Sorry- I am late!
When I think of journaling , I think about a psychological, introspective, diary-like entry and I do think these are an important component of reflective thought about what has taken place in our lives. Having said that, the ideas contained in this are just plain FUN!!! Oh my goodness! How do you choose where to start to play? I come from a family who traveled in a station wagon every year for vacation. Yes we had the back seat that either faced the back, looking to where we had just been, OR two seats that faced each other, and encouraged all kinds of physical foot, elbow, and knee jousting to claim a spot for comfort.(wheel humps didn't help!!!) We would sing for hours with some of the less-than-enthusiastic seven children holding their ears, as we traveled to and from thirty eight of the continental United States. Other games with word-play prompts from Mom or Dad would get us started whenever we were bored and the whining, "Are we there yets?" started.
Where was this book then? Well, no matter- I have it in my possession now!!! I can be the director of auto entertainment for my family trips,even though the kids are almost grown or adult by now, and for an annual sisters trip still that takes place. Then there is always the grand nieces, nephews and one day (not too soon!!!) the grand kids who will be introduced to playing these " word games." Some of you who "played" this week would be fun to take along too!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Posted for Mark
Blog 10
(I hope I am writing about the right topic). “Unjournaling” seems like a lot of fun. However, I find myself a little apprehensive about getting into this book. I do not know why. In the introduction, I found the words, “writing prompts”. Man! Somehow I think I am going to have a problem with receiving some prompt or some starting point from where I begin to create something somewhat sensible. Well, I hadn’t done any of this stuff yet, but I feel like my writing process doesn’t work that way.
Alright! I know I can see the little exercises in the book as fun, little challenging games, kind of like poking at a piñata that you cannot see. But I cannot help but sift through the pages, trying to deduce some way of demonstrating my ability at beating the book. I look at everything as some test—it is just one of m hang-ups.
I personally had taken a couple of drama classes when I lived in N.Y.C. a while back. We (class) were always facing new and unpredictable little acting challenges every day. I felt sick sometimes because I felt like I would make a fool out of myself. I just went with the flow every time, though, and everything was fine. I remember one instructor told us that we have no reason about being ashamed of acting any part; after all, that’s all we are doing—acting. I look at this writing class quite the same way, because I feel that feeling of being exposed with every little exercise we do in class.
(I hope I am writing about the right topic). “Unjournaling” seems like a lot of fun. However, I find myself a little apprehensive about getting into this book. I do not know why. In the introduction, I found the words, “writing prompts”. Man! Somehow I think I am going to have a problem with receiving some prompt or some starting point from where I begin to create something somewhat sensible. Well, I hadn’t done any of this stuff yet, but I feel like my writing process doesn’t work that way.
Alright! I know I can see the little exercises in the book as fun, little challenging games, kind of like poking at a piñata that you cannot see. But I cannot help but sift through the pages, trying to deduce some way of demonstrating my ability at beating the book. I look at everything as some test—it is just one of m hang-ups.
I personally had taken a couple of drama classes when I lived in N.Y.C. a while back. We (class) were always facing new and unpredictable little acting challenges every day. I felt sick sometimes because I felt like I would make a fool out of myself. I just went with the flow every time, though, and everything was fine. I remember one instructor told us that we have no reason about being ashamed of acting any part; after all, that’s all we are doing—acting. I look at this writing class quite the same way, because I feel that feeling of being exposed with every little exercise we do in class.
Prompt #104
Clad in pink t-shirt, low-slung midriff jeans, and spiky heeled boots, Brittany set her casserole down. It was the first casserole she had ever made. And she was proud of it. She had found the recipe on a can of green beans and carefully followed every step. The cream of mushroom soup. The French-fried onion rings she couldn’t resist. It would be the star of the pot-luck.
She nestled her casserole between vegetarian lasagna and lime-pineapple Jell-O salad. Proud of her work, she imagined placing a sign with her name on the dish. The sign would say, “Green Bean Casserole Lovingly Prepared by Brittany.” She resisted. Instead, she grabbed a chair close to the buffet.
