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Rhythm Sucks

I subscribe to Ksenia Anske’s blog because she makes her writing process public, and shares invaluable insight, so helpful for every emerging writer out there. Please check her out at www.kseniaanske.com.

Her latest post has to do with the rhythm of sentences.

Read her article here: http://www.kseniaanske.com/blog/2014/6/21/vary-the-rhythm-of-your-sentences

I decided to take her advice and count the segments and words in my sentences. Needless to say, I found too many. One paragraph alone had 6-8 sentences, 2-3 segments each, 10-30 words each segment (segments are separated by commas in complex-compound sentences). That’s a lot. I use a lot of adjectives and adverbs; I’ve seen this style described as Victorian. I’m sure it has to do with the type of literature I studied in college; I’ve read so much of it that it now permeates my own writing. I’m not sure it’s a bad thing, I do like it.

BUT my sentences are too long, and convoluted at times. I try to express too many things at the same time, because that’s how I think. I do enjoy this type of writing, although it takes a master like Charles Dickens or Jane Austen to make it beautiful and easy to follow. I’m no master. I have a lot of work to do.

SO I took a few paragraphs from a second draft of my book (Yes, I’m working on a second draft, following a discussion with a friend who made some awesome suggestions). I re-wrote the paragraphs using some tips from editors, and included the segment and word count advice from Ms. Anske.

THEN I posted the paragraphs on www.writing.com, and asked reviewers to tell me which one read better: the long one, or the tight one where I really paid attention to the rhythm and varied it. 5 people agreed that the tight paragraph read better, and left no chances to wander off.

JUST in case you’re curious, I’m including those here, so you can see the difference for yourself. If you want, tell me which paragraph sounds better to you, as a reader. The original paragraph is in normal font, the revised one is in red. In one case, I even split the paragraph in two.

Oh my god, I can’t believe she’s here again, Lia’s hands started shaking at the sight of the girl she had been stalking for the past couple of months. Whenever she was around her, Lia didn’t have any control over how her body reacted. Her heart beat as it did whenever she attempted to spring and couldn’t, because she was quite out of shape. Her hands shook at the thought of making eye contact with the girl whose name she hadn’t managed to find out yet. Her stomach tightened, and involuntary diaphragm spasms caused her to choke up while speaking.

I can’t believe it, Lia’s hands started shaking. The girl she had been stalking for the past couple of months was there. Whenever she was close, Lia lost control of her body. Her heart beat as it did whenever she attempted to spring and couldn’t, because she was quite out of shape. Her hands shook at the thought of making eye contact. She didn’t even know her name yet. Her stomach tightened, and involuntary diaphragm spasms caused her to choke up while speaking.

The bar was dimly lit and smoky, and the music was loud. Patrons were busy discussing the most recent soccer game when fights had broken out and people had landed in the hospital. Lia didn’t care about soccer games. She had had enough of all the men in her family monopolizing the only TV set in the house every time a championship was on. She cupped the mug of hot red wine in her hands for warmth, and closed her eyes just for a second to inhale the sweet black pepper aroma which opened her sinuses and made her sniffle. One second of reverie, and she saw herself in Angie’s arms, kissing her rosy lips fiercely and shamelessly.

The bar was dimly lit and smoky. The music was loud. Patrons were busy discussing a recent soccer game with fights that had landed people in the hospital. Lia didn’t care about soccer games. She cupped the mug of hot red wine in her hands for warmth. She closed her eyes just for a second and inhaled. The sweet black pepper aroma opened her sinuses and made her sniffle. One second of reverie, and she saw herself in Angie’s arms, kissing her rosy lips fiercely and shamelessly.

As various friends pulled chairs close after ordering their drinks, Lia glanced over to Angie. She felt her stomach tighten again, as jealous claws poked at her heart. She would have given anything to be in the petite girl’s place. Except I’m not petite. Angie was holding the girl’s hand, caressing it softly. Once in a while, a kiss landed on that girl’s forehead, and Lia wondered what that would feel like. She couldn’t stop watching them. Angie’s piercing blue eyes were hypnotizing. Their shape, perfectly oblong and curled upwards, was perfectly symmetrical. Her hair, natural black curls, could barely be contained in some sort of pony tail which Angie kept trying to fix. Every time she did, Lia could see a small portion of pale skin between Angie’s blue shirt and jeans. She felt her heart beat faster every time she envisioned touching her there. Angie laughed. Lia smiled watching. She is so perfect, she thought. How can someone this perfect ever even see me? She would hate me, anyway. All her friends are so… small and elegant, and they wear heels in the middle of winter. I would fall flat on my ass just trying. Oh my God, if my mother knew about this, she would kill me. I gotta be home by eleven tonight, otherwise I won’t get out for a month. So many things can happen in a month. I might never see her again. That can’t happen.

