[stylist] Feedback please

[Homme, James]

Hi Brenda,
I'm going to read a little more carefully and give better feedback. Right now, though, I think it's a good piece of work. I want to give it the attention it deserves, when other things are quiet.

Only one thing caught my attention, which made the piece difficult to concentrate on for me. There are a number of sentences where the space needs to separate the period of the current sentence and the first word of the next sentence. I wonder how they got removed.

I will read carefully in a little while.

Thanks.

Jim


-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Brenda
Sent: Monday, October 10, 2011 2:14 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] Feedback please

Good afternoon list.
For my class, we have to submit the first paragraph of a 500-wordpiece.
I had a hard time writing an introductory paragraph without knowing what
I was introducing so I ended up writing the whole piece.  I will only
submit the first paragraph for my assignment, but eventually the whole
thing will be submitted.   One of my writing goals is to write a memoir
with elements of my life progressing from high partial to low vision
(not sighted nor blind)  woven throughout.  If my vision disintegrates
further , I will include those elements as well.  I wrote a piece a few
years ago about snow skiing, so I will add this new piece to the file.
I didn't want to focus on blindness issues for this class, but it just
worked out that way.

I would appreciate your feedback. Does it flow okay and is it
believable?  Am I too bold in my reference to my vision?
Thanks in advance
Brenda



The dark

It was a crisp fall day.School had just started a few weeks before and
the excitement of new friends and new classes hadn't worn off.It was
especially nice that my mother had picked us up from school.It was
always nice to avoid riding on the bus.In the back seat, a friend and I
were happily chatting about the next thing we would cook in home
economics."You don't like Rosie Apples" said my mother.I wanted to crawl
under the seat.She always told me what I liked, what I could do and how
I felt.  [end of first paragraph]

I ate the Rosy Apples we made at school and told her how good they were.
I ate onion rings that year despite her statement that I would not like
them.She said I wouldn't be able to use a camera, but unlike her, I
could take pictures without cutting off people's heads.All these
accounts and more give me pleasure and a sense of accomplishment, but my
favorite is when she told me I wasn't afraid of the dark.

At birth I only had light perception.Several surgeries improved my
vision by age 2, but still my world was a collage of sights and sounds
that often did not fit together.During the day I played with my older
brother outside squinting in the bright sunlight.The house was well lit
as well and I navigated furniture and toys without incident. I knew the
sound of my parents' voices and connected it with the towering figures
that approached me.

My two brothers and I were crammed into one small bedroom in our
two-bedroom home.Bedtime was very scary for me.The silence of the night
was only broken by noise of the monster lurking somewhere. My brothers
were asleep in their beds, and I didn't know where my parents were.The
world had vanished into shapes and shadows that frightened me.

Something had to be done before the monster came and got me.I crept to
the bedroom door and saw the glowing lamp in the living room, but no
sounds could be heard.Chicsh went the door as it closed followed by the
shriek of my older brother awakened by the sound of the door closing and
the realization that the comforting beam of light was gone. "Quiet down
in there" yelled my dad without moving from his chair.A thump, thump
thump came from the basement as my mother came upstairs to see what was
going on.Instead of yelling at me for upsetting my brother and not going
to sleep, my mother opened our bedroom door and remarked to my father
"She's not afraid of the dark because she can't see." Crawling back
under my covers I was no longer afraid.I knew where everyone was, and if
the monster came, they would protect me.

This story was told all through my childhood as proof that I was not
afraid of the dark.It would do no good to explain the terror I felt
inside.Just once, I wish my mother had been right.

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