Wrought with anticipation, she monitored the traffic closely. No one had yet braved a sample. She settled into a black beanbag chair. It is appropriate for a green bean casserole maker to sit in a black beanbag chair. There was chatter about a cute guy, but she only half listened. The guy was cute and was just her type, but she was intent on her casserole. Cute guys could wait.
Suddenly, someone scooped her casserole. It was the cute guy! She wondered how he’d managed to get inside without her noticing. She immediately perked up and watched him closely. No sooner had the guy placed the casserole on his sturdy disposable plate disaster struck. “What is this?? My plate is ruined! Who the heck doesn’t know that you are supposed to drain the green-bean water out of the green beans before you put them in the casserole!!! Look at this mess!!!”
Brittany was demoralized. The outburst had come from the cute guy. Escaping to the bathroom, Brittany burst into tears. Her first attempt at cooking had been a failure.
She nestled her casserole between vegetarian lasagna and lime-pineapple Jell-O salad. Proud of her work, she imagined placing a sign with her name on the dish. The sign would say, “Green Bean Casserole Lovingly Prepared by Brittany.” She resisted. Instead, she grabbed a chair close to the buffet.
Wrought with anticipation, she monitored the traffic closely. No one had yet braved a sample. She settled into a black beanbag chair. It is appropriate for a green bean casserole maker to sit in a black beanbag chair. There was chatter about a cute guy, but she only half listened. The guy was cute and was just her type, but she was intent on her casserole. Cute guys could wait.
Suddenly, someone scooped her casserole. It was the cute guy! She wondered how he’d managed to get inside without her noticing. She immediately perked up and watched him closely. No sooner had the guy placed the casserole on his sturdy disposable plate disaster struck. “What is this?? My plate is ruined! Who the heck doesn’t know that you are supposed to drain the green-bean water out of the green beans before you put them in the casserole!!! Look at this mess!!!”
Brittany was demoralized. The outburst had come from the cute guy. Escaping to the bathroom, Brittany burst into tears. Her first attempt at cooking had been a failure.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Prompts #3 and #198
#3 Write a paragraph that includes at least 10 words that rhyme with be.
The green door was by the sea with a knob unlocked by a key. The sun shined bright to me, while I drank some tea. There was no fee which showed the glee into the sand of the falling knee. We could see no tree for three, by the green door by the sea.
***
#198 How many ways you find to communicate, in writing, "He has a strong body"--without actually writing, "He has a strong body"?
He plowed through the team. He was a truck. He stood like a tree. Steel was nothing compared to this guy. He was a bulwark. His arms were solid concrete. This person made trees look like toothpicks, and moved mountains like anthills. He remained unmovable.
***
I agree with Andrea about that these prompts having practical use. Topics of interest can be choosen quickly, and the writing can still be flexible. This reminds me of writing an elementary student, or possibly a middle-school student, might do. It's so funny that answer keys are put in the back; they seem unnecessary, but are interesting to read.
The green door was by the sea with a knob unlocked by a key. The sun shined bright to me, while I drank some tea. There was no fee which showed the glee into the sand of the falling knee. We could see no tree for three, by the green door by the sea.
***
#198 How many ways you find to communicate, in writing, "He has a strong body"--without actually writing, "He has a strong body"?
He plowed through the team. He was a truck. He stood like a tree. Steel was nothing compared to this guy. He was a bulwark. His arms were solid concrete. This person made trees look like toothpicks, and moved mountains like anthills. He remained unmovable.
***
I agree with Andrea about that these prompts having practical use. Topics of interest can be choosen quickly, and the writing can still be flexible. This reminds me of writing an elementary student, or possibly a middle-school student, might do. It's so funny that answer keys are put in the back; they seem unnecessary, but are interesting to read.
Blog 11
Finally! A book I can use! Not that theory isn’t useful, but it only takes me so far. I can only see so many evenly weighted sides of an issue before I lose interest. I’m tired of “Theory A is good for reasons i, ii, iii, and iv, but it has problems 1, 2, and 3. Theory B, on the other hand solves problems 2 and 3 and is good for v, vi, and vii, but introduces problems 4 and 5 without solving problem 1. And then theory C . . .” Unjournaling I can utilize. It has concrete prompts that serve an actual purpose instead of putting forward X number of open-ended theories. It is something with immediate, practical use.
