Intersections

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction ..................................... 4

Short Fiction .................................... 6

The Balcony .................................. 9

Secrets ...................................... 15

Flirting with Death .......................... 19

Poetry ........................................... 26

Claustrophobia ............................... 28

4th of July ................................... 30

Technical Writing ................................ 32

The President and the King ................... 34

Creative Writing Handouts .................... 43

Mock Grant Proposal .......................... 50

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An Introduction

Growing up in Huntsville, AL, I would often find myself revisiting a certain cluster of intersections near the park downtown. Whether it be the library, the pond, the park, a restaurant, a museum, or even the civic center where my high school’s graduation ceremony was held, something interesting could always be found where those streets met. Sometimes they would even host art and music festivals there. Tents and stages would be placed all around the intersections, and different people from around the area would come together to eat, drink, and enjoy the music. Different genres of bands would come together and play just a few blocks from one another, and different artists would set up tents right next to each other. New people would be met. Old ideas would mix with other old ideas to make new ones. Whatever happened, the merging of two formerly separate ideas, people, places, and things would always produce something new. This idea is exactly what I try to accomplish with my writing. I aim to find the “new” emerging from the various intersections of life.

In the past four years, I have had the privilege of strengthening my writing through the various intersections with my professors and peers at the University of North Alabama. Through writing classes, working as a writing consultant for the Center for Writing Excellence, and certain extracurricular writing activities, I have learned that writing is far from an insular process. Constructive criticism and encouragement is a necessary part of growing as a writer, and in this portfolio I hope to show you the result of four years of such valuable feedback. UNA has taught me to learn from the intersections of technical and creative writing. I had never previously thought that the two could relate, but my professors have shown me otherwise. I’ve adapted research skills learned from technical writing classes and have applied them to my creative work, which gives my fiction pieces much more credibility. Creative writing classes have always stressed the importance of reading from a reader’s perspective. I have l gone on to apply this technique to my technical writing. The formal documents that I write are now much more concise and readable. These are just some of the many examples of the intersections constantly at play in my own writing. I hope you’ll enjoy the following writing samples and look for all the various intersections in my included pieces.

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Short Fiction

I’ve been interested in creative writing ever since the third grade, where our teacher would let us write short stories which we could share in front of the class. My professors and peers at UNA have helped me develop this interest with their encouragement and constructive criticism. I’ve included two short stories and one play to showcase my growth as a fiction writer. In “The Balcony”, written in Literary Publishing (EN 495) with Ms. Garner, I demonstrate my ability to create vivid imagery by depicting the final moments of a man committing suicide via overdose. Before coming to UNA, I had a problem with being overly wordy in my fiction. “Secrets”, written in Genres of Creative Writing (EN 355W) with Mr. Brown, shows how I’ve learned to tell a story simply without resorting to melodramatic phrasing. Finally, I’ve included “Flirting With Death”, a play written for Genres of Creative Writing to illustrate my ability to construct an allegory through short fiction. In the play, a woman accuses her lover of being unfaithful to her. The woman is later revealed to be Death, and their conversation mirrors the five stages of grief.

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The Balcony

Adam reached for his drink, now lukewarm, and plodded towards the door with a weighted right-step, then a left, and then a heavy right again. He leaned up against the pane glass door and paused. For a moment, the beige and brick of his apartment wall collided with the night sky, framing his hazel eyes against a translucent landscape. He slid open the glass, shattering the illusion of color, and stepped out onto the balcony. Adam crumpled to the ground. A drop of cloudy rum sloshed out of his glass and fell onto his shirt. His mouth twisted and curled instinctively at the thought of it. It had tasted awful, but there was just no other way. Jackson was out borrowing the car, so carbon monoxide was out. Neither of them owned any rope that Adam knew of. Besides, he hated when anyone would touch his neck and hadn’t even tied a knot in something other than his shoes since he was in boy scouts. No, it had to be the pills. Everything else would have been too difficult.

Adam leaned his back against the cool brick. In his mind, he could he could hear a woman singing. Her voice crawled along the railing. Adam’s back dug deeply into the wall behind him. The soft strumming of an acoustic guitar joined in with the phantom voice. Although he could not make out the lyrics, Adam felt like he understood them. The words kept their distance from him. He buried himself deeper into the brick. The skin on Adam’s back began to tear. Scratches spotted his back with trickles of blood, but he could no longer feel it.

The glass door shoved open.

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Adam watched Jackson step out onto the balcony and fumble for a cigarette. He tensed for a moment. Adam could still feel a humid pressure around his eyes. He lifted his hands to his face – Dryness. He relaxed his muscles. Jackson held his cigarette in his mouth and flicked his lighter. Adam shifted against the brick wall.

Jackson jumped back and yelled, “Jesus, Adam! What the hell are you doing out here?”

“It’s a beautiful night…I thought I’d come watch the stars,” Adam replied. He had barely felt his mouth moving at all.

“Well next time would you at least say something? What if I had been holding a knife or something? I would’ve messed you the fuck up and it wouldn’t have been my fault."

“Oh yeah? I never pictured you as the courageous type. And why would you even have a knife anyway?”

“To keep no good lurkers like you away from my goddamn porch,” Jackson replied, “You’re not getting your mangy, derelict ass past these moves.” Jackson took out his keys struck a pose. He fenced with the air, making whooshing sounds with his mouth and kicking invisible attackers. Jackson stumbled backwards and started laughing.

“Impressive,” replied Adam, “but I don’t care how many moves you got. I’m an infiltrator. I always find my way in.”

