tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85444632809700663802024-03-08T15:49:41.163-08:00The Two-Finger NovelistGreg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-55999417992914315972014-08-04T17:51:00.000-07:002015-01-19T05:26:10.143-08:00Blog Hop: Meet My Character<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<td colspan="4"><strong>BLOG TOUR</strong></td>
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<td colspan="4">I was invited to participate in the <i>Meet My Character</i> blog tour by the author Judith Frances Field, and chances are you've landed on this page after following a link from <a href="http://millil.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank"><b>her blog</b></a>. I'm supposed to write a few words about Judith, which is good, because I was going to anyway!<br />
Judith's talent, or rather one of her talents, for she has many, is the ability to come up with an idea that's almost laughably simple, then plonk that idea in the most prosaic of settings, and somehow end up with a tale so unique and so eldritch that it stays with you long after you've finished reading it.<br />
One of the few "writers" I know who actually put pen to paper often enough to be worthy of the title, Judith is every bit the professional. I had the pleasure of editing a story of hers for <i><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00BEZC2EM/ref=as_sl_pd_tf_lc?tag=578publish-21&camp=2902&creative=19466&linkCode=as4&creativeASIN=B00BEZC2EM&adid=1S34GTPZCYTRVRDPZWNA&&ref-refURL=http%3A%2F%2Ftwofingernovelist.blogspot.co.uk%2F" target="_blank"><b>Here's One I Made Earlier</b></a></i>, and was struck by the businesslike way she responded to criticism and advice - especially since it was coming from someone who is definitely not a "writer" in any meaningful sense of the word.<br />
Judith has paid her dues, and it shows. Her tenacity, respect for language, and sense of humour are outshone only by her humility. She will go far. <br />
Thank you for including me in the blog hop, Judith.<br />
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<td colspan="4"><strong>MEET MY CHARACTER</strong></td>
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<td colspan="4">I'll now answer a few questions about the main character of my work-in-progress, which is a historical novel.<br />
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<td align="right" rowspan="2" valign="top"><strong>1.</strong></td>
<td colspan="2"><em>What is the name of your character? Is he fictional or a historical person?</em></td>
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<td valign="top" width="496">He’s called Hayden, but his real name is an African word, the meaning of which he learns during his adventure. He’s fictional, but grounded very much in real historical events, so someone very like him could have existed.<br />
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<td align="right" rowspan="2" valign="top"><strong>2.</strong></td>
<td colspan="3"><em>When and where is the story set?</em></td>
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<td colspan="3" valign="top">The story takes place in the 19th Century, in a far-flung outpost of the British Empire, which has made research a real challenge, as I want the historical and geographical setting to be as accurate as possible. The action happens over the course of four days (13-17 August, 1870) from sunset to sunset. A little-known real-life humanitarian disaster provides the backdrop of the story, and this has presented yet more challenges: there's a thin line between bringing such things to public consciousness and merely exploiting them for fame and fortune.<br />
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<td colspan="3"><em>What should we know about him?</em></td>
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<td colspan="3" valign="top">He’s a thirteen-year-old boy who’s lived under the benign tyranny of his step-mother since being separated from his parents when he was five. He’s grown up far from the land of his birth, and has ambivalent feelings about his cultural origins. By the time the story opens, he’s perfected the art of getting by in life by fitting in with others’ needs and keeping his head down. But his latent need to come to terms with his own identity is forced into the open when he suddenly learns that just about everything everyone ever told him is false. It's probably worth pointing out that the novel is aimed at adult readers, despite the youth of its protagonist.<br />
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<td align="right" rowspan="2" valign="top"><strong>4.</strong></td>
<td colspan="3"><em>What is the main conflict? What messes up his life?</em></td>
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<td colspan="3" valign="top">His world is turned upside down when his mentor gives him the idea of searching for his real parents. The main conflict is his quest for the truth in the face of opposition from the keepers of a terrible secret. The twist — at least I hope it’s a twist — is that the Big Lie is very much a white lie. His ultimate dilemma will be whether to expose it or support it.<br />
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<td colspan="3"><em>What is the personal goal of the character?</em></td>
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<td colspan="3" valign="top">His conscious goal is to find his parents, but what he’s really striving to do is find where he fits in the world.<br />
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<td colspan="3"><em>Is there a working title for this WIP, and can we read more about it?</em></td>
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<td colspan="3" valign="top">There is a firm title, which I like for several reasons: It’s short and catchy, has two different but equally relevant meanings, and appears not to have been used yet. Because of this, I’m keeping it under wraps. Sorry about that, but I’ve already “done a Dobby” on myself with the desk lamp after answering questions 1 to 5. You can read a little bit more about the early stages of the story's development <b><a href="http://twofingernovelist.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/irenamed-main-characters-for-increased.html" target="_blank">here</a></b>.<br />
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<td colspan="3"><em>When can we expect the book to be published?</em></td>
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<td colspan="3" valign="top">I’m aiming for summer 2016, as that would coincide nicely with a public event which promises to raise awareness of the “terrible secret” alluded to above. I have to keep reminding myself that allowing for rewrites, and submissions, and waiting, and rejections, and more submissions, and waiting, and contract, and waiting, and editing, 2016 is about three and a half days away. So I'd better stop blogging, and get back to work!<br />
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-52748891387403683352014-05-05T04:08:00.000-07:002015-02-06T08:39:58.535-08:00The Story Solution<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In July 2012, I listed some of my favourite books on creative writing, in a post called <a href="http://twofingernovelist.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/read-all-about-it.html"><i>Read All About It</i></a>. I stand by those recommendations, but feel I have to add one. It's <i><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Story-Solution-Actions-Mysteries/dp/1615930841/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399282070&sr=8-1&keywords=story+solution" target="_blank">The Story Solution</a></i> by Eric Edson. I'd actually bought it three months before composing <i>Read All About It</i>, but hadn't gotten around to reading it. When I finally opened it, I was very glad I had. Reading <i>The Story Solution</i> was like having someone take the chain off a door I'd been pushing. After two years of struggle, plot gushed.<br />
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<b>What's it about?</b><br />
<i>The Story Solution</i> is from the same stable as books like Blake Snyder's <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Save-Cat-Only-Screenwriting-Youll/dp/1932907009/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399281919&sr=8-1&keywords=save+the+cat" target="_blank"><i>Save the Cat</i></a>, Chris Vogler's <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Writers-Journey-Mythic-Structure/dp/193290736X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399281942&sr=8-1&keywords=vogler" target="_blank"><i>The Writer's Journey</i></a>, and <i><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dramatica-A-New-Theory-Story/dp/091897304X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399282223&sr=8-1&keywords=dramatica+story" target="_blank">Dramatica: a new theory of story</a></i> by Chris Hunt and Melanie Anne Phillips. Like them, <i>The Story Solution</i> owes much to the earlier <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Thousand-Faces-Collected-Joseph-Campbell/dp/1577315936/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399281969&sr=8-1&keywords=hero+thousand+faces"><i>The Hero with a Thousand Faces</i></a> by Joseph Campbell.<br />
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<b>Okay, so what were <i>they</i> about?</b><br />
After many years' research, Campbell concluded that most great myths share common elements, regardless of where and when they emerged. Moreover, these elements appear to follow a similar pattern. This is Monomyth theory. I suppose the bottom line is that stories (pervasive and popular ones, at least) are subject to, and the result of, natural selection. Like it or not, humans get satisfaction from stories that tick certain boxes. Stories failing to tick those boxes fall by the wayside. So - and this is very important - Monomyth and its derivatives do NOT claim to be templates, and paying attention to them will NOT strip your writing of originality or feeling. All these guys are saying is: Many (if not all) successful myths/novels/movies contain certain elements - <i>do with this information what you will.</i> The subtext being: Leave them out at your peril.<br />
I can't claim to have read all of Campbell's book. It isn't light reading. And, significantly, it's not <i>aimed</i> at the novelist. Or any sort of writer, really. It's just a set of observations about existing stories. A mindbogglingly thorough, well-researched and revolutionary set of observations, to be sure, but observations for all that.<br />
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I found Vogler's book more accessible and relevant. It follows Campbell's ideas pretty closely, and suggests plotting techniques for the novelist. It's a great book, and probably the best one-stop shop for most novelists who want to master story structure.<br />
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Snyder's book is more accessible still, and pays less overt homage to Monomyth, giving equal credit to Syd Field's <i><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Screenplay-Foundations-Screenwriting-Step---Step/dp/0385339038/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1399287637&sr=8-1&keywords=syd+field" target="_blank">Screenplay</a></i>. Aimed squarely at screenwriters, it's full of cutesy terminology and easy-to-grasp tools. I love <i>Save the Cat</i> almost as much as I love <i>The Writer's Journey</i>, but I wouldn't choose it as my one book on plotting, as it seems to skim over things a bit too glibly in places.<br />
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Hunt & Phillips take things to the opposite extreme. From the first time I came across <i>Dramatica</i> (my God, ten years ago!) I instinctively felt it has a huge amount to say. Unfortunately, it takes a huge amount of effort to wade through its complex details. It's not helped by slightly woolly writing. Recommended for tolerant rocket scientists with a lot of time on their hands.<br />
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Enter <i>The Story Solution</i>. Though this one is also written for screenwriters, the majority of its content applies to novelists too. The influence of Monomyth is low key, while Edson's explanations are accessible, and his suggestions useful. I tell anyone who'll listen that <i>The Writer's Journey</i> is essential reading for the novelist, but in truth I found one or two concepts hard to grasp. Not so with <i>The Story Solution</i>. Upon reading it, I realised that it was my failure to fully understand, say, the differences between "The Ordeal" and "Resurrection" that had been holding up my whole novel. Also, there were dozens of events, scenes, and conversations - some already written - I knew I wanted to include, but which remained floating in limbo. With reference to <i>The Story Solution</i>, I was able to place all of them. And in every case, I thought "Yes! That is SO right!"<br />
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<b>What does it bring to the party then?</b><br />
Like Vogler, Edson follows Campbell's idea of identifying elements which all or most successful stories (in this case, movies) contain. In common with them (and the much-maligned Snyder) he goes out of his way to stress that there is no magic template into which you can or should plug in some details to create a bestseller. The basic premise remains: See those successful works over there? Well guess what...every single one of them contains these elements. <i>Do with this information what you will.</i><br />
Edson proceeds to identify about twenty key points which feature in just about any successful movie you'd care to name. Not only that, but he gives times (sometimes to within a couple of minutes) at which these points tend to occur.<br />
Crucially, this isn't just a shallow checklist. Each point is explored in depth, with many examples from well-known movies.<br />
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<b>Ugh! I'm coming out in hives!</b><br />
There's a school of thought which holds that fiction writing is - and should remain - a mystical process. That novelists are born members of a magic circle which cannot be entered by dint of work alone. (I touch on this in my post <i><a href="http://twofingernovelist.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/ive-just-came-across-this-rather-dated.html">Less Voodoo, More Rocket Science</a></i>.) Even if they don't consider story analysis futile and heretical, followers of this school tend to go bug eyed at the thought of applying the answers to a new work. Where's the magic in that?<br />
Well, I guess it's nowhere. Like it or not, when we start learning how to write fiction we are peeking behind the curtain. If you've read this far down the page, chances are not only that you're a writer, but that you've already taken some steps to learn the "craft".<br />
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<li>Begin <i>in media res</i></li>
<li>Murder your darlings</li>
<li>Don't fuck with the viewpoint</li>
<li>Watch those adverbs</li>
<li>Double-space your manuscript</li>
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If you've heeded any of those or dozens of other bits of advice, or even asked what should and should not be included in a query letter, or checked a tricky spelling, you haven't necessarily broken a spell. You're learning the ropes, pure and simple. You're taking steps to remove unnecessary obstacles to success. Where, pray, is the arbitrary line between this and applying tried-and-tested principles of story structure?<br />
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<b>Okay, fanboy, we get it. Now, what are the negatives?</b><br />
Well, opening <i>The Story Solution</i> is a bit like walking into a fashionable self-help seminar. Edson coins the term "Hero Goal Sequence" and proceeds to append every instance of the term with a little "®" symbol. I mean, come on!</div>
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But if you can get past that, and a certain amount of repetition (which my slug brain happens to require) then I'm convinced you could find this book as helpful as I did.</div>
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Just take off your Magic Circle badge first.<br />
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P.S. For an almost* exhaustive discussion of the most important theories on story structure, see Greg Miller's post <a href="http://othernetwork.com/2014/03/01/the-story-structure-countdown-how-different-experts-say-you-should-structure-a-story/" target="_blank">here</a>. <br />
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* <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Mainly due to certain legal obstacles.</span></div>
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-47401281912717999472014-03-16T06:56:00.000-07:002014-03-16T06:56:21.806-07:00Anthology<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's very late in the day to be making this post, but I really ought to give a mention to an anthology containing one of my short stories. It's published by a group of <a href="http://www3.open.ac.uk/study/undergraduate/course/a215.htm" target="_blank">A215</a> and <a href="http://www3.open.ac.uk/study/undergraduate/course/a363.htm" target="_blank">A363</a> veterans under the name <i><a href="http://578publishing.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">578 Publishing</a></i>.<br />
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It's called <i>Here's One I Made Earlier</i>, and is available for Kindle (click <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Earlier-assignments-creative-students-Collection-ebook/dp/B00BEZC2EM/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1394977799&sr=8-3&keywords=here%27s+one+i+made+earlier" target="_blank">here</a>) and in paperback (click <a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/greg-ruprecht-withnail-and-diana-leighton/heres-one-i-made-earlier/paperback/product-21474094.html#productDetails" target="_blank">here</a>). In a few weeks' time the paperback will be available from Amazon too.<br />
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-65811969789201625952013-12-09T05:42:00.001-08:002013-12-09T05:45:40.984-08:00The hypocrisy of the long-distance procrastinator<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Someone from a non-profit group working locally in the area of mental well-being has asked me to run a creative writing workshop. It will be a single two-hour session, forming part of a twenty-hour course. Spread over ten weeks, the course will also feature a workshop with a poet. Naturally, I jumped at the chance. What a privilege it is to be able to help in some small way with such a great cause! And how very flattering to be asked at all, regardless of the cause. What, me? Gob off about how I think it should and should not be done? Hmm, yes, I suppose it's not so very out of character after all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On reflection, it's my ideal gig. I'll get to exert some small influence over ten budding writers (thus propagating my own idiosyncratic views on the subject) and being at the workshop is a Grade A excuse for not being at my keyboard. And to think, one of the topics I plan to cover is avoidance techniques and how to beat them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For a while I was completely stuck for ideas on how to do the session. I've decided to prepare about fifteen topic sheets, each with a brief intro to the topic, an example or two (if appropriate), and a (fun!) activity. I'll test the timings, of course, but the plan is do <i>definitely</i>have more topics than can be covered in the allotted time. I'll get the group to choose which topics they want to cover, and when we get near the end I'll just hand out the ones we didn't get to. (The idea is that the sheets are lightweight enough to leave me plenty to say on the day, but detailed enough to stand on their own when they're read afterwards.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The complete topic list looks (provisionally) like this:</span></div>
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<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Show, don’t tell</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Murder your darlings – Sentences</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Murder your darlings – Words</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Beware of adjectives and adverb</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">The great <i>He said, she said</i></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"> secret</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Get some distance – Revision with fresh eyes</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Just do it!</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Choosing your genre</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Every character should want something...</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Know the rules of grammar</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Point of view</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Story Structure</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Archetypes</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Submitting your work</span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Recommended reading</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">I'm looking forward to the workshop at the moment, but I expect I'll get pretty nervous as it gets closer. Expect a post about how it all went.</span></span></div>
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-27055614232411729102013-04-07T13:54:00.000-07:002013-04-07T13:54:06.340-07:00Fan mail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I had some fan mail today. :-D</div>
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OH Gregg with your shiny head</div>
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Yes sure your belly is fully fed</div>
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but your soul is wanting of meaning</div>
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to call yourself a writer is demeaning</div>
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No skill or talent is at your depose</div>
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all it is , is letters in rows</div>
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A stranger to imaginations true art</div>
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you cannot write when you have no heart</div>
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talent is not learned or earned</div>
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and when it comes to you it is not concerned</div>
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they remembered his head</div>
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no words of worth read</div>
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nothing noone had ever said</div>
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but yes that man had a shiny head </div>
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-73266956838722447462013-04-07T13:27:00.000-07:002013-04-07T13:27:16.568-07:00I suggest...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
...there are some truly sad and bored people about.<br /><br />
In the last day this website has had more hits than in the previous three months.<br />
<br />
You have my pity.</div>
Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-85985803864742952332013-02-15T19:43:00.002-08:002013-06-15T12:03:47.069-07:00Back to the novel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After a break that was much longer than planned, I'm back to working on my novel. The distraction was, of course, helping to prepare the <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/assignments-creative-students-Collection-ebook/dp/B00BEZC2EM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1360984456&sr=8-1">anthology</a> by some of my fellow A363 students. It was great fun to do, but towards the end of the process I was seriously itching to get back to my own story. (I count my blessings - it's a year since I first came up with the idea for my novel and my enthusiasm is greater than ever. Most unusual for me!)<br />
<br />
I had a minor mishap just now though. Although I've been fairly good about backing up my work to various external disk drives, I recently started to think I ought to be making off-site backups, in case of fire, asteroid strike, etc. I should have known better! This ALWAYS happens to me... If I'm lazy about, say, doing the washing up, and end up stepping over dirty cups to get to my desk, all is well. But if I decide to do the right thing and sort them out, I scald myself with the hot tap or break a cup, cut myself on it, and die of tetanus. So when I bit the bullet tonight, and installed the Google Drive client, to make backing up my work to Google easier (and therefore more likely to be done) I was tempting fate. Sure enough, due to one technical glitch (Nobody's fault? Google's fault?), one silly assumption (My fault - why do I never learn that software engineers are mindless pricks?), and some bloody poor interface design (That one's down to the aforementioned pricks), MY ENTIRE writing folder was permanently deleted.<br />
<br />
The most recent backup of the novel, and all the associated research files, was made on 6 January. This isn't quite as bad as it sounds, because since then I've spent far more days on the anthology than the novel. (Yes, all the anthology stuff was lost too, but that really doesn't matter because the thing's on Amazon now, and I can retrieve the data file any time.) But it was still annoying (aka heartbreaking), because I had done little bits of sudden note taking for the novel here and there which, by its very nature, was unlikely to be done again because those particular light bulb moments aren't likely to repeat themselves. So, anyway, I copied the most recent backup from the external drive onto my main hard drive and opened my Storybook file. Although there was a fairly comforting amount of proper and complete work there, I was convinced there were one or two little gems that I'd never see again.<br />
<br />
Then, after I'd started to type this very blog post, I remembered Plan A. (The one before Operation: <i>Googlefuck</i>.) Plan A was to make a backup of my entire writing folder twice - using two secure USB drives, and NOT leave them on or near my computer. One's a nifty little wearable rubber bracelet thing I nicked form my wife, and the other is an equally nifty memory stick built into a frankly gorgeous-to-use pen, which doesn't work any more. The bracelet I can wear around, and the pen can be locked in the car.<br />
<br />
But the best bit? I only came up with Plan A about a week ago. That's right... I made two backups SINCE my last light bulb moment. No novel work whatsoever has been lost.<br />
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Hallelujah!<br />
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-30475554857643725332013-02-14T09:00:00.000-08:002013-02-14T01:30:07.490-08:00Anthology submitted to Kindle store<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After a very intensive final 48 hours, I clicked the "Publish" button on Tuesday evening.<br />
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The anthology is available from <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/assignments-creative-students-Collection-ebook/dp/B00BEZC2EM/ref=zg_bs_275128_3">Amazon UK</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/assignments-creative-students-Collection-ebook/dp/B00BEZC2EM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1360790813&sr=8-1&keywords=Here%27s+One+I+Made+Earlier+%2819+assignments+by+real+creative+writing+students%29">Amazon US</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.fr/Earlier-assignments-creative-students-ebook/dp/B00BEZC2EM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1360790918&sr=8-1">Amazon France</a>, and many others.<br />
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<br />
<br />
We weren't expecting it to become visible on the Amazon website for 12 hours, but it was there after only about 5 hours.<br />
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We've sold considerably more than expected in this first day, and the Amazon rankings tell an encouraging story. (See below.)<br />
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-84973157218657918892013-02-08T19:24:00.002-08:002014-08-04T18:56:28.771-07:00Putting the cat among the Speckled Jims<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I post this blog entry with some trepidation. You see it’s
going to seem blasphemous to some people. In the stoning sense of the word, if not quite to that extreme. Really, it is! In today’s fashionably
secular world, there’s a curious urge not to actually reject irrational worship,
but just to idolise something or someone else instead of a god. I beg you, dear reader,
as a favour not only to me but to yourself, that if you find yourself offended
not by what I say below but by the fact that I dareth to speaketh it againsteth
one of the modern messiahs, you take a moment to examine your reaction. Now,
let’s get on with the post...</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">
On balance, I’m inclined to agree with the popular opinion that Stephen Fry is
a “National Treasure”.</span><br />
<br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;">As a comic actor he’s up there with the best. His General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett single-handedly<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: red;"><b>(1)</b></span></span> propped up the
final series of Blackadder when its lead character was reduced to repeating the
“<i>something</i>est <i>something</i></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;">since <i>some thing</i> did <i>some thing</i> in <i>some place</i></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;">” gag <i>ad nauseum</i>. </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;">And I have to admit to a
soft spot for his Jeeves, regardless of the contempt in which his performance
seems to be held by some Wodehouse purists.<span style="color: red; font-size: xx-small;"><b>(2)</b></span></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;">As the presenter of BBC2’s highly entertaining quiz
show QI, he’s charismatic, authoritative, and endearingly self-effacing.<b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: red;">(3)</span></span> </b></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;">As an author, he’s well loved and successful.
