In Frey’s opening, everything is being revealed, rolled out and unravelled with the character and reader side by side through his actions– this is what I found to be extremely effective. The lack in description of surroundings allows the reader to visualise for themselves the situation, the confusion and the whereabouts of the character, heightening our curiosity also.
But the main juice, the seeded centre of the fruit, is Frey’s use of speech. Useless banter and boring chit-chat, but in this case it drags the story forward, whilst answering questions through the character’s questions, not to mention the effect it has alongside the short and snappy “Nothingness” that comes to the main character.
Sirens
My right hand smashes palm down into the top of my alarm clock, whilst my head continues to be sledge hammered into my thin pillow. I rest my left hand on my burning forehead, and blink a few times to regain the eyesight that I had lost the previous night. The unclean air of the room runs laps around my bare legs; whilst the mosquito bites begin to take on their parasite aftereffects of, well, being itchy. My arms feel clammy and unwashed. My hair probably resembles something close to a mop, or maybe a bowl of spaghetti. The mop is probably closest.
Then he walks into the room.
“You awake yet?”
The question is so stupid I almost want to laugh.
“No, I’m dreaming with my eyes open.”
“You want something to drink?”
“With ice.”
“You going to brush your teeth first?”
“No.”
Despite his IQ of 140, he’s still as stupid as an ass.
I role over onto my side and fall straight into the floorboards, face down. Gun shots continue to pelt into targets somewhere far away. I stroll into the only necessity that we have out here; the buckets of water that we have to call a shower.
My hair is drenched and my eyes are once again, blurry. He strolls back into the room behind my closed wet door and walks over to lean against it, back facing me.
“You ever thought it would be like this?”
“Like what?”
“This.”
“Being what I am, doing what I do?”
“Yes.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Then there was the usual pause.
“Do you want your towel?”
“Please.”
I open the door and outstretch my left hand. Then the sirens begin to scream.
Task 34
Opening 3
In my opinion, the 3rd opening stood prominently in the back of my mind whilst I read the other openings. The full, very detailed descriptions of the area being “hot and brooding”, portraying to the reader how deeply the heat has penetrated into Ayemenem and how insufferable it is, and the high intensity of the heat is made present when the author mentions that the “rivers shrinks” which paints an immovable image of dry, dehydrated parched lands. The author then lifts this insufferable heaviness by saying that night is “clear” , and contrasts a few of the earlier comments of Fruits bursting and ripening (which seems very fast paced) to the slow, calm somber atmosphere, where the author isn’t expecting much to happen.
Betrayal by Contradiction
Bitter, Violent, Miserable. That’s how I would describe The cruelty of the lords. The constant need to stay en pointe and cautious whilst the harsh, rough unforgiving lords of nature stand boldly above the earth with the alveoli of their chest bearing down on (what must seems to be) us insignificant humans. Their thunderous, cruel, overpowering cackles isolate us from them, and soon their endless months of pathological entertainment begin.
The seemingly dominant spears of lightning indiscreetly smashing into one of the Seven Wonders of the World, and striking a nerve within our souls. The shrieking clatter of window panes giving up in vain to the superior weapons of destruction, weapons that we as man thought our most useful companion. The ocean waves crash into the reefs and sea-beds with no remorse, whilst the once brave, bold and daring lions lay in a self-dug burrows cowering at the undeniable abilities of the almighty lords. The bruising of the clouds consolidates the inevitable near future.
Yet now, piercing through the heavy, thick impenetrable smog of gloom and fear, comes a bright light, a light of hope and success. The light stood clear and pure amidst the unsightly destruction to which the cruel lords turn their backs on ,what is regarded as, success. The light said nothing, did nothing, it gave nothing away as to the reason behind it’s presence. To the lords it was a mere nuisance, but to man and nature, it stood for one striking message that would see them through what may come. “The lords are ignorant and have no aspirations, they seek to destroy what is good and cocoon what is bad. I cannot stop him alone, and so need your trust and hope that I will get you through this difficult time. Make no mistake, as it has only just begun”.