“Yeah, you always were a sneaky rat bastard.” Jackson juggled his cigarette back and forth between the sides of his mouth, a habit that had always annoyed Adam. He peered down at his roommate, flicking the cigarette with his tongue, and then said, “How much have you had tonight?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Just don’t go overboard again, okay? I don’t you throwing up everywhere.”

“I said don’t worry about it…I’m fine.”

“Alright, but there’s no way I’m cleaning that shit up in the morning.” Jackson leaned his arms against the balcony railing. Adam watched him from the floor of the porch. He seemed like a distant giant blowing clouds out of a factory smokestack. Jackson took a long drag from his cigarette, rolled it to the left of his mouth, took another drag, rolled it to the right, then turned his head back towards Adam and said, “You should’ve come out with us tonight.”

“Yeah...Who all’s there?” The numbness in Adam’s mouth began to loosen up, but his breath moved slowly, and his voice started to feel distant.

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“Lots of people…Michael, Julie, Craig, Matt. Anna showed up for about an hour. It was just really chill. Oh yeah, Mark and his god-awful band even got up on stage and played a few songs.”

“You mean the one that plays the pseudo-gypsy-folk?”

Jackson smiled and said, “Yeah, you should’ve heard the train wreck set they played tonight. You’d think that as much as Mark carries that guitar around he’d at least be able to keep a decent rhythm. I don’t get it. Mark spent one week in Europe. One Week. And suddenly he feels the need to grow a shitty mustache, drop acid, and bitch about how unfair and uncultured America is with his wannabe gypsy friends. “

“I think a few of their songs are actually half-decent.”

“Really? Because all I hear every time they play is one giant cavalcade of shit.”

Adam started to smile, “Jackson…do you even know what the word cavalcade means?”

“Sure, it’s like…it’s a noise that’s so bad that it makes you want to vomit or something.”

“What? No…it’s a kind of procession.”

“Oh, you mean like a parade?”

“Not exactly.”

“Yeah, well whenever I listen to Mark’s band play it makes me feel like a parade of shit is marching through my ears and down my throat. Like I can literally taste the little shit particles on my tongue. So I guess you could say that my definition is also right. Both cases end in me vomiting, anyway.”

Adam laughed. His face loosened. Jackson turned his head back towards the yard. Cicadas chirped in the distance. A lulling buzz filled the air. The faint voice of a woman began to sing, with the gently throbbing sounds of the cicadas filling the role of accompanying violins. Adam saw himself walking towards a white house surrounded by pine trees.

“Julie’s been asking about you,” Jackson said.

“You tell her I’m fine.”

“You know I already tell her that. I just think that she wants to hear it from you. You know?”

For a moment, Adam believed that he could hear Julie’s voice. It didn’t sound like it had when he had talked to her last, it was soft and calming. It made him feel like he

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was drifting peacefully on a boat out at sea, letting the gentle rolling of the waves rock him to sleep. Why couldn’t it always be this sweet? He tried to picture her face. He could only see vague outline of her jaw and the hanging strands of her black hair. Her lips were there, but they were not smiling. They stood placidly, unknowable and unreachable. As much as he tried, Adam could not picture her eyes. He felt an emptiness staring into him. Her voice began to fade.

Adam closed his eyes and focused in on the droning of the cicadas. His thoughts began to float outwards, becoming more and more distant. After a prolonged silence, Jackson inhaled one last breath of smoke before flicking his cigarette over the balcony. Adam imagined that some loose ember latched onto the dry grass below. A fire gently spread across the yard. It crept along the deadnettle stems and made its way up the metal railing, where it latched onto the balcony and wrapped itself around Adam like a blanket. His body tingled with phantom warmth. A woman began to sing. Her voice floated out from a white house with two kids playing in the yard. Adam’s face went numb.

Jackson said, “It’s about time for me to go to bed. You’d better come inside here pretty soon. I don’t want to have to drag your drunk ass inside tomorrow morning.”

Jackson stepped inside and shut the door. Adam started to get up and follow him, but his arms buckled under the weight of his own body. A panicked realization spread over him. How could he have been so stupid? Why now? Why did he have to do it now? Adam cursed and spat and raged against what was quickly becoming deadweight. His breathing grew irregular, rapid, causing his lungs to feel like they were being squeezed by a metal vice.

Visions overwhelmed him. Adam saw himself lying dead on the balcony. His eyes and mouth were open wide, withering in the heat of the summer air. A darkness loomed in the distance. It seeped into his pores, stealing his memories and robbing him of his senses. He saw his father screaming – Deep, guttural, inhuman. His mother wept. Her cries cut into his tingling gut. He struggled against the sounds and the panic, but could not force his body to act. Adam began to pray and beg and plead. The vision of his body shriveled in the ground.

Adam tried to call out to his roommate, but he could only choke out whispers and hot air. His arms and legs felt paralyzed. Still, he fought against the numbness. He twitched his fingers and pushed his lungs. When his fingers would no longer budge, he tried to imagine shaking himself awake and rising up from the balcony. Nothing moved.

Adam’s breathing grew quieter. His panic was quickly replaced by a subdued dread. The brick against his back reminded him of all the times he and Julie and his friends would go down to the river to swim and to jump off of the docks. Adam

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remembered the day when he had hurt his foot while diving into the water. Julie had helped him hobble over towards the concrete wall behind the docks and had sat with him while his friends went for help. The coolness of the shaded concrete soothed his aching back. He could feel Julie holding tightly to his arm, and could see the concern on her pale smile. She spoke to him but he could not understand her, and he still could not picture her eyes.