(Even respected: His </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;">Ode Less Travelled</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-indent: -18pt;">
is frequently cited by the more poetic of my creative writing colleagues.)</span></li>
</ul>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In short, Stephen Fry is a natural and lovable entertainer.
I just wish he’d leave it there. Instead, by dint of presenting himself as an
unremitting genius, he gets away with talking a lot of shit which gets taken as gospel by many. It’s not unlike two of my four least-favourite
phenomena, both of which Mr Fry happens to be guilty of encouraging: Apple Worship,
and Aggressive Atheism.</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; text-indent: -24px;"><span style="color: red;"><b>(4)</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> By way of illustrating this, I want to tell you a
story. Now, are you sitting comfortably? Good, then I’ll begin...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Once upon a time I was following a thread in an online
forum. The thread was in a group named “Global Literature” or something like
that, and was all about falling standards of written English. I’m often quite
noisy about that subject, but as all of the participants’ views pretty much
lined up with my own, I just watched from the sidelines. Until Stephen Fry was
mentioned. (For the life of me I can’t remember why his name came up, but it
doesn’t really matter.) I chipped in, saying that I loved the man as an
entertainer but didn’t think his attitude to English was helpful or even very well
thought out. My comments drew one or two surprised-sounding replies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Let’s just step away from the story for a moment, and hazard
a guess at what the people on that forum thought of Stephen Fry until that day.
Fry’s a posh-sounding chap. He tends to dress smartly and does his utmost
to be seen wielding the latest and most expensive gadgets. And even those unaware
that he cut his comedy teeth with Cambridge Footlights could guess he was an Oxbridge
man. It doesn't require a great stretch of the imagination to suppose that the people in that forum assumed Fry knows good grammar when he sees it and that he gives a fig about it too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Predictably, the gist of the forum replies was “What on earth
do you mean? Stephen’s a frightfully well-spoken chap, and well-educated with
it. He’s obviously going to be as keen on good grammar as we are!” When you read the Fry
quotations below you’ll quickly realise this preconception is very wide of the mark,
but I’m not holding those people up to ridicule for being wrong. I don’t think
their assumptions were unreasonable in themselves, though they were undoubtedly
built on stereotype. I hold them up, in passing, for ridicule <b>because of the
immediate and mindless U-turns they all made on the actual subject of grammar, once I’d shown them Mr Fry’s stated opinions</b>. Their conviction that I must have misrepresented Fry's opinions changed immediately to the conviction that "Well, grammar's not really all that, is it..." If that's not blind faith I'd like to know what is. But anyway, let’s get down to
business and examine some of those opinions. (The greater part of Fry's piece is reproduced below. It's broken up so that my comments aren't too far from the bits they refer to, so I've <i>italicised </i>the quotations to make it easy for you to read them all at once.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<li><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For me, it is a cause
of some upset that more Anglophones don’t enjoy language. Music is enjoyable it
seems, so are dance and other, athletic forms of movement. People seem to be
able to find sensual and sensuous pleasure in almost anything but words these
days. Words, it seems belong to other people, anyone who expresses themselves
with originality, delight and verbal freshness is more likely to be mocked,
distrusted or disliked than welcomed. The free and happy use of words appears
to be considered elitist or pretentious.</span></i></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With his “<i>cause of
upset that more Anglophones don’t enjoy language</i>” Fry sows a seed he hopes will
grow into the idea that caring about language and enjoying it are mutually
exclusive positions. Until he presents some evidence for this, I – as someone
who does both, and pretty intensely at that – will dismiss the suggestion. I don’t know what universe Fry is living in if he believes “<i>anyone who expresses themselves with
originality, delight and verbal freshness is more likely to be mocked,
distrusted or disliked than welcomed”</i>. Originality, delight, and freshness
seem pretty universal in their appeal to me – one only has to surf Facebook for
a few minutes to see that the perceived villains are the “Grammar Nazis”. Fry’s
whole flimsy tirade is in keeping with this. By hinting that it is the low standards he accepts which are “<i>considered elitist</i>”
I think Fry is trying to present himself as an ‘umble man of the people. Again,
the idea that Fry has carefully chosen his words for a manipulative tactical agenda, rather than to build a rational case, is hard
to resist.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></o:p><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sadly, desperately
sadly, the only people who seem to bother with language in public today bother
with it in quite the wrong way. They write letters to broadcasters and
newspapers in which they are rude and haughty about other people’s usage and in
which they show off their own superior ‘knowledge’ of how language should be. I
hate that, and I particularly hate the fact that so many of these pedants
assume that I’m on their side.</span></i></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Once more, the first sentence can be safely considered weasel words with no supporting evidence. I’m equally sceptical about all these
“<i>rude and haughty letters to broadcasters
and newspapers”</i>, though as I’m not a great TV watcher or newspaper reader I’m
prepared to defer to Mr Fry on this point. But if you really do want to see some haughty
rudeness you don’t need to hop channels or buy newspapers because many of the
Fryisms quoted here excel in those regards. And speaking of quotations, I find
myself sadly shaking my head when I see the quotation marks with which Fry
attempts to cast doubt upon the validity of superior 'knowledge'. At least he
comes clean in his next sentence and admits that he just <i>hates</i>. I certainly don’t feel short-changed in the “<i>mocked, distrusted and disliked</i>”
department there!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I have a theory. It’s only a theory, and I admit that, rather
than try to pass it off as a fact, but it’s this: Stephen Fry is educated and
socialised enough to appreciate the value of proper English, so the claim that
he just doesn’t seems unlikely at best. If inferences may be drawn from Fry’s
public persona (and perhaps they shouldn’t be!) it seems very possible that Fry
is, by nature, fairly elitist and perfectionist by nature. However, it’s
undeniable that whatever you think of his opinions, he’s quite a bright chap.
Perhaps even very bright. Bright enough, perhaps, to see that being a high-profile
Grammar Nazi is just asking for trouble. Because s</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ooner or later everybody slips up, and </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the bigger they come, the
harder they fall. Show me a man who says he’s
never left a modifier dangling and I’ll show you a liar. I think dear Stephen has
enough humility to know he’s no exception, but not quite enough humility to be able to face being imperfect by his own stated standards. My theory is that he’s anticipated</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; text-indent: -24px;"><span style="color: red;"><b>(5)</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> a humiliating public fall from grammatical grace and come out on the side of sloppiness so that
he doesn’t have to worry about being seen to accidentally fuck up. Clever.
Clever, but cowardly. If the theory is correct (and I have no evidence – it just
happens to fit the facts) it’s no wonder that he hates it when “</span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">these pedants assume that </i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">[he is]</span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> on their side</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">.” If he was more adept he’d
be one of them.</span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When asked to join in
a “let’s persuade this supermarket chain to get rid of their ‘five items or
less’ sign” I never join in. Yes, I am aware of the technical distinction
between ‘less’ and ‘fewer’, and between ‘uninterested’ and ‘disinterested’ and
‘infer’ and ‘imply’, but none of these are of importance to me. ‘None of these
are of importance,’ I wrote there, you’ll notice – the old pedantic me would
have insisted on “none of them is of importance”. Well I’m glad to say I’ve
outgrown that silly approach to language. Oscar Wilde, and there have been few
greater and more complete lords of language in the past thousand years, once
included with a manuscript he was delivering to his publishers a compliment
slip in which he had scribbled the injunction: “I’ll leave you to tidy up the
woulds and shoulds, wills and shalls, thats and whiches &c.” Which gives us
all encouragement to feel less guilty, don’t you think?</i></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">For someone who claims particular rules of grammar “<i>are of no importance</i> [to him]”, Mr Fry
seems strangely eager to convince us he knows them. Having subtly claimed some
expertise, he goes on to dismiss a particular example as “<i>that silly approach</i>”. </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The linguistic jury may be out on that particular example, </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and individuals may have their opinions on the issue </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">(</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m a “none of them is” man, myself),</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> but... “</span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">silly</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">”?
That’s just a weasel word here. Silly to use it like that, really. What then follows is
a classic example of Fry being so far up his own genius arsehole that he unwittingly
provides a rather cute argument </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">against</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
his position. Oscar Wilde’s note to his publisher is an obvious request for his
writing to be corrected as necessary – hardly the attitude of a Fryesque
Grammar Anarchist! And Stephen, bless your cotton socks, I know you have some
mental health issues and don’t for a moment mock you for them. I’d rather think
it’s an everyday type of flaw in your reasoning, that your reaction to finding
you fucked up your grammar is guilt (and tirades against correctness) rather
than resolve (to improve).</span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There are all kinds of
pedants around with more time to read and imitate Lynne Truss and John Humphrys
than to write poems, love-letters, novels and stories it seems. They whip out
their Sharpies and take away and add apostrophes from public signs, shake their
heads at prepositions which end sentences and mutter at split infinitives and
misspellings, but do they bubble and froth and slobber and cream with joy at
language? Do they ever let the tripping of the tips of their tongues against
the tops of their teeth transport them to giddy euphoric bliss? Do they ever
yoke impossible words together for the sound-sex of it? Do they use language to
seduce, charm, excite, please, affirm and tickle those they talk to? Do they? I
doubt it. They’re too farting busy sneering at a greengrocer’s less than
perfect use of the apostrophe. Well sod them to Hades. They think they’re
guardians of language. They’re no more guardians of language than the Kennel
Club is the guardian of dogkind.</span></i></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And so we get down to common or garden name-calling and
sneering. Yes, Stephen, you’re still guilty of sneering even if you do get the
word in first! It’s just that by whinging about it you make yourself look a
hypocrite too. But let’s slow down a bit, and not allow ourselves to be
steamrollered. In keeping with previous paragraphs, Fry’s first sentence here
is devoid of actual supportable facts. As above, he uses weasel words - this time about Lynne
Truss and John Humphrys - hoping that readers of the <i>Gospel according to Fry</i>
will nod obsequiously and agree that Truss and Humphrys are despicable
characters, even if they haven’t heard of them. But the fact is that both those people have written carefully worded, thoughtful, and passionate
books on the subject of good grammar. In fact they enjoy language <i>and</i> give a shit about it. Something Mr
Fry seems to think is impossible. Why does Fry keep coming back to this claim those who care about correctness do not - even cannot - enjoy it? I find that counter-intuitive, to put it mildly. "</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Do they use language to seduce, charm, excite, please, affirm and tickle those they talk to? Do they? I doubt it." </i>Why does he doubt it? Nabokov took <i>way way</i> more care with written English</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> than would meet with Fry's approval.</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; text-indent: -24px;"><span style="color: red;"><b>(6)</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> But he isn't following Fry's Twitter feed, so Stephen the 'umble man of the people is toadying up to greengrocers. The out-and-out WRONGNESS of the apostrophe use he refers to (and I think we can all agree to call it "wrong", even if we use quotation marks as a bonus sneer) is downgraded to "less than perfect". I mean, seriously... WTF! This guy is wasted in showbiz. He should be in politics.</span><br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The worst of this
sorry bunch of semi-educated losers are those who seem to glory in being
irritated by nouns becoming verbs. How dense and deaf to language development
do you have to be? If you don’t like nouns becoming verbs, then for heaven’s
sake avoid Shakespeare who made a doing-word out of a thing-word every chance
he got. He TABLED the motion and CHAIRED the meeting in which nouns were made
verbs. New examples from our time might take some getting used to: ‘He actioned
it that day’ for instance might strike some as a verbing too far, but we have
been sanctioning, envisioning, propositioning and stationing for a long time,
so why not ‘action’? ‘Because it’s ugly,’ whinge the pedants. It’s only ugly
because it’s new and you don’t like it. Ugly in the way Picasso, Stravinsky and
Eliot were once thought ugly and before them Monet, Mahler and Baudelaire.</span></i></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">LOL! Another venomous start to a paragraph! Hey, it’s a good
thing Stephen isn’t “<i>rude and haughty
about other people</i>” isn’t it(!) And perish the thought that he might “<i>show off </i>[his]<i> own superior ‘knowledge’</i>” by chucking lots of Shakespeare words
like a ninja flicking throwing stars – they’re a nuisance weapon, and rarely
lethal. Yeah, ok, I’m taking the piss. But dear Stephen does rather invite it
with his blatant double standards.<i> </i>The
good news is that, at long last, we’ve reached what has become the battle cry
of the grammatically challenged and/or nonchalant: “Language evolves!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Well, yes, it does. More so in the past, but it’s still true
enough to be worth discussing. So... Yes!!!!! Our language HAS evolved over the
centuries. By embracing neologisms, and sluttily taking in foreign words it
barely knows, it’s become one of the richest languages on the planet. It
certainly has the largest vocabulary. And all this is great. Yay for evolving
language. Up to a point. You see, it doesn’t follow that just because we understand what brought English to its present state we ought to welcome (or even engineer) further change. I don’t present that as an argument against further change; I’m
just pointing out that an argument <i>in favour</i>
of change is not to be found in this particular area. Adopting new verbs is
sometimes – perhaps even often – very sensible.</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; text-indent: -24px;"><b><span style="color: red;">(7)</span></b></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Let's be honest: Who among us would really
rather “send a text message to” a friend rather than simply “text” them? OK, so
“text” isn’t a particularly ugly example, but if Stephen wants to set fire
to the bandages of those who deny the usefulness of words like “hospitalise” then I’ll
happily supply the matches. Objecting to a word because it’s “ugly” isn’t a very tenable position, especially if we’re concerned with language’s function
as a communication tool. But I suppose I must allow that such an objection
implies an appreciation of something else – a desire to “<i>enjoy</i>...<i>sensual pleasure</i>” of words,
perhaps? What do you think, Stephen? Of course, having basically agreed with Mr
Fry’s point on ugliness, I don’t really need to mock his attempts to align
careless greengrocers with the likes of Stravinsky and Eliot. Hey-ho.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Pedants will also
claim, with what I am sure is eye-popping insincerity and shameless
disingenuousness, that their fight is only for ‘clarity’. This is all very
well, but there is no doubt what ‘Five items or less’ means, just as only a
dolt can’t tell from the context and from the age and education of the speaker,
whether ‘disinterested’ is used in the ‘proper’ sense of non-partisan, or in
the ‘improper’ sense of uninterested. No, the claim to be defending language
for the sake of clarity almost never, ever holds water.</span></i></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I can’t prove it to a third party, but the first sentence of
this passage proves to <i>me</i> that Stephen Fry is WRONG WRONG WRONG. Because I know my fight <i>is</i> for clarity. This doesn’t fit with Fry’s
attack plan, so he chooses not to believe it. In fact he sneers at it. Fancy someone sneering about grammar!</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; text-indent: -24px;"><span style="color: red;"><b>(8)</b></span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> That’s hardly an argument, is it! Language
is functional, first and foremost. That doesn’t preclude pleasurable use, but
we need to focus at the moment. Not only is language indicative of humanity’s
intelligence, psychologists tell us it <i>facilitates</i>
that intelligence. We need to think about things and talk about things. And the
better equipped we are to talk about them, the better we can think about them. If
the meaning of language changes over time, then the meaning of non-contemporary
language becomes less clear. The writing of Chaucer is quaint to the point of
being unintelligible to modern English speakers. Think about that. Try to get
past any (quite understandable) national pride or affection, and to ignore the
possible appeal of an almost-alien tongue that is still so undeniably connected
with our own. Just think about the meaning. It’s all but lost. Old English is “all
Greek” to the average person. “Yes,” you cry, “but what of it?” Well, if you look
past the charm of difference, isn’t it a damned shame that the average person
can’t pick up and enjoy a copy of Canterbury Tales? Yes, we love where our
language has got to by evolving, and yes, let’s accept new words if they are
useful and don’t have an existing equivalent, but let’s NOT run away with the
idea that changing language is an inherently Good Thing. (The old chestnut “English
has to evolve to stay alive” is just so many words - an actual example of sloppy
and meaningless writing.) Allow things like “text” as a verb, but with a
starting attitude that change is just as likely (even more, perhaps) to be a
Bad Thing. As a final point here, consider long, wordy, rambling,
near-incomprehensible legal documents. Why are they like that? Yes, it’s the dreaded
“clarity” word. But just a minute! Even the most obfuscatory lawyer would admit
there was a simpler way of wording that contract he just drew up. Today, at
least. I suggest that the infuriating complexity of legal wording is a guard
against “evolving” language - or at least against sloppy interpretation. And maybe, if the English language effectively
coagulated overnight, and people generally started to respect the function (as well as beauty) of words, there would be less need for it.<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: xx-small; text-indent: -24px;"><b><span style="color: red;">(9)</span></b></span></div>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Nor does the idea that
following grammatical rules in language demonstrates clarity of thought and
intelligence of mind. Having said this, I admit that if you want to communicate
well for the sake of passing an exam or job interview, then it is obvious that
wildly original and excessively heterodox language could land you in the soup.