I made up my mind a few semesters ago to have my students spend the first few minutes of every class writing in a journal. Nothing fancy, just something to give them daily practice. Like it says in the introduction, though, some people might not want to share information because of trust, privacy, or confidence issues (though as I look at it from my current perspective, I don’t see why the sharing of journal entries can’t be on a voluntary basis). That is something I can completely understand. There are some things in my life that I don’t want anyone else to know about, and I think most of us (and I’d be surprised if it wasn’t all of us) have been in a situation where we’ve been asked to share information that we’d rather keep to ourselves. As far as journals go, these prompts keep that on-the-spot feeling to a minimum.
DiPrince and Thurston begin the second paragraph of the introduction with, “Writing does not have to be a psychological journey.” So much of the writing I did in high school was introspective and personal. I didn’t usually mind this approach, but I would have appreciated the kinds of prompts in this book on occasion too. Sometimes it’s fine for writing to be psychological, but it doesn’t always have to be quite so personal. These prompts are fun, mentally stimulating, and they encourage creativity. I also appreciate that it’s good for a broad ability and age range of students. Like the writers mention, I could certainly envision these prompts loosening up hesitant writers while challenging the creativity of experienced writers.
Prompts:
1. Write a paragraph about a girl named Dot, but use no letters with dots (i, j).
Dot turned three years old today! Happy b-day, Dot! She had a huge cake of blue and green, her two most loved colors. Just as the crowd sang to her, a breeze blew by that scattered all around the yard the throwaway plates that were to be used for the cake. The startled guests ran about to collect the plates, but, by chance, the cake was knocked from the table onto Dot’s lap. Dot was unfazed. She beamed as she brought handfuls of the fallen desert to her small mouth.
148. Write a sentence (or more than one sentence) about celebrating a holiday. Use exactly 100 letters—no more, no less.
Thanksgiving is coming soon but it still seems far away. I’m unsure if we will be having family over to share the meal with us.
101. Unbeknownst to most people, the chicken had a lot of reasons for crossing the road. What were at least five of them?
1. The chicken crossed the road because the grass is always greener on the other side.
2. The chicken crossed the road because it was playing "Truth or Dare"
3. The chicken crossed the road because it was feeling adventurous.
4. The chicken crossed the road because its friends called it "chicken!" when it refused to cross the road on a previous occasion.
5. The chicken crossed the road because it was jealous of the turtle in The Grapes of Wrath for having an entire chapter dedicated to it for accomplishing the same feat.
blog 10
#30:
Zany, yellow xylophones wander vigorously under the stars. Rob quickly peeks over numerous mountains. Llamas kick Jeff into the house. Giant, freckled elephants dance carelessly beneath my abode.
#64:
The room begins to lighten; it's about that time. She will rise from that big, squishy square soon. I sometimes get to lay on that square, but only when it's dark out and she has the light on. A bag is beside me. It was tossed on the floor carelessly after our daily journey, like me. It always hurts when she throws me down on the floor.
She rises. What does she do on the square for all that time? What a weird habit. She goes into another room. I hear sounds. When she comes back into the room, she does not look so frazzled. Why would laying on a big square for so long make a person look so unkempt?
She takes off the coverings she is wearing and throws them onto the big square. She puts on different ones. She stands me up, unzips me, and checks to see what I hold. I'm holding the same things as when you threw me down, I want to scream at her. She takes things out that are also square. Why so many squares? I'm not square.
She walks the couple steps across the room to her shelves and gets new squares. She puts the new squares in me. These squares are lighter than before. It is a good day when the squares aren't so heavy. She zips me closed, lifts me, and I am against her back. Once, when she was younger, I saw this same thing happen to a human. They called it a "piggy-back ride." They seem so happy when it happens; they giggle and squeal. I only enjoy the ride when I'm not so heavy. All the weight from the squares pulls me down and hurts me.
