[stylist] Feedback request please

Robert Leslie Newman newmanrl at cox.net
Sun Oct 30 17:53:04 UTC 2011 

Brad

Super good song! (That was to be my war. But missed it by going blind in 1964 at age 15.) 

And in regard to your request for feedback on the writing: Here is the text of one of my "reader/writer/editor" warning-flags- in that first sentence "Too much detail. And does not start off with the focus on the best point." (too many of us in the beginning stages of learning this writing craft think that detail, detail is what is needed for clarity and what --- mood? We tend to bog down the flow and bore the reader. And here is another small warning-flag- "...straps and their buckles..." Like- who's buckles would they be? and "...fingers on both hands re-gripping their..." Like- where else are fingers found? And I wonder if you needed to say "...'both shoulders & both hands.? Shoulders and/or hands sure can be plural! 

Anyway, good event and a showcase of your talent as a song writer, singer and developing writer of prose. 


With gear hanging over both shoulders, 
>canvas pack-straps and their buckles digging in my sweat-drenched skin, 
>nervous fingers on both hands re-gripping their assigned provisions 
>every ten steps, I huffed my way through the crowds of uniformed 
>soldiers. Picking my way across-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Brad Dunse'
Sent: Saturday, October 29, 2011 10:24 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] Feedback request please

Barbara,

Try either
<http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html>clicking
this link or going to: http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html

And then scroll down to find the link to play the MP3 in either hi fi or low fi

Thanks.

