Blog 17 Reflective Essay

Writing Process of Don’t Cry




Before I made the decision to write it I thought to myself I will never write about that to an entire class of strangers.

I was given the assignment to write a personal essay in my creative nonfiction class. At first we were asked to make a two lists one of things we would like to write about and others that we would never write about. At first the subject of my father in Don’t Cry was put under my list of things that I would never write about. I thought about why I would never write about my father’s death. I realized that I have a hard time dealing with tragedies in my life and an even harder time talking about them. I made a decision at that moment that I should share my experience. I didn’t want people to judge me and that was my biggest fear. I hate the whole pity party thing. When I thought about it a little more I realized that other people might be dealing with the same things I went through. My personal essay might even help them deal with their grief; how cool would that be?

Every time I did a prewriting activity in class I got more nervous about the project I was going to take on. I sat in my bed one night before I wrote the essay and I decided to clean out my documents on my laptop. I came across something that I didn’t even remember writing. It was a description about the day of my father’s funeral. I have to admit when I read it I became a little emotional, but then I realized that this is it. These few little paragraphs I wrote a couple of years ago is going to pull me back into that time and those feelings I had so long ago. I even incorporated some of those paragraphs I wrote so long ago into my essay.



When I sat up last night, in my bed and I couldn’t help but imagine the daunting day ahead of me. I went through my itinerary over and over again in my head. The night dragged on. I pulled myself out of bed and slumped over to my computer. I have to write something for him, something special. I wrote about my Dad’s personality and of course our main bond the Pittsburgh Steelers.
I began talking to myself. “Okay Gina, you can do this. You can do this.” I still hadn’t cried. I hesitantly strolled over to my brother Louis’s room. I stared at the closed door for what seemed to be an hour but was only a few seconds. I prepared to knock, clenched my hand in a fist and then released it. “Come on Gina, take a deep breath.” I clenched my fist for a second time and tapped on the door. “Yeah?” He sounded so tired. “Louis we have to leave soon are you almost ready?” The door opened. My brother walked out in a suit. He was never ready before my mother and me.



I knew after I got passed the nervousness of actually having to write the essay I could dive into writing it. I began to think. What should people learn about me in this piece? What can they learn about themselves? I wrote my fist draft with feeling. I didn’t think too much about how I wanted to organize my essay. All I knew was at first I wanted to talk about the super bowl my dad and I shared and at the end I wanted to talk about the super bowl my father missed. I thought that this would be a way to show that life goes on without the one that you lost. I also thought that it would give readers the image of me coming full circle.

After rereading my first draft I don’t know if that was the best idea for organization. It worked with tying the whole piece together but I don’t know if it supported my focus. The focus of not dealing with my grief was lost in the essay. At first I really didn’t want to change anything in my essay. I’m really stubborn and I would say that I get that from my dad too. I was just worried that if I changed something my essay wouldn’t be from my heart anymore. I really felt like I put everything that I had into that first draft. I decided to let it sit for a few weeks so that I could clear my head.

I then had to write a second draft. When I was writing my second draft I think that I kind of got lost. I was so concerned about organizing it I think that it kind of scared me to the point of me completely messing up my essay. I organized my essay beginning with the wrestling match between my brother and me. Then followed the funeral and after that the Steelers super bowl that I shared with my father. Finally, I ended with the Steelers super bowl that my father was absent from. When I reread my essay I found that no one would tell when I dealt with my emotions. I wanted to scream. This was so frustrating to me. After I realized that the entire point of the essay was now gone to readers I got scared. I decided once again to let my essay sit for a few weeks.

After realizing that I really was not happy with what I wrote I decided to write my essay once again. I knew I needed to reorganize my entire essay. I really liked the idea of starting with the wrestling match so I decided to keep that. Then, I discussed the Steelers game that I shared with my father. I really wanted the Steelers thing to come into play sooner. Next I added a small section about my father telling me he had cancer, and then I went into the funeral. I kept the ending with the most current Steelers super bowl that I had to go through without my dad.

I feel that this final version of my personal essay is the best out of the three that I have written. I think that now the reader can fully understand what I have gone through and apply it to their life and their experiences.