The bag that was beside me is carried on her left shoulder. We leave the room and the apartment. We go down some stairs, and she opens another door. Cold. Very cold. She carries me to a huge, scary looking machine that transports us from the place where we live to other places. She throws me and the bag on a seat next to her, and she turns on the machine. VRRRROOOOOOMM!!!!!!! The machine begins to move, and we are on our way.
Zany, yellow xylophones wander vigorously under the stars. Rob quickly peeks over numerous mountains. Llamas kick Jeff into the house. Giant, freckled elephants dance carelessly beneath my abode.
#64:
The room begins to lighten; it's about that time. She will rise from that big, squishy square soon. I sometimes get to lay on that square, but only when it's dark out and she has the light on. A bag is beside me. It was tossed on the floor carelessly after our daily journey, like me. It always hurts when she throws me down on the floor.
She rises. What does she do on the square for all that time? What a weird habit. She goes into another room. I hear sounds. When she comes back into the room, she does not look so frazzled. Why would laying on a big square for so long make a person look so unkempt?
She takes off the coverings she is wearing and throws them onto the big square. She puts on different ones. She stands me up, unzips me, and checks to see what I hold. I'm holding the same things as when you threw me down, I want to scream at her. She takes things out that are also square. Why so many squares? I'm not square.
She walks the couple steps across the room to her shelves and gets new squares. She puts the new squares in me. These squares are lighter than before. It is a good day when the squares aren't so heavy. She zips me closed, lifts me, and I am against her back. Once, when she was younger, I saw this same thing happen to a human. They called it a "piggy-back ride." They seem so happy when it happens; they giggle and squeal. I only enjoy the ride when I'm not so heavy. All the weight from the squares pulls me down and hurts me.
The bag that was beside me is carried on her left shoulder. We leave the room and the apartment. We go down some stairs, and she opens another door. Cold. Very cold. She carries me to a huge, scary looking machine that transports us from the place where we live to other places. She throws me and the bag on a seat next to her, and she turns on the machine. VRRRROOOOOOMM!!!!!!! The machine begins to move, and we are on our way.
Unjournaling
Prompt 67
Paul pushed his pen pointlessly across his paper pretending to pay attention to Professer Peterson. Professor was presenting points on powerful paragraph penning while Paul proceeded to ponder his party plans. Professor Peterson perceived that Paul was preoccupied. His perception proved accurate after perusing Paul's paragraph.
Prompt 90
Asking a woman you just met when she is due is a bad idea.
Leaving your car running with the door unlocked in Harlem is a bad idea.
Asking a masked man in a dark alley for directions is a bad idea.
Going back to the house you just robbed to ask the owner on a date is a bad idea.
Using a curling iron on your eyelashes is a bad idea.
Throwing water on a grease fire is a bad idea.
Friending your boss on facebook then proceeding to trash her and the company in a post is a bad idea.
Putting your hand in a tankful of piranha's is a bad idea.
Telling your wife that she looks fat in those jeans is a bad idea.
Walking around barefoot in the gym locker room is a bad idea.
Paul pushed his pen pointlessly across his paper pretending to pay attention to Professer Peterson. Professor was presenting points on powerful paragraph penning while Paul proceeded to ponder his party plans. Professor Peterson perceived that Paul was preoccupied. His perception proved accurate after perusing Paul's paragraph.
Prompt 90
Asking a woman you just met when she is due is a bad idea.
Leaving your car running with the door unlocked in Harlem is a bad idea.
Asking a masked man in a dark alley for directions is a bad idea.
Going back to the house you just robbed to ask the owner on a date is a bad idea.
Using a curling iron on your eyelashes is a bad idea.
Throwing water on a grease fire is a bad idea.
Friending your boss on facebook then proceeding to trash her and the company in a post is a bad idea.
Putting your hand in a tankful of piranha's is a bad idea.
Telling your wife that she looks fat in those jeans is a bad idea.
Walking around barefoot in the gym locker room is a bad idea.
response to unjournaling (shh!)