Their friends pulled chairs close after ordering drinks. Lia glanced over to Angie. She felt her stomach tighten again. Jealous claws poked at her heart. She would have given anything to be in the petite girl’s place. Except I’m not petite. Angie held the girl’s hand, caressing it softly. Once in a while, she kissed the girl’s forehead, and Lia wondered what that would feel like. She couldn’t stop watching them.

Angie’s piercing blue eyes were hypnotizing. Their shape, perfectly oblong and slightly curled upwards, was perfectly symmetrical. Her naturally black curls were barely contained by a ponytail Angie kept trying to fix. Every time she did, Lia could see pale skin between Angie’s blue shirt and jeans. She felt her heart beat faster when she envisioned touching her there. Angie laughed. Lia smiled watching. She is so perfect, she thought. How can someone this perfect ever even see me? She would hate me, anyway. All her friends are so… small and elegant, and they wear heels in the middle of winter. I would fall flat on my ass just trying. Oh my God, if my mother knew about this, she would kill me. I gotta be home by eleven tonight, otherwise I won’t get out for a month. So many things can happen in a month. I might never see her again. That can’t happen.

Lia wasn’t free. She lived at home with her mother, and attending college locally. It was all she could afford. She had taken exams twice at universities in other cities, and had failed. She hadn’t even wanted to try again, this time locally, but her mother had refused to listen to her desire of just getting a job and forgetting about college. God knows they needed the income. They were all alone, and her mother worked in a retail store downtown. They barely had food on the table, and clothes on their backs. Lia wore jeans her mother modified for her, as she gained weight. She wore one pair of tennis shoes until she felt the ground scratching the soles of her feet. On her 18th birthday, their fridge was unplugged, because there was nothing worth preserving in there. Not even a cake.

Lia wasn’t free. She lived with her mother. She attended college locally, although all she wanted was to get a job. God knows they needed the income. Her mother had refused to listen to her plea, and she was now a student. They were all alone, and her mother worked in retail. They barely had food on the table, and clothes on their backs. Lia wore jeans her mother modified for her, as she gained weight. She wore one pair of tennis shoes until she felt the ground scratching the soles of her feet. Only then she could buy a new one. On her 18th birthday, their fridge was unplugged, because there was nothing worth preserving in there. Not even a cake.

SO what do you think?

WHICH paragraph sounds better?

ANY other suggestions?

Cheers.

What’s Your Genre?

I’ve been doing a certain amount of reading online lately (and by ‘certain’ I mean A LOT), on various blogs, amateur writers’ sites, etc. I like seeing what’s out there. What can I say? I’m curious. Aren’t you?

I personally have found that fantasy stuff is big. People write stories about magic and wizards. Elves are trendy, too. Couple that with knights and swords, dwarves and trolls, and you get the picture. I’m not saying it’s not a cool genre. I love reading a good fantasy story just as much as the next person. I’ve never written one myself. I’m just not sure whether writers do it because they want to and they feel they’re good at it, or because they somehow know that’s what people want to read. The fact that there are so many fantasy writers out there, in itself, should tell me that’s what readers expect. But is it? I’m just wondering.

I love authors who are able to create entire worlds and make them seem real. Think J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, George R. R. Martin’s Game of Thrones, J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter (Oh my, maybe I should have some initials added to my name:). These writers are so good at being detailed, everything is considered, the environment with gnarled trees and crumbling castles, the tools or weapons with names like The Lightbringer and The Oathkeeper, the spells are meaningful as well and have their own names like Expecto Patronum. The background stories flow into you and take over. You feel trapped and you have no choice but to finish reading so you know how the story ends. You want to know if the bad guy wins. You want to see the good guy prevail. It depends, I sometimes giggle when the villains are so… endearingly villain-ish that I can’t help but cheer them on. That’s me.

I wouldn’t say fantasy is my favorite genre, though. I find it difficult to create, and maybe that’s why I’ve never tried my hand at it. I love mysteries and horror stories. I love being scared. Although I do have to watch movies like ‘Paranormal Activity’ with the sound off. I find it’s the sound that gets to me. I digress. I love thrillers and a good romance once in a while, just for good balance.