Brad


On 10/29/2011  08:41 PM Barbara Hammel said...
>I liked it.  I couldn't access the links, though.  I want to hear that 
>song. Barbara Let every nation know whether it wishes us well or ill, 
>that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, 
>support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and 
>the success of liberty.--John F. Kennedy -----Original Message----- 
>From: Brad Dunse'
>Sent: Saturday, October 29, 2011 6:30 PM To: 
>Writer's Division Mailing List Subject: 
>[stylist] Feedback request please Feedback of any willing sort is 
>welcome :). Pasted from Word so for me carriage returns "look" extra 
>but I don't think they  actually appear as such visually, not sure 
>though. Vietnam Memorial Wall With gear hanging over both shoulders, 
>canvas pack-straps and their buckles digging in my sweat-drenched skin, 
>nervous fingers on both hands re-gripping their assigned provisions 
>every ten steps, I huffed my way through the crowds of uniformed 
>soldiers. Picking my way across the grounds into a slightly wooded 
>area, I finally was able to drop my bags with a deep sigh, flex my 
>shoulders, and stretch my back a bit. The tree allowed a shady escape 
>from the baking sun. Mid-morning temps were already in the 80’s with 
>matching humidity­they said it would be like this­; and the mercury 
>was meant to reach into the 90’s today. Under the cover of shade, I 
>took in the action around me; and in amazement, I began to wonder what 
>the day might look like in hindsight. A bit nervous of what to expect, 
>I mean the sight of battle experienced Vietnam soldiers walking about, 
>and my taking part in something like this …, I knew I would have a new 
>friend  or two by days end. Looking about, I wondered which one of the 
>many souls out there would become my new friend. Finally, two gents 
>approached asking if I was who I was.
>Once I affirmed it, we shook hands, chatted a minute, and opened up our 
>packs. I sat down on a stool, opened up a case, and started fiddling 
>around with my guitar a bit. No, I wasn’t in a base camp located in 
>Vietnam, I was on the State Capitol grounds in St. Paul, Minnesota; at 
>a kickoff event for what the governor of Minnesota declared as Vietnam 
>Day. So why was I there? It wasn’t because I served a tour in 
>Vietnam, I was born about a decade and a half too late for that. 
>Besides my age (though I probably didn’t know it at 18-years old), 
>there was a hereditary disease slowly scattering throughout my retinas 
>affecting my peripheral and night vision which likely would have sent 
>me back 4F, preventing me from serving in the military. If that would 
>have not stopped my being shipped out, eventually from mere survival of 
>the fittest, some Asian would have carved my name in the Memorial Wall 
>with the business end of his weapon. So just exactly what was I doing 
>there at Vietnam Day? I was invited by a grass roots effort to come and 
>play some music, sort of 1960’s protest style, only we weren’t 
>protesting, we were joining the proclamation and recognition of the 
>brave men and women who served in Vietnam. A compilation CD of Vietnam 
>songs designed to help heal emotional wounds, and not let the world 
>forget what suffering went on back then was released, and a song I 
>co-wrote was picked as the featured song for the CD. The song I wrote 
>with two other writers is called “The Wall.” The folks that put on 
>the compilation project wanted me to come out and play some music, and 
>of course play the featured song on the CD. So we set up the small gear 
>out on the large grounds of the celebration and started playing tunes. 
>We played for children, fellow musicians, curious event attendees, 
>friends and families of soldiers who stopped to listen, and then they 
>came. One of the gentlemen who invited me rounded the corner with a 
>group of Viet Vets, metals they earned clinking as they milled about 
>and then he said, “Brad, why don’t you play your song for these 
>gentlemen?” I will tell you, I’ve played for many people at my 
>gigs, but never had I been this nervous. I stared out with what vision 
>I could muster, and saw these amazing souls standing before me, who all 
>but a handful of decades ago were scared, brave young men watching 
>their buddies tore apart right next to them in fox holes, on the battle 
>field, and riding in jeeps they drove; facing unknown emotional battles 
>of uncertainty whether the local people there approaching them, men, 
>women or children all equal in ability; were allies of safety, or 
>enemies about to cut them down. But here they were, standing anxiously, 
>staring at me, wanting to hear the song we’d written for them and 
>their buddies; and me desperately hoping we had gotten what they felt 
>inside, right. I swallowed hard and slow, strummed a few strums on my 
>guitar to anchor myself a bit, and started to sing: When you were 
>searching for my name today I saw you standing there Man you look 
>different With that silver in your hair Me, I haven’t changed a bit 
>Still all of twenty-one That’s the thing about us spirits We’re 
>forever young At the wall …, here at the wall Mid-way through the song, 
>withh a quivering lip and doubts I could even make it all the way 
>through without choking up, I began to feel a reverence for these men 
>stronger than ever before; men who endured not only a very different 
>battle out on the field and in the jungle, but also that unexpected one 
>of betrayal soon after the planes wheels screeched the tarmac of home. 
>I don’t think one strand of my hair laid flat the entire length of 
>the song, but I did make it through to the end. When finished, I was 
>immediately swarmed with soldiers shaking my hand 60’s style, patting 
>me on the back and profusely thanking me for writing the song. All the 
>while it was me declaring indeed it was I who owe them thanks, and 
>it’s only a shame that the song had to be written at all. That was 
>one of the, if not the, most nervous experience I’d ever had playing 
>for anyone. Prior to “The Wall” being written, I had been thinking 
>pretty heavy on writing a song about Vietnam. Considering it, I had 
>decided what better topic to write on than the wall, maybe the 
>Traveling Wall? I’d went back up on the National Memorial website, 
>and spent hours up there reading profile entries that folks left for 
>their loved ones. There were old goodbyes and present tense 
>conversations:
>words from old high school buddies, family members keeping up a vigil, 
>neighborhood friends who popped in after thinking about them, school 
>teachers who wrote shortly after the news, and of course those uniquely 
>bonded souls who served with them in the war …; excuse me …, “police 
>ce action.” Reading the entries was nearly an addiction for me, I 
>couldn’t help myself. I was up on their site before dinner time, and 
>finally hunger coupled with drooping eyes pulled me off when the sun 
>popped up the next morning.
>After spending the night reading droves of profiles of 21-year olds who 
>never came back, I so much wanted to write a song about Vietnam and the 
>wall now more than ever. About a week and a half from that day, having 
>knocked around some ideas for a song, I open up my email and see a 
>message from my writing pal. Unbeknown to him, or anyone really as I 
>had not told anyone I’d been drawn to write such a song, other than 
>maybe my wife, I opened up a message from him wanting to know if I want 
>in on a song about the Vietnam Wall and the soldiers. Naturally I was 
>surprised and said sure and a few days later we had what is the current 
>version of The Wall. I often wonder, after nearly two weeks of milling 
>it around, surfing the web, staying up all night mesmerized by what I 
>was reading, putting myself in the shoes of those kids and their 
>surviving families, not saying anything to anyone about my desire to 
>write such a song about the Vietnam Wall, and then to be approached 
>with this opportunity? ­I don’t know­is that just a simple 
>coincidence? Or could there have been more to it than that? The Wall 
>has been played at a variety of places ranging from major commercial 
>country radio, to web stations, to memorial ceremonies, to my own gigs; 
>and I am very humbled it will be performed by a youth band raising 
>brows up and down the east coast, as they play it as part of their 
>invitation to perform at the National Memorial event in Washington DC 
>this Veterans Day on November 11.
><http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html>Hear
>  the song in it’s entirety and read the lyrics at:
><http://www.braddunsemusic.com/music-45.html>http://www.braddunsemusic.
>com/music-45.html Brad Dunse "The naive believes everything, But the 
>sensible man considers his steps."
>--Proverbs http://www.braddunsemusic.com 
>http://www.facebook.com/braddunse
>http://www.twitter.com/braddunse
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Brad Dunse

"This world is but a canvas to our imaginations." --Unknown

http://www.braddunsemusic.com

http://www.facebook.com/braddunse

http://www.twitter.com/braddunse
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