Brainstorming Blog 18

Brainstorming


After writing about my father's death in the first peice, I've realized that there is no limit to my writing. I definately think that I will journal more and I think that when I go through other hard times it would be benificial not only to me but to others as well. I would like to write about some of my experiances wether they are good or bad that have happened in my life.


I would really like to work on my organization. It's hard for me sometimes when I get really into my writing. I just keep on going and writing more and more without realizing where I am going. I probably should do more prewriting maybe something like an outline would help me more.


At the moment I don't really have any plans for continuing my writing. Maybe after my student teaching is finished and I get settled in my career I will have more time to focus on my writing and where it can take me.


I will use writing in my profession all the time. Since I will be a teacher I will be constantly writing to perents and administrators. As far as creative writing goes I would probably have to do something on my own. I would love to start a club with my students and share my writing as well as read what they write in their own time.


I really loved doing the personal essay. I would love to write more of those for myself. Who knows maybe after I wrote about them I would decide to persue getting them published. As for now I would really like to write about my experiances and what I have gone through in my life thus far.


As of now I don't really have plans of publishing. My life is so crazy right now I don't think that I have time to work on a piece for a long time in order to get it published. I would love to write after I become more comfortable in my career. Then I would have time to focus on it.


For my personal essay I really thought that i was just writing it for this class. Now I really feel like I should share that piece with my brother and my mother. I think it will benifit them with helping them deal with tehir grief and I also think that it will help them to understand me more.

Blog 15

how did I start?
I started by sitting down and thinking about what would be a good topic. That was when I decided I wanted to write about my father.


when did I figure out my focus?
I figured out my focus after I wrote my first draft and had someone else read it.


what did I leave out? what did I change? what did I emphasize?
I left out details that were insignificant to my story. I didn't really change anything at all. I emphasized my father's personality and how mine matches his.


where did I get stuck and how did I get unstuck?
I got stuck a few times on the organization. I had to keep playing with it until finally a found a way for it to work.


what were my major revisions?
My major revisions came when I changed the order of my entire essay.


how did my life (not on the page) affect my writing process?
Talking to my mom and my brother helped with a few things. My brother did not remember a lot of the stuff that happened.


where and when did I write my best? what time?
I write my best at night with my laptop in my bed.


what writing rituals did I engage in?
I have the TV turned on but the volume turned down to low... I have to also go to the bathroom before I start because nothing is worse then having an idea and loosing it because you went to the bathroom.


how did I use thinking, talking and writing to develop my paper?
I always start by thinking out my idea. Then I begin to write and I get all of my ideas organized. Lastly I talk to people and I get their opinions and feeelings on my work.


how did I know when I was finished and how did I decide where to start?
I actually still do not think that I am finished. I decided where to start when I thought more about my organization.

Blog 14 - Composing Process

1-Free Write/Thinking- Sit and think about your topic and where you should go with it. Think or write about the possible angles you can take on your peice.

2-Brainstorm- Organize your thoughts into a clear form. This will help you not to loose track of your focus and remember your ideas.
*Web
*Outling
*Map

3-Rough Draft Compose ideas into a rough draft.

4- Edit and Revise
-Reread your work and edit it for content and grammar. Also have others read your peice to do the same.

5- Final Draft
-Using all the prewriting and editing formulate a final draft you are confident with.

Blog 12 RHETORICAL ANALYSIS OF PUBLICATION VENUES

RHETORICAL ANALYSIS OF PUBLICATION VENUES



1. Analysis of the editorial description of essays accepted

Toasted Cheese ( http://www.toasted-cheese.com/ezine.htm ) is an online literary journal that focuses on flash fiction, fiction, creative non-fiction, and poetry. Toasted Cheese accepts work that is unpublished. The maximum words for fiction and creative nonfiction is 5000 words; flash fiction is 500.