In my opinion, the 3rd opening stood prominently in the back of my mind whilst I read the other openings. The full, very detailed descriptions of the area being “hot and brooding”, portraying to the reader how deeply the heat has penetrated into Ayemenem and how insufferable it is, and the high intensity of the heat is made present when the author mentions that the “rivers shrinks” which paints an immovable image of dry, dehydrated parched lands. The author then lifts this insufferable heaviness by saying that night is “clear” , and contrasts a few of the earlier comments of Fruits bursting and ripening (which seems very fast paced) to the slow, calm somber atmosphere, where the author isn’t expecting much to happen.
Betrayal by Contradiction
Bitter, Violent, Miserable. That’s how I would describe The cruelty of the lords. The constant need to stay en pointe and cautious whilst the harsh, rough unforgiving lords of nature stand boldly above the earth with the alveoli of their chest bearing down on (what must seems to be) us insignificant humans. Their thunderous, cruel, overpowering cackles isolate us from them, and soon their endless months of pathological entertainment begin.
The seemingly dominant spears of lightning indiscreetly smashing into one of the Seven Wonders of the World, and striking a nerve within our souls. The shrieking clatter of window panes giving up in vain to the superior weapons of destruction, weapons that we as man thought our most useful companion. The ocean waves crash into the reefs and sea-beds with no remorse, whilst the once brave, bold and daring lions lay in a self-dug burrows cowering at the undeniable abilities of the almighty lords. The bruising of the clouds consolidates the inevitable near future.
Yet now, piercing through the heavy, thick impenetrable smog of gloom and fear, comes a bright light, a light of hope and success. The light stood clear and pure amidst the unsightly destruction to which the cruel lords turn their backs on ,what is regarded as, success. The light said nothing, did nothing, it gave nothing away as to the reason behind it’s presence. To the lords it was a mere nuisance, but to man and nature, it stood for one striking message that would see them through what may come. “The lords are ignorant and have no aspirations, they seek to destroy what is good and cocoon what is bad. I cannot stop him alone, and so need your trust and hope that I will get you through this difficult time. Make no mistake, as it has only just begun”.
Task 34
Opening 1
In my opinion, Opening 1 was explicitly very appealing to me. It opened the novel with enough honesty and frankness to keep me, the reader hanging onto every word that was written, which I find to be a brilliant literal technique. Witty, humorous and its pain – staking ability to beautifully describe such simple things in life, Saleem’s opening oozes originality and uniqueness. I also adore the way he is almost conversing with the reader; everything that is written appears to be improvised and it all flows naturally. Moreover, his ending makes you think rhetorically without him actually announcing a question; what does Saleem long to achieve in the brief amount of time he has left on earth?
Utopia Of The Sinner
Dear Lavinia,
My silence has been strangled; almost suffocated. Yet, this “literal drowning” I have suffered from over the years has transformed into a keen ability to tell you the truth. It’s what you deserve. My disappearance has caused you distress, pain, agony, anguish – all the feelings I have felt over the past few years .All the distressing words you will find in Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth; my heart has convulsed and sang Shakespeare’s entire etymology. Being alone, away from the crowds that manipulate your thoughts, I have discovered that there is more to life that the eye can usually predict. I have learnt that our pasts can ultimately write out our future. I have learnt that I was destined to discover the real truth about our parents. All the facts fit beautifully like a puzzle. I feel that you have to know the puzzle’s answers to your beseeching questions. However, nobody likes the truth – some people are even scared of it. Betrayal, hate, even murder: the whole story is interlaced with these violations. Violations they took with them to their graves. I hope we will also inherit their decisions not to tell a soul. This secret will be buried within the hearts of the family. Unless, you feel the need to live not knowing about our parents tumultuous lifestyles – the infallible reason why we were abandoned at such a young age. But, they did it for us. You must understand that they were people who shared the same aspirations in life. They were people who were also torn apart by the indulgence of wealth. Greed and jealousy were the real murderers of their relationship, nonetheless.
If you desire to find out more, please contact me. My address is written on the other side of this letter. I might not have been there when you most needed me, but I’m here for you now. I promise. I promise my awakened love for you will immortally embrace you through the difficult times life has to offer. It is the least I can do . . .
