[stylist] Writing Exercises from Patricia Foster
Jacobson, Shawn D
Shawn.D.Jacobson at hud.gov
Tue Oct 26 19:03:36 UTC 2010
I got the earlier Email.
Shawn
-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Priscilla McKinley
Sent: Tuesday, October 26, 2010 3:02 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Writing Exercises from Patricia Foster
Did anyone get this email? I didn't receive it in my inbox.
Thanks,
Priscilla
On 10/26/10, Priscilla McKinley <priscilla.mckinley at gmail.com> wrote:
> I'm trying to send this again. Can we not send attachments?
>
>
> Hey, listers,
>
> I just received the writing exercises from Patricia Foster, our guest
> speaker on Sunday night. She told me to let you know that these are
> responses to other readings but that some will work without the
> readings. She will get the book list together later, as she is rather
> busy right now. Also, she said that she enjoyed chatting with
> everyone on the conference call.
>
> I am pasting, as well as attaching, the exercises.
>
> Thanks,
>
> Priscilla
>
>
> 1. First Things First: an exercise in memory
>
> You can use Edward Jones' "The First Day" and Primo Levi's "The
> Disciple" as examples.
>
> Write about a first - yours or someone else's. First haircut. First
> airplane ride. First day of school. First date. First job. First
> lie. First move to another city. First hospital stay. First time
> eating ice cream or tiramisu.
>
> Begin "in" the moment of action: the flash of the barber's scissors
> above your left ear as he leans over to cut into your dark, tangled
> hair; rubbing the crumbs of a piece of toast on your nubby pajamas on
> the morning of your first day at Longfellow school.
>
> Remember to include sights and smells and sounds and textures that add
> particularity to your memory.
>
> Remember that underneath each concrete story there will be other
> firsts: the first recognition of aloneness, the first stirrings of
> shame, the first time falling in love with a place, the first foray
> into grief.
>
> Concentrate on focusing your action with a single scene - or a series
> of scenes. A scene: action that takes place in a specific time and
> place.
>
> 2. MEMORY - Revising History
>
> We know that memory is fickle, that we consciously and unconsciously
> remember events in certain ways to protect ourselves, to dramatize
> ourselves, to make things more exciting. Sometimes we do not really
> know what happened and our minds intuitively fill in the gaps.
>
> In both "The Harvest" (Amy Hempel) and "Snow" (Anne Beattie) the
> narrators reveal the slipperiness of memory, how an event - an
> accident, for example - can be told in such a way as to leave many
> things out or how our memory of a time in our lives can be different
> from the memory of another person who experienced the same moments.
>
> First:
>
> In this exercise, I want you to write about a particular event - an
> accident, a sudden illness, a dismissal, a moment in combat. Write
> as close to the action as possible so that you place the reader "in"
> the moment of disruption. Write in past tense and begin with "I
> remember. . ."
>
> Later:
>
> Go back to your exercise and look at what you've left out and/or what
> another person might have remembered differently. Do one of 2 things:
>
> 1. Add a postscript (along the lines of what Amy Hempel does in "The
> Harvest") of what you left out (and implicitly why you left it out).
> 2. Add someone's differing memory as counterpoint ("You remember it
> differently. . .") and then some kind of synthesis or commentary
> ("This, then, for drama. . .")
> 3. Let the reader see how feelings change with misinformation as in
> "Accident."
>
>
> 3. Using Gesture and Mannerism in Creating Character
>
> First:
>
> After reading William Boyd's "Beginning":
>
> Character can be revealed through action, dialogue, as well as through
> mannerism and gesture. Many times writers depend too much on action -
> what happens - to reveal character whereas description of mannerisms
> and gestures tell us as much as we need. Character can be achieved
> through brushstrokes. The literary critic, James Woods, gives this
> example from Maupassant's story "La Reine Hortense": "He was a
> gentleman with red whiskers who always went first through a doorway."
