This is what happened when This is how it happended . . .
I am trying to write a blog for you. . . but I am having trouble because I can't hold my head up at the computer. My forehead keeps thunking down and slamming against the desk. Not because I am tired - but because MY HEAD IS SO BIG!!!!!! Getting bigger by the minute. I just read a response from my professor that has my noggin swollen the size of New Jersey. Usually, when I get a response from one of my professors, I want to crawl under my covers and mope for at least an hour. I get so frustrated and I feel so average when my work is under fire. I mean, I appreciate the wisdom and honesty I receive. But it is a long, difficult road, this learning to write well, and I sometimes feel as if the journey is laid out with gravel and shaved glass, and I am walking the path barefoot.
Anyway, my blog, "This is How it Happened" was actually a first person essay assignment I sent my non-fiction professor. I thought it had some problems. Mark read it, and thought it could have been stronger too - as if it started to be one kind of essay, but turned into an expository piece about the festival. Hey, when you have a deadline, you send what you have.
Today, I receive the response. It was rather encouraging, which is something I can use, considering this term I am struggling so hard with my fiction project and the no-nonsense professor in charge of helping me with it.
So, in the interest of bragging and maintaining my "big conceit" image - and in hopes to maintain some semblance of respect from my blog friends who may not trust their own judgment (so they will be impressed by a learnered man's opinion), I thought I would share my professors note.
I certainly won't choke today considering I am going to be patting myself on the back for an hour or two.
You may say, "Well, it isn't THAT great. Nice and all, but certainly not worth making such a stink about," but all things being relative, it means a lot to me.
Here it is:
Anyway, my blog, "This is How it Happened" was actually a first person essay assignment I sent my non-fiction professor. I thought it had some problems. Mark read it, and thought it could have been stronger too - as if it started to be one kind of essay, but turned into an expository piece about the festival. Hey, when you have a deadline, you send what you have.
Today, I receive the response. It was rather encouraging, which is something I can use, considering this term I am struggling so hard with my fiction project and the no-nonsense professor in charge of helping me with it.
So, in the interest of bragging and maintaining my "big conceit" image - and in hopes to maintain some semblance of respect from my blog friends who may not trust their own judgment (so they will be impressed by a learnered man's opinion), I thought I would share my professors note.
I certainly won't choke today considering I am going to be patting myself on the back for an hour or two.
You may say, "Well, it isn't THAT great. Nice and all, but certainly not worth making such a stink about," but all things being relative, it means a lot to me.
Here it is:
Hi Ginny, I actually did take a short walk after we exchanged our Sunday email. I got a few shots of some leaves floating on the surface of a still pond, which might be worthy of enlarging some day. Today, I'm enjoying the peace and quiet after a three day nature/science overnight with 71 fifth graders, bad food, and moldy cabins. You've outdone yourself again. Your essay is ready for publication. The opening paragraph of "This is What Happened" got better and better after I read it a few times. At first I didn't think it was strong enough to open an essay, but then I thought about it for a while, and remembered how hard it is to think of our parents as children or teenagers. Thus, the opening scene puts us in a mildly uncomfortable place, momentarily, and that is a good thing. And this, of course, gets worse where David is stuck in the laundry shoot. (Seeing how I am mildly claustrophobic, this gave me the shudders...) You then break the tension with the white space and discuss the relationship between family antics and storytelling. The next part, the hysterically funny ransacked apartment, seems to interrupt the lecture-like format the reader was just getting used to. What would happen if you kept this part connected to the family antics section above as demonstration of how stories continued in your generation? It's only a thought, because the essay works fine in the order you have these sections. Notice how your story unfolds geographically and then comes home again. First the memories of your father, then your generation and then the wide world of the storytelling festival. Nevertheless, you don't let us readers off too easily. You keep up the tension with your thinking about the lack of intimacy and the well-rehearsed performances of the culturally diverse storytellers. (Thank you for avoiding any hints of patronizing!) The icing on the cake here, is the fact that the terrific storyteller, drive-in guy, is named Davis. This magically hearkens back to your father David (just one letter away), and the circle is going around again, not letting the reader forget how the essay began. We are no longer uneasy at the distance among the cultures of the previous ruminations. We're back to the familiar. Okay, the essay is culturally biased some would say, but we white folk have a culture too, which we need to celebrate. The intimacy of you and your husband under the stars is a great way to finish off the final thoughts. If you wanted to truly come full circle, some other anecdote about your father and the milk scene might be a nice way to tie up the end. It's obvious that you have a strength when it comes to understanding the intricacies and beauty of local folk culture, and I believe this was one of your goals. You have come a long way since the early dance piece, and what a journey this has been. I am looking forward to your next submission already. Anything interesting in the way of food down there? I now have to prepare a poetry workshop for my faculty's professional development as part of our year-long look at writing genres. With your permission, I'd like to share this latest essay with them when we discuss memoir writing later on in the year. /David R. |
That's fantastic, Ginny! Does your professor take the time to write such substantial responses to all of your pieces? That's great.
P.S. It was great to hear your voice the other day. And it was nice to catch up on all the news.
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