Process Writing

Writing narrative journalism was essentially my first experience in writing longer works of non-fiction. Arts Journalism is always something in which I am interested, as I constantly read about and stay current with news in that category. But writing profiles of people and places was a completely new experience- one that I found to enhance my writing as a whole.

Writing the personal essay, I was forced to insert myself into the narrative, something with which I realized I was not comfortable. It was frustrating to have to constantly check to put myself in the piece, as I thought writing about my home functioned to tell enough about me as it was. My goal for the piece was to make myself known through vivid descriptions of the landscape and other people of the place, whether or not this was successful is still something with which I am concerned.

The Bell's profile was a challenge. After many attempts at calling the company to schedule and interview I simply resorted to visiting often the Eccentric Cafe. This process is what shaped my piece into being a profile more about the cafe than the company at large. I tried interviewing the staff there but they refused, saying interviews had to take place with Laura Bell only. Barriers such as these were what weakened my piece, removing any interview text from it.

Learning from the past two articles, I was sure to get interviews incorporated into my profile on Corner Record Shop. Talking with Joe Senn for an hour about both his store and music in general was a real ball and biscuit. He gave me many quotes that were extremely relevant and applicable to my article, his quotes inserted themselves effortlessly into the narrative. With a greater amount of time spent with the piece, I think this was my strongest of the three.

This class has taught me to pay closer attention to details- something that will surely improve my fiction writing as well as journalism. In order to capture the mood of a place, one must study the scenery and also the people interacting within it. Finally, I have begun to understand better the importance of strong leades. Writing an intriguing beginning is of utter importance in gaining the reader's trust and attention. This is something I will continue to work on and improve.

AUDIO VISUAL SLIDESHOW

Watch it here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePE6PG_Cv5g

Revision

The Need to Be Heard: Independent Record Stores’ Vital Place in Society

Although today most music discussions and purchasing occur online, there is still an important role played by independent record stores. Music purchasing has become an activity based mainly on the MP3 format, a convenient format thanks largely to its ease of portability. But for some, the idea of clicking a button to hear a song is void of intimacy and lacks any interaction with the music. For those feeling this way, the value of vinyl is infinite. Over the past decade vinyl has made a significant resurgence, due mainly to the sales occurring at local record stores.

            Fortunately for both vinyl enthusiasts and vinyl sales, the Corner Record Shop exists. Located on West Main Road in Kalamazoo, the Corner Record Shop is an independent retailer focusing mainly on vinyl releases from both past and present artists. The interior of the space is vibrant. The walls are painted orange and music from the store’s record player blasts throughout the air. While not the largest record store in the country, the Corner Record Shop’s selection is diverse, spanning dozens of generations of music: it feels like the record collection of an eclectic group of music-savvy individuals.

            The walls of the store are speckled with albums by artists including the White Stripes, Can, Neil Young and Gram Parsons. Just looking at the records hung on the walls reminds one of how wonderful it is to see album art in its fullest size- a grateful departure from the dwarflike dimensions of MP3 artwork. To hold the album is to feel its gloss and to see the slanted reflection of the store’s lights off the plastic casing, an image one simply does not get when looking at album art on a computer screen.

Portability is a main reason for digital music’s proliferation. One’s ability to carry hundreds of artists on a single electronic device is of appeal, but such convenience comes at a cost. Many artists release their albums on low quality mp3’s; the overall sound is dull and flat. It is a distinction those in the business selling vinyl would like to make known and Corner Record’s owner, Joe Senn, is no different. “I would like to see people place more importance on actual sound quality as opposed to portability,” says Senn.

                Although lesser in sound, the mp3 format, both purchased and illegally downloaded, has become the go-to format for many listeners: in the past decade, spawned mainly by the downloading site Napster, music sales in the United States have dropped 47 percent. A staggeringly low amount of people are frequenting record stores like Corner Record Shop, instead choosing to illegally pirate their music in large quantities.

            Only 37 percent of music acquired by United States consumers was paid for in 2009. One can only guess how small a percentage of this was bought at local record stores.

            It is clear that the American music industry is in a state of flux. But where does this leave the hundreds of independent retailers still trying to nurture honest music consumption?

“You can’t compete with free,” says Sennn, addressing the issue of pirating.

But in terms of actual sales, Corner Record Shop competes with larger retailers such as Amazon and iTunes.  The competition between local record store and mammoth retailer is nothing new, but has become recently complicated by vinyl’s growth in the market. “Vinyl is the only format that has seen an increase in sales in the past few years,” says Senn. However, this does not dismiss the fact that both mp3 and digital music sales dwarf the amount of vinyl sold in the United States, something with which Senn deals daily. “People don’t realize that when it comes to vinyl, we often beat Amazon in price,” he says.