>
> 1. Consider an important character in your history/story. Think of a
> gesture or mannerism or expression that pushes you to see this
> someone: red whiskers; unshaved bristles on his cheekbones; going
> first through a doorway, etc. Begin with a particular circumstance
> that leads to remembering.
>
> 2. Why do I go on about this? Tell the reader why you are obsessed
> with this person, why she/he is important to your story.
>
> 3. Draw a picture of the place (room, car, beneath the tree) where
> this takes place. Put whatever details/objects might be in this
> place. Where are you? What are you doing? Describe the scene.
>
> 4. Show this person in a moment of action. It might be as simple as
> washing dishes or turning down the a/c or as important as slapping
> someone's face. Let yourself imagine what this person is thinking.
> Ask this person a question you've never asked before but always wanted
> to know. Imagine the person answering, then returning to the activity
> of the beginning.
>
>
> 4. Emblematic Moments - Creating Scenes
>
> Readings: "What Happened During the Ice Storm"; "Illumination
> Rounds"; "Killing Chickens"; excerpt from Matterhorn.
>
> Scenes represent moments of choice or turning points. Here, something
> (often difficult) is decided or revealed that changes the direction of
> the narrative. Scenes represent immediacy, something happening
> "before your eyes."
>
> In-class
>
> Choose a moment in which you - or your character - make a decision.
> We will start with a moment in childhood, something that still has
> emotional weight in your life. It might be a moment when you betray
> or save someone/something close to you or are betrayed/saved by
> someone else. Once again, we will stay very close to the moment
> itself, revealing 'what happens' as if through a close-up lens. We
> will use "What Happened During the Ice Storm" as our guide - a small
> action that is redemptive (though if you go the betrayal route, then
> you'll be showing the opposite - though both sides reveal
> vulnerability).
>
>
> 5. Immersion/Immediacy/Atmosphere
>
> Think of an incident from your past that happened in a particular
> atmosphere: at night; while it was raining; in a storm; during a snowy
> morning; in extreme heat or fog. Choose an incident that has some
> meaning to you, one that provokes some strong emotion and feeling.
> The feeling could be positive or negative - a moment when you felt
> frightened, isolated, safe, euphoric, powerful. Try to remember as
> much detail as you can about the event and about the physical nature
> of the atmosphere. Consider how the atmosphere becomes a significant
> part of the event, how it plays a role in your memory, becomes if not
> a character, then a defining aspect of the event.
>
> Write as close to the moment/incident as possible. Write in first
> person, present tense as if you are right there, re-living it.
>
> Retrospective Point of View/Atmosphere
>
> Now that you've written a close-up of this incident, take a different
> tact: look at the incident from your current perspective but write in
> third person, past tense. Let us see the same incident but allow the
> narrator to have, perhaps, a different cognition on the event and the
> people involved. The retrospective narrator might comment on this
> moment in a way that suggests how time changes your perspective
> (sympathies, decisions, even moral concerns).
>
>
>
>
> 6. FORM: A Day in the Life
>
> This kind of essay often takes a journalistic stance, reporting the
> "contents" of a day, often for one or two purposes: to show an
> ordinary side of strange, remote lives or to show a strange side of
> ordinary, familiar lives. In the case of Robert Heilman's essay
> "Overstory: Zero," perhaps it is the latter. In this essay, Heilman
> breaks up and names the parts of his day - making the form modular -
> and takes the reader deeper into the politics of a company
> reforestation crew.
>
> Formally, he uses second person point of view, present tense, modular
> structure.
>
> In this exercise, I want you to consider the modular structure and do
> the following: pick an area of your life that lends itself to
> dailiness and to a revelation of the day's meaning. It might be your
> job; it might be your social activities; it might be volunteer work;
> it might be "A Day in the Life of a Loafer" or "A Day in the Life of a
> Waitress," or "A Day in the Life of a Single Mom/Dad" or "A Day in the
> Life of an Asian Traveler."