A woman began to sing. Adam breathed softly and distantly. A set of delicate fingers danced along the neck of an acoustic guitar, this time joined by a string section of cicadas. The woman’s voice rose up and down, drifting on rolling waves of sound. Adam caught glimpses of people, but their faces were fragmented beyond recognition. The gentle plucking of the guitar cut his thoughts into pieces. Voices died down into faint a whisper, falling softer and softer, until fading away into silence. He walked towards the white house. A woman’s voice called out, and the two kids raced each other inside. A woman

with black hair and pale skin stood at the window. She called out to Adam. He took one last look at the sun reflecting against the pine trees, then slowly made his way inside and shut the door.

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The street lights popped on, illuminating rows of brick houses with neatly-trimmed yards. The sidewalk circled around a pond where two boys sat fishing in the fading light. Mark stood for a moment and watched the boys cast their lines into the water. As soon as the hook would break the surface, the boys would reel madly. They came up empty every time. Mark continued walking.

Each house resembled the next. They all were built with the same tan bricks, with the same grey shingles, with the same stout chimney leaking no smoke. If Mark squinted his eyes, he could spot a difference or two. The house on the right had a ceramic grill out back. Behind him, a striped hammock replaced the hanging wooden porch swing. A canopy hung over one backyard, shading a family from the fading sun as they sat and talked and drank. But these small difference couldn’t make up for the fact that they all seemed so distant to him.

As the lights from the windows grew brighter, Mark began to peer inside. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of a familiar face, or even just a bored housewife passing by the window. Once, he thought he saw two children playing in the kitchen, but he couldn’t be sure. Everything just looked blurry and distorted, and he didn’t dare come any closer than the sidewalk.

Secrets

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Mark kept on walking until he got to the tan-bricked house with blue azaleas outside. He slowly made his way up to the porch, careful not step off into grass. He knocked on the door. A woman in a spotted black and white blouse opened the door. “Mark! What a nice surprise,” she said, “Come on in. It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to you too, Mom,” Mark said as he walked past his mother and into the living room, where his father sat watching TV. “Hey Dad.”

Mark’s father turned around in his large, plaid armchair. When Mark was younger, it had always seemed to him that his father, thin and short as he was, always looked like he was being swallowed up a plaid monster.

“Hey Mark, it’s been awhile. Come sit down,” his father said, pointing his son to the couch, “You just missed dinner, but I can get your mother to heat up a plate of lasagna for you if you’d like.”

“No thanks,” Mark replied, “I’m not going to be staying that long tonight.” The plan was to tell them and go. The quicker they knew, the less painful it would be for the both of them.

Mark’s mother walked into the living room and turned off the TV. She sat down on the couch next to Mark and said, “So, how are you and Stacy doing? Are you two still seeing Dr. Valcheck?”

“Yeah, we are. Things are just fine.” Stacy had left two days ago. It would have been easier if she had cried, but she just stood there with a frozen look on her face before slowly making her way out the door and into her car.

Mark’s father dragged his recliner around to face him, then said, “I saw a commercial the other day that reminded me of you.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“The one with the talking dog. You know how much your mother and I love talking animals. It’s just pure comic genius!”

“Yeah, I know, Dad.”

“Anyway, so this dog reminded me a lot of Comet. You two always used to go everywhere together.”

Mark nodded his head along to his father’s story. He had remembered the dog but could not picture it. He only saw the waiting room with its high-backed chairs and floral paintings. He saw the nurses scribbling on charts and the doctor with the bags under his eyes. He saw the blood in the sink, circling the drain as he turned on the faucet.

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Mark’s mother turned to him and said, “When are you and Stacy going to have us over again for dinner? We miss seeing you two.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mark shifted in his seat, “Has it really been that long?”

“Over two months at least,” his father said.

“We’ll get around to it eventually,” Mark replied.

Mark’s mind drifted off while his parents gossiped about the neighbors. The day he received the results still seemed blurry to him. He remembered leaving the doctor’s office and stepping out into the bright parking lot. Everything buzzed, a low, droning hum. It seemed to cover him, smothering his thoughts and senses. His parents were still talking. He watched as his mother laughed at another one of his father’s cheesy jokes. Their smiles were as bright as he always remembered them.

Mark looked at his watch and said, “Well, I guess it’s time for me to go.”

“Can’t you stay a little bit longer?” His mother said, reaching for her son’s hand, “We hardly get to see you anymore.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be coming home a lot more often from now on. I promise. It was really great to see you both again.”

Mark’s father got up and led him to the door. “I hope you do. You should stop by and pay these lonely old people a visit.”

“I love you both,” Mark said, hugging his parents.

Mark’s mom smiled and said, “We love you too. Take care, Mark.”

Mark stepped outside. The street lights shone brighter now, and the windows seemed clearer. He could actually make out the scenes in some of them. In one, a family gathered around a television. Mark stopped and watched through the window, imaging himself sitting beside them. He saw himself laughing freely, not worrying about anything but what would happen to the characters on the screen. He turned away and started walking again. Mark passed the pond. The two boys had long since packed up their poles and left. He thought about his parents. They had seemed happy, and he didn’t want to shatter that happiness. Not yet, at least. They could learn their son is dying another day. The streetlights shone on as Mark walked away.

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Flirting

With Death

Characters

JOHN, A man in his mid-30s.

DEATH, A woman with black hair and pale skin in her mid-30s

Setting

The exterior of a small house in the suburbs. Winter.

Lights pan up to focus on a closed door. The rest of the stage stays unlit for now. JOHN stumbles through the back door. Loud music and laughter can be heard.

JOHN Save another couple lines for me, will ya? (pause) Just wait, okay? I need to get some air.

