[stylist] Feedback request, please
Brad Dunse'
lists at braddunsemusic.com
Mon Oct 31 02:21:06 UTC 2011
Thanks Pete :). yup I took Roberts and Brenda's advice and re-wrote
it. The beginning was just to pull a reader into thinking I was a
soldier and then reveal I'm merely a songwriter from decades past.,
more a blog post regarding the song that sort of speacks for
itself, a behind the scenes "this is how I came about this song" type
of thing. I'll look at it again with your suggestions. Thanks. I'm a
firm believer of emitting the
"I's" in a piece, but since it is about my trek to this song, I'll
look to find creative ways to not. Thanks.
Brad
On 10/30/2011 08:53 PM Bridgit Pollpeter said...
>Brad,
>
>This has a strong beginning. You have some great descriptions. Try to
>weave descriptions like this throughout the entire piece. The
>descriptions place us there so we can experience it as though we were
>really present. Keep us in that moment.
>
>I agree with Brenda that there are places where you can condense things.
>Watch for sentences and paragraphs that are redundant. When revising, go
>sentence by sentence making sure there is clarity and that no redundancy
>is going on.
>
>Try to eliminate the instances of sentences beginning with "i." You
>don't want I, I, I interupting the flow of the narrative. It's best to
>not begin sentences with I if it can be avoided.
>
>Over-all, I think this is one of your better posts to Stylist. Good job.
>
>Sincerely,
>Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter
>Read my blog at:
>http://blogs.livewellnebraska.com/author/bpollpeter/
>
>"History is not what happened; history is what was written down."
>The Expected One- Kathleen McGowan
>
>Message: 4
>Date: Sat, 29 Oct 2011 18:30:42 -0500
>From: Brad Dunse' <lists at braddunsemusic.com>
>To: Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org>
>Subject: [stylist] Feedback request please
>Message-ID: <7.0.1.0.2.20111029182854.0525bf90 at braddunsemusic.com>
>Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1"; format=flowed
>
>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 humidity?they 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, with 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 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 know?is 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.c
>om/music-45.html
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>Brad Dunse
>
>
>_______________________________________________
>Writers Division web site:
>http://www.nfb-writers-division.net <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>
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Brad Dunse
"Where no oxen are, the manger is clean,
But much revenue comes by the strength of the ox." --Proverbs
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