>
> The main thing is to find something that compels you, that seems ripe
> for unraveling. And something you haven't written about before.
>
> To simplify the exercise, consider it as having four parts:
>
> 1. Beginning of a day - the introduction to your story (this doesn't
> mean it has to start in the morning, by the way). The beginning of
> your particular story as a hitchhiker in Nepal may begin at 2:30 in
> the afternoon when you're dying of thirst.
> 2. A list - Just as Heilman gives a list of what he takes with him in
> "Kamikazes," make a list that is important to this person's life.
> Incorporate it into a paragraph.
> 3. An Event - something that "happens" and can be told as a story.
> Ex: you spill salad dressing all over a customer and the customer
> first yells, but then charms you and leaves you a big tip; you sleep
> through a test and in your panic at what you've done, you rush out
> into traffic and immediately make an illegal turn and get a ticket.
> Something happens!
> 4. End of day - a "moment" that reflects the day's waning.
>
>
>
>
> 7. Sequence/Scene (fiction)
>
> This is a long exercise in sequence. The point is to explore how a
> story moves from a situation to a complication to a turning. We will
> explore this not as an intellectual concept but through process. In
> the process we will look at the close-up scene, the flashback moment,
> the movement from emotional response to action. If you are already
> working on a character, feel free to use this character in the
> exercise. If not, the exercise will evoke a character.
>
>
> I will give you the first sentence of a situation and then prompts to
> stay in sense memory. Stay with character.
>
> Situation: 1) waking up not in your bed. You feel surprise and
> anxiety. Look around the room. Let us see the room through the
> senses - the light, the sounds, the smells, the objects, your
> narrator's body.
>
> 2) Let one particular object catch your attention and suggest a strong
> connection to your anxiety. Touch it. Experience it sensually.
>
> 3). Let this object evoke a memory, one based on wanting, desiring
> something, a surface thing you want: a touch, a gesture, an object.
> Experience this surface thing through your character's sensibility.
>
> 4). Let the memory of this desire include a moment when a second
> memory is evoked. This second memory involves another object,
> different from the one you are touching or wanting but similar in its
> basic sensual pattern. The wanting deepens into a state of being, a
> state of self.
>
> 5). Second memory moves you to an action. Let the action happen
> moment by moment.
>
> 6). Some part of the action will bring you back to the first object.
> Your sensual perception is reshaped by emotion and yearning of the two
> linked memories.
>
> 7). Now in the present you take an action.
>
>
>
> 8. Creating Shape in Scene: Image as Strategic Bookend
>
> Choose a person you know well, someone with whom you have had intense
> engagement (pleasure/disagreements/issues) in the past. Let yourself
> drift back to a particular moment with this person.
>
> 1. Start with an image. For example, describe this person's hands
> (one or two sentences).
> 2. Narrate an action. Describe something she is doing with her hands
> (this may be only a small task: your grandmother wiping her hands with
> a dish towel).
> 3. Describe something about the surroundings, giving the reader a
> sense of where you are and what the situation is (in the kitchen with
> your grandmother while she peels carrots and you sulk at the table
> because your boyfriend didn't call).
> 4. Ask this person a question you've always wanted to ask or begin a
> dialogue about the problem or issue (Did your grandfather ever ignore
> her this way?).
> 5. Let the question be a catalyst for a scene. If in real life you
> didn't ask a question directly, but always wanted to, you can push the
> scene by imagining the other person's response and telling the reader
> that this is a dialogue in your head. Imagining the response is not
> cheating. It's a legitimate way to let the reader see more deeply
> into your character and into your perception of the other person.
> 6. Come back to the image of the person's hands. The image will be
> slightly different because the narrator's perception has been aroused
> by the exchange.
>
> The important thing in this exercise is progression from image to
> action to setting to conflict and back to image.
>
_______________________________________________
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