What do you like? What’s the genre that appeals to you the most? Even if you can’t tell me why, tell me which. What’s the story that stands out among the millions you have access to? Do you like being scared, like me? Do you like crying because the knight in shining armor saved the damsel in distress, and they lived happily ever after? Do you like the prodigal son whose parents welcome him like nothing happened? Or maybe you prefer flying carpets and lamp genii to fulfill all your wishes? Tell me, I’d love to know. What can I say? I’m curious.

Keep reading. Cheers.

Full-Time Writing

I have come across a link to a forum that discusses quitting your full-time job to be a full-time writer. After reading post after post from authors (independent and self-published), I literally started to cry. I don’t have the guts to quit school to be a full-time writer. I’ve put too much time and borrowed money into it, and it still does mean a lot for me to get this degree. Plus, I can hear people saying “Are you insane? You can’t do that!!!”

I don’t think I’ll have the guts to do that even after I graduate and get this stupid piece of paper that’s been consuming my life for the past five years. Maybe it’s because I don’t really believe that my writing is any good. Maybe it’s because I can hear my mother’s voice in my head telling me to always have something to fall back on, and that a degree is all that matters in life because it opens doors for you left and right (which I call bullshit anyway). I read about these authors living on their savings (how much money do you have to make to be able to live on savings for three or four years while you wait for your book to turn into profit? If it ever does, because there’s no guarantee, of course) and I see that’s never gonna happen for me. I’m unemployed right now, have just found out that I wasn’t selected for the job/internship at Rusk I was hoping for, and I’m freaking out because I don’t know what’s gonna happen in the next couple of months without an income AND without an internship.

Believe me, I would love nothing more than to become a recluse and just write and read all day long, with no concerns for anything else. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that. Is it because I don’t really have the passion for it that I thought I did? Am I thinking this way because I’m disappointed about Rusk? Or because I’ve been trying to finish a story now for a week and it’s just not working? I just don’t know. As much as I’d like to believe that I’m the kind of person who follows her dreams, and faces everything head on, my thoughts are telling me otherwise right now. My thoughts are telling me there are bills to pay, mouths to feed, and other people to be taken into account. How can these people just quit everything to write full-time? Where and how do they find all this support they talk about? I feel guilty for even thinking it. I feel like it would just be an excuse for me to give up the challenges of my own life.

And I just made the mistake of checking my bank account. Crap.

The Ksenia Anske Model

“You know why I write? Because paper can’t tell me to SHUT UP.” – K. A.

In an effort to start promoting my writing a bit more (I have been lazy with it lately, mostly because I have no idea what I’m doing), I recently joined Twitter and started following a bunch of random names as they appeared in my thread (until I realized you can actually search for topics that interest you). One of the people I followed this way is a writer by the name of Ksenia Anske (she’s Russian, lives in Seattle). Her tweets got me hooked right away, and I started paying more attention to what she has to say overall. Then I visited her full profile and laughed out loud while reading her other and older posts. Then I ended up on her blog, and WOW, talk about mind blown! The way she uses the English language puts me to shame. I’ve always thought I was good at writing, but this girl is unbelievable and I would urge ANYONE with a little bit of brain function to go to her blog and REALLY READ it (www.kseniaanske.com). She’s inspiring to me, and her words got me excited about writing again. She’s insightful, witty, unexpectedly honest, and funny… all in one… You can just read her passion, it emanates from every word and envelops you so insidiously that you don’t realize it until you stop reading and ponder. Wow. Where have I been until now? Damn, my writing is bad. Oh my, so much more to learn. Maybe I should just quit, I’ll never be this good. Why am I crying? This is too much. I have to write a story now.

Anyways, Ms. Ksenia is giving away her writing for free, although people who want to support her can also buy her books on Amazon, for example, or donate to keep her writing. I’m including this link to the specific article about it (http://www.kseniaanske.com/blog/2014/5/24/what-happens-to-book-sales-if-your-books-are-free), and I’m including a short fragment here, because I couldn’t say it any better (and I just like the way she puts it):

“This is the lesson I learned, through all this fear and trepidation. Like I said in the previous blog post, I still finance myself via savings and occasional consulting gigs, but I will keep giving my art away for free, because it’s what I believe in. I believe in sharing love, and my art is my manifestation of love. I love you, and I want you to have what I can give. If you want to give back, please do. If not, I’m happy because I gave. Nothing else matters, really. I don’t know when I’ll be dead. Just reading the news today, the news of another horrendous shooting, made my hair stand on end, and filled me with sadness. What kind of a world do we live in, when one is so deprived of love, one descends to killing those who denied it? I cry as I write this. You never know when that stray bullet might catch you. We will all be dead, one way or another. Why wait? Why sit on the wealth of your love when you could be so much happier sharing it? What is money anyway? Pieces of paper that exchange pockets, a concept. This is it.”