Christ.

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JOHN slams the door shut and takes out a cigarette. He starts walking towards the street while cupping his hands around his mouth, struggling to light his cigarette. The lights come on to reveal DEATH standing in the middle of the road.

DEATH What were you doing in there?

JOHN

(He stomps out his cigarette) Baby! I was just about to call you.

DEATH I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore. Just answer the question.

JOHN

Excuses? It’s the truth. Me and the guys were just playing a few rounds of poker-

DEATH Were you using again?

JOHN

God no, you know I wouldn’t do that to you sweetie.

DEATH Don’t lie to me, John.

JOHN

When have I been anything but truthful to you, baby? You know I care way too much about you to just lie to your face like that.

DEATH

What about the time I had to pick you up after you crashed your car into that ditch? You swore to me that the cute little brunette you were drunkenly speeding around town with

was just “some poor girl” you were giving a lift home.

JOHN And I still swear by that! You can’t blame me for trying to be a good Samaritan. (pause) Besides, even if something had happened, that was ages ago. I’m a changed man now.

You make me want to be a better man for you.

DEATH You’ve changed nothing for me. I’m not going to fall for any of your bullshit anymore.

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JOHN

Baby, just listen to how ridiculous you’re sounding right now. I’ve always been there for you. You’re not thinking straight. Have you been drinking?

DEATH

Don’t you dare try and pin this on me. You and I both know very well you’ve treated me like dirt these past few years. I’ve given you everything and what do you do in return?

JOHN

Spend a couple nights here and there out with the guys? I just don’t see how I’m in the wrong here.

DEATH

The guys? Is that what you’re calling those coked out whores you fuck every weekend?

JOHN Goddammit! Will you just lay off me for once in my life? So what if I want to sleep

around? So what if I want to get high? Maybe I wouldn’t have to do any of this shit if you would just stop fucking looming over me all the time like some depressing goddamn

shadow!

DEATH Oh, so now it’s my fault that you’re nothing but a deadbeat drug addict? Just how stupid

do you think I am?

JOHN It’s the fucking truth! I mean, Christ, I can’t spend a minute alone without you hovering

like a vulture in the back of my mind, just waiting for me to fuck up. I wake up in the morning, and you’re there. I go out for a few drinks, and you’re there. I drive to the

grocery store to pickup some milk, and you’re there. Me getting high just keeps you in a distant fucking hole where you really belong.

DEATH begins to cry softly.

JOHN Shit (pause) I didn’t mean it like that, baby. I take it all back, okay? I swear.

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DEATH It’s too late for apologies, John. It’s over.

JOHN

(Grabs death) Okay, so maybe I did mess up this time-

DEATH John-

JOHN

Maybe I’m a little bit out of my mind right now-

DEATH Stop-

JOHN

Maybe I’ve done some things that I can’t exactly take back. But we’ve been through worse times before-

DEATH

(Breaking free) John!

JOHN Wait, would you please just hear me out for a second. What about the time I slept with

that married woman and her husband beat me unconscious.

DEATH This isn’t helping your case.

JOHN

I’m not done yet. Just listen. So I’ll admit that sleeping with that woman was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry.

DEATH

It’s a little too late for saying sorry.

JOHN I know. I made a mistake. But remember how, even after you found out what I did, you

cleaned up my cuts and took care of me while my bruises went away?

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DEATH There’s no way in hell that something like that will ever happen again.

JOHN

That’s exactly what I’m trying to say! Look, when was the last time you can honestly say I pulled something that stupid? Admit it. I’ve come a long way since then. And you know what else? It’s all been for you. Take me back and I swear upon my life that I’ll only get

better.

DEATH You say that now, and maybe you’ll mean it for about a week or two, but in time you’ll

be the same old John again.

JOHN I’m serious, baby. Please. Just believe me this time. I’ll give up the drugs, the women,

the late nights, anything to help you forgive me! There’s nothing I want more than anything else in the world than to get well for you, but you have to cut me a little slack

here.

DEATH I’m sorry, John, but I’ve heard this speech too many times before. It’s over.

John runs his hand through his hair and takes a deep breath.

JOHN Fuck!

John sits down on the curb. He brings his knees in close to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

JOHN Do you remember the first time we met?

DEATH

Of course. Over by the river. You were trying to swim against the current. Bobby Tanner had bet that you couldn’t even make it halfway across. What was it all for again?

JOHN

Hell, I don’t even remember. A pocketknife, maybe? I just know that there was no way I was gonna let that cocky asshole show me up. Besides, I had a girl to impress.

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DEATH (Sits down next to John) You were so stubborn back then (pause) still are.

JOHN

(Smiling) And you were as beautiful as ever.

Johns smile fades and he looks concerned

JOHN Where did it all go wrong?

DEATH

You never could quite commit. I remember the night when we were sitting in the car right after your sister passed away. You turned the radio up and we were practically

screaming the lyrics, but none of them mattered at that point. You leaned in and kissed me so passionately, so sincerely that I felt for sure that you would be mine forever, but

then-

JOHN But then I chickened out and opened the car door.

DEATH

Why did you leave me all alone like that?

JOHN There were still a lot of things I wanted to do first (Pauses then looks at death) Still are.

DEATH

We can’t keep going on like this.

JOHN I know.

DEATH

It’s time to go home, John.

JOHN Can’t I stay out just a little while longer?

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DEATH

No, it’s time.

JOHN Alright (pause) alright. Just tell me one thing before I go. What finally did me in? Was it

an overdose?

DEATH Heart attack.

JOHN

(Smiling) A heart attack? Christ. I always imagined the end being a little more…you know…eventful.