I think what offends examiners and employers when confronted with extremely
informal, unpunctuated and haywire language is the implication of not caring
that underlies it. You slip into a suit for an interview and you dress your
language up too. You can wear what you like linguistically or sartorially when
you’re at home or with friends, but most people accept the need to smarten up
under some circumstances – it’s only considerate. But that is an issue of
fitness, of suitability, it has nothing to do with correctness. There no right
language or wrong language any more than are right or wrong clothes. Context,
convention and circumstance are all.</span></i></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Here Stephen gives us a strong clue that, to him, the whole
issue is indeed about snobbery rather than clarity. I don’t try to write “correctly” in order to demonstrate anything about my mind. I’m aiming for clarity when I'm expressing what's <i>on</i> my mind. And Stephen
doesn’t like that. In all probability he hates it, and hates people like me. So
he pretends we don’t exist, and insists we are <i>eye-poppingly insincere</i>. It is Stephen Fry who is insincere, and
here’s my evidence: Of rules of grammar, he says “<i>none of these are of importance to me</i>” yet seems to suggest that inferring an uncaring attitude from users of “<i>extremely informal, unpunctuated and
haywire language</i>” is inappropriate. If you don’t
speak/write “correctly” then you either don’t know the “rules” or you don’t
care about them. Choose a side, Stephen, FFS. <br />I do have some sympathy with the
point about suitability, but it’s not without its dangers. Of course I’m not
going to agonise about split infinitives (as if I ever did!) when writing a
note to the milkman. Because it’s not the end of the world if he doesn’t
understand it. But here’s the thing: If I take that chance and assume that this time it won't matter,</span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small; text-indent: -24px;"><span style="color: red;">(10)</span></b><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> and if my disregard for the importance of
dairy produce combines with my disrespect for the milkman and results in a
totally fucked-up delivery, whose fault is it? </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yep... mine!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And I done got the balls to admit it.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dq_N8rx67GE/URXAGa_F30I/AAAAAAAAAbQ/bvuHz4znPls/s1600/Stephen-Fry-for-Media-100-006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dq_N8rx67GE/URXAGa_F30I/AAAAAAAAAbQ/bvuHz4znPls/s320/Stephen-Fry-for-Media-100-006.jpg" height="192" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">National Treasure<br />
(but would you want him on your debating team?)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: red;">(1)</span> Well, almost singlehandedly. Who could forget the sparkle
brought to the flagging series by Squadron Commander the Lord Flashheart
(Rik Mayall), and Baron Manfred von Richthofen (Adrian Edmondson)?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: red;">(2)</span> For example, Peter Hitchins. (See the rather irrelevant
and below-the-belt snipe in his blog entry <i><a href="http://hitchensblog.mailonsunday.co.uk/2012/04/stephen-fry-a-stupid-persons-idea-of-what-an-intelligent-person-is-like.html"><b>Stephen
Fry - A Stupid Person's idea of What an Intelligent Person is Like</b></a>.)</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: red;">(3)</span> Between moments of cringe-inducing ignorance which,
considering he’s being fed through an earpiece by a team of googling experts, are rather
mystifying.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: red;">(4)</span> The third is, of course, Aggressive Religion, of which
the first and second are actually mutant versions. The fourth is Science
Worship, a singularly self-contradictory religion, the frankly dangerous irony
of which its perpetrators seem inherently unable to grasp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: red;">(5)</span> Perhaps not though. Perhaps he habitually dropped the
same clanger and decided to do something before people noticed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: red;">(6)</span> </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I suppose Fry would be disappointed to learn that not only did this emotionally stunted Grammar Nazi spot his allusion to </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lolita</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">,</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> but also that the line paraphrased is one I fell in love with the first time I read it, simply because it's so sensuously beautiful. I even wholeheartedly forgive its factual inaccuracy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: red;">(7)</span> Not even the despicable John Humphrys would ban all
such neologisms. Fry has either forgotten this or has not actually read <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lost-Words-Mangling-Manipulating-Language/dp/0340836598/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1360381780&sr=1-2"><b>Humphrys's book</b></a>. His objection is to a new word being invented when a perfectly
serviceable one already exists. I’m with him there, and I hope I’m not alone.
Those who embrace unnecessary neologisms end up looking more ignorant than
trendy.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: red;">(8)</span> I'm not just imagining the sneer. Check out Fry's own <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7E-aoXLZGY"><b>spoken version</b></a> of his tirade if you want to see how he goes about constructing an "argument" by adopting a sneering tone of voice.<br /><span style="color: red;">(9)</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> If you believe Stephen’s assertion that the argument for clarity holds no water, consider <a href="http://www.out-law.com/page-7426"><b>this story</b></a>. Yes, it’s exceptional, but the point is this: No one thinks that</span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> their</i><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> email or speech will be misunderstood. The problems with the “it doesn't matter as long as it doesn’t matter” mentality are that it depends upon assumptions one isn't necessarily in a position to make safely, and it is an obviously circular argument. For something else circular, see below.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: red;">(10)</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Do you ever get frustrated when waiting to drive onto a roundabout...? You’re waiting for a car to pass, when suddenly, and with no indication, it zips off down the road you’re waiting on. Grr! You may have wondered what’s going through the mind of someone who drives like that, or whether they even possess a mind at all. Well, having pulled one from his car and knocked his head against the door pillar until he talked, I can tell you. It goes something like this: “Well, if you’re driving along, and you want to turn, you don’t actually need to use an indicator under certain circumstances. Yes, it’s true. You see, if you check in your rear-view mirror and there are no vehicles behind you, and if you check your wing mirrors and there’s nothing coming up alongside you, and if you’ve checked all the nearby pavements and there are no pedestrians about, and if there are no poor buggers waiting to get onto the roundabout after you may or may not pass them, then you don’t have to go through the anguish of extending a finger and moving the indicator stalk two inches.” Like sloppy writers, drivers with that mindset make two mistakes: First, the shaky assumption that they have accurately assessed the environment and all its potential risks, and second that the effort involved in arriving at the decision to not indicate is somehow a better use of their time and brainpower than JUST BLOODY INDICATING. Me, I’d rather people that dim-witted skipped the “thinking” stage and just got straight on with not indicating. At least it keeps both their hairy palms on the steering wheel. </span></div>
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-42383938874084086492013-02-05T04:22:00.000-08:002013-02-06T05:04:55.239-08:00Anthology<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here’s an update on where we are with the anthology.<br />
<br />
Most selected pieces have been edited by their authors and returned to me and Diana. I was very impressed by the speed with which the contributors reviewed our comments.<br />
<br />
One or two are still awaiting editor feedback, but we hope to have their pieces back to them by the middle of this week.<br />
<br />
Some people have said they don’t think they’ll have time to review their feedback in time. I'm hoping they'll decide to hold their work back for the next anthology, in order to review the editors' feedback thoroughly. I've suggested to those people that, rather than just stick their piece in unreviewed, they hold back for the next anthology (which ought to follow not too long after Volume 1) and so give themselves more time. That's what I'd do. Another option is letting the editors wade in and take care of typos and punctuation slips, etc. Speaking as an editor, I'm happy with that - but as a contributor I wouldn't be, so I don't really expect anyone to go that route. All I can do is give friendly nudges, and since I’ve never gotten around to having my own work published, I’m not exactly a shining example.<br />
<br />
We’re still on course for the provisional target publication date of 14 February. In about a week’s time (sooner if possible) I’ll send out a document to all of the contributors, with the whole ebook in it. This will be their chance to their own contributions for any errors that might have crept in since the commenting/editing stage.<br />
<br />
I have mini-biog material for the most of the contributing authors, and have reminded the others, asking that they explicitly tell me if they don't want a biog included. I've also been encouraging people to include information on their blogs, Facebook pages, etc.<br />
<br />
You may already know about the A215 group which has recently published an anthology. (It’s called “Sea of Ink” and is available from <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sea-Ink-Creative-Anthology-ebook/dp/B00B7IP1B2/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1360065723&sr=8-3">Amazon</a>. A few days ago, it featured quite high in Amazon’s “chart” (albeit in a niche category), which I find very encouraging. They’ve elected to price their one considerably higher than we have ours, so it will be interesting to see how sales figures compare over time.<br />
<br />
We’ve confirmed with the OU that there are no rights or property problems with us publishing our TMAs, even when marketing them <i>as</i> work done for TMAs.<br />
<br />
If we want to include the actual TMA wording or tutors’ comments, we need to apply for permission. I see some merit in including those things, but at this stage I think we should just leave them out so that we can get this thing published ASAP. There’s still nothing to stop us saying “For this TMA we had to produce a script” or “The word limit here was 1500” etc.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.derekneale.com/">Dr Derek Neale</a> (A363 Course Chair, co-author of both the <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Creative-Writing-A-Workbook-Readings/dp/0415372437/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1360072450&sr=8-4">BRB</a> and the <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Creative-Writing-Handbook-Developing-Individual/dp/1408109417/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1360072450&sr=8-2">BBB</a>, and published novelist in his own right) emailed us, saying our endeavour is “encapsulating the aims, ideals and spirit of the course and The Open University’s creative writing teaching” and that the anthology “offers evidence of imaginative adventure and writing output, but also testifies to the collaborative and interactive spirit of the OU writing courses.” He then added “Well done!” which almost seems redundant, but does give one a warm glow! (Or is that just me?)<br />
<br />
OK, I saved the best for last: Feeling bold, we asked Dr Neale for permission to quote him, and he gave it! I’m not sure whether we’ll put his words on the cover, inside the anthology itself, in the product description on the Amazon website, or a combination of these, but I’m sure you’ll agree this development is a significant coup for us and can do our sales to those unfamiliar with the courses no harm at all!<br />
<br />
Thanks, as usual, to everyone involved, especially <a href="http://myladyshed.blogspot.co.uk/p/about-me-diana-leighton.html">Diana</a> and <a href="http://www.millil.blogspot.co.uk/">Judith</a>, for copy-writing, legal-eagling, editing, feedbacking, and steady stream of abuse disguised as encouragement (or is it encouragement disguised as abuse?)<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L6RzjhV5s64/URJUBsOzqtI/AAAAAAAAAaI/CahWPFR6xSU/s1600/sexy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L6RzjhV5s64/URJUBsOzqtI/AAAAAAAAAaI/CahWPFR6xSU/s320/sexy.JPG" width="225" /></a></div>
I was very pleasantly surprised at how well Kindle preserved the formatting for the anthology's two scripts.<br />
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-4027050956553752322013-01-16T20:23:00.000-08:002015-02-06T09:20:34.947-08:00The blind leading the blind<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you think we should be optimistic about the future of written English, think again. The lost and the afraid who hope Google will lead them into the light may be doomed.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;">(Click images to see them bigger.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">First we have "5jj", a (please God, self-styled) "teacher", moderating a web forum dedicated to helping people trying to learn English as a second language. MariaTeresa, the poor sap on the receiving end of 5jj's wisdom, reinforces my long-held view that foreigners <i>learning</i> my language tend to have more respect for it than do its native speakers. She posts an excellent question.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"<b>I have a spelling doubt, 'semicolon'/ 'semi-colon' :</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> are both words accepted; is one of them BE </b><br />[British English]<b> and the other AE </b>[American English]"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">5jj's initial responses, like those of many insufferable show-offs who populate online help forums, are to pour scorn on the person asking for help, and explain why the question should not have been asked.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"</span><b style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">How many times a year do you actually </b><b style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">have </b><b style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">to </b></div>
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<b style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">write the word? Stop worrying; if you get it</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> wrong, it's not exactly the end of the world.</b><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Dear 5jj, if that's your attitude, why did you (allegedly) become a teacher, then set yourself up as moderator on this forum? </span><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Forget SOPA and PIPA. What the Internet most needs is a law making this patronising and unhelpful attitude a capital offence.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;">The original thread can be found <a href="http://www.usingenglish.com/forum/ask-teacher/138642-spelling-semicolon-semi-colon.html">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Meanwhile, at <a href="http://yourdictionary.com/">yourdictionary.com</a>, a dimwit even more anonymous than "5jj" is sticking a knife into the definition of a sentence. Hey, at least the nameless one is well-meaning though, right? Here's his attempt to put the word <i>subpoena</i> into a sentence:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Subpoena witnesses to attend court in person to give evidence.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">OK, so maybe I'm being a little harsh here. After all, if it's arguable that a string of words doesn't <i>have</i> to contain, say, an object, to qualify as a sentence, maybe it doesn't need a subject either. (That's a big maybe though - a big, bullshit-covered maybe!) But the point here is this: If your brief is to sit down and compose a sentence containing the word <i>subpoena</i>, the world's your oyster! If the reason for doing it is to help people to understand, why, oh why, would you go out of your way to deliver such a poor example of a sentence? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The website has a contact form which invites users to submit comments and corrections. Perhaps this explains the situation - it's a wiki by another name.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;">The original page can be found <a href="http://sentence.yourdictionary.com/subpoena">here</a>.</span></div>
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English (or perhaps every language) is vulnerable because native speakers often assume that being a native speaker means they're good at speaking (or writing) it, and/or that their opinions about it are inherently correct. The examples given above show otherwise.</div>
The real point here is that the Internet's ability to give everyone a voice isn't always a Good Thing. Me, I'll take the piss when I see a mistake online, just as I'd nudge someone and point to a mistake in a book. And I'll do it in public, using the Web as a platform. It's my way (my only way!) of fighting back. But set myself up as an expert? Slap the word "Teacher" on my profile and swagger around a forum offering to bestow my expertise on lesser beings? I may be cocky, but I'm not <i>that </i>cocky.<i> </i><br />
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-7204424036951910192013-01-15T23:20:00.000-08:002014-08-04T18:40:38.600-07:00Two shades of grey?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've just read a <a href="http://www.maxbarry.com/2013/01/15/news.html">blog entry</a> by author <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Max%20Barry&search-alias=books-uk">Max Barry</a>. The entry is called <i>Book Sadist</i> and contains photographs of books literally coming apart at the seams. Max discusses the interesting distinction between the terms <i>story</i> and <i>book</i> - words we often use interchangeably. He observes that stories can be owned in ebook form, but that a certain tactile experience is absent from that form, as is the potential cumulative visual pleasure of having a shelf full of books. So far, so good.<br />
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But then Max proceeds to talk about two types of book owner. Just to be clear on this point, I must stress that Max implicitly states there are only these two extremes, describing "people who have treated books with reverence, laminating their covers, turning their pages with care, and never cracking their spines" then continuing "And there have been people like me." From a strictly logical standpoint, this doesn't claim every book owner is one of these types, but it's clear from the tone that this is what Max believes.<br />
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Max then proudly displays pictures to illustrate what a real story-lover's books look like. He says he doesn't deliberately destroy books, and I believe him. What I don't buy into is the idea that a tatty book shows that the story is loved or that a pristine one shows the opposite. (Max gives the clear impression that if you ask him to autograph your copy of his next book and it's not in tatters, he'll know you don't think much of it.)<br />