Reading Periods:
· March Issue: Oct. 1- Dec. 1
· June Issue: Jan. 1- March 1
· Sept. Issue: April 1- June 30
· Dec. Issue: July 1- Sept. 30


2. Description of several representative essays published in your venue;
Sample essays=Online Ezine
Epilogue: Lindsay Tang
My Grandfather's Ear: Linda C. Wisniewski
Tractor: Jacoba Mendelkow
This Teacher Talks Too Damn Fast: Megan Stielstra


Subject matter= There are many different subject matters. They do not limit the subject of the work that they accept. Even though they do not have a specific subject matter they have contests that asks for submissions on certain topics and award first through fourth place. The last contest subject was mystery and you only had 48 hours to write it. They gave Amazon gift certificates for prizes ranging from $20-$10.


Voice: The essays that are accepted have a storytelling voice. When they are read the personality of the writer is completely comprehended. They also discuss and refer to specific current issues and media.


Depth of discussion: Some of the pieces are fun and others have more depth. The works that are more based on fun are still extremely creative and well thought out.


Form (modes of writing/experimental) description, narration, dialog - values techniques from fiction; values the experimental (see artistry)


Artistry: I would say that there is a high level of artistry. The contests are very creative. They even have writing prompts posted for the public’s enjoyment. Toasted Cheese encourages writer’s artistry by giving them the tools to write.


Length: The maximum is 5000 words.


3. Niche
Audience – I believe that the audience is mostly those involved in the literature field. I don’t think this because of complex language or things of that nature, but this is evident because the site is geared to help writers grow in their field.


Purpose – Publish work of the most talented writers not those with the most credentials.


4. Other
· Submissions are accepted through email.
· They will reply by the 15th of the month following your submission date.
· They do not mention pay.
· They require a cover letter and a short biography (100 words)
· They accept about 5% of the submissions that they receive.

Blog 11

Don’t Cry

My brother glared at me, giggled and then put me into a headlock. I loved to compete with my brother, Louis. I just wanted to be one of the boys. Whatever Louis did I wanted to do it even better. We would watch wrestling and play outside. Louis and I even used to stage wrestling matches between each other. Louis is fourteen months older than I but I still felt like I could compete. We would both start in a corner and we would begin on our knees. The fights grew intense and sometimes my dog, Jax would try to protect me from Louis. Jax would wedge his way in between the two of us then get on top of my brother and growl. Sometimes Louis would catch me in a bad spot or I would get hurt and I would start to cry. My dad would come down the steps and say, “Gina, don’t wrestle with Louis if you can’t handle it. Don’t cry just fight back.” I didn’t understand why my dad said this. I thought my brother should be punished but in turn I got yelled at. Louis would smirk at me and that always made my anger boil. I got angry and tackled my brother onto the soft green carpet. Of course, after a struggle he ended up pinning me down again and I grunted with frustration. He was just stronger then me and I couldn’t face that.


When I sat up last night in my bed I couldn’t help but imagine the daunting day ahead of me. I went through my itinerary over and over again in my head. The night dragged on. I pulled myself out of bed and slumped over to my computer. I have to write something for him, something special. I wrote about my Dad’s personality and of course our main bond the Pittsburgh Steelers. My mom knocked on the door and said that I better start getting ready. I began talking to myself. “Okay Gina, you can do this. You can do this.” I still hadn’t cried. I hesitantly strolled over to my brother Louis’s room. I stared at the closed door for what seemed to be an hour but was only a few seconds. I prepared to knock, clenched my hand in a fist and then released it. “Come on Gina, take a deep breath.” I clenched my fist for a second time and tapped on the door. “Yeah?” He sounded so tired. “Louis we have to leave soon are you almost ready?” The door opened. My brother walked out in a suit. He was never ready before my mother and I.