Death stands up and extends her hand. John takes it and she helps him up.

DEATH You may have been a sly, cheating bastard, John. But in the end, your heart always

belonged to me.

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Poetry

Poetry, while never really being a strongpoint of mine, has become something I

now enjoy writing. Before taking Genres of Creative Writing (EN 355W) with Mr. Brown, I had never really attempted to write much poetry. Finding the music in the poems made sense to me, but providing concrete imagery was somewhat difficult at first. One of our class assignments was to find a story in the newspaper and turn it into a poem in the style of our choosing. I found an article about a newlywed bride who pushed her groom off a cliff on their honeymoon. In the resulting poem, “Claustrophobia”, I used the concrete imagery of a bride’s stomach to paint a picture of intense anxiety and the feeling of being trapped that I imagined she must have felt leading up to her wedding and her husband’s death. “Artillery Shells” is a poem that I originally wrote for Mr. Brown’s class. After some suggestions made by my peers and professor in my Portfolio Writing Portfolio class (EN 489W) with Dr. Mauriello, I decided to take their advice and mold my ordinary prose poem into the shape of a fireworks launcher. This suggestion combined with some minor alterations helped breathe new life into a poem I had previously discarded.

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Claustrophobia

"Of course I'll marry you"

leads to champagne funnelled

into dreams of houses and

kid and gardens filled with

squash, sage, and those

shiny-green tomatoes

you always liked.

Frosting-tipped dresses

float by, constricting

your stomach into needlepoints

pushing fears forcefully out

of your shrinking esophagus.

Repeat Ad Naseum

with the florists, with

the DJ, with the caterers,

with the invitations et cetera,

et cetera, et cetera, et cetera

until claustrophobia sets in.

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That magical day comes

and you expect release

but your shrinking stomach

still clings tightly to the

back of your throat.

You walk your walk

with dignified humility

all the same.

Congratulations and faces

and gifts and more faces

and dances and force-fed food

before mountains and glaciers.

Yelling and arguments and your stomach

tearing ripping squeezing shredding.

Gut climbs up into brain

and forces hands to push,

sending him plummetting

towards the beautiful

ground below.

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Artillery Shells

We gather, laughing,

around crowded cars

and dense trees still

dripping from rain

A fuse is lit and the

smell of sulfur rises

with deep echoes

bouncing off bottomless

laughter and shrieks

Fuses are lit again and

someone tips over the

cardboard firing tube

sending sparks shooting

like cannonballs green

and red and blue towards

the scattering crowd

I stand, laughing, as

shells and smoke and

people flood down

the empty street

More fuses are lit,

more laughter is heard,

until the crowd shrinks to nothing.

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Technical Writing

Although technical writing has always been easier than creative writing for me, there was still a lot I had to learn from my classes here at UNA. I had never really considered the importance of writing towards a specific audience before I started working as a writing consultant at The Center for Writing Excellence. The training course for the center (UNA 300), Advanced Composition (EN341W) with Dr. Koch, and Freshman Composition II (EN 122) with Dr. Mauriello all showed me just how important it was to read from the perspective of the reader. Before taking these classes, I had previously only considered the professor as my audience, and even then I still didn’t quite write with them in mind. The three writing samples included below showcase my ability to write a variety of different technical articles all with different potential audiences.

My first experience with technical writing came in New Media Writing (EN 445W) with Dr. Mauriello. One of our major assignments was to take a work we had previously written and update it in a different format. I used visual design and an embedded video to transform an essay comparing Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech with Abraham Lincoln’s “Gettysburg address” from a flat text into a much more interesting and interactive. I’ve also decided to include a series of handouts I made for Writing Centers &WID (UNA 300) with Dr. Koch. The handouts were created from a variety of sources about writing centers that we had to research. I chose to do mine on how to integrate creative writing techniques in tutoring sessions. The handouts demonstrate both my ability to synthesis creative techniques with more technical ones, and to create documents that are quick and easy to read. The last document included in a mock grant proposal created for Grant Writing and Management (440W) with Dr. Winner. With a combined max character count of 2,000, I used what I’ve learned about keeping documents nice and concise to thoroughly explain my hypothetical project without ever reaching over the space limit.

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The President and The King Comparing and Contrasting Two Revolutionary Speeches

2/22/2012 Holden Belew

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Introduction Often times on the eve of a new era, a great man or woman will be

there, speaking powerful words to a nation swaying on the brink of

reformation. These speakers have come there to do one of two things: to

ignite the sparks of revolution in the hearts of millions or to forever cement

the actions of those who have already revolted. Some speakers, however,

must do both. Abraham Lincoln and Marin Luther Kings, Jr. were two such

men, given the arduous task of both preserving the past and laying the

foundation for the future. In order to accomplish such a momentous task

both Lincoln and King had to carefully consider their syntax, audience, and

purpose.