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I'd like to suggest that viewing the book-owning public as comprised of two extremes is a bit naive. Maybe there are uptight people to whom a book is merely a bookshelf decoration. And, as Max's post shows, there's at least one person incapable of reading a book several times without destroying the thing. But then there's the vast majority: Normal book lovers (in Max's terms, <i>story</i> lovers - far out, man!) who enjoy the stories just as much as anyone (yes, Max, including you!), yet have enough self-control to read and re-read without shredding the pages or dismantling the spine. (As an aside, one has to wonder why someone who didn't mean to read a book over and over would bother to laminate its cover. I laminate books precisely <i>because</i> I intend to read them a lot.)<br />
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Max's attitude is curiously at odds with his behaviour. He seems to claim the intellectual or moral high ground, valuing the meaning and emotion of a story above the mundane object which stores it. But his pride in the battle-scarred condition of his books betrays at least some degree of materialism, albeit of an unconventional form.<br />
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I just want to come back to the subject of ebooks before I sign off. While we're all busy patting ourselves on the back for valuing content over medium, Amazon is laughing all the way to the bank - or at least getting ready to. When they're old enough to appreciate them, my sons can have my favourite books. And if they don't love the stories as much as I did, they can give the books away - possibly to a charity shop, to be bought by a complete stranger who might but might not have enough money for an ereader.<br />
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But the books can only find their way into the lives of these people...<br />
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<li>IF they haven't disintegrated through needless abuse. And yes, Max's books have been abused. I have books (ok, ok, stories!) I've read just as many times, and (sit down for this, Max!) <i>loved just as much</i>, which are still in a decent state.</li>
<li>IF they exist in physical form at all. There are many seductive arguments for buying ebooks, from tree-saving, to weight-saving. But valuing story over medium isn't one of the best. And even the (sometimes) lower cover price isn't the be-all-end-all of cost the to reading public. A book I buy for my Kindle can't be passed, via a second-hand shop or charity shop, into the hands of strangers who share my love of fiction. This is the bit Amazon and its like find so amusing. The reading public, as a whole, must buy, buy, and re-buy these books. (oops, sorry - "stories", man.) As an author, I suppose I ought to side with the corporation on this particular issue. I ought to be citing that front-matter small-print no one ever reads - the bit that says "this book shall not be lent, resold, etc". And I do love ebooks*. But I'm a story lover at heart, and story - as Max rightly says - trumps medium. That's something we seem to forget in our headlong rush to the sunny slopes of Mt. Technology. </li>
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One thing I think Max and I share is a bewildered amusement at anyone who'd buy a book simply because it looked good on the shelf. Or, worse, so that it would make the shelf's owner look good. On an intellectual level I can <i>understand</i> the behaviour, but - as Max wrote of people taking care of stuff, <i>I have to admit I don't quite get it. </i></div>
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* <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Mostly because my weak old eyes can see 'em better! </span></div>
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-79392776350785179342013-01-11T22:34:00.004-08:002015-02-06T08:43:52.772-08:00Less voodoo, more rocket science<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal;">Thanks to a tweet by <a href="https://twitter.com/jojo_rossiter">Joanna Rossiter</a>, I've just seen this (rather dated) <a href="http://www.spectator.co.uk/books/7601478/life-and-letters-the-creative-writing-controversy/">piece in The Spectator</a>, by established novelist Allan Massie, and feel the time has come to start venting spleen in this-'ere blog.</span><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Like many others, Mr Massie pours scorn on the idea that creative writing is something that can or should be taught. I don't agree with him.</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Just to be clear: I'm not defending my OU diploma. (At least, not in the way the secretly dismayed owner of an overpriced-but-sexy computer or mobile phone will defend their purchase with increasingly evangelical fervour rather than admit they pissed their money away on tat that doesn't work properly.) For the umpteenth time, I'll go on the record and say The Open University's creative writing courses were lacking. (Particularly A363, the "Advanced" one. In the case of A363, "lacking" is standing in for "shite"!) The peer contact and support, together with (postcode lottery permitting) tutor encouragement was great - almost worth the course fees on their own if I'm honest. But the actual courses (sorry, "modules"!) compare very poorly with the books on my list of <a href="http://twofingernovelist.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/read-all-about-it.html">Recommended Creative Writing Books</a>, which can be bought in its entirety for £120 (about a third of the cost of each OU course when I did them; not even a tenth of their current prices). If you're prepared to even entertain the idea that I may be right making this comparison, then, with careful shopping, you could probably get the entire list for well under £50 - well worth a flutter? I have digressed a bit, but hope I've convinced you that I'm no university fanboy.</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Whether or not creative writing can be taught, it's undeniable that it can be appraised. Subjective though the process may be, it wouldn't be too difficult to find a body of opinion holding that, say, Jane Austen's handling of character motivation is pretty bloody nifty. (Or that reading Dr Seuss is more fun than reading Miss Austen.) Bear with me - I am going somewhere with this, honest! Whether the literary merits of my own own writing are closer to Pride and Prejudice, The Cat in the Hat, or a note Tommy Robinson left out for his milkman, everyone who's read it, friends and strangers, siblings and spouse, would tell you it's better now than it used to be. And here's the thing: It's not down to some slippery concept like "experience"; I've lived a shamefully sheltered life in many ways (especially in terms of relationships) and did BUGGER ALL writing between the utter crap I wrote before my twenty-year textbook orgy and the crap I write now. Go figure!</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-weight: normal;">For me, even hallowed stuff like "inspiration" turned out to be something that could be achieved (though not, I hasten to add, with ease) by dint of adopting the right attitude and techniques. Hell, many established authors admit as much! Douglas Adams modestly attributed his greatest success to a flash of inspiration but was quick to point out that it was a one-off. Ideas don't usually come to you while you're lying in a field, he said, "<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;">you just have to sit there and </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;">think of the little</span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 17.77777862548828px;"><i> bastards</i>."</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 17.765625px;">It's understandable that some who (think they) are "naturally" good at writing should wish their craft to be unteachable. They never come up with any reason that any aspect of their arcane vocation is beyond the reach of mortals - unless you count an "It just is!" stance as reason. They hate the idea that the pedestal upon which they sit might have room for more. That is all.</span></span></div>
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-6148066272996379302012-12-03T04:44:00.000-08:002014-03-16T07:04:22.992-07:00Mr Angry goes to the Library<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've used Luton's Central Library once or twice in the past, and come away feeling frustrated each time. This week I decided to pop in again, to see whether they had anything that would help me research my novel. I was braced for the worst, but thought to myself <i>how bad can it be?</i><br />
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When I arrived, I got into the lift and pressed the appropriate button. Nothing happened. I pressed the button again, and again nothing happened. An elderly gentleman approached the lift, at which point the doors tried to slide shut. I gave the door sensor a thump, to save the newcomer a squishing, then returned to the business of piloting the lift. After a couple more button presses, the doors closed properly, and the floor gave a lurch. A few seconds later, the doors opened, and we stepped out... into the foyer. We scrambled back into the lift, playing Indiana Jones with the doors, and tried again. Eventually we reached the first floor. As I disembarked, I glanced behind me to see the doors closing with the elderly gentleman still inside. There was a silent pleading in his eyes as they met mine. But I was already too far away to save him, so I just gave him the kind of smile you give a relative on their deathbed. I don't know what became of the elderly gentleman. Perhaps he's still riding the library elevator, wearily trying different combinations of buttons, and suspicious of the doors' intentions if they happen to open occasionally.<br />
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And so I arrived at the adult library. It's a big, open space - 500 square-metres at a guess. The floor where I stood holds a computer area, the fiction section, and whatever they call the library equivalent of a nurses' station. It's not a checking-out desk (that's all done by machines on the ground floor) but more a kind of display case of what I shall indulgently call librarians. Steps lead up to a mezzanine, where the non-fiction section is. Make a note of that, in case you're ever in Luton and find yourself in need of a non-fiction book. You need to make a note for two reasons. The first reason is that I've already told you far more about its location than any sign that's visible as you enter the space from the direction of the stairwell and lifts. It's true: <i>There is no sign to indicate where fiction and non-fiction books may be found. </i>The second reason is that Waterstones closed their Luton branch a while back, leaving a parting "F*** you!" in the window, saying "We hope to see our loyal customers in our nearest alternative branch (Hemel Hemstead)." Tossers.<br />
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But I was one step ahead of the malevolent force responsible for making sure visiting Luton Central Library is as unproductive and time-consuming as possible, because I already knew where the non-fiction books are hidden. I can't remember whether I originally found out by wandering about searching, by getting fed up and asking a member of staff, or by following a sign which someone later saw fit to remove.<br />
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The other key piece of insider info I can give you is the location of the "card index" - or, more properly, its modern, microprocessor-controlled descendant. There's a computer on a small table, just to the left of the mezzanine steps. Don't be discouraged by the fact that the screen is off - that's just someone's idea of a joke (or a screensaver. If you must have a screensaver, why not have one that indicates the machine is in working order and powered-up?)<br />
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So, I approached the computer and gave its greasy mouse a wiggle.<br />
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I won't give a detailed account of using the library's computer catalogue. For one thing, the episode has been repressed by whichever part of my mind Freud claimed takes care of self-preservation, so I don't recall much. For another thing, I'm aware that my lust for user-friendly interfaces with computers puts me in a minority in these times of Bigger, Better, Faster, More, when <i>whether</i> a system can do something is considered important, but <i>how much hair one must tear out accomplishing it</i> is not.<br />
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I'll just skip straight to the part where I was climbing the mezzanine steps clutching a piece of paper with a Dewey number written on it.<br />
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And here is where the problems began. Yes, you did read that right. Up till then there had been only minor irritations. You see, once you reach the mezzanine, you're on your own, me old mucker! You have, understandably, arrived armed with a Dewey number. You cast your eyes over the shelves, to see which general area your number might be found in. Problem: They do not mark the shelves with the Dewey numbers. Not even a little bit*.<br />
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YOU HAVE TO WALK RIGHT UP TO A SHELF, LEAN FORWARD, AND PEER AT THE SPINE OF A BOOK, IN ORDER TO GET AN IDEA OF WHERE YOU ARE IN THE LIBRARY'S SYSTEM.<br />
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This is just the tip (albeit a bloody annoying and time-consuming tip) of the iceberg. Because, if you happen to be looking for a 900+ Dewey number, like I was, you have to do this close-up check <i>all the way around the room</i> before you get the creeping suspicion that you're on a wild goose chase. (On that particular day the task was made more interesting by the fact that there was <i>Men At Work</i> barrier halfway round. This didn't prevent access to any shelves, but did mean that I had to retrace my steps to the stairs and approach from the opposite direction.)<br />
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I actually went round twice, to be sure - to work up enough crossness for when I asked a staff member WTF was going on. I traipsed back down the steps, approached the exhibition of "librarians", waited while three of them finished contemplating a fourth's navel, then asked "If I have a Dewey number, how can I tell where to start looking for the book?"<br />
"What's the number?" the chap asked brightly.<br />
"Ohhh no!" I waggled a finger at him. "No clues! I want to learn how to navigate here. How to find the next number on my list, should I still have the will to live by the time I get that far."<br />
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He seemed disappointed that I wished to break the endless stream of confused visitors needing his assistance on a book-by-book basis, but eventually waved an arm at the mezzanine, saying "Well, the numbers start in that corner and go around the room in that direction [clockwise, from above, which we weren't of course]."<br />
I was a bit sceptical, and he seemed to sense it, adding "But you can't get past that bit there, because we have a visiting team of Obscurifators in that section. They Tipp-Ex out the Dewey numbers, ensuring me a job for life."<br />
Actually, he didn't say that. I think it was more along the lines of carpet-fitting.<br />
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So I took my scepticism and reascended the steps, and made my way to the shelves at the opposite end from the starting-point the librarian had indicated. I peered at a book. Then I peered at another one. Sighing, I went to the other side of the shelf and did some more peering. Out of desperation, I sank to my knees and had a good peer at the books on the bottom shelf.<br />
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Two minutes later I was back downstairs, saying through clenched teeth, "The numbers only go up to 899!"<br />
My new friend gave a smile of the sort that makes you want to grab someone by the ears and drive their face onto your knee.<br />
"That's because the 900's are down here, next to the Westerns."<br />
I blinked.<br />
"Not enough room up there" he offered. To his credit, I think he sensed he was courting physical danger at this point.<br />
Resigned to an afternoon in a library made of poo and staffed by arseholes, I decided that chumminess was my only option.<br />
"I'll bet you get fed up with having to explain that to daft customers all day long." I smiled, trying not to look like Hannibal Lecter. "I'll bet you wish your managers would put up some signs explaining all this. Or, God forbid, label the shelves with the one piece of information your catalogue gives."<br />
But it was like trying to explain Heaven to a bear. Not only does their cockamamie setup ensure the staff are never short of depressed people to keep waiting, the sheer joy of explaining it all twenty or thirty times a day was evidently high on this man's list of reasons to go to work every morning, rather than, say, sticking his toothbrush up his nose and doing that brain-liquidising trick the embalmers used to do on dead pharaohs.<br />
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The ironic thing (or one of the ironic things, for there were many that day) was that when I eventually found the shelf containing books about Victorian England, I discovered one of the best on the subject I've yet seen.<br />
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Needless to say, I made my escape quickly and ordered it from Amazon.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="text-align: left;">Luton Central Library. Even the photo from their website sucks.</span><br style="text-align: left;" /><span style="text-align: left;">In real life the building has a flat facade! WTF!</span></span></td></tr>
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* <span style="font-size: x-small;">They do occasionally mark them - in letters too small to read from the other side of the room - with subject headings. But, assuming most visitors haven't committed the Dewey system to memory, where's the help in seeing a sign saying "Computers" if you're looking for one that says "Gardening"? While I'm digressing, let me give a brief mention to Luton Central Library's fiction section. Last time he secured day release from whichever institution he rents a rubber room in, the library manager decided that sorting fiction books by author surname is for wimps. So he created a largely arbitrary set of categories, then set his minions loose deciding which books belong in which category. So, if you're looking for a book which doesn't very clearly fall within one genre and one genre alone, you should expect to try several of these categories before locating it. And here's the thing: Each category is, in itself, sorted by author surname. Needless to say, the categories are arranged in a completely random order, just to add spice to proceedings. HMV <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-21021073">used</a> to carry on like this. Just sayin'. )</span> </div>
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-36160222157775909512012-08-10T02:23:00.000-07:002013-01-17T20:29:09.467-08:00A363 end-of-course feedback (Or, "Mr Angry Goes to Town")<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Today I took advantage of the opportunity to give feedback on A363, using an online questionnaire. Highlights from my responses are below. Apologies for typos, etc. I was "typing angry", lol.</div>
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<li style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><strong>[33]</strong> The guidance in the Assignment Booklet seemed to have been written to test us more than guide us. The advice for TMA 03 referenced at least two other sources of advice, one of which used terms not sufficiently explained - least of all in the main course book. I spent an entire day simply collating the scattered bits of advice and fragmented TMA requirements, and trying to draw a single coherent assignment from it. It was hard work, but I did it in the end. I firmly believe that it was this, plus a ruthlessly tactical approach to my choice of discussion material, which earned me a score higher than most of those I talked to. Seems a bit wrong to me.</span></li>
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<li style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><strong>[39]</strong> Three of the six TMAs were returned to us significantly later than the expected two-week deadline. In the case of TMA 06, this directly and adversely affected my own EMA performance (and that of MANY of my peers) because we were supposed to use TMA 06 tutor feedback to guide us. We plan to write to the appropriate PVC about this.</span></li>
