Metacognition: Short Story Process

Whenever we decide to commence an intellectual journey--trying to achieve something that so many before us have done so well--besides a sense of challenge and a little bit of excitement, we--or I for certain--have a tendency to feel slightly overwhelmed. Embarking on the adventure of writing my short story, or the preliminary drafts of it at least, was no different.

In a previous blog, I imagined what if I could tell a story well?  I was unaware that the opportunity for me to make an attempt would reveal itself so soon. With that being said, when we first got this assignment, I was really excited that I would be able to write in an expressive fashion and really hone my ability to tell a story that might actually interest people.

I never imagined myself as being so bad at it.

I say that with a smile on my face because even though I'm still trying to get the hang of it, I do really love this kind of expression, even when I'm reading it and especially while I'm writing it. I deeply believe that it opens up doors in our mind and allows us to explore a part of ourselves that is seldom explored and share it with others in a riveting and resonating way.

The subject of resonance brings me to improvements that could have been made during or considered before the writing process. I connect this to resonance because initially, I used an image that resonated with me and tried to construct a story around it. I was mistaken and realized such when I couldn't even figure out what the middle--nevertheless the end--of my story would be. What I needed to do, and what I am currently attempting to do, is build images and description around a series of events, otherwise known as a story, that resonates with me for much more time than just an image. While attempting the latter method of writing a short story, I realized that there was much more opportunity for risks that would be rewarded with what I like to call "Yes! moments" as a writer when an element of the story clicked. While I am still waiting for the payoff, I am much more confident that it will come using resonant events or occurrences/events as opposed to a single resonant image and trying to construct an entire story around it. Although Jane Eyre is by no means a short story, I think that Charlotte Brontë's ability to really capture the reader's attention in any given chapter by putting pressure on Jane and giving the reader access to all of the ensuing internal dialogue is a great example of how short story writers can capture their reader's attention.

Not so much a criticism as it is an observation, I now recall thinking about my short story in moments when I wasn't writing far more than almost any other piece in the past. While it is still far from finished, I believe this connects back to the resonant series of events that I originally pictured and used for my story. Despite the story's overall tragedy, or maybe because of their overall tragedy, I found that my mind--in free moments--sometimes just went immediately to my story and considering how I should fill in those details. I like this a lot because it's an assignment that really gets me thinking without sitting down to just do the assignment and allows me get creative. Each of these are rare things on their own. But getting both of these benefits out of one assignment? Unprecedented!

As I keep repeating, the process is not yet complete. However, I'm already seeing some of the really cool effects such an adventure has on the mind. With a few improvements, I think that this can be one of my best pieces yet, and my favorite too.

Change of Mind: The Love Story

We have only briefly touched on the vast subject of what it means to be in love in English class, hence why I am looking to explore this idea further. in class, Actually, I would like to take a moment to try and partner what we have learned about love with our study of how to put pressure on our main characters in short stories. I wish to delve further into these two concepts because I think the way my thinking about the two separately has altered the way I view the two together--love stories--differently.

No matter who you are, it's hard not to be a sucker for love stories on some level, whether we want to laugh at how corny they are or cry when we get caught up in the sappiness of it all. Admittedly, I've done both.

However, I now realize that I was a sucker for the love, but not really the story. Do you know what I mean? If we have enough emotional intelligence, we can be touched and even feel like we're living vicariously through the characters while not realizing that there isn't really more than a camera, a couple of characters and a non-spontaneous script.

I guess the ones we cry at, though are the ones that aren't as cliche as we might've expected. I think that this can be attributed to something we discussed in our short story reading and writing--the concept of pressure being put on the main character(s). In the cases of quality love story books or movies (if you believe such things exist), the break-up doesn't qualify as the pressuring and pressing situation; it reaches far deeper into-- and hits home much harder for--the audience.

I am thinking right now about the movie Once which we recently finished viewing in class. Not only does it have an entirely realistic feel to it, but there are elements of the story, such as the female lead being in an unhappy, long-distance marriage, that makes it a variation on the classic "boy meets girl plot" which I think we can all agree we believe is now almost completely exhausted.

The way I thought about love, or rather the way society's perceptions pf it have been demonstrated to me, is that it often comes wrapped in a bow and is always meant-to-be. On the contrary, I only believed love-at-first-sight to exist in very rare cases. What I'm trying to say is that after watching this movie, I have truly learned of love's imperfections and the sting that can accompany such a strong and irresistible attraction between two people. In combination with the "love" aspect of my thoughts, I learned (not just through Once) that the pressure placed on the main characters usually only strengthens the bond. This is why it will now irk me to sit through films or read books where the love between two strengthens without having serious pressure put on the main characters because, quite circularly, there is almost no other way the "L"-word, in its emotional sense, can be strengthened.