Lucinda.
xx
In my opinion, Opening 1 was explicitly very appealing to me. It opened the novel with enough honesty and frankness to keep me, the reader hanging onto every word that was written, which I find to be a brilliant literal technique. Witty, humorous and its pain – staking ability to beautifully describe such simple things in life, Saleem’s opening oozes originality and uniqueness. I also adore the way he is almost conversing with the reader; everything that is written appears to be improvised and it all flows naturally. Moreover, his ending makes you think rhetorically without him actually announcing a question; what does Saleem long to achieve in the brief amount of time he has left on earth?
Utopia Of The Sinner
Dear Lavinia,
My silence has been strangled; almost suffocated. Yet, this “literal drowning” I have suffered from over the years has transformed into a keen ability to tell you the truth. It’s what you deserve. My disappearance has caused you distress, pain, agony, anguish – all the feelings I have felt over the past few years .All the distressing words you will find in Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth; my heart has convulsed and sang Shakespeare’s entire etymology. Being alone, away from the crowds that manipulate your thoughts, I have discovered that there is more to life that the eye can usually predict. I have learnt that our pasts can ultimately write out our future. I have learnt that I was destined to discover the real truth about our parents. All the facts fit beautifully like a puzzle. I feel that you have to know the puzzle’s answers to your beseeching questions. However, nobody likes the truth – some people are even scared of it. Betrayal, hate, even murder: the whole story is interlaced with these violations. Violations they took with them to their graves. I hope we will also inherit their decisions not to tell a soul. This secret will be buried within the hearts of the family. Unless, you feel the need to live not knowing about our parents tumultuous lifestyles – the infallible reason why we were abandoned at such a young age. But, they did it for us. You must understand that they were people who shared the same aspirations in life. They were people who were also torn apart by the indulgence of wealth. Greed and jealousy were the real murderers of their relationship, nonetheless.
If you desire to find out more, please contact me. My address is written on the other side of this letter. I might not have been there when you most needed me, but I’m here for you now. I promise. I promise my awakened love for you will immortally embrace you through the difficult times life has to offer. It is the least I can do . . .
Lucinda.
xx
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Task 34
Opening 6
I liked this opening because I thought it was very detailed about the person’s life, ‘What my lousy childhood was like...that stuff bores me’, the way this gives some details of the narrators life is because she is saying that her childhood was lousy and that she can get bored easily. Also what I like is that the narrator is writing about their family. I think the writer has moved on about talking about their family in such a way it all links together. The story is very informal, ‘goddamn autobiography...He’s got a lot of dough...and all that David Copperfield crap’.
My Opening
I know you can’t wait no longer so I might as well tell you before you explode. You’ll probably want to know about me before I carry on. My life so far is totally boring, I went to school for 3 years and dropped out, weren’t bothered to go, I mean can you wake up at 6’oclock in the morning and get ready, go school and come back at 4’oclock? That is like 10 hours a day wasted in school. My mum and dad never bothered to go either, they thought school was a load of crap, and so did my brother. Let me tell you about my brother he is one of those people who sell drugs for a living, you know drug dealers. He does make a lot of dough, like my parents. My dad’s a garbage man and my mum’s a supermarket cleaner, in big stores like Tesco. I want to be an actress when I’m all grown up, my parents thing I won’t because I don’t go to school, what do they know you don’t need geography or history to learn how to act, it’s easy just don’t be yourself, how hard is that? I don’t have many friends around her, my brother says it’s because of my attitude, but who cares who needs friends when they are going to be famous.
I liked this opening because I thought it was very detailed about the person’s life, ‘What my lousy childhood was like...that stuff bores me’, the way this gives some details of the narrators life is because she is saying that her childhood was lousy and that she can get bored easily. Also what I like is that the narrator is writing about their family. I think the writer has moved on about talking about their family in such a way it all links together. The story is very informal, ‘goddamn autobiography...He’s got a lot of dough...and all that David Copperfield crap’.