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<li style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><strong>[49] </strong>The only significant benefit I had from this course was peer support. That aside, I could have taken the course fee, spent half of it on a short holiday, spent half the remainder on booze, then spent half of what was left on creative writing books from Amazon, and been in a better position to develop my skills. I'd have beer money too. (In fact, I have said this many times to peers and to prospective enrolees. I have even created a "List" on Amazon which I refer potential A363 victims to.) The inadequacy of this course was quite staggering.</span></li>
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<li style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><strong>[Forgot to record question number - was to do with what I'd like to have seen I think.] </strong>More nitty-gritty creative writing technique, and less airy-fairy useless stuff. If you must try to take it to a higher plane, refer more to Campbell's mythic structure and material of similar repute.</span></li>
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<li style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><strong>[60]</strong> The module has failed to contribute to the achievement of my overall study goals. Although I tried to link A363 and A215 to the E25 Diploma in Literature and Creative Writing a long time ago, I have not been awarded that diploma. Apparently the OU has decided not to issue this diploma any more. It would be irritating enough to do the exact same work as my predecessors and not be awarded the same diploma, but some of my own A363 cohort HAVE been awarded the diploma this past week! When I checked my qualification planner I found that A215 has been removed. The official statement of progress states that the (only) reason I do not have the diploma is lack of points. The official statement does not mention the award being defunct. Be assured that well over 100 other students are currently discussing this issue on Facebook and we all expect the OU to do the right thing. This is just the latest in a series of spectacular screw-ups, starting with absentee tutors, and including inexcusably and disastrously late returns of TMAs. I feel a letter to the national press coming on.</span></li>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">Sadly, the threatened letters to a Pro Vice-Chancellor and national newspaper were never written. Once again, the OU got away with very shoddy service because of what I call TFFT Syndrome. Students are so relieved to see the back of a course that their resolve to make a fuss about its quality wanes. We should have complained, but didn't. Shame on us. </span></span><br />
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-73434978587756954442012-07-01T23:01:00.000-07:002017-07-16T04:40:55.793-07:00Read all about it<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3l9oQZVf2zE/UPOECD8892I/AAAAAAAAAYs/bABogWDicMk/s1600/CW+Books.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3l9oQZVf2zE/UPOECD8892I/AAAAAAAAAYs/bABogWDicMk/s320/CW+Books.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Some of my fellow students enjoyed The Open University's course in "<a href="http://www3.open.ac.uk/courses/a363-podcastcourse/">Advanced creative writing</a>", but, if the posts in the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/groups/a3632011/">dedicated Facebook group</a> were anything to go by, many were disappointed. In fact, a significant minority felt short-changed by a course which simply didn't do what it said on the tin. <br />
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I'm somewhere in the middle, but only because it's the average between two extreme positions. I loved the mutual support thing with my fellow students, and my tutor was fun (if slow at marking) but I despise the course book and those responsible for it. More than once I've ended up angrily claiming that one could spend the course fee on a nice little holiday and use the change buying thirteen books from Amazon which would outshine A363's <i>Big Blue Book</i>. When challenged to put my URL where my mouth was, I'd often already moved on to another whinge in another thread, so here it is... click here: <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Recommended-Creative-Writing-Books/lm/R1YEQMGYXBHRG9/ref=cm_lm_byauthor_title_full">My recommended reading list</a>.<br />
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I'll write detailed reviews of some of the most important books on that page in due course, but for now, here's a very quick mention for my top three:<br />
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<li><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Writers-Journey-Mythic-Structure/dp/193290736X/ref=cm_lmf_tit_1">The Writer's Journey</a> - absolutely indispensable. If you aren't familiar with the concepts in this book, you risk severely handicapping yourself from the start. </li>
<li><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Getting-into-Character-Secrets-Novelist/dp/0471058947/ref=cm_lmf_tit_5">Getting into Character</a> - promises "secrets from method acting that can be used by writers" and it delivers. In spades. </li>
<li><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Nuts-Bolts-Writing-Michael-Legat/dp/0709034504/ref=cm_lmf_tit_4">The Nuts and Bolts of Writing</a><span id="goog_622143533"></span> - To be honest, there are many books of this sort, but I have a soft spot for the much-missed Michael Legat, as it was one of his very accessible books that first made me realise (a) I might not have been born a literary giant and (b) <a href="http://twofingernovelist.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/ive-just-came-across-this-rather-dated.html">there might be something I could do about it.</a></li>
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<u><i>If you only read three creative writing books in your life,</i></u><br />
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<b>BONUS RECOMMENDATION </b></div>
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After seeing it mentioned in various corners of the Internet, I took a chance on <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Creative-Writing-Advanced-College-Classes/dp/B0007DKSAC/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1500203452&sr=8-2&keywords=creative+writing+george+williams" target="_blank">Creative Writing for Advanced College Classes by George Williams</a>. Published in 1954, it needs allowances made for some old-fashioned (and entirely incidental) attitudes. But it's solid gold. Its first half in particular is packed with tips of the goodness-I've-been-writing-like-a-turd variety. Sadly, the going rate on Amazon is about thirty quid, but - if you can afford it - it's an excellent follow-up read to the Legat book mentioned above.</div>
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-34177245636888953662012-05-05T09:38:00.000-07:002013-01-17T20:35:34.337-08:00A363 TMA 06 part 2: Commentary<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Why a commentary, but no creative writing? Because I'm continuing the story I developed over TMA 04, TMA 06, and the EMA as my first novel, and I'm being secretive about it! :-)</i><br />When I look back at this commentary it seems horribly stilted. The trouble was that I had so much to say and only 500 words in which to say it, so it ended up reading like notes on the back of a fag packet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Please note that certain details have been removed for reasons of professional coyness :-)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>COMMENTARY</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I
renamed the main characters for increased authenticity. Pronunciation of [protagonist's name] could be a problem for readers, and the word is not pretty, so I may abandon
it, though [it] has traditional resonance which would be great for the
character to learn about from his mentor.The
story is set in [a real location] rather than a fictional [one] because I relished the
prospect of researching<a href="file:///C:/Users/Greg/AppData/Local/Temp/Temp1_A363-11J_06.zip/A363_11J_TMA06_477273_v027.doc#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: black; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 200%;"><sup>[1]</sup></span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> real locations and letting characters
loose in them. I will, however, try to avoid offending present-day [residents].I must take care writing about people of a different time and
culture. I found Shawl and Ward’s (2011) discussion of ‘unmarked state’
helpful, and have adapted their ROAARS<a href="file:///C:/Users/Greg/AppData/Local/Temp/Temp1_A363-11J_06.zip/A363_11J_TMA06_477273_v027.doc#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: #363636; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 200%;"><sup>[2]</sup></span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> model to suit historical writing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Revised plan:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">[Mysterious objects] treated as incidental at first. Their significance is
revealed later.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Main quest is finding [protagonist's] kinfolk (alive).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">[Protagonist's] call to action is realisation that he isn’t a proper
member of the [...] household. (He
alone is punished for something both boys did.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">[Sidekick's] call is, he rationalises, necessity of supervising [Protagonist]. I will show it to be more about guilt (which blossoms into loyalty.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">Boys discover awful truth – [...] in a
desolate valley.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">[Person] responsible for [that location] tries to stop
the boys. His actions are less malevolent than they believe, but lead to their
tragic deaths anyway, thus preserving the secret and leaving intact the history
we know.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span>Feedback for my proposal suggested establishing
the relationship between the two leads early. I have attempted this with an
opening scene in which [Sidekick's] callous and condescending attitude to [Protagonist] contrasts with the latter’s naïve acceptance of this. I was advised to include an inciting incident in Chapter 1, but may
not do so until Chapter 3. I’m unsure whether the shortness of my chapters
mitigates this! I plan to follow the advice to include a shock before the end of
the EMA. This will be the moment the boys realise, through violent turn of
events, the ‘friendly’ person is trying to thwart them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Finally, I was advised to consider the usefulness of
foreshadowing. I have opened with a flash-forward to the end of the boys’
adventure. This is intended to arouse the reader’s curiosity about how the boys
came to that pass, and to cast a fatalistic shadow over the story. However, I
mean to give the reader such an exciting story that the flash-forward slips his
mind until the final page, where he suddenly finds himself with the [pursuers] at
the [showdown location], a helpless witness to the boys’ final moments.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis">[Word
count: 516, of which 116 are Revised Plan.]</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Reference</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Shawl,
N. and Ward, C. (2011) <i>Writing the Other</i>,
Seattle, WA: Aqueduct Press.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/Greg/AppData/Local/Temp/Temp1_A363-11J_06.zip/A363_11J_TMA06_477273_v027.doc#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 200%;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>
I have researched communications, timekeeping, and weather, but have yet
to cover clothing/uniforms, eating habits, and occupations.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/Greg/AppData/Local/Temp/Temp1_A363-11J_06.zip/A363_11J_TMA06_477273_v027.doc#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 200%;">[2]</span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 200%;">
‘Race, Orientation (sexual), Age, Ability, Religion, Sex’. Because my
orientation is the same as my characters’, I was able to replace ‘Orientation’
with ‘Era’. (Yeah, I know...)</span></span><br />
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-39632876054275481992012-04-15T02:15:00.000-07:002014-08-05T02:01:31.859-07:00A363 TMA 05<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="line-height: 20px;"><b>Tutor-Marked Assignment</b></span><br />
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<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 20px;">Task 1: Write a 1500-word piece of fiction or life writing, <i>or</i> 2-7 poems totalling 80-100 lines.</span></li>
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 20px;">Task 2: Write a 750-word "commentary" about the process, reflecting on form, structure, and style.</span></li>
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 20px;">Due date:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 20px;"> 15 March 2012</span></li>
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 20px;">Mark: About 86% overall. <i>Actual mark is temporarily unavailable on a dead hard drive!</i></span></li>
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I<i> have no idea why the line spacing changes part of the way through the commentary after being pasted into Blogger! :-/</i></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8544463280970066380" name="OLE_LINK2"></a><b> Option 1 – prose. Genre: Fiction<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Title: The
Three Prisoners<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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This story has been removed because it has now been published in the anthology <i>Here's One I Made Earlier</i>, available from Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00BEZC2EM/ref=as_sl_pd_tf_lc?tag=578publish-21&camp=2902&creative=19466&linkCode=as4&creativeASIN=B00BEZC2EM&adid=0R519SJ76RPR0K9231FP&&ref-refURL=http%3A%2F%2Ftwofingernovelist.blogspot.co.uk%2F" style="font-weight: bold;" target="_blank">here</a><b>.</b></div>
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<b>Commentary<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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The Three Prisoners is an extension of a true
story described by a magistrate as ‘one of the most extraordinary cases that
have ever been brought into a Court of Justice.’ In preparing to write it, one of the most
important processes was the selective omission of details which, though
arrestingly dramatic in reality, were so fantastic that they would probably
have destroyed the reader’s suspension of disbelief. An additional benefit of
making these omissions was that the fraudster’s crimes were not so extreme that
they eclipsed the story I wanted to tell: That of three of his victims still
feeling irrationally beholden to him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Beyond the date of his conviction, the fraudster’s
life is not well documented but I was not free to do as I pleased. For example,
a German lady could not meet a German man from a British prison in 1917. (They
would both be interned.) I therefore took a liberty with the dates, choosing December
1918 to keep the change as small as possible. This change had direct consequences
for the narrative I had already written (e.g., the crowd in the <i>Sawyer’s Arms</i> had to find something other
than the war to talk about.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
My choice
of form was no choice at all: I learned from A215 that the skill and time
required for creating poetry are both far in excess of what I can supply.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">My choices regarding structure and style were dictated by what I hope was
logic. Firstly, since the story is intensely concerned with the perverted
relationships between characters, I was keen to keep settings in the
background. For this reason I deliberately avoided applying film technique to
fiction, as described by Anderson (2009), to evoke settings. I did, however,
mimic cinematic ‘cuts’ (Anderson, 2009) when transitioning the narrative
viewpoints. I did this by establishing visual anchors (e.g., Anna’s red face,
Joseph’s grin, etc) ahead of the cut and then referencing that anchor after the
cut (and from the next viewpoint character’s perspective.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Wanting a surprise ending I had to walk the tightrope between dropping in
enough clues to make things fair and giving so much away that the effect was
lost. My original synopsis had the travellers having a conversation into which
I could insert exposition and backstories. However, I found I could not sustain
this for seven or eight pages, even by ignoring my pet hate of supposedly
‘real’ people delivering narrative prose in dialogue. Therefore, I reluctantly
chose to split the viewpoint between the travellers, knowing that, like flashbacks, defies the conventions of the short story form. Although my
approach has an arguably positive aspect – in that ‘[unlike a movie] it
probes the inner workings of the mind’ (Anderson, 2009) I am aware that it
forces the story to rely rather too heavily upon the ‘telling’ of backstory
which would, ideally, have been revealed better by ‘showing’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">As I already knew how I would go about ‘splicing the strands’ (Neale,
2009<sup>1</sup>) in my final scene, the only structural issues still to be
addressed were the order in which I would present those strands and how long each would
be. My chief concern was maintaining the illusion that they were going to meet
three different people, so I decided to separate the women’s sections by
placing Joseph’s between them. I hoped to reduce the risk of the reader
inferring that both women had married the same man. In order to play down the
bigamy somewhat, I called the fraudster a ‘scoundrel’ in the section </span><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I</span><span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> heading, reserving the word ‘bigamist’ for section </span><span style="font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 200%;">III</span><span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">. The strand lengths were influenced by my desire to
avoid boring the reader. I reasoned that by the time the reader reached the
third strand, the unfolding pattern would be evident, so I endeavoured to make
each of the second and third strands shorter than its predecessor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I found myself acting ‘as an impersonator, mimicking the various voices’
(Neale, 2009<sup>2</sup>) in the story by adjusting the language according to
which viewpoint character I was writing for, while trying not to get too bogged
down in dialect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">My last conscious style choice was made very late in the writing process:
I decided to switch tenses, using the present tense to describe the viewpoint
characters in the trains. I did this to reduce the danger of their past-tense
reminiscences (flashbacks, in essence) being confusing to the reader. I also
switched to the present tense for the final few paragraphs of action, but for a
different reason: Dramatic immediacy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="IntenseEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">[Word
count: 750]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">References<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Anderson,
L. (2009) ‘Film technique in fiction’, in D. Neale (ed) <i>A Creative Writing Handbook</i>, London: A & C Black<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Neale, D.
(2009<sup>1</sup>) ‘Splicing the strands’, in D. Neale (ed) <i>A Creative Writing Handbook</i>, London: A
& C Black<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Neale, D.