I’m calling this The Ksenia Anske Model, which I will be following myself (don’t worry, she already knows I stole it and gave her approval: “Steal it! STEAL IT!!”). I cannot find words to express how much sense this makes to me, so I will stop now and go write another story… well, no, lots of things to fix on this blog first:) Pdf.’s to add, explanations of what this means for those reading my stuff, updates, links, etc. etc.

Our Future Teachers

I recently taught a course entitled Educational Psychology. It is a course for pre-service teachers (for those of you who don’t know, pre-service teachers are those students preparing to become teachers; once they finish college, get certified, and actually get a job in a school district, they become in-service teachers). So I’m teaching this course aimed at preparing the students for the realities of the classroom, of the school and school district, of the policies associated with teaching, of behavioral management, of lesson planning, etc., etc. The grade was calculated based on 14 quizzes (they had three attempts, and we took the highest grade into account), and on two online projects consisting of five questions they had to answer “thoroughly”. Now, these students are preparing to become teachers and educate future generations. These students are the ones who will be educating my kids…technically only, because I have already decided my kids will be home-schooled. These are the people who will be molding your child into a future decent and productive member of society. As such, I was expecting these students to work hard and want to learn, and I was definitely NOT expecting them to not even know how to use the English language. Aren’t you supposed to have a good command of English before you can teach anything to anyone? Aren’t you supposed to know how to use proper grammar, syntax, and punctuation (let alone spelling and capitalization)? Aren’t you supposed to want to get better in your use of the language before you can deliver a lesson to someone else, to young children who don’t know any better and look up to you as a teacher? Is it just me? Am I going crazy thinking that teachers are supposed to be able to write and express themselves correctly? The best part of this is that I wasn’t really allowed to help them. I was told to take 3 points away for language errors overall, but not point out what they did wrong or comment on what they needed to improve. As a result, I get the following responses to one of the projects (see below). I am not including the questions, because they are irrelevant for the point I’m trying to make. Read the answers below and try to figure out if you would let this person teach your child. I would actually really love to know if you would.

The research that the Smartville School District uses during the making is called the field experiment. The field experiment is a type of research that is use in real conditions and information and responses are being processed through the course of time into a data base that helps them acknowledged what is being handled in the experiment. Backing up to the Smartville School District situation, its experiment of the children who are receiving the benefits of the new curriculum ( a definition in which how teachers are given an objective to provide the education the children are required before the end of the year) are call the experimental group. While the children who receive the old curriculum would be call the “Control group” (a definition in which the children are receiving the education “normally” from the past knowledge).
Mr. Jones completed a type of research that is called the correlational research. A student studies for his course instead of going out for the weekends brings a positive correlation for the student having high grades. For those that doesn’t follow, will have negative correlation that could cause low test grades and uneducated.
Kohlberg’s has several “levels” in his theory. The first level of moral reasoning is called the pre-conventional level. Its covers most of the age range from preschool children to elementary students. Though there are some exceptional people that are shown in secondary schools and higher. Pre-conventional is when the individual can make their decisions more often by doing what’s best for themselves without the careless of others feelings. The second level of moral reasoning in Kohlberg’s theory is called conventional morality where it’s mostly revolves around junior high and high school students. This stage is when the individual makes the decision based on the people around them. The individual wants a strong, trusting relationship between his or her friends and significant other. The third and final level is called the post-conventional morality. A stage that revolves around college and other individual’s that has realize that the rules of society for appropriate behavior have a certain agreement’s to what others may ask for.
In Piaget’s theory, Sallie is in what is considered as the concrete operational stage. She cannot provide the ideas of what an adult are supposed to act or be around. However, though she has a disability she is able to solve problem, create ideas, and she is able to see a relationships only if they involve objects that are recognizable. It’s also call seriation, an arrangement where you see a logical progression as the course of time continues. Although it’s a strong theory, Paget’s theory has a weakness which that not every child who are born in this world are the same.
Episodic memory is where our we have a memory bank that holds our personal experiences that we have at least happen to our lives. For example; you remember where you put your wallet every day before you go to sleep. A Semantic memory is where the facts and general information are being saved into such as the principles, rules, laws, interest and how you execute them to solve problems. Last but not least, you have the procedural memory. A memory of where you have learned and use particular types of actions. For example; you learn how to ride a bike, walk for the first time, throwing a football, and running. Sallie would be able to use semantic memory to help her memorize the names of each state.