Despite the fictitious nature of the movie we watched and some of the stories which we have examined, I think it's safe to say that they have, in a sense, grounded me and my perceptions about such complex topics as love. When I get there, the formative time where I fall in love with someone in the future, the insights of love from Once and the lessons about pressure being a necessity from our short story study will not be forgotten.

What If: I could tell My Story like Marlow did his?

First things first, I know I'm barking up a confusing, potentially intellectually dangerous, and possibly impossible tree, so please, just bear with me. Thank you...

What if I told my life's story like Marlow? My first thought is that I would break it up into some smaller paragraphs; I've never realized before realized how big of a favor the use of more than one or two indents per page the author did for me. But that's besides the point.

Struggles and Aspirations
For most of my life I've been telling stories. As my friends can tell you, and judging by the quality I feel like I express my ideas in class (and even sometimes in writing), I often do a less than stellar job of telling them. Be that as it may, if there was one story which I really wanted to come out the way it sounded in my head, in a way that I knew people would be interested, I know I would want that story to be my story. Obviously, everybody has their own unique story with which they choose to share (or not) with those who they interact with (or don't share, for that matter). But what I've come to realize is that not all people who I think are interesting have an oncredibly riventing story to tell, but the way they tell it can and often does make me want to hear what they have to say. I think about Conrad telling his story in Heart of Darkness via Marlow because he does exactly what I aspire to do (well, besides the paragraphing)--holding the reader's attention by dropping subtle hints through seemingly meaningless details that end up describing an important and noteworthy lesson that makes them crave words off my pages until the the very last page. Yes, I just admitted my jealousy for Conrad and Marlow.

Function
Not only did I understand what I hope to achieve in telling my story, but I also discovered along the way what the power of a story has. One's story is like a projection, or a window distinguishing oneself from the judgemental and belittling world around them. In fact, people liking you for "who you really are" is largely tied up in your ability to tell a riveting and multi-layered story, which is always unfolding, might I add.

Toolbox
We have recently been discussing in class the essential roles which multiplicity, irony, and ambiguity play in Heart of Darkness--elements that a well relayed story absolutely requires. Something I've been trying to work on is trying to get people to realize and distinguish between the surface level and the more intellectual level of my story without saying it outright or making it inherently obvious that that is the message which I am trying to convey. This is the job of irony. In other words, I seek to drop multiple breadcrumbs rather than full-on pave a path more my listeners. On ambiguity, we should strive not to make our stories incomprehensible sophisticated or perplexing, but complicated enough, while maintaining our voice, to make them work to understand what it is we are really trying to say. Both of the above things are things we as storytellers can do on our own. However, the lt element requires the aid of other perspectives, or multiplicity. I very much enjoyed the way Conrad layered in subordinate narrators to remind the reader that the primary narrator, Marlow wasn't omniscient and that he was in fact human and biased in his opinions. I'm not saying we need to use the same story-writing techniques as Conrad did for Marlow, but covering multiple dimensions of the story and using this variety as a building block for what one hopes to accomplish by telling their story is something we, as fallible and biased humans like Marlow, could apply.

It's the Little Things
Lastly, I think it's important to figure out what goes into your story, because what comes out is almost completely dependent on what you put in. Your story doesn't have to consist of these life-changing events that make you sound sophisticated because in the end, it makes you sound incomplete. What I mean by this that the story worthy material may just be discussion of a good laugh, or a good cry, or a small moment that you helped someone else out. I believe this to be story worthy material because actions speak louder than the fabricated connection I see and hear between an internal shift and an "important" event.

No matter what, though, you have to have a story. Yes, a story is must. So gather round the campfire we call life and start talking. You've been quiet for too long.

Blogging Around (Revised)

I thought it would be interesting to compare my own poetry writing experience to that of my brilliant classmates and was very, very impressed and interested in what ai read in both Nonie's and Nish's Metacognition: poetry writing blogs. Just to preface things, I was particularly stunned at the very different approaches these students took in the similar situation of being "stuck" and desperate for substance, a situation I also found myself in. In conjunction with this idea, both of their strategies to overcoming the "poetic walls", as Nishanth said, demonstrated a high-level and crucial knowledge of oneself and how being able to take a step back and assess what they're missing made their poem way better than they could have imagined.