(2009<sup>2</sup>) ‘Voices in fiction’, in D. Neale (ed) <i>A Creative Writing Handbook</i>, London: A & C Black<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-7528079781063568752012-03-19T20:55:00.000-07:002014-08-05T01:59:38.401-07:00Book Review: "Writing the Other" by Shawl and Ward<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Writing-Other-Conversation-Pieces-ebook/dp/B0065MZ26O/ref=cm_cr-mr-title" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7isM915cS-s/UPjSPZvSLtI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/BHsfbp9qVhE/s1600/WTO.jpg" /></a><b>Title</b>: Writing the Other (A Practical Approach)<br />
<b>Authors</b>: Nisi Shawl and Cynthia Ward<br />
<b>Format</b>: Kindle Edition<br />
<b>Length</b>: 122 pages<br />
<b>Price </b>(at time of writing): £3.82<br />
<br />
<b>Available from</b> Amazon <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Writing-Other-Conversation-Pieces-ebook/dp/B0065MZ26O/ref=cm_cr-mr-title">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>This book is about...</b><br />
<br />
Coping with problems which can arise when writers try to create characters whose gender, sexual preference, and age differ significantly from their own.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>I bought this book because...</b><br />
<br />
I'm in my forties, but the protagonist in the novel I'm writing is 13.<br />
I was born in 1968; he was born in 1867.<br />
He's was child of tribal Africans, was born into poverty, and was adopted; I wasn't.<br />
I wanted a fresh perspective on my writing, in case I was unwittingly making silly mistakes.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>What I think of it...</b><br />
<br />
Let me start by saying that this book does have some very useful pointers.<br />
<br />
However, it's marred by the chips on the authors' shoulders. The book would work better, irk less, and paint a more flattering picture of its writers, if they had resisted the urge to preach apparently prejudiced, arguably inaccurate, and certainly unhelpful views.<br />
<br />
For the modest (Kindle) price this book is worth getting because it more or less does what it says on the tin - you can just ignore the thinly disguised sermons. Once you look past the diatribes you find an extremely useful model for looking at the issue at hand. The basic approaches Shawl and Ward describe will certainly help me in my own writing.<br />
<br />
But if another book on this subject is published I'll snap it up as I don't feel I already have this base completely covered.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-11248000683129807982012-01-05T00:46:00.000-08:002013-01-16T02:35:33.102-08:00A363 TMA 02<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b>Tutor-Marked Assignment</b></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Task 1: Write an 15-minute adaptation of the story written for TMA 01 for stage, radio, or film.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Task 2: Write a 500-word "commentary" about the process, describing how the task was approached, what changes to the story and characters proved necessary, etc..</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Due date:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> 5 January 2012</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Mark: About 87% overall. <i>Actual mark is temporarily unavailable on a dead hard drive, but I remember that it was 1% +/- from TMA 01 mark.</i></span></span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i>Sharp-eyed readers will notice the last-accessed dates in the reference section are later than the TMA's due date. This is because I was granted a deadline extension.</i><br /><br /><i>I've just pasted the script into this blog page and hoped for the best. The formatting </i><i><u>seems</u>, but apologies are offered in advance if any layout weirdness has crept in.</i></span></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<hr color="000000" size="1" width="50%" />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8544463280970066380" name="OLE_LINK1"><b><br /></b></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8544463280970066380" name="OLE_LINK2"></a><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;">
</span></b><!--[endif]--><b>Script
for film<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Keeping Shtum<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">by Greg Withnail<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Cast
list:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna:
55-year-old schoolmistress<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Young
Isaac: Johanna’s son, aged 5<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Adult
Isaac: Johanna’s son, aged 30<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jacob: former
student of Johanna<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Kurt:
German non-commissioned officer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Wilfred:
70-year-old ex-serviceman<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Soldier
#1: 45-year-old German<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Soldier
#2<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Soldier
#3<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE IN:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT. PADDINGTON
STATION. EVENING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The station is crowded. A newspaper stand's
sandwich board reads "MARTIN LUTHER KING ASSASSINATED."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA waits at barrier with WILFRED. An
envelope protrudes from Wilfred's breast pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="DialogueCxSpFirst" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's late.</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Wilfred squints over his
glasses at the station clock. It reads half-past seven.</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">WILFRED</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Only a couple of minutes.</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOANNA</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">What if I don’t recognise him?</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Wilfred taps the envelope in
his jacket pocket. It looks worn, as if it has been opened and closed many
times. He smiles patiently.</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">WILFRED</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The photograph he sent last
week is recent.</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(pause)</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Look! Here it comes.</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna looks down the track. Train approaches.</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Guard's whistle sounds. Johanna
visibly jumps at the sound, and looks around.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">WILFRED</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Easy there, my Schätzchen.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He squeezes her hand.</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Guard's whistle gives several
blasts, which continue as Johanna gazes at the approaching train. On the
soundtrack, the guard’s whistle is joined by the distinctive sound of a
police-style whistle. All station noise fades, but the police-style whistle
continues as we...</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE TO WHITE</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE IN:</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpMiddle" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">EXT. WARSAW GHETTO. DAY.</span></span></div>
<div class="DialogueCxSpLast" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The street is lined with run-down and
boarded-up terraced houses. Some roofs are missing. The road is strewn with
rubble, clothing, and other debris. Snow falls. Police-style whistle continues.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna's hand is squeezing a smaller one. It
belongs to YOUNG ISAAC. The pair is at the bottom of some basement steps,
hiding from a passing military truck. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It's
gone. Come on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She leads Young Isaac across street at a
weary half-run. They reach a closed door. Young Isaac sinks to sit on the
ground when Johanna releases his hand to try the door. The door is locked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(under
her breath)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oy shtup!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She grabs Young Isaac's arm and hauls him to
his feet. She moves towards the next house. Young Isaac stumbles and Johanna
stops to steady him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Careful,
my love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They reach a FRONT DOOR, which opens to
Johanna’s push. They stumble inside and the door slams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT. BAKERY. DAY.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Ceilings
and roof are missing. Window is boarded-up on the outside. The word
"PIEKARNIA" is painted back-to-front on the glass. Front Door has a
large sliding bolt on the inside. A heavy snow-covered table stands in the
middle of the room. A metal bread oven is set in the rear wall. Its door is
closed. Beside it is a SECOND DOOR, which has a sagging lintel. It is also
closed. Snow falls.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The
muted sound of a police-style whistle reaches the room intermittently
throughout the scene.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Young
Isaac wanders dazedly towards the table as Johanna bolts Front Door.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">How's your knee, my love?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(beat)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Let me see.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
crouches before Young Isaac. He stares right through her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA (CONT’D)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oh!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
stifles a sob and suddenly hugs Young Isaac, rocking him as she says...<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: center;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA (CONT’D)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My
baby, my baby.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">YOUNG ISAAC<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(mumbling, his face pressed to
Johanna's chest)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Are they going to kill us Mummy?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">
What?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
gently pulls Young Isaac's face from her. Their eyes meet as he says...<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">YOUNG ISAAC<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 1in; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">
Are they going to kill us?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Of course not, my love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(laughs unconvincingly)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They've just got orders to chase
us for a while. Just to scare us.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">YOUNG ISAAC<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(weeps)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
hugs him again.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Don't cry, my love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
kisses the top of his head.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA (CONT'D)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They'll soon get cold and go
away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">YOUNG ISAAC<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I'm cold.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You can wear Mummy's coat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She stands and starts to unbutton
her coat.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">YOUNG ISAAC<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(shivering)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Can we light a fire?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They'd see the smoke. Maybe
tomorrow, my love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
takes off her coat and places it around Young Isaac's shoulders. A single
gunshot sounds from a few streets away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(walking to second doorway)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Now, let's see where this leads,
shall we?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
walks to Second Door and pulls at it, but it doesn't move. She pulls harder and
the lintel shifts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">YOUNG ISAAC<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Mummy! <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
looks up in time to see lintel break away from wall. Second Door buckles and
splits but remains in position. Johanna stumbles back and lintel lands where
she had been standing. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
steps gingerly over fallen lintel and gives Second Door a gentle push.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">An
ominous creak is followed by a slow cascade of bricks, plaster, dust, and snow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
stumbles back and collides with Young Isaac, knocking him over. She helps him
to his feet. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When
the dust clears, we see Second Door is blocked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound
of running footsteps from outside. Johanna and Young Isaac turn to look at Front
Door. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Someone
knocks on Front Door. Young Isaac gasps and Johanna clamps her hand over his
mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
and Young Isaac grip one another as the Front Door's handle turns, first one
way, then the other.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(slowly removing her hand from
Young Isaac's mouth)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Shhh!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Clutching
Young Isaac, she backs away from Front Door without taking her eyes off it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Front
Door is kicked from outside. Johanna and Young Isaac start again. Johanna looks
around, frantically.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE">Another
kick makes Front Door rattle in its frame.</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(lifting Young Isaac)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Come on.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
carries Young Isaac to the oven and sets him down gently.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Another
kick to Front Door makes its bolt begin to break away. Sporadic kicking sounds
continue till end of scene.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
pulls open the oven door, revealing the frozen corpse of a small child within.
Johanna flinches.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Close your eyes, my baby. Close
your eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Face
screwed up with distaste, Johanna pulls the corpse from the oven and sets it
gently on the floor. She gags. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Keep those eyes closed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(stoops to pick up Young Isaac)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Time to play hide and seek.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
gently places Young Isaac in oven. She tries to climb into the oven but it is
too high. With difficulty, she drags the table over to the oven, and uses it to
climb inside. As she does so, a crack appears in the wall between Second Door
and oven.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT.
OVEN. DAY.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
and Young Isaac are squashed together, doubled-up, knees touching faces. Bakery
interior visible without.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
reaches out and manages to pull the oven door closed. The oven is plunged into
darkness. Johanna and Young Isaac are barely discernible.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT.
BAKERY. DAY.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna's
fingers release the oven door and disappear from view. Immediately, the oven
door starts to swing open.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
grabs the door and pulls it closed again. This time she keeps hold of it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">With
a crash, Front Door bursts open.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT.
OVEN. DAY.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The
oven's interior is dark. Johanna and Young Isaac are squashed together. Their
eyes are wide. Johanna is leaning awkwardly, holding the oven door closed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound
of Front Door being closed. Sound of panting. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound
of footsteps. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound
of table being dragged across floor. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound
of footsteps rapidly approaching.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The
oven door is flung open.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT.
BAKERY. DAY.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The
police-style whistles sound close. They continue till end of scene.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Visible
in the oven, Johanna clutches Young Isaac protectively, her face buried in his
hair.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(whimpers)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(pause)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
lifts her face and sees JACOB standing there. Table is now against inside of Front
Door.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(very relieved)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jacob?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(laughing)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jacob Eckstein?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JACOB<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Let me in!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There's no room.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound
of shouting from without.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JACOB<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Please!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jacob
tries to climb into the impossibly small space with Johanna and Young Isaac. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There's no room! Don’t be
stupid.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">She
tries to push Jacob away with her foot. He topples backwards, holding her foot,
pulling her after him. They hit the floor together. Pause, while they wait to
see whether they have been heard.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound
of door being broken down in the house next door.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
starts to get up, but Jacob is quicker. He kicks Johanna in the ribs then
stamps on her spine. She collapses face-down in the slush. Jacob grabs Young
Isaac's foot and tries to pull him from the oven. Isaac wriggles free and curls
up into a ball.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
staggers to her feet. She grabs Jacob's arm and pulls him away from the oven.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound
of Front Door handle being turned. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Door
opens an inch and is stopped by table.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JACOB<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(screams)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
releases Jacob. He runs to Second Door and starts to claw at the rubble that
blocks it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There
is a crash from Front Door – someone outside is throwing their weight against
it. The table shifts a couple of inches.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jacob
has made a small gap and starts to wriggle though it. More cracks appear in the
wall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Another
crash at the door pushes the table another inch. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
stands in the middle of the room. She looks at Young Isaac, then at Jacob, and then
at Front Door. She wrings her hands.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The
section of wall above Jacobs suddenly collapses, killing him instantly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">KURT (O.S.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Schnell!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Another
crash at the door pushes the table several more inches.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
stops wringing her hands. She runs to the oven and leans inside.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT.
OVEN. DAY.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Stay here and keep quiet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">ISAAC<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Okay.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound
of crash against door.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">No matter what happens. You
hear?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">ISAAC<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Yes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
kisses him and closes the oven door.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT.
BAKERY. DAY.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Hold this.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Young
Isaac's fingers appear at the bottom edge of the door and grasp it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna
picks her way over the heap of rubble and sits near the protruding legs of
Jacob.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(weeps)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="DialogueChar"><span lang="X-NONE"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE IN<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">EXT. WARSAW GHETTO. EVENING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Two military trucks stand at the end of the
street. Distant police-style whistles sound intermittently throughout scene.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">SOLDIER #1 waits by the open Front Door. He
wears spectacles and a non-regulation scarf. His hands are wrapped in rags. He
wears a rifle on a sling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Soldier #1 shivers and hugs himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna enters street through Front Door,
pushed by Kurt. Soldier #1 straightens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">As Kurt takes Johanna towards the trucks, she
looks back at Front Door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Soldier #1 follows Johanna's gaze. Johanna quickly
looks away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna and Kurt arrive at First Truck. Kurt
helps Johanna climb into back, then bangs his hand against truck's side. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The truck's engine starts. Kurt climbs into
back of truck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT. FIRST TRUCK. EVENING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A dozen prisoners sit on two fixed benches that
run the length of the interior. Johanna is among them. Kurt sits near the open back
of the truck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Truck begins to move. Johanna stares out of
the open back of the truck. Suddenly, she tenses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(whispering)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">No!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">EXT.
WARSAW GHETTO. EVENING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Soldier
#1 moves to Front Door. He pauses, then steps inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT. FIRST
TRUCK. EVENING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna stands and takes a step towards back
of truck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">No!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Kurt seizes Johanna and shoves her back into
her seat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-right: 85.05pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">EXT. WARSAW GHETTO. EVENING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Front Door is now closed. The snow has
stopped. We hear truck driving away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT. BAKERY. EVENING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Sound of truck fades. Soldier #1 stands immobile
just inside the closed Front Door. He slowly takes in the missing roof, the
blocked Second Door, and the table. When he notices the frozen corpse, he grimaces
and averts his eyes. Finally, he looks at the oven door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He hurriedly unslings his rifle and takes a
step forward.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He squints over his spectacles, peering at
the bottom edge of the oven door. Tiny fingers are visible, holding the door in
position.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Soldier #1 looks down at his rifle. Pause. He
puts it down, leaning it against Front Door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He moves forward till level with table.
Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He removes his scarf, and lays it on the
table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">EXT. WARSAW GHETTO. EVENING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Front door opens and Soldier #1 emerges. His
rifle is slung over his shoulder. He is not wearing his scarf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He looks warily up and down the street before
pulling Front Door closed and moving towards Second Truck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE OUT<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE IN:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">EXT. STREET OUTSIDE WARSAW STATION. NIGHT.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">First Truck is departing. Kurt, Joanna, and
the other prisoners are on the pavement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">SOLDIER #2 and SOLDIER #3 enter street from ticket
hall and escort the prisoners inside.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Kurt lights a cigarette and strolls off down
the street, past a sign. The sign reads "SS-Kaserne" and points in
the direction Kurt is going.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A distant train whistle sounds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Second Truck pulls up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">EXT. PLATFORM, WARSAW STATION. NIGHT<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Several soldiers stand about near the ticket
office door, looking bored. A steam locomotive and line of boxcars stand on the
track. The door of the boxcar nearest the engine is open. The boxcar is pretty packed
with prisoners, but obviously not as full as it could be. A trio of soldiers
waits beside each of the other boxcars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna and her fellow prisoners enter from ticket
hall. Soldier #2 and Soldier #3 follow, and herd them to the open boxcar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">As Johanna climbs into the boxcar, Soldier #1
enters from the ticket hall and joins Soldier #2 and Soldier #3.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Guard's whistle sounds. We hear shouted
orders in German. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Soldier #1, Soldier #2, and Soldier #3 haul
the boxcar's sliding door closed, then climb onto the small gantry at the rear
of the car.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT. BOXCAR. NIGHT.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The prisoners stand shoulder to shoulder. A
baby cries.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna stares in the direction of the ticket
hall through a gap in the boxcar door. Her eyes brim with tears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Train whistle sounds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The train lurches and the boxcar's occupants
stumble, trying to keep upright. Johanna is bumped and jostled as we...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE TO WHITE<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE IN:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">INT. PADDINGHTON STATION. EVENING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Johanna is blinking away tears as disembarked
passengers push past her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">ADULT ISAAC is suddenly standing in front of
her, holding a suitcase. He is smartly dressed, in hat and scarf. No one
speaks. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Adult Isaac drops the suitcase. He and
Johanna embrace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">JOHANNA<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">(whispering)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 85.05pt 10pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My baby,
my baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Wilfred watches, smiling. He too has moist
eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Adult Isaac releases Johanna and turns to
Wilfred. The two men face each other for several seconds. Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Without breaking eye contact, Adult Isaac
slowly unwinds the scarf from his neck. It is rather old and thread-bare.
Reverently, he folds it, then hands it to Wilfred.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">With obvious effort, Wilfred replaces his
smile with a serious expression. He accepts the scarf and bows slightly with
military neatness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FADE OUT</span><span style="font-family: Courier New;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis">[Performance
time: 14 minutes, 40 seconds]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><b>2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;">
</span></b><!--[endif]--><b>Commentary<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">The
Assessment Booklet suggests that the choice of medium should be made early. (2011,
p.31) While feedback from other students </span><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: EN;">suggested film would be appropriate, </span><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I
was convinced initially that the one-room setting was perfectly suited to
stage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">My
original story had little dialogue, so I feared I might struggle to fill 15
minutes. I took heart after reading Neale's advice that "much of the
action of your script should be revealed through pictures." (2009, p.116),
but felt that submitting 14 minutes' worth of cinematic directions would not
benefit me as a writer or invite a good mark. Knowing that padding dialogue would
only damage its pace, I needed an extra dimension for the story. I reasoned
that if the existing story succeeded in exciting a viewer, then he/she would probably
wonder whether parent and child ever saw each other again. Once I had decided
to show them being reunited, I decided to give the audience one more surprise
by reintroducing the merciful German soldier, in whom some interest had been
shown on a tutor group forum (Chang, 2011). I changed his name so someone who
had read the original story might still enjoy the screenplay's surprises. I
think this is a legitimate and even worthy technique in adaptations for screen.
The decision to replace Isaac's father with his mother was necessary in order
to make the long-term association with Wilfred more credible; the audience is
supposed to assume they are married by 1968. (Incidentally, the new structure
demanded some thought regarding dates and ages, so that the younger Wilfred
would not be instantly recognisable<sup>1</sup>.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I
added the Warsaw Station scene partly to put Johanna in a place where she could
be jostled back to the future, and partly so that I could show Soldier #1 and
his colleagues depart on her train and thereby suggest a custodial continuity
that might make post-war association more possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Having
opted to position the main story as a flashback, I was forced to reconsider my
chosen medium. Film now seemed the logical choice, though it meant breaking up
the long scenes to avoid the pitfalls discussed by </span><span style="line-height: 150%;">McKee (1999, p.291
cited Neale 2009, p.121) </span><span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">It was also a choice I was happy
with, simply because I have seen many more films than stage plays. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Sadly,
choosing a familiar medium did not make my first attempt at screenwriting easy.