My Opening
I know you can’t wait no longer so I might as well tell you before you explode. You’ll probably want to know about me before I carry on. My life so far is totally boring, I went to school for 3 years and dropped out, weren’t bothered to go, I mean can you wake up at 6’oclock in the morning and get ready, go school and come back at 4’oclock? That is like 10 hours a day wasted in school. My mum and dad never bothered to go either, they thought school was a load of crap, and so did my brother. Let me tell you about my brother he is one of those people who sell drugs for a living, you know drug dealers. He does make a lot of dough, like my parents. My dad’s a garbage man and my mum’s a supermarket cleaner, in big stores like Tesco. I want to be an actress when I’m all grown up, my parents thing I won’t because I don’t go to school, what do they know you don’t need geography or history to learn how to act, it’s easy just don’t be yourself, how hard is that? I don’t have many friends around her, my brother says it’s because of my attitude, but who cares who needs friends when they are going to be famous.
Sunday, 18 January 2009
New Year: Fresh Start (and £10 up for grabs)
Firstly, apologies for the late start to the WORDVOODOO New Year. Most workshoppers will know something of my poor health of late; moderators might just be pleased to be eased in gently; and all of you, I expect, will be relieved that with a new term comes a new focus: out with the poetry and in with the prose!
However, before I go any further, I need to state an important fact: much of the best prose is, in itself, poetic, and it would be a sad mistake for you to ditch all you learnt last term in writing fiction this term, as many of the techniques (even rhyme and meter) can sometimes be applied to prose too.
After the introductory task, this term will work through a number of different genres, with each task challenging you to embrace another genre but to do so with panache, flair and originality. Every submission should be between 200-300 words (any shorter and you will not be able to develop your skills to the full; any longer and not only will it become harder to moderate, but you will also be in danger of waffling).
But first the introductory task...
I shall email you all a .zip file which contains 10 OPENINGS to different novels. Unzip the file (let me know if you need guidance on how to do this) and read the openings carefully several times. Then your Task 34 consists of two parts:
- Decide which opening you like the most and regard to be the most effective. Once you have done so, in one paragraph (approx 100 words) explain/justify precisely why you have made that choice. This part of the task is VERY important, as it sets the perameters for the second part.
- Now you must write your own OPENING to a novel. This should consist of 200-300 words which could begin your own piece of fiction. Your moderators, as well as discussing with you your choice for Part (1), will assess your own opening according to a) how well it meets your own criteria identified in Part (1); and b) how effective an opening it is according to their own opinion. As usual, they will comment on the main strengths and areas for development in your piece of writing.
Lastly, with the predictably chaotic and busy end to the Winter Term, if any of you feel you would like more moderation of your Task 33 attempt, please just drop me an email and I will endeavour to give you more feedback as soon as I can.
In the meantime, good luck! I am really looking forward to reading your submissions, as I know the moderators will be too.
________________________________________
N.B. ADDITIONAL, 'OPTIONAL' TASK:
If you want the chance to win a £10 book token, you may also email me the following list (do NOT post it on the blog):
- Identify each of the novels from which each of the 10 openings is taken, together with their respective authors, in order of how effective you think the opening is (from the best down to the worst).
Sunday, 4 January 2009
Warmth
It is clear by the look on her face that my life
And its pain, have caused more than the scars
That lay rest on her arm. it is true, as my wife
The gifts she recieves should be more than a car.
And the faith in my heart tells me more than a song
When it heals and controlls all those things that i cant.
As the waves slowly rush i can feel i belong
Like the leaves of the forest and the green of a plant
With the might of a lion, and suave of a dove
I saw light from beyond and felt cold on my back.
Has the ice in my heart been melted by a love;
By a love that was lost in a time that was black.
With the dew on her nose and the snow in her hair
I breathed a warmth, this moment meant so much.
Then a tear dribbled down and i felt my head rise.
So the wind is now chilled and my heart can now touch.
And its pain, have caused more than the scars
That lay rest on her arm. it is true, as my wife
The gifts she recieves should be more than a car.
And the faith in my heart tells me more than a song
When it heals and controlls all those things that i cant.
As the waves slowly rush i can feel i belong
Like the leaves of the forest and the green of a plant
With the might of a lion, and suave of a dove
I saw light from beyond and felt cold on my back.
Has the ice in my heart been melted by a love;
By a love that was lost in a time that was black.
With the dew on her nose and the snow in her hair
I breathed a warmth, this moment meant so much.
Then a tear dribbled down and i felt my head rise.
So the wind is now chilled and my heart can now touch.
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