Hey everyone! Thank you for listening to the presentation of my Twitterive! Now, here are some questions: 1.) Did you like that I used the piano as kind of both a place and a character in my narrative. If yes/no, explain a little. 2.) Honestly, come on now, was my opening poem cheesy? 3.) Were the videos distracting? or did they add to the piece? Please explain your response a little. 4.) Was my Prologue and Final Thoughts section long enough? did they introduce and say farewell efficiently? Why or why not? 5.) Besides the fact that Weebly is messing up the layouts and fonts, can you suggest anything that would make my Twitterive more visually appealing and easier to understand/read through? 6.) Is there a different genre/modal you would suggest I try using for a new section or one already existing?
Who are the characters in your Twitterive? Me and my piano. I have some sub-characters that I mention, but really only in passing. What connection/disconnection do you feel to your place? I feel a connection to my place because I have been playing since I was in 4th grade. Music is such a big part of me. When does the story take place? From when I was about 9 til present Where does the story take place? Basically around the 3 different houses my piano has been Why does the story take place? I love music. I live and breathe it. How are you delivering/presenting the story? I have some pics, videos, and audio clips so I may just go off of that.
Post Interview Thoughts: After talking to my peers, I feel pretty good about my Twitterive. My interview group seemed really excited about my ideas and progress thus far. They encouraged me to go with the autobiography motif and to use me and my piano as the main characters. At first, I was not sure if that would work, but now I see the right way to do it. Now, I feel confident to pour myself into this piece, whereas before I was a little nervous to go too deep with it. My partner suggested putting pictures up of when I was little playing the piano, but I unfortunately do not have any. Yet, I am posting pictures of the houses my piano has been in and some videos of my current students. This way my audience will have a good visual to relate too. In addition, my videos have sound, and I will be adding other audio aspects to my Twitterive. By using all these modes, I hope to connect to each member of my audience in some way. Not everyone is familiar with music, but they may be familiar with heartache, moving, teaching, or animals (Yes, they all apply!) I am really looking forward to how this project will unfold.
Thus far in WRT, I have already tried things in different genres that I never have before in a writing class. Such as reading a story and writing my own microfiction inspired from it. I focused my tweets to figure out something that meant a lot to me that I could make into a narrative. And I wrote poems based on my own stories. To be honest, it has been a little tough so far, but I have enjoyed the challenge. I used Twitter in a previous class for a kind of narrative as well, but I don't think I really made it the heart of the assignment during that class. I wound up with a pretty decent story, but I am definitely more excited about what is going to happen with my new, upcoming twitterive for WRT. In regard to the poetry from the last blog, I will admit it is not my best, and this also made me realize that I need to be more descriptive in my tweets, especially if I am using them for generative purposes. I never realized how convenient Twitter really is. I can almost use it as a writing journal to jot down ideas throughout the day. But I just have to make sure my tweets are descriptive and full--not sketchy and lacking, so I'm going to work on that. I am looking forward to the rest of this class because I do see improvement in my process as a writer already. I see myself looking at things differently, and I am eagerly awaiting to see where that will take my future blogs and upcoming assignments. I am hopeful, and that is a good feeling to have as a writer.
These next two poems were written using interesting guidelines. The first, which had to be a haiku, used words directly from my previous story, "Not the Time".
Now Seven years later Hadn’t listened to mother Fix it, fix it, now
The second poem is called a "found poem". It has words and phrases taken directly from the tweets that follow. I took a little more freedom here--it is not word for word from my tweets. The phrases are mostly in tact, but I had to weave it into new prose to ma I simply could not do that.
Happy Place You’re chipped, but still beautiful; My polar opposite, We play in perfect harmony.
I’m your beast; you’re my beauty; Let’s build our perfect story, And cuddle round the fire.
The rain and hail will come, But don’t let life get in the way. Just pull me closer, hold me tighter.
I’ve found my happy place-- So happens to be near you, At the end of each and every day.
#wrt1#twitterive I just want to be home cuddling with my puppy : ( Instead, I'm stuck in school. bummer
Afterthoughts: To be honest, this was a really hard exercise to do. I feel like my poems turned out decent, but I write better when I do not have such strict guidelines. I would have rather picked one tweet and written an poem off of inspiration from that. But hey, this is learning process right? Yes, indeed.
Not the Time It was hot. In fact, it was the hottest summer day since 1971 according to the over-enthusiastic weather reporters. They warned everyone to stay inside with fans and air conditioners. I hadn’t listened. Around 9am I left my house in the only thing he left me and my mother a few years ago—his 1990, dark blue Buick. By this time, the AC in the car had stopped working. We couldn’t afford to fix it, so my mother and I just dealt with it. She didn’t want me to visit my father, but I felt I had to. It had been 7 years since I saw him, and now he had a son—my only sibling. He would be about 7 now. I turned around and looked at the basketball I had wrapped for him, my little brother. I felt like I had to make up for lost time. Nothing was his fault—simply the product of selfish choices. I continued driving as it got hotter and hotter inside the car. At this point, it felt as if my car was flowing down a lava of highway. I had done my makeup as best I could, but that would be melted away by the time I made to the front door. I looked quickly in the rearview mirror. Black streaks were trickling down from under my eyes, and the light green shadow was stuck in the creases. Oh well. Three hour later, I made it to the address where my father now lived. It was the most beautiful house I had ever seen. I saw a little boy out front who looked like my dad’s baby pictures. I looked across the perfectly manicured luscious-green lawn. There were a couple sprinklers going off, rhythmically hitting the little boy’s bikes, power-wheels, baseball bats, Nerf guns, and three basketballs strewn carelessly across the lawn. I saw the front door start to open and the top of man’s head appear. I hit the gas pedal as hard as I could and drove back home.
2nd from tweets-came from tweet: "looks like i'm visiting my old house this weekend #twitterive so much of me is still there..." Memories from my old house inspired this...story, or train of thought I should say.
Goodness and Light Remember when I would make all your friends play Candy Land with me as soon as they walked through the front door before they could go play video games with you? How I loved being the annoying little sister. Remember when you got the chicken pox and I brought you juice and snacks the whole time you were sick? A couple days later, I woke up with red dots on my face. Remember when you got in a fight with Jack in your bedroom? I wonder sometimes if that whole is still in the wall. Remember that time we missed the bus and our neighbor had to take us to school? She was so sweet, always looking out for us, always looking out for you. Remember when you ran away a couple hours before your 8th grade graduation? Mom was making you wear a tie, and you didn’t like it. We barely made it on time to the ceremony. Remember your favorite country song? We’d sing it together on our way to the high school that you hated, even though everyone there adored you—maybe for the wrong reasons, but adored nonetheless.
Remember when you believed in the God that continues to protect you now? I do. You curse His name, yet He is faithful. As you fight for us there, I cry for you here. You have let the blackness of war destroy your soul, seep into every crevice of your hard, heavy heart, destroying every memory of goodness and light. Goodness and Light.
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