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Syntax The syntax of both Lincoln’s and Dr. King’s

speech played an integral part in the overall

effect they produced. Both men started

their speech in the past, moved on to the

present, then progressed to the future; they

organized their speeches in this way to show

the birth, development, and eventual

realization of a specific goal. Lincoln begun his speech by saying, “Four score and seven years ago our

fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated

to the proposition that all men are created equal,” ( Line 1). Dr. King opened his speech in an

almost identical manner by saying, “Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic

shadow we stand, signed the Emancipation Proclamation” (Line 1). Using a reference to the past

as an opener let each man’s audience know exactly which previously set goal brought them there on that

day. Lincoln chose the founding of America as his goal. In using the word “conceived”, the former

president implied that while the founding fathers had begun the conception of America, they had not yet

given birth to it at the time of Lincoln’s speech. Dr. King picked Lincoln’s signing of the Emancipation

Proclamation as his goal, with the same purpose in mind as Lincoln had. The two men then brought their

respective audience back to the present by using the words “Now” and “But”. With Lincoln’s statement,

“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so

conceived and so dedicated, can long endure,” (Line 2) and Dr. King’s somber admission of, “But

one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free,” (519)

the nation was shown that the need to achieve the previously mentioned goal still existed. Finally, Lincoln

and Dr. King vocalized their vision of the future. Lincoln and Dr. King differed greatly in their attitude

towards the future; while Lincoln ended on an ominous note, Dr. King ended on a highly optimistic one.

Lincoln showed his grave concerns for the future by saying, “It is rather for us to be here dedicated

to the great task remaining before us…” and, “that government of the people, by the people,

for the people, shall not perish from the earth,” (Lines 6-8). These statements suggested that he

believed that if America did not act now, their failure to do so would forever erase them from existence.

On the other side of the spectrum, Dr. King joyfully and repeatedly told of his “dream” of an ideal

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Past

Present

Future

America, inspiring hope in the hearts of millions. Regardless of their slightly different endings, both men

had masterfully arranged the order of events in their speeches to make a powerful impact on their listeners.

Audiences

The fact that Lincoln and Dr. King both knew their audiences well helped their speeches become such a

success. Lincoln and Dr. King addressed very similar audiences; both audiences consisted of mainly

Christians. Knowing this, both men used words found in the bible to help make their speech more

accessible to the majority population. For example, both men used the word “hallow” in their speeches,

“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and

dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal,”

“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated,

can long endure,”

“It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before

us…”

“Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand, signed the Emancipation Proclamation.”

“But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact

that the Negro is still not free,”

Repitition of King's “dream”

Both men effectively tailored their speeches to fit a primarily Christian audience

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Lincoln used the word “consecrate” in his speech, and Dr. King used both “exalted” and “holy” in his

speech. Both speakers also referenced God in their speeches. Lincoln said “Under God” when speaking

of America towards the end of his address, while Dr. King closed his speech with “…Thank God

Almighty, we are free at last!” (521). The mention of God’s name at the conclusions of their speeches

had a very powerful effect on such a religious audience. Along with knowing America’s religious affiliation,

Lincoln also knew that fighting the Civil War had left the nation emotionally and spiritually exhausted.

Because of this fact, Lincoln realized how important it was to honor both sides when speaking of the

countless dead and how they should be remembered. So instead of saying the Confederate soldiers or the

Union soldiers, Lincoln simply addressed them as “those who gave their lives that that nation

might live” and “these honored dead” (Lines 3, 6). Dr. King had to deal with a very different

problem: soothing the escalating tempers of a people who America had long held down by means of racism

and discrimination. Dr. King knew that if African-Americans violently protested their situation, then the

goal he already tried so hard to accomplish would become exponentially more difficult to achieve. Because

of this, Dr. King used peaceful phrases such as “Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by

drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred” and “Again and again we must rise to the

majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force” to help placate his fellow African-

Americans (519-520). The amazing insight into their audience that both orators possessed drastically

influenced the way America reacted to each speech.

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Exercise Now that you are beginning to understand the processes

that went into creating these speeches, take a moment to

listen to the final products. Pay careful attention to the

words that were quoted in bold. The speakers chose these

words for a reason. Consider how the speeches would have

changed if these words had been replaced. For example,

how would have both Lincoln’s speech and King’s speech

have changed if they had not used a linear progression of

time? Before you move on to the next section, see if you

can identify certain words and phrases that both speakers

use to convey their purpose.

Text versions of both speeches can be found here and here.

Both men had to have a thorough knowledge of their audience

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Purpose Another important factor in making sure both Lincoln and Dr. King successfully delivered such

historically significant speeches was that they each had a definite

purpose in mind. Both men strived to unify a divided nation,

which they revealed in the way they addressed their audience.

Lincoln disclosed this purpose by his use of the words

“we” and “us”. Using these words, as opposed to using

the word “I” or “you”, let his audience know that he

considered himself to be on their level. Also, he used

these words to help promote a sense of unity between

the North and the South; if Lincoln had addressed each

demographic individually, the feeling of distance

between the two would likely have grown stronger. Dr.

King used the word “we” in a similar manner, but he also

had to use the word “Negro”. Lincoln could use the words

“we” and “us” only because the Union and the Confederacy had

previously been one nation. Dr. King had to use the word “Negro”

to show that America still thought of them as separate beings. Lincoln made his purpose clear when he said,

“It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who

fought here have thus far so nobly

advanced,” (Line 5). By saying this, Lincoln

implied that in order to honor those who had

died for their country, America had to strive to

finish the goal that those men had died

advancing. Dr. King vocalized his purpose by

saying, “In a sense we have come to our

nation’s capital to cash a check…” when

speaking of the broken promises of the founding

fathers (519). He then went on to say, “So we

have come to cash this check,” showing that

even though America would not reward them

before, King felt that the time had finally come

to demand the fulfillment of the promise of

equality (519). With their purposes properly

articulated, Lincoln’s and Dr. King’s audience

then knew what they should be fighting for.

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Conclusion

In closing, Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther

King, Jr. both demonstrated the ability to

construct speeches so powerful and moving

that they changed the world. Both speakers

skillfully molded their words into a form that

shook the very core of America. To do this

they combined three necessary processes of

successful writing in order to form their

unforgettable masterpieces. With such

meticulous uses of words, it should come as

no surprise that both Lincoln’s and Dr. King’s

speech had such a profound impact on their

nation.