At first these exercises made me uneasy. I'm just too familiar with keeping a different type of journal-- one which is very personal and revealing. In my journal, I write my thoughts/troubles and try to conclude my post with some sort of answer. Overall, I try to move toward improving my life.
With that being said, I read the first few prompts and thought to myself now this is just foolish, where is the depth in that entry? Though the introduction clearly states that Unjournaling is aimed toward familiarizing writers with word play and creative thought, I had trouble separating myself from my determination that this type of prompted writing should reveal something personal. Because after all, how does a teacher rouse the excitement of students without asking them about themselves?
But as I read and I tried a few prompts, I began to understand the concept of how having "fun with language" is the best way to learn how to let writing flow. This book is appropriate for absolutely anyone-- beginners can use it to warm up to words and I can use it before I write a paper to tap my word keg ;)
I have decided that the concept behind Unjournaling is genius, and I definitely will not be selling this book back during finals week.
The writing inspired by this little golden booklet can be quite personal, in fact, simply because certain prompts appeal to my personality more than others. While I read over the prompts, certain ones grasped my attention immediately-- very good writing can result from that type of spark.
My favorites:
- #16-- Revealing the nature of a character through his or her words.
- # 26-- Create an impression of a person by only describing her hands. I have written a short story about my mother which centered around her hands.
- #61-- Write a paragraph including a line from both a favorite song and movie. I love music and the movies and quoting things. I'd be good at this.
- #90-- Write 10 bad ideas. I could do this from experience.
Also, I felt that prompts 52-54 were very very Elbow-ian, so I was pleased to see that are textbooks, though very different from one another, still seem to interrelate.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Fun time!
Prompt #2
Silly is Farisa, who gets 'drunk' on red bulls and sticks half her body from a sun roof in a car doing 90miles at a 40 degree temperature, and screams at the entire road not knowing that it is illegal!
Silly are those old women who irritate me and tell me "your next" whenever we go to a wedding - I feel like telling them "your next" whenever we go to a funeral!
Silly is the Chillis molten lava chocolate cake that calls out to gluttonous Farisa every time she goes to Chillis and expects her to just say no to its beautiful, warm, supple and luscious face.
Prompt # 101
The chicken crossed the road because he was suicidal.
The chicken crossed the road to prove himself to mankind.
The chicken crossed the road because he was chasing a goose to get to know him better.
The chicken crossed the road because he was on something for sure.
The chicken crossed the road because he was bored?
Silly is Farisa, who gets 'drunk' on red bulls and sticks half her body from a sun roof in a car doing 90miles at a 40 degree temperature, and screams at the entire road not knowing that it is illegal!
Silly are those old women who irritate me and tell me "your next" whenever we go to a wedding - I feel like telling them "your next" whenever we go to a funeral!
Silly is the Chillis molten lava chocolate cake that calls out to gluttonous Farisa every time she goes to Chillis and expects her to just say no to its beautiful, warm, supple and luscious face.
Prompt # 101
The chicken crossed the road because he was suicidal.
The chicken crossed the road to prove himself to mankind.
The chicken crossed the road because he was chasing a goose to get to know him better.
The chicken crossed the road because he was on something for sure.
The chicken crossed the road because he was bored?
Monday, November 1, 2010
Blog 11
Prompt #12
The chill had increased in classroom number 123. It was nearing the end of the semester. The professor, Mr. Borin, droned on in usual soporific tones. Joey crooked his hand to his chin doing his best to daydream for the full length of the 57 minute class period.
Prompt #26
His hands held wisdom. It was as if every winkle had lain beside the next for eternal companionship. Pressed together, the whole congregation longed for their own solemn serenity.
The chill had increased in classroom number 123. It was nearing the end of the semester. The professor, Mr. Borin, droned on in usual soporific tones. Joey crooked his hand to his chin doing his best to daydream for the full length of the 57 minute class period.
Prompt #26
His hands held wisdom. It was as if every winkle had lain beside the next for eternal companionship. Pressed together, the whole congregation longed for their own solemn serenity.
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