I struggled quite a lot with the formatting and style of the script. Having
heard so much advice on producing correct novel typescripts, I was slow to
realise that the "rules" for scripts are less strict and universal. For
example, Neale (2009, pp. 125 & 127) gives two very different example
layouts for the same film script. My final draft reflects an attempt to balance
various styles and incorporates the occasional technical element drawn from
sources other than the course materials. (For example, the sample script by
Buffini (2009), on the BBC's Writers Room website, encouraged me to use the
"he" and "she" in directions.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"> [Word count: 500]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis">Footnotes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 56.7pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->On
5 April 1968, Adult Isaac is 30, Wilfred is 70, and Johanna is 55</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 56.7pt; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
On 19 February 1943, Young Isaac is 5,
Wilfred is 45, and Johanna is 30.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<i>(References below)<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">References<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Buffini, M. (2009). Tamara
Drewe [online]. Available from:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/writersroom/insight/downloads/scripts/tamara_drewe.pdf">http://www.bbc.co.uk/writersroom/insight/downloads/scripts/tamara_drewe.pdf</a>
[Updated 20 October 2009: Accessed 12 January 2012]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: 56.7pt; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Neale, D. (2009) ‘Writing films’, in D. Neale (ed) <i>A Creative Writing Handbook</i>, London: A
& C Black<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Chang, D. (8 November 2011) ‘Re. Three apologies and a thank
you’, forum message on <i>TMA and EMA
work-in-progress</i>. Available from:
http://learn.open.ac.uk/mod/forumng/discuss.php?d=755153<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">[Accessed 12 January 2012]<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-55163290412686629852011-12-03T00:06:00.000-08:002013-01-16T02:35:53.308-08:00A363 TMA 01<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b>Tutor-Marked Assignment</b></span><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Task 1: Write a 1500-word story or a poem of 30-36 lines. (Optional prompts: <i>the pool, brief encounter, the waiting room, throwing stones, under ground</i>.)</span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Task 2: Write a 350-word "commentary" about the process, describing how genre was chosen, research undertaken, and the editing/revision process.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Due date:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> 3 November 2011</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Mark: 87% overall. <i>Separate marks for the tasks are temporarily unavailable on a dead hard drive!</i></span></span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<hr color="000000" size="1" width="50%" />
<div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8544463280970066380" name="OLE_LINK1"><b><span style="color: black;">Option 1
– prose. Genre: Fiction</span></b></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b>Title:
YOUR CARRIAGE AWAITS<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
We probably have less than two
minutes before the door gives way. The bolt might once have deterred casual
visitors, but jackboots and rifle butts are another matter. Now that we have
stopped running the sweat in my shirt begins to cool at an alarming rate. I am
shivering already. Another kick rattles the door, and a muffled shout follows.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I have already pushed the sounds of our pursuers
from my mind as I turn to face my son. There is a table in the middle of the
room and Isaac stands by it. He grips the nearest table leg in his tiny hands and
gazes at the snow-covered debris which covers it. I lift his face and gently touch
my lips to his forehead, wondering whether his trembling is caused by cold or
fear. Another crash at the door makes us both jump. His voice is a whisper as he
asks the worst possible question:</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘Are they going to kill us Papa?’</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘Of course not,’ I try to laugh it off but the
sound is brittle, and it cracks. Trying to ignore the sounds of boots and
diesel engines from the nearby streets, I swallow and try again:</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘They’ve been told by their officers to chase us
for a while. Just to frighten us.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘I <i>am</i>
frightened Papa.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘They’ll
get bored soon. And they hate the cold.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘But Kurt says it’s warm here after Stalingrad.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I smile, inwardly cursing Kurt’s easy humour.
‘Well, if he’s on duty tonight he’ll be in a hurry to get back to the barracks
and his schnapps, so we won’t be here long my love.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I tell myself that Isaac believes me, and look
away, in case his face tells a different story. Standing, I let my gaze flit
over the room. Apart
from the table and the litter upon it, the only feature is a large rusted bread
oven set at waist height in the rear wall. This place must have been a bakery.
From the outside, with its boarded-up windows, it had looked like just another
ghetto house, except that the roof was gone.
I raise my face, squinting into the pricking sleet. There is no ceiling;
just a few snow-dusted timber stumps protruding from the brickwork. Beyond
them, the wet
and sagging wallpaper is of a different pattern. Apart from a toilet, clinging
ludicrously to one wall, there is only the white sky to be seen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Another
bang brings me back to earth. The wall in which the oven is set leans threateningly,
its single door blocked by fallen masonry. The snow-covered floor is lumpy with
fragments of plaster, but the bulk of the collapsed upper floor has presumably
long since been scavenged for firewood. Seizing Isaac, I heft him bodily into
the oven. He fills it halfway, but is already drawing his knees up to his chest
to make more room as I clamber in. I somehow manage to fold myself into the
tiny space, which still has the unmistakable smell of vanilla and almond. I
reach out, grasp the iron door, remembering to cover my fingers with my shirt
cuff, and pull. The hinge gives a single, sharp screech.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
shouting from the other side of the door stops. The banging becomes a soft
knocking - almost polite. Then comes an urgent whisper:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘W<span class="hps"><span lang="PL" style="color: #333333; mso-ansi-language: PL; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;">puść mnie. Proszę!’ <i>Let
me in. Please!</i></span></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Incredibly, Isaac releases his hold on my arm
and moves as if to obey. It’s all I can do not to whimper aloud as I catch him
by the collar. “Don’t make sound!” I hiss.
Then
the banging resumes with fresh intensity. In the darkness of the oven, Isaac’s
eyes widen in his grimy face at the sound of splintering wood. The gloom lifts
and I realise the oven door is swinging open. I lunge and just manage to arrest
its progress with my fingertips. As if in response to my movement, the whole
oven seems to slip downward by an inch or so, with a grate of shifting masonry.
Instinctively I hunch my already cramped shoulders, ready for the wall to come
crashing down. But it holds. I draw the oven door closed quietly, feeling
slightly foolish; a collapsing wall can’t hurt us in here. It might even
protect us. The sleet has been replaced by rain that pings against the oven
door like gunfire, but my exposed fingers are too numb to feel it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Suddenly
it’s all over. Booted feet stumble into the room. The door is slammed shut
again. There’s a second or two of exhausted breathing, followed by an exultant
cry. The oven door is yanked open, its freezing metal stripping skin from my
fingertips. I clutch Isaac and pull him tight to me, screwing my eyes shut.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Shouts
from the street reach us. Orders barked in German. From closer comes another
voice; two unexpected syllables so charged with fear that they squeak like the
wheels of the approaching tanks:</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Isaac?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I open my eyes to look at the newcomer. The face is too filthy to identify, but I
recognise those eyes. For a moment, still assuming him to be a soldier, I think
it must be Kurt, the jaded S.S. Oberscharführer who occasionally pushed a half
loaf into Isaac’s hand during the ghetto’s early months. Then the cracked lips
part, revealing a gap where front teeth used to be. It’s Jacob Eckstein – ‘Luka
Żyd’ my other students affectionately used to call him. He’s grown into a young
man in the years since the school was closed, but his voice is tremulous.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘They’re coming. Let me in!’</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I almost laugh at the absurd request. ‘There’s
no room.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I reach for the oven door once more, but he uses
his elbow to nudge it beyond my reach.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘Please!’ Jacob steps toward the oven and
actually tries to insert a bony shoulder between me and Isaac. Awkwardly, I unfold
a leg, plant the flapping sole of my shoe on Jacob’s chest, and shove. Jacob
clutches my ankle as he starts to topple backward. I slither from the oven, which
rocks precariously, and we hit the floor together. Our eyes meet and we lie
motionless for a moment. The noise of the rain is loud, but surely the soldiers
have heard. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I roll over and start to stand, but suddenly the
world jolts and I’m sprawling in the slush again. The ear Jacob kicked is too
cold to feel pain; the second kick – this one to my ribs – is also painless,
but winds me. My cheek is pressed against the wet floorboards and I can feel
the thunder of boots in the house next door. I’m spitting out mud and ice as I
use the table to pull myself to my feet. I notice for the first time that the
object upon the table is the frozen corpse of a baby boy. Jacob is back at the
oven, pulling at my boy’s foot. Everything else fades. The sounds of rain and
stamping boots are still there but I do not hear them. The icy wetness
spreading through my clothing might as well be warm bathwater. Two strides
bring me to Jacob and I grab him by his shoulders and I hurl him behind me and
I stoop to embrace my boy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I’m climbing back into the oven when Jacob’s
body hits me. I’m momentarily pinned to the wall, and there’s an ominous creak
from above. Jacob is already climbing into the oven when two bricks fall. One
hits his head. It’s a glancing blow, but he sags, his head in the oven, his
legs limp. As Isaac stares at the bricks, the voice next door abruptly changes
in tone, and we know the soldiers heard this time. Jacob stiffens, turns, and looks
up at me with childlike helplessness. The young man has now gone entirely. As
booted feet descend the stairs next door, I scoop him in my arms and push him
into the oven with Isaac, who opens his mouth to question me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
‘Hush, my love. They’ll be gone soon.’ I see
realisation on my baby’s face, and bewildered relief on Jacob’s as I add, ‘Don’t
move till after dark.’</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The soldiers are back in the street now. Without
looking at the front door, I close the oven. I walk to the table. I turn and I
run at the oven as hard as I can. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When the soldiers drag me from the pile of
rubble on which they found me lying, I surreptitiously look for the oven. I am
horrified to see its door is plainly visible under the lightest possible
dusting of fallen plaster. The whole pathetically-contrived scene is simply too
fresh; the broken surfaces of the bricks are too clean; there is not enough icy
filth. But as I am bundled into the back of a truck, the jaded Oberscharführer
is already ordering his squad to the next street. And it won’t be dark for at
least an hour.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis">[Word
count: 1495]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<b>Commentary<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Without any game plan, I composed an opening
sentence intended to convey tension and intrigue the reader. Only with that
done did I know the setting and genre, and begin research. As predicted by Greenwell
(2009, p.34) most of my notes went unused. (Or unwritten; I know the story’s
exact date<sup><span style="font-size: xx-small;">1</span></sup> but do not share it with the reader.) The remainder were
used only subtly<sup><span style="font-size: xx-small;">2</span></sup>. As advised by Greenwell (2009, p.34) I did not
resist being led off at tangents during my research. One tangent led me to an
anecdote – which I adapted - concerning a soldier who survived an explosion by sheltering
in an oven. (Cornwell, 1981.) </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I found myself writing with a fairly formal voice,
which, with Neale (2009, p.8) influenced my decision to make the narrator a
teacher. A first-person narrator is likely to be taken as trustworthy by
default, so, apart from showing his efforts to comfort Jacob, I did not go to
great lengths to present him as ‘decent and trustworthy.’ (See Neale, 2009,
p.20). To make Jacob seem realistic before gaining the sympathy of the narrator
and reader, I adapted Activity 2.8 (Greenwell, 2009) and wrote an account of
the story through his eyes. This gave me his ridiculous attempt to cram himself
into the oven with the other two characters. There is little dialogue in the
story, but on the advice of Greenwell (2009 p.23) I did try to contrast Jacob’s
speech with the narrator’s attempts to speak reassuringly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
When writing the story I was aware that I could
not keep the reader continuously excited. As suggested by Greenwell (2009, p.26)
I varied the pace by allowing the narrator to periodically distract himself;
his defence mechanism gives the reader a pause <span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">before the next piece of action, as well as the writer
an opportunity to slip in bits of description.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> I originally meant to name only Isaac,
to help focus the reader on his plight, but ended up naming Jacob for the same
reason. Kurt, whilst a ‘good guy’ was named purely for mechanical reasons,
allowing the narrator to credibly describe his kindness. When he actually
appears he is only identified only by the reprise of the adjective ‘jaded.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">[Word count: 366]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><span style="line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Footnotes<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<ol start="1" style="margin-top: 0in; text-align: left;" type="1">
<li><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: -0.25in;">Friday 19 February 1943</span></li>
<li><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: -0.25in;">The smells in the
oven come from a particular type of Polish seed cake.)</span></li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">References<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Cornwell,
B. (1981) <i>Sharpe’s Gold</i>, London:
Collins<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Greenwell,
B. (2009) ‘Conflict and contrast’, in D. Neale (ed) <i>A Creative Writing Handbook</i>, London: A & C Black<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Neale, D. (2009) ‘Playing with genre’, in D.
Neale (ed) <i>A Creative Writing Handbook</i>,
London: A & C Black<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-85516176612612235402010-02-04T01:44:00.000-08:002013-01-16T22:58:52.869-08:00A215 TMA 02<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b>Tutor-Marked Assignment</b></span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Task 1: 2,200-word story. (Optional prompts: <i>a closed door, walking in the rain, it's your turn..., a wager, all in one day</i>.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Task 2: Write a 500-word commentary, describing aims, decisions, difficulties, and solutions.</span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Due date:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> 4 January 2010</span></span></li>
<li><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Mark: About 80%? (<i>Actual mark temporarily unavailable on a dead hard drive.)</i></span></span></li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<hr color="000000" size="1" width="50%" />
<br />
<div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<h1 style="line-height: 200%;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8544463280970066380" name="OLE_LINK2"></a>1. A short story.<o:p></o:p></h1>
<h2 style="line-height: 200%;">
Title: <u>Even the Weariest River?</u><o:p></o:p></h2>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b><u>Breakfast
time<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
It’s six-o’clock. The clock in the hall begins
to chime.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
One: Little
Eustace Dauger, half awake, permits himself to open his eyes. Not being able to
see a clock from his bed – or even tell time for that matter – he can never be
sure at the first chime whether it’s time to get up, or the middle of the night.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Two:
Eustace Dauger wriggles into a sitting position, expertly keeping all of his
bodily extremities under the covers. It feels like morning. He slept with the
light on. He can’t tell for sure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Three:
Beneath the covers, chilly Eustace Dauger hugs his knees. He hopes that it is
time to get up and he hopes that Mommy will bring a mug of hot milk with his
breakfast.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Four:
Sleepy Eustace Dauger permits himself to close his eyes, just for a moment. It
won’t matter if he falls asleep again - Mommy will wake him with a kiss and a
hug and a waft of divine perfume.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Five:
Little Eustace Dauger nods.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
The sixth
chime goes unheard by sleeping Eustace Dauger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b><u>Lunch
time<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
It’s midday. The clock in the hall begins to
chime.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
One:
Eustace stops drawing. He has good hearing, and has been vaguely aware of the
previous few hours, but sometimes gets absorbed by his drawing and merely
fancies that he hears things. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Two:
Eustace snaps the green top on the green pen, and slides the green pen into the
pencil case. He snaps the blue top on the blue pen, and slides the blue pen
into the pencil case.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Three:
Footsteps in the hall. In one fluid movement Eustace zips the case swiftly and
drops it into his open toy trunk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Four:
Eustace scoops up his drawing book from the floor and places it carefully in
the toy trunk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Five:
Eustace closes the lid of the trunk and turns away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Six: Mommy
sure would love this picture. You’re <i>such
a talented artist, my darling boy!</i> Eustace returns to the toy trunk, opens
it once more and retrieves the drawing book.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Seven: The
lid falls once more. Eustace crosses to the table.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Eight:
Eustace is about to sit when he realises something is missing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Nine: <i>Special Smart Boy Napkin</i>! Where is it?
Eustace whirls, eyes scanning the nursery. There! On the bedpost!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Ten: Click,
jiggle, jangle. There’s the sound of Mommy grappling one-handed with the door
handle. Skidding across the floor now,
grabbing <i>Special Smart Boy Napkin</i>
before landing neatly on a dining chair, with his back to the doorway. <i>Don’t get under Mommy’s feet while she’s
carrying stuff, my darling boy. It’s so dangerous!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Eleven: As
Eustace ducks under the table to thrust the colouring book under the chair (<i>Good children don’t colour at the dining
table</i>) Mommy will be shuffling backwards into the nursery, tray in hand,
nudging - first with hip, then with shoulder - the door which threatens to
close on her and send the tray flying.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Twelve:
Eustace tucks <i>Special Smart Boy Napkin</i>
into his collar, paying particular attention to the corners, making sure they
are level. He sits up straight. He doesn’t hear shuffling. No “Good morning, my
darling boy!” He turns in his chair and looks over his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Eustace
blinks. The door is still shut. His eyes flick in the direction from which the
clock’s chimes came.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Did the clock chime six times? Or was it
only five? I must have counted them right; I heard Mommy at the door!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Eustace
realises he has been staring blankly at the ceiling. He shifts his gaze to the
double doors through which Mommy failed to appear. One is painted pink. The
other is plain wood. Both remain shut. Eustace fingers <i>Special Smart Boy Napkin</i>, checking the corners are nice and level. <i>You’re such a smart little man, my darling
boy. </i>But it’s fine. Just so.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Eustace
doesn’t have lessons today, so he glances over his shoulder at the nursery
doors and wonders what’s for breakfast. After a bit, his eyes wander to the
picture which hangs over his bed, and has an idea. He retrieves the pencil case
and a toy from the toy trunk and the drawing book from under the chair.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>I’ll have my picture ready when Mommy comes!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
It’s very
nearly finished. Eustace has patiently copied the picture on the wall. He’s
copied the green gloved fingers, though the colours didn’t match exactly. He’s
copied the silky blue background, though - not having a white pen – he’s been
been forced to omit the fluffy streaks. He’s drawn the pale yellow band which
tapers from the bottom of the picture, separating the two rows of fingers. Now
Eustace has time for the final element; his own bit of originality. There’s no
Vroom-Vroom in the original picture but Eustace is adding one to his copy. His
Vroom-Vroom is on the table. He isn’t aware that his tongue pokes from the
corner of his mouth as he draws Vroom-Vroom with a red pen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
When the
clock strikes again, Eustace barely notices because the picture is almost
complete but he’s cussing himself for a fool. He hasn’t left enough room to
copy the writing! As the seventh chime fades, a decision is made. Using his
boldest, blackest pen, he copies the letters onto the facing page in his
drawing book one at a time, tongue fixed in place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
P I G N E R
O L F A R M<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
W A T E R C
O L O R B Y A L E X A N D R A D A U G E R<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Eustace
holds the finished work at arm’s length so that he can view it side by side
with the picture hanging on the opposite wall. Satisfied that it’s as perfect
as can be, he closes the book and plays with Vroom-Vroom for a while, pushing
the little red toy from one side of the table to the other and back again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b><u>Dinner
time<o:p></o:p></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
It’s six-o’clock. The clock in the hall begins
to chime.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Being
already seated at the dining table, Eustace has plenty of time before the last
chimes has faded to place the drawing materials on the floor and tuck <i>Special Smart Boy Napkin</i> into his
collar, paying particular attention to the corners, making sure they are nice
and level.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
This time,
however, he doesn’t even hear the click, jiggle, jangle of Mommy grappling with
the door handle.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Eustace is
hungry now. He still sits at the table, occasionally shifting his weight from
buttock to buttock. He’s looking at the picture on the wall and becoming more
and more dissatisfied with his own. He now sees that the green fingers are not
fingers at all; they do not join hands. Instead, each rough-edged green tower
perches atop a stump of brown. Eustace has seen the picture as a depiction of
hands for so long that this new perspective is startling. The green towers-that-aren’t-fingers
don’t alarm Eustace as such. He’s simply discombobulated by the sudden absence
of the comforting effect the hands must have given him until now. Hands can
hold and hug and protect. These perversely inanimate structures merely offend
Eustace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
He squints,
allowing his lashes to meet and thus blur the picture, but the alien towers
refuse to revert. Irked, Eustace reopens the drawing book. Even his own picture
has changed. It is as cold as the brick walls of the nursery. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Eustace
sweeps the drawing book from the table and returns to his Vroom-Vroom game,
eyes unfocused, lest he should spy the picture on the wall. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
He’s been
putting off the moment, but Eustace has already decided to go and find Mommy.