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Creative Writing

Handouts Applying Four Creative Writing Techniques in the Writing Center

Creative writing techniques don’t have to be restricted to prose and poems. In fact, they can

effectively aid in tutoring clients across the disciplines. As Educational Development Lecturer David

McVey would say, “all writing is creative” (2008). Therefore, it can be implied that creative writing

techniques would have a valuable place in the writing center.

What is it?

Storytelling

Free Writing

Showing vs. Telling

Personalization

What can it help accomplish?

Improve the client/consultant relationship

Get the client interested in their topic

Help the client find his/her voice

Come up with new and interesting topics

Help the consultant become more versatile

Improve the client’s descriptive abilities

Make writing more enjoyable for the client

Help the client use more supporting evidence

Allow for thinking outside of the box

Help the client’s paper transition more smoothly

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Storytelling

How does it work?

Certain experts believe that we can improve our clients’ non-fiction writing skills by teaching

them certain elements of storytelling. Clients who tend to write disorganized papers often overlook basic

storytelling structures (exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and denouement). By breaking a

client’s essay down to these simple elements, you can teach them to better organize their paper. This

method can be applied to multiple levels of your client’s essay (sentence, paragraph, and essay). Getting

a client to think of their essay as a story can also help increase their interest in writing. Typically, students

find telling a story a lot more fun than arguing a point. This method will help a student personalize their

paper. As a result, they will often put more effort into what they are writing.

Used best with clients who:

Have organizational problems

Display a lack of interest in writing

Strategy #1: Breaking it down

Choose a disorganized paragraph from your client’s essay.

Have the client break down his/her points into separate sentences.

Tell the client to group the sentences according to the storytelling structure.

Does everything flow together smoothly?

If not, are there any necessary pieces missing?

The client may need to add transitional sentences to link the pieces together.

If there are no missing pieces, but the client’s paper is still disorganized, check to see if he/she

divided the essay properly.

Strategy #2: Talking it out

Ask your client to tell you about his/her paper.

Write down any key details that they tell you.

If the client is having trouble explaining their topic to you, ask questions to get them started.

Show the client what you have written and ask them to organize what they have just said.

Strategy #3: Providing examples

For clients who are having a particularly hard time with organization, ask them to tell you a story

(What they did that day, a certain memory of theirs, something completely made up, etc.)

Write down all of the main points of their story.

Show your client what you have written and ask them to identify the elements of structure.

Does everything flow together in a coherent way?

If so, ask your client to apply these same techniques to his/her essay.

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Free Writing

How does it work?

Free writing is one of the most common creative writing techniques used in tutoring sessions. It

can be incredibly useful for any clients who are experiencing writer’s block. Free writing sessions can also

help students whose writing comes off as choppy or forced. These techniques often can help clients find

their voice. Certain writing professors believe that academic papers can rob students of their voice. They

believe that creative writing exercises (such as free writing) can help clients regain their stolen voices.

Used best with clients who:

Are having trouble coming up with a topic

Cannot find anything to say about a topic

Strategy #1: Free writing

Ask your client to write down everything they know about their topic.

If they are having trouble getting started, suggest making a flowchart.

When your client has finished writing (or after you feel like enough time has passed), instruct

them to read what they have just written.

Ask the client if any of this information can be used in their paper.

If the client is still having trouble coming up with ideas, they may not have done enough

research.

Suggest that the client spend some extra time reading about their topic.

Strategy #2: Free talking

Sometimes, a client will be unable to free write about a topic that should be familiar to them.

If this happens, encourage them to talk about their topic with you.

Get them to tell you anything and everything they can think of concerning their paper.

Write down all important things that the client says.

After you have collected a sufficient amount of information, show your client what you have

written.

Ask them if they can use any of the topics you have just discussed.

Other Strategies:

Make a web chart.

Ask the client to write a list of topics that interest them.

Have the client design a flowchart.

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Showing vs. Telling

How does it work?

An important aspect of creative writing is to show rather than to tell. While there are a lot of

cases where you should tell rather than show in a nonfiction essay, something can still be taken away

from this technique. Teaching your client how to show helps them provide evidence for any claims that

they might make in their paper.

Used best with clients who:

Do not sufficiently back up their claims

Have trouble transitioning sentences

Are having trouble thinking outside the box

Strategy #1: Visualizing/Verbalizing (Adapted from Julie Neff’s “Voices from the Writing Center: Risky

Business/Safe Places”)

If you client has a place in their paper that lacks description, ask them to visualize what they are

writing about.

This technique is particularly useful when having a client explain why they have used a certain

adjective.

Have them describe the subject of that adjective in as much detail as possible.

Strategy #2: Drawing it out

If your client is a visual learner, they might understand the difference between showing vs.

telling better if they can see it.

First, have your client tell you about their topic.

Then, instruct your client to draw what they are talking about.

Can what they have told you be used to explain their illustration?

If not, have them describe what they have drawn.

Strategy #3: Eliminating passive voice

When assisting a client who does too much telling, you’ll often find that they have an

overreliance on the passive voice.

For example, the clients will write “He was sad” instead of “He wept”. While the first phrase

only tells you that this person was sad, the second phrase proves it.

Have the client underline points in his paper where he/she makes statements using the passive

voice.

Next, ask the client to find evidence in his paper that supports this claim.

If the client finds no evidence, ask him/her to think of a way to prove their point using the active

voice

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Personalization

How does it work?