Nonie,

That was one very interesting and striking expression of your feelings about the process of your poem. There are certain elements of your post to which I can't totally relate, the cross-over to the music world or being motivated almost completely by the grade (although it is a motivator for sure), but I totally agree with the underlying message originally conveyed by your guitar teacher in seventh grade.

I think everyone in our class can relate to working hard at one thing or another. And while the "rolling around like a pig in mud" in the middle of the room while trying to write and painstakingly improve the darn thing is part of the process which I experienced as well, I wasn't as clever as you were in resetting mind and body to the mode of poetic thinking.

The Giving Tree is obviously a comfort of yours. As writers, and poets especially, we have an obligation to take risks, but just as important is our ability to build atop what we already know and something that we feel secure about, that thing being that very special book in your case. Knowing yourself as a worker and poet definitely helped you in this case because by resorting to an old but not forgotten comfort, you established an inspiration. And, although you may not have ridden that inspiration OT the end of your process, it ended up feeding your willingness to perspire throughout the actual writing of your poem--a willingness that I, and probably some of our classmates, undoubtedly could have used.

I will definitely keep in mind this simple, yet completely true message when I decide to embark on a difficult and oftentimes frustrating journey, especially in the context of my writing. Nice work!

_________________________________________________________________________________

Nish,

Quite the analysis of the poem-writing and discovery process you have done here, much of which that I can relate my own process to. From what it sounds like, both of our poems originally lent themselves to clichés initially, a difficult and frustrating problem to overcome. We also realized that we needed to include more imagery in an effective and creative manner, but I, among many of my Academy classmates, struggled with this concept in the elementary versions of our poems. Another element our poems have in common is that we both somewhat drew from "The Fish" for its poetic techniques.


In the later paragraphs of this blog, I especially like how you discussed the issue of facing multiple walls over multiple drafts and how you eventually realized the importance of squeezing every last ounce of power out of the poetic tools you had. Like you, I experienced the same feeling of "this is the best that it can be" after my conference with Mr. Allen too, but I was particularly struck by how you approached the clearing of that hurdle in the process--by taking a walk in the forest and looking for ways to improve your poem. As I found with my poem, relating to and experiencing the poem, whether visually, like me, or physically, like you, is crucial in order to develop it further. I suppose that I was impressed by your willingness to fully throw yourself into the experience and delve headlong into the poem's meaning by experiencing the out of doors on your lonesome; I think it's what any good poet would and should do if they were "against the wall", so to speak. Recalling your poem from the reading during class, it sounds like you did end up solving many of the problems you faced during the various stages of your poem. And indeed, from a more future-oriented perspective, it sounds like you capitalized on those struggles to make not only that specific poem better, but also future poetry and most definitely other pieces of writing you construct. I tip my hat to you, sir.

Blogging Around #2--Noreen Andersen's "Metacognition: Inspiration, Then Perspiration" Repsonse

Nonie,

That was one very interesting and striking expression of your feelings about the process of your poem. There are certain elements of your post to which I can't totally relate, the cross-over to the music world or being motivated almost completely by the grade (although it is a motivator for sure), but I totally agree with the underlying message originally conveyed by your guitar teacher in seventh grade.

I think everyone in our class can relate to working hard at one thing or another. And while the "rolling around like a pig in mud" in the middle of the room while trying to write and painstakingly improve the darn thing is part of the process which I experienced as well, I wasn't as clever as you were in resetting mind and body to the mode of poetic thinking.

The Giving Tree is obviously a comfort of yours. As writers, and poets especially, we have an obligation to take risks, but just as important is our ability to build atop what we already know and something that we feel secure about, that thing being that very special book in your case. Knowing yourself as a worker and poet definitely helped you in this case because by resorting to an old but not forgotten comfort, you established an inspiration. And, although you may not have ridden that inspiration OT the end of your process, it ended up feeding your willingness to perspire throughout the actual writing of your poem--a willingness that I, and probably some of our classmates, undoubtedly could have used.

I will definitely keep in mind this simple, yet completely true message when I decide to embark on a difficult and oftentimes frustrating journey, especially in the context of my writing. Nice work!