He’s very hungry now. And thirsty too. He stands and walks slowly across the
nursery, keeping his eyes on the double doors and off the disturbing picture.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
First step:
<i>Don’t get under my feet when I’m carrying
hot food my darling boy.</i> “I won’t Mommy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Second
step: <i>Don’t go near the steps my darling boy.
You could get a splinter from the wood.</i> “I’m so hungry Mommy. I’ll be
careful Mommy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Third step:
<i>See, Mommy has painted you a special picture. Stay safe and look at the lovely
trees mummy painted you.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Fourth
step: <i>I’ll always look after you my darling
boy. Nothing can hurt you here.</i> “Where are you Mommy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Fifth step:
<i>I love you so much my darling boy. I’ll
never leave you.</i> “I love you too Mommy. Where are you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Sixth step:
This is the top step. He must keep his head bowed, to keep from bumping it on
the doors. Bowed and also cowed. Dare he?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mommy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
She’s
there, right on the other side of the door. He’s sure of it. At any moment
she’ll fling open the door and sweep him up in her arms and shower him with
kisses and say that she loves him and -<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Palms up,
flat on the unpainted wood, he pushes. The door does not move. Not even a
little bit. He pushes harder, not noticing the splinter that punctures his
thumb. He pushes harder still and suddenly a foot slips from the step and for
one lurching second he’s falling back to the floor; he flails madly and grabs
something.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
He hangs
there, panting, with fingers locked on the door’s iron ring. The ring squeaks
slightly with each slow swing. He touches a toe to the nearest step and
steadies himself. Calmer, but with heart still thudding, he shifts his centre
of gravity and settles gratefully onto the steps once more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mommy!”
This time it’s barely more than a breath. He presses his face against the pink
paint, as though he can kiss Mommy’s pink cheek through the door. And it moves.
Just an inch, but oh-so easily! Eustace recoils, slightly revolted. <i>Good boys don’t open doors.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
It’s the
faintest whiff of divine perfume, of good-morning hugs and kisses, that decides
him. Not even daring to think about how he dares, he pushes the pink door. It
moves an inch.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Two.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Three.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
His eyes
hurt. He weeps too. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Four
inches. Five.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“Mommy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Six.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
He moves
his feet to the top step at last and with one final heave, throws it open. He
remains half crouched for long moments, eyes screwed tight shut waiting for the
door to fall back, or for Mom’s voice – comforting or scolding. He doesn’t
care.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Nothing
happens. His thighs now burn with the strain of crouching. He opens his eyes
and this time they don’t hurt so much. But the square of the open doorway still
dazzles him with its brilliance and unfamiliarity. His legs can’t remain like
this any longer, and so he straightens them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
His head
rises through the doorway and emerges into a room that is infinity. Its walls
are so far away he can’t see them. Its azure ceiling is a vast canopy that
makes his mind trill with fear. The all pervading brightness and shockingly
cold air combine to sting his eyes. He blinks the water away, forcing his eyes
to remain open. He cannot but gaze upon this horror. The green forms from the
picture are here and they are fingers after all. Colossal fingers. Monstrous,
hissing, rustling fingers. They rear above him, swaying against the
white-smudged ceiling. And they –<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<i>They move!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Their
bristling shapes seem not to march up the perspective of the pale yellow
stripe, but down it. Down towards Eustace. Reaching for him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Sickened,
he retches. Nothing comes up, of course. His breath is happening in ragged
little snatches. His fingers perform an unbidden spastic dance along Mommy’s
cold arm, which this nightmare vista won’t even let him notice. His lips are
slightly parted and he groans without knowing it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
He wants to
flee. To hide from the giant green fingers, from the huge and ugly red thing
that looks so much his like his Vroom-Vroom, yet so very different. But his
feet remain planted on the step, rooted on the cusp of the familiar and the
alien.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Long after
his initial shock has given way to numb incomprehension, the ceiling turns
black and the nightmare scene grows indistinct.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Then,
somewhere as distant as another life, a clock chimes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
One:
Eustace leans over and fumbles with the iron ring. He pulls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Two: He
heaves and then ducks as the door crashes into its natural position.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Three: He
shuffles down the steps.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Four: He
stoops and retrieves <i>Special Smart Boy
Napkin </i>from the earthen floor.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Five: He
sits up straight on a dining chair, like a good boy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Six: Little
Eustace Dauger tucks <i>Special Smart Boy
Napkin</i> into his collar, paying particular attention to the corners, making
sure they are nice and level.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis">[Word count: 2117]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 14.0pt;"><br clear="all" style="page-break-before: always;" />
</span></b>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoTitle">
2. A commentary.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
My story uses the prompt “a closed door” which
reminded me of a joke I heard told by a TV comedian (Phillips, 2005.) My aim
was to use the germ of that joke to appall the reader. Sketching out the plot
was simple. However, some technical elements of the story were quite tricky.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The biggest challenge was choosing the
viewpoint. I felt that a first-person viewpoint was required if the shock
ending was to be compelling and credible. However, the plot made this
difficult. Someone of Eustace’s age and circumstances would almost certainly be
incapable of narrating a readable twenty-two hundred word story. I drafted an
opening paragraph written in the first person and introducing the story as an
adult’s memory of distant childhood, but dismissed this because although it
addressed the issue of literacy, it put even more distance between the reader
and the action. Also, it would have been very difficult to pull off a surprise
ending which the narrator knew all about already. Eventually I used a
third-person viewpoint, but wrote in the present tense to make the surprise
ending more believable. In retrospect I feel this was the right decision.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The next challenge was to seduce the reader into
assuming Eustace’s circumstances are far less extraordinary than they actually
are. I enjoyed leaving clues for the reader, and was careful not to cheat by
being unfairly misleading. For example, when Eustace looks in the direction of
the hall clock, the narrative explicitly states that he is looking at the
ceiling, but (I hope) his internal monologue was just distracting enough that
the surprise wasn’t spoiled for the reader, despite the seed having been sown.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Other decisions were equally necessary but not
quite as much fun. Setting, for example, was almost entirely preordained. If
one wished to lock a boy in a basement for his entire childhood, what better
place to do it than a farm?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
It was vital to give Eustace an opportunity to
change his routine. I considered letting him plan an escape while his mother
was out, and even drafted a scene in which he had to quickly retreat to his
room when she returned unexpectedly. In the end I decided to kill Eustace’s
mother, as this would deprive the boy of food and so force him to act. Of
course, she had to die at the door, after having unlocked it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
My original plan was to end the story with
Eustace’s dramatic emergence into the big outdoors, but I knew Eustace would
slink back inside, so I shared that part of his story too, giving him a recurring
stage prop for emphasis.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
I wanted to give Eustace a pet, of which he in
turn would be over-protective. He didn’t get one partly because of the word
limit and partly because I really couldn’t decide whether Eustace would decide
to liberate it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
One or two devices emerged naturally as I wrote
the first draft. For example, Eustace’s identity is inextricably tied to his
nursery, so as he came closer to freedom, I used his name less, only returning
to his full name for the final sentence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis">[Word count: 522]</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">REFERENCE:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Phillips, Emo
(2005) <i>Live at the Hasty Pudding Theatre</i></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%;">, Audio
CD, Sony Inc.</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8544463280970066380.post-38787655888706302912009-11-30T22:54:00.000-08:002014-08-05T01:59:10.433-07:00A215 TMA 01<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 20px;">Tutor-Marked Assignment</b><br />
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-8551617661261223540" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 578px;">
<div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">
<br />
<ul style="line-height: 1.4; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 20px;">Task 1: Focused freewrite, of 200-300 words, based on one of a search,<i>learning to swim, a scrapyard, hearing a piano, a bunch of keys</i>.</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="line-height: 1.4; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 20px;">Task 2: Proceeding from that prompt, write 750 words of fiction, autobiography, or biography.</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="line-height: 1.4; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 20px;">Task 3: Write a 300-word "commentary" about the techniques used.</span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="line-height: 1.4; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Due date:</span><span style="line-height: 20px;"> 30 October 2009</span></span></li>
</ul>
<ul style="line-height: 1.4; list-style-image: initial; list-style-position: initial; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;">
<li style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 20px;">Mark: About 80%? (<i>Actual mark temporarily unavailable on a dead hard drive.)</i></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>This is my first piece of creative writing since childhood. Despite facing a memory I'd all but repressed for thirty years, the process was very satisfying - cathartic, even. I'm still pleased with the final product. It should be noted that Rolf Harris's exposure and trial occurred after this piece was written.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<hr color="000000" size="1" width="50%" />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><b>1. Focused freewrite based on the prompt
“learning to swim.”</b><br />Spitting out chlorinated water. Red eyes. Traipsing
for hour after lonely hour across the pool and back, clutching a polystyrene
rectangle and wishing it actually helped. The instructor was a bald guy who
didn’t smile when you caught his eye. Just blew a whistle and barked orders.
Not so much a swimming lesson as aquatic parade square drill. The pool was
beautiful. Even as a sulky 13 year old I appreciated that. Victorian with a
gorgeous glass roof and attached to a medium sized stately home at the end of a
long drive and I never saw it in daylight. Dad and I used to go swimming on
Saturdays and one of my strongest memories of those sessions is how ravenously
hungry I used to be afterwards. We usually had steak and kidney pie and
milkshake in the leisure centre cafeteria afterward. Only two memories of the
actual pool itself: First is being in the shallow end, standing on the bottom,
and hearing a youth ask my dad how deep the water was and he replied “About
three feet I think.” Never knew what a
foot looked like before that but for ages afterwards used the line between my
nipples as a 36” datum upon which to base estimates of length. Other memory is
of a rare excursion to the deep end. Pratting about having a laugh with Dad and
accidentally swatting his glasses in my exuberance. And he left me suddenly
alone and doggy paddling for my life, clutching at people anyone and being
shrugged off and fuck I’ve been conscious of this memory for thirty years but
never allowed myself to dwell on it before now. By God, that was a traumatic
episode.<br /><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis">[Word count: 285]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis"><br /></span><b>
2. A passage of autobiography.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b><u>
Title: Trusting a man with a beard</u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I woke on 30
December, 1974, I didn’t know how to swim.<br />In those days my father
looked quite a lot like the television celebrity Rolf Harris. They had the same
style of beard and the same style of glasses. They both owned one of those
little electronic organs played with a stylus. In between making TV commercials
for his Stylofone, Harris appeared in a public information film, extolling the
virtues of having buoyant children.<br />‘Teach ‘em to swim,’
the infant-festooned Aussie had said, ‘It’ll be fun!’<br />So, in between
being ribbed by his children for his resemblance to Mr Harris, my father tried
it with me. It was on my birthday.<br />The drive to the pool
probably took about forty minutes. As this was a Men’s Day Out, I could sit in
my mother’s seat in the front, feeling as cool as it was possible to feel while
wearing a cissy seatbelt.<br />Being six years
old, I wanted my swimming lesson to consist entirely of fooling about in the
shallow end, so it was only under protest that I allowed my father to carry me
into deeper water. The pool was crowded; the shouts and screams of the bathers
echoed off the glass ceiling in one continuous sixty-minute roar. My nose was permanently
wrinkled against the continual splashes. When he was chest deep, my father started
the Tickling Game, a singularly unfunny pastime which involved him jabbing me
in the ribs until I couldn’t breathe. I howled with involuntary laughter, torn
between the urge to wriggle free and the need to cling on. My arms twitched as I
squealed and in a moment my father’s glasses were swatted from his face.<br />And Daddy is gone.<br />I stand on tiptoe
to see where he’s gone. But there is no floor and I am not standing. I am
sinking and the water comes past my face and the echoes abruptly stop. The
transition from frolicking to drowning is so sudden that I haven’t even drawn a
last breath; I’m submerged and utterly airless. I am kicking against a bottom
that isn’t there, clawing at the water with my fingers, desperately trying to
climb up the very water.<br /> My head breaks
into air. Daddy isn’t here. A scream punches its way past the foam in my throat.
It’s a short scream, made of the one tiny packet of stale air I had in me. It’s
a scream that nobody hears. Now I’m gasping, heaving in air and choking on
spray of my own making and my face dips again and my legs thrash and my arms
windmill. My hands grope for something – anything.<br />It’s not fear that
drives me into air a second time. It’s Fear. The Fear a field mouse feels when
it sees a hawk’s shadow. I’m not so much keeping my face above the surface as
doggy paddling so frantically that a small trench opens in the water in front
of me. I’m tiring though. The sides of my trench are caving in. My spastic leg
movements are slower. I become aware of other people. Huge grown-ups all
around, close enough to touch. I’ve gone under for the third time when my
flailing hand touches something. I grab and slip and grab and heave and pull
myself up again.<br /> And now I really
am screaming.<br />The woman whose
swimming costume I am grasping glances down at me with disdain, shrugs me off
and moves away. My breathing is steadier now. I can inhale a mix of air, spray
and liquid without gagging. And I can scream.<br />Kick – splash –
breathe – scream. And repeat.<br />I’m getting weaker.
The effort required to keep every ounce of me from sinking is massive. A man’s
glistening back towers over me and my fingers slide down it without finding
purchase. I don’t even know if he’s aware of me. My arms are numb and I’m
clawing at people that don’t even know I’m drowning.<br />I am exhausted and
I have no screams left inside and hands grip me and it’s Daddy and his glasses
are back on his face and it’s Daddy and he’s got me.<br />As he carried me
to the poolside he was telling me off for knocking his glasses from his face. I
don’t think I heard a single word. On the way home I sat in the back seat.<br />When I went to bed
on 30 December, 1974, I still hadn’t learned to swim; I’d just found that I
could.<br /><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis">[Word
count: 750]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><b><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
3. Reflective commentary</b><br /><span style="line-height: 200%;">Freewriting is new to me. Initially I found it
difficult to get a flow. That reproduced above is the unedited final section of
a longer piece which only gained momentum towards the end. I admit to having
held a sceptical view of the claims that freewrites could “</span><span style="line-height: 200%;">bring up uncomfortable material.” (The Open University, p.15) and
take me </span><span style="line-height: 200%;">into my
“deepest ideas, feelings and memories.” (<st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Anderson</st1:place></st1:city>,
2009, p.23) However, some of the material in my freewrite was deeply disturbing
to me </span><span style="line-height: 200%;">induced a
kind of writer’s block as I came to terms with being abandoned, albeit
momentarily, by a father more concerned about his spectacles. The block lifted
once I decided to avoid writing judgmentally and to concentrate upon making the
reader live my experience.<br /> <o:p></o:p></span><span style="line-height: 200%;">The subject matter is a minefield of clichés. I tried
to balance language that dealt with the mechanics of staying afloat with
description of the subjective experience, rather that yell at the reader “I’m
gonna die!”<br /> </span><span style="line-height: 200%;">In a nod to sensory description, I spliced in sounds I
remembered from later pool visits, as my recollection of the day in question is
rather blinkered.</span><span style="line-height: 200%;">The Workbook suggests “</span><span style="line-height: 200%;">you will not betray the truth of any particular memory by failing
to stick steadfastly to certain details,” (Neale, 2009, p.54) </span><span style="line-height: 200%;">I cheated slightly by
condensing two memories into one narrative. The birthday swimming trip was
actually a separate one which passed without incident. I did this for two
reasons: First, if an infant is going</span> to drown, doing so on his birthday
is obviously more poignant. Second, I preferred subtle yet specific exposition to
the blunt and vague “It happened when I was six.”<br /> <span style="line-height: 200%;">I
hadn’t read Glaister’s “Memory” when I decided to switch tenses to pull the
reader from the comfort zone of reminiscence.</span>For research I reviewed the Rolf
Harris film online (YouTube, 2007) and checked The Elements of Style (Strunk
and White, 2005, p.57) to see how I should write the date.<br /><span class="MsoIntenseEmphasis">[Word
count: 310]</span></span><br />
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Greg Withnailhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00032085265879178245noreply@blogger.com0