Louis drove my mother and I to the funeral home. The car ride seemed to have only lasted a few seconds. No one spoke. My brother got out of the car and proceeded to walk. I took a deep breath and opened my mother’s door. Everyone was looking at us. I’ll never forget how everyone looked at us. They cried and expected us to bawl. Everyone’s eyes were scrolling our faces trying to read how we were feeling. I thought to myself a lot that day. Stop looking at me; I’m ok just stop looking at me.
At the cemetery everyone was still studying my family. My mom already had her moments in the church and at the wake. She let some of it out but she even told me herself that she didn’t want to show her emotion. My brother still hadn’t cried so I wasn’t going to. We made it past the funeral without a tear. When I tried to fall asleep that night I cried, but it was okay because no one knew. I knew that my brother was in the next room doing the same thing. I looked at the wall between my brother’s room and mine. I wanted to pick up one of the walkie-talkies we used to use as kids and ask him if he was awake. My brother and I were always close even when we were arguing.
I looked at a picture of my mom, dad, brother, and I cried. My dad stood there so strong. His shoulders were wide; he was built like a bulldog. By just a quick look you’d see that he had curly hair, bushy eyebrows, and tan skin. I held the picture close and took a breath in I still could smell his musk deodorant. I could still feel the hugs and how my arms never fit around his muscles. I closed my eyes and saw his eyes looking back at me. They were hazel just like mine. Even with such a rough exterior my father’s smile was genuine and warming. Maybe Louis knows what I’m going through. We always went through everything together.



I was slumped on the couch surrounded by my usual Sunday football fans. We laughed and poked fun at each other’s teams. Until, an unfamiliar face walked in. He noticed my jersey and asked me why I would ever be a Pittsburgh fan. I explained that my father was a Pittsburgh fan and I was Daddy’s little girl so I jumped on the Steelers bus at a young age. I took a breath and I began to tell them a story about my father.
I was twelve years old and the most excited I’ve ever been in my short-lived life. That morning I ran down the steps. On the way down I got a robust whiff. I knew my dad was making omelets. This must have been a special occasion because my Dad usually only made his omelets on Christmas morning. After breakfast I followed my dad outside. He sat down on one of the rocking chairs on our front porch with the family dog, Jax. Jax was a boxer and did not like strangers. If anyone else besides my father took him outside without a leash he would be gone in a second chasing after something. My dad had a special way with animals. He was wearing a loose fitting Steelers sweatshirt, his usual jeans, and a Pittsburgh hat. He pulled out a cigar lit it and sat back in the chair. He rocked and studied the scenery. My father didn’t believe in talking when it wasn’t necessary. I looked at him as I sat cross-legged on the concrete porch. “Dad do you think Pittsburgh’s going to win?” He blew out smoke looked down at me and said, “I don’t know Gina” as he rubbed his hand on his forehead. My dad rarely took off of work, not even for holidays. This was big. I went back inside and began to help my mother clean and set up the food for the game. My dad never liked to order take out. He believed strongly in not wasting money on eating out all the time. That day we actually had subs, pasta dishes, potato salad, and wings all from restaurants.
As the game began my heart pounded. My father had a few superstitions. One was when the opposing team was going for a field goal you’d stick out your pinky and pointer finger on both hands with all the others down. My dad would pick a side for the ball to go to and aim his fingers that way. Most of the time it actually worked and my brother and I swore that it was sacred. We called it a jinx. The Steelers lost to the Cowboys that day 27-17. I yelled at the TV but my Dad didn’t really say too much towards the end of the game. He would yell but then he’d walk out of the room to yell even louder. He wouldn’t even answer the phone. The game took over all of his emotions.
After sharing my memory with everyone there they returned to watching the football game. As I sat there staring at the screen I couldn’t help it that my mind wondered. I stared blankly into the illuminated screen and relived the hardest time of my life in my head. I wished my Dad could have been there with me when the Steelers pulled out the big win.