Blogging Around #1--Nishanth's "Metacognition: The Poetic Walls" Repsonse

Nish,

Quite the analysis of the poem-writing and discovery process you have done here, much of which that I can relate my own process to. From what it sounds like, both of our poems originally lent themselves to clichés initially, a difficult and frustrating problem to overcome. We also realized that we needed to include more imagery in an effective and creative manner, but I, among many of my Academy classmates, struggled with this concept in the elementary versions of our poems. Another element our poems have in common is that we both somewhat drew from "The Fish" for its poetic techniques.


In the later paragraphs of this blog, I especially like how you discussed the issue of facing multiple walls over multiple drafts and how you eventually realized the importance of squeezing every last ounce of power out of the poetic tools you had. Like you, I experienced the same feeling of "this is the best that it can be" after my conference with Mr. Allen too, but I was particularly struck by how you approached the clearing of that hurdle in the process--by taking a walk in the forest and looking for ways to improve your poem. As I found with my poem, relating to and experiencing the poem, whether visually, like me, or physically, like you, is crucial in order to develop it further. I suppose that I was impressed by your willingness to fully throw yourself into the experience and delve headlong into the poem's meaning by experiencing the out of doors on your lonesome; I think it's what any good poet would and should do if they were "against the wall", so to speak. Recalling your poem from the reading during class, it sounds like you did end up solving many of the problems you faced during the various stages of your poem. And indeed, from a more future-oriented perspective, it sounds like you capitalized on those struggles to make not only that specific poem better, but also future poetry and most definitely other pieces of writing you construct. I tip my hat to you, sir.

Metacognition: Poetry Process

I put the packet that had multiplied in size since the preliminary stages of the damn poem on the table and, as cliché as it sounds, felt the weight lift off of my shoulders. As much as I liked poetry, it didn't exactly feel like my best of friends while I was had been sitting at the keyboard over the last several weeks, struggling for the right words.

What I believe the most difficult part to be is that I don't feel like I ever found them until I was in a frenzy to finish the thing! I have read all of my life, I have spoken to adults, and I communicate every second of every single day, even if that communication is internal. But it took a "frenemy" (a combination of friend and enemy) relationship with my poem in order for me to truly understand the power that words can really have. I keep revisiting that moment where I realized I had gone about this process totally and utterly incorrectly, where I felt overwhelmed by how much I had left to do. That moment was sitting one-on-one with my English teacher, something I wish I had done much sooner.

I had come to the last ten minutes of English class that day in order to receive feedback on a draft that I had revised significantly since the previous edition. I felt like I had expressed myself much more clearly than in previous versions of the poem, and I was hoping--and expecting--my English teacher to feel the same way.  

Wrong again.

When I received the poem, my eyes flew to the boxed in "C" in the bottom left hand corner. It felt like what three letters later in the alphabet stood for. I was clearly way too focused on the grade, and not about leanring how to write poetry or developing a voice separate from that of the "pseudo-scholar." When I brought myself up to being able to read his comments, I was, quite expectedly, dragged down by them. Apparently, I had tried to reach this uber-philosophical tone in my writing that just wasn't me. Okay, Mr. Allen. (Before your grade me down on this blog for the previous sentences, please read below.)

This shift to really caring about the writing, not the letter boxed in at the bottom-left, occurred in the moments described in the next paragraph. While I am glad I did eventually make that shift, it had come a draft too late.

Probably one of the greatest things that has ever been said to me by a teacher, in all seriousness, was at the lowest point of the conference I had with Mr. Allen. He told me that a Russian short story-writer used the technique of having an elaborate backstory for his characters that allowed him to have a lot more "fun" and enjoy greater liberties when it came to developing the story based on their stories. He, Mr. Allen, was under the impression that I was unfamiliar with my character. That couldn't be possible, I told myself, I am my character. It sucked to admit it, but Mr. Allen was absolutely under the correct impression that I didn't know my character, or myself for that matter. This long process wasn't one of completely finding a "new and enhanced me" so much as it was about finding a new and enhanced poetic voice.

I had always been the kind of writer to sit down and just start writing. "Writers write to decide what they are going to write about" was just a track that wouldn't stop playing in my head as I sat down at the keyboard for the last time to recreate this philosophical crap. It took me until the very end of the process to simply write, keeping my future self and my character's life in mind, until  I could finally say what I wanted and to say without stumbling over every word of every line. I was surprised that just by knowing my character, and adjusting my wording and format of the piece, I could write with a much greater effectiveness than in any previous drafts. For the first time in the entire process, I actually liked writing the poem.

Thank you Mr. Allen.