Personalization plays an important role in helping students to find their voice. Clients learn to

speak without worrying about certain restrictions to the way they write. Personalizing an essay can also

help a client become more interested in his/her topic. When the client is able to relate to what they are

writing about, they will often write about the topic in more depth.

Used best with clients who:

Are having trouble finding their voice

Write awkward sentences

Suffer from writer’s block

Lack interest in their topic

Strategy #1: Relating the topic to me

Have a client tell you about his/her topic.

Ask the client to talk about how this topic affects him/her.

Write down all of the relations.

Are these relations clearly expressed in your client’s paper?

If not, what could he/she add that would show these connections?

Strategy #2: Relating the topic to my audience

Have a client describe his/her audience to you.

Ask the client how his/her paper will affect his/her audience.

Write down all of the relations

Are these relations clearly expressed in your client’s paper?

If not, what could he/she add that would show these connections?

Strategy #3: Relating to my audience

Have a client make a list of all of the similarities and differences between him/her and his/her

audience.

Which parts of the client’s paper would him/her and his/her audience agree with?

Are these parts fully developed?

If not, how can the client develop these sections?

Find the parts of the paper where your client and his/her audience differ.

What concerns would the client’s audience have that he/she might have overlooked?

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References

Bishop, W. (1994). Crossing the lines: on creative composition and composing creative writing. In Wendy

Bishop & Hans Ostrom (Eds.), Colors of a Different Horse: Rethinking Creative Writing Theory

and Pedagogy (pp. 181-195). Urbana, IL: National Council of Teachers of English.

Bishop, W. (2003). Suddenly sexy: Creative nonfiction rear-ends composition. College English, 65(3), 257.

Conner, B. (1994). Voices from the writing center: Storytelling in the writing center. In Wendy Bishop &

Hans Ostrom (Eds.), Colors of a Different Horse: Rethinking Creative Writing Theory and

Pedagogy (pp. 202-207). Urbana, IL: National Council of Teachers of English.

Masiello, L. (1994). Voices from the writing center: It’s okay to be creative—a role for the

imagination in basic-writing courses. In Wendy Bishop & Hans Ostrom (Eds.), Colors of a

Different Horse: Rethinking Creative Writing Theory and Pedagogy (pp. 208-216).

Urbana, IL: National Council of Teachers of English.

McVey, D. (2008). Why all writing is creative writing. Innovations In Education & Teaching

International, 45(3), 289-294. doi:10.1080/14703290802176204

Neff, J. (1994). Voices from the writing center: Risky business/safe places. In Wendy Bishop & Hans

Ostrom (Eds.), Colors of a Different Horse: Rethinking Creative Writing Theory and Pedagogy

(pp. 198-201). Urbana, IL: National Council of Teachers of English.

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Mock Grant

Proposal

Tell us a little about yourself

My name is Gordon Toller, and I currently serve as project coordinator and co-founder of Rocket City

Video, an independent video production company based in Huntsville, AL. I've been involved in local

theater for 18 years where I performed a wide variety of tasks ranging from set design, to budgeting, to

directing. Recently, I have co-confounded Rocket City Video. We have produced several commercials for

local businesses and have uploaded a series of successful sketch comedy videos to YouTube.

Tell us about your awesome project!

Filming for the Future, headed by Rocket City Video, aims to provide children in grades K-12 with the

opportunity to experience the filmmaking process. With the rapid growth of technology in today’s world,

visual literacy is more important than ever. Studies have shown that teaching filmmaking to students

significantly aids in the development of visual literacy (Young & Rasinski, 2013). Rocket City Video aims to

teach visual literacy and other skills by hosting a series of filmmaking workshops for interested students

in grades 6-8. The workshops will be held in Rocket City Video’s production studios located in downtown

Huntsville. The students involved will interact with our experienced production staff on all levels of the

filmmaking process, which will give them a wide variety of activities to participate in. The first activity

offered will be learning how to write screenplays. Our staff screenplay writers will teach students basic

storyboarding and screenwriting fundamentals. We will then guide them in writing screenplays of their

own. Once the students have chosen which screenplays they would like to turn into a movie, we will help

them work to create a budget. The students will be given a predetermined amount of money to spend

on their sketches, and they will have to work together to decide what needs to be purchased for their

videos. This process will teach students important money management skills. Next, our dedicated staff

will work with the students to film their sketches. Rocket City Video will provide several opportunities for

involvement in this stage including acting, cinematography, lighting, makeup, and directing. The

importance of collaboration will be stressed here. After shooting the sketches, our staff editors will teach

the students how to edit their films, which will help them develop their attention to detail. Each student

will receive a finished copy of all of their sketches on DVD.

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How will you use the money?

Because Rocket City Video already has access to all the necessary film making equipment, most of the

$1,000 will go towards purchasing props and costumes for the students. Five sketches will be produced,

each with a $120 budget for props and costumes. Rocket City Products aims to be as inclusive as

possible, so $300 dollars will go towards transportation and food for the students involved. The

remaining $100 will be used for advertisement and DVDs of the sketches.

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Photo References

Cover & end photo – Retrieved from http://www.deviantart.com/art/New-York-15-140748594

P. 8 – Wragg, Mark. Retrieved from gty.im/108310356

P. 14 – Retrieved from http://pickyme.deviantart.com/art/Painted-Background-one-153384535

P. 18 – Retrieved from http://shadowstockcat.deviantart.com/art/ShadowSTOCKCat-Dead-

Roses-3594480

P. 31 – Retrieved from http://www.deviantart.com/art/Fireworks-20-61901343

P. 42 – Retrieved from http://www.deviantart.com/art/gears-vector-stock-260458832

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