My heart was pounding; it was a week away. I was so anxious, but prepared. I knew what was coming. This was something that I’ve have looked forward to since I was a little girl. That day I went to Party City. I stocked up on black and yellow plates, napkins, cups, utensils, and decorations. I had my whole outfit picked out. Even though my outfit was ready I think I must have changed it about fifty times. I don’t understand now what the difference is between one jersey and another but at the time it really mattered.
The day of the Super bowl I woke up at seven o’clock in the morning. Needless to say everyone in my house thought I was crazy for setting up so early. My mom helped me with the food preparations. I got subs, wings, salads, burgers, and everything else I could think of. My boyfriend and my brother helped me set up balloons and streamers. My heart was pounding I walked out of the room and took a breath as I walked back in the room was overtaken with black and yellow. My boyfriend sat on the couch watching the pre-game while I ran around. He told me to relax, but when he says that it never seems to register. After the downstairs was all set up I went upstairs to start getting ready. My hair was not working that day. I must have sat in front of the mirror for two hours. I’m not one of those girls that take two hours just to get her hair done, but today was special.
As my guests started to arrive, I was still running around my mom’s house. Everyone was busting my chops saying that Pittsburgh was going to loose. I didn’t really listen to them. They even ended up taking bets with each other on who was going to win and by how much. This, I have to admit ticked me off, but hey what can you do. Most of my friends and family members were seated on a large brown sectional couch in front of the big screen TV. We had bar stools set up behind it like stadium seating. There is also a bar on the wall cornered from the TV that some were sitting at. My seat was a folding chair about one foot from the television. I was ready and it was time for the coin toss.
My heart was pounding come on Pittsburgh! We won the coin toss I screamed and cheered. My friends all looked at me as if I were crazy. My yellow and black Pittsburgh hat was pulled down low on my forehead. I was focused ready to have a good game. I smeared black eyeliner about an inch underneath my eyes just like the players do. My jersey was worn proud. I even had Pittsburgh socks on. I waved my towel in the air even before the kickoff began. My friends and family all sat relaxed with beers in their hand. The game took over all of my emotions. Steelers 21; Seahawks 10! As the players began to talk at celebrate with the Vince Lombardi Trophy. I pulled on my hat and I started to cry in front of everyone. My boyfriend game me a big hug and even he started to tear. I looked over at my mom and gave her a hug tighter then I ever have before. She was crying too. I whispered in her ear, “he should’ve been here” she replied, “I know”. I looked over at my brother and he sat there emotionless. I knew he didn’t make my journey yet. He would let it out when he least expected. I let it out two years after my father passed away; my brother would have to just wait for it to hit him.

Blog 10

I’m still not convinced about the whole nature-writing concept. Hopefully what I’m writing makes sense and gets the point across. I gave a little non-descriptive info in the beginning to help you guys understand it better then I will add my descriptions. Thanks….
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Everyday with my brother was a new adventure. We’d wake up at 7:00 in the morning on the weekends. We would be so angry that we had to wait for my mother to get up in order to start our day. My mother usually got up around 8:00 and even though we’d only be waiting an hour it seemed like it was Christmas morning and we couldn’t wait to open our gifts, but everyday and we just couldn’t wait to go outside.

Behind our house there was a clearing in the thick brush. We used to leave salt licks and apples out for the deer to feast. As we walked through the trees our feet crinkled the leaves and sticks beneath our feet. My brother always led the way through the woods and I would follow. My brother Louis was always protective of me back then. He would help me past whatever we needed to get to his favorite spots. We trampled down a rocky steep hill until we finally reached the creek. The creek was small and barely had any water in it but it was exciting to us. We would observe everything we could even down to the earthworms we would dig up and release.

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My mom finally let us explore further. My brother and I rode our bikes to a nearby street with a dead end. My brother got off his bike and explained he’s been here before. My brother was never one to follow rules. At the dead end there was a narrow path between the maple trees. My brother heads off the path and I follow him. The brush is thick and there is an old abandoned car ahead. It is red and covered in multicolored leaves and spider webs. My brother wants to go closer, but I encourage him to keep walking. After he throws a couple of rocks that crash into the car he is ready to keep walking.

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We head down a hill that is even steeper then the one in our backyard. My brother tells me to hold on to the saplings as I walk slowly down the hill. Once we reach the bottom there is a huge stream. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My brother gave out a laugh and ran into the water. I quickly followed him and started picking up the smooth rocks. The water was constantly moving so the rocks were almost as smooth as sea glass. My brother picked up a weird looking that that almost looked like a lobster. He told me it was a crayfish and he threw it into our bucket. It was a light transparent orange and it kept wiggling around. My brother threw another one into the bucket and kept heading down the stream stepping on rocks.