However rich the vinyl’s sound may be, it is still impossible to ignore the integral place mp3’s have in music today; Senn and his business are well aware of its demand. A recent trend in the past five years has found labels including a downloadable code for the mp3 album within the vinyl, allowing the consumer to enjoy the benefits of both mediums. “For vinyl to stay competitive it really needs to keep including the mp3 codes,” says Senn. “A lot of times people will pick up an album, see that it doesn’t come with a download and put it back.” This reinforces the fact that digital is unavoidable; however, this is not something entirely negative and instead can have a positive impact on vinyl’s sales if handled properly.

“I will always try to buy vinyl. But it’s a way easier choice when the album comes with an mp3 download,” says fervent record buyer and Western Michigan student, Dave O’Hagan.

O’Hagan is part of the small, devoted niche of people buying records today. Like many of his peers, O’Hagan is drawn to the intimacy of vinyl but is not willing to sacrifice the practicality of mp3’s.

“I like vinyl a lot. But it’s not like you can take an LP with you in your pocket. That’s where digital comes in handy,” says record collector and recent KVCC graduate, Ben Hardler.

            There can exist a marriage between digital and vinyl. Customers like Hardler and O’Hagan are happy to purchase their vinyl, as long as they can get their mp3 as well. Senn and his Corner Record Shop are well aware of this and they stick to three simple things to ensure success.

 “For us to stay competitive in the future we will have to work at keeping our prices low, stocking albums with mp3 downloads and encouraging customers to enjoy the benefits of better sound that vinyl offers,” says Senn. 

Final Piece (Rough Draft)

Workshoppers,
Due to logistical and communication failures on Sunday, I was not able to do my venue profile.
Today I began piecing this together. It is a bit short because I will be interviewing the Record Shop's owner this weekend and then placing bits of the interview throughout my piece.
Keeping this in mind, please let me know how the interior descriptions of the store are functioning.
Since I have not yet interviewed Joe, what questions about the store would you like to see answered (focusing perhaps mainly on the importance of record stores in today's digital society)?
 Thanks.

Rough Draft

Cam Stewart

                        The Need to Be Heard: Independent Record Stores’ Vital Place in Society

In a time when music consumption occurs mainly online, the idea of a record store seems obsolete. Music purchasing has become an activity based mainly on the MP3 format, a digital product that has given both compact discs and vinyl albums a true test of their value in modern society. But for some, the idea of clicking a button to hear a song is void of intimacy and lacks any interaction with the music. For those feeling this way, the value of vinyl is infinite. Over the past decade vinyl has made a significant resurgence, due mainly to the sales occurring at local record stores.

            Fortunately for both vinyl enthusiasts and vinyl sales, the Corner Record Shop exists. Located on West Main Road in Kalamazoo, the Corner Record Shop is an independent retailer focusing mainly on vinyl releases from both past and present artists. The interior of the space is vibrant. The walls are painted orange and music from the store’s record player blasts throughout the air. While not the largest record store in the country, the Corner Record Shop’s selection is diverse, spanning dozens of generations of music: it feels like the record collection of an eclectic group of music-savvy individuals.

            The walls of the store are speckled with albums by artists including the White Stripes, Can, Neil Young and Gram Parsons. Just looking at the records hung on the walls reminds one of how wonderful it is to see album art in its fullest size- a grateful departure from the dwarflike dimensions of MP3 artwork. To hold the album is to feel its gloss and to see the slanted reflection of the store’s lights off the plastic casing, an image one simply does not get when looking at album art on a computer screen.

            But perhaps those who visit record stores already know the benefits of purchasing LP’s. Those who need to truly be allowed into the world of vinyl are those illegally downloading MP3 albums online for free-they are the people greatly affecting the future of the music industry.

            In the past decade, spawned mainly by the downloading site Napster, music sales in the United States have dropped 47 percent. A staggeringly low amount of people are frequenting record stores like Corner Record Shop, instead choosing to illegally pirate their music in large quantities.

            Only 37 percent of music acquired by United States consumers was paid for in 2009. One can only guess how small a percentage of this was bought at local record stores.

            It is clear that the American music industry is in a state of flux. But where does this leave the hundreds of independent retailers still trying to nurture honest music consumption?

            These stores are now catering to a small niche of customers devoted to buying physical albums, a small but passionate clientele that keeps these stores afloat. For these people, watching the music industry transform entirely into a digital atmosphere is ghastly.

            Perhaps the greatest contributor to vinyl’s resurgence is the independent music scene. Nearly all of the big indie labels, including both Matador and Sub Pop, release their artists’ albums on the vinyl format. Albums from both these labels are scattered throughout the shelves and walls of Corner Record Shop. Releases from Beach House and Yo La Tengo are quick to go home with many of the people who enter the store.

            To celebrate this flourishing bond between labels and stores there exists the glorious Record Store Day. Created in 2007 by a group of individuals hoping to promote independent record stores, Record Store Day features a wide variety of special, limited releases from an expansive list of artists. The event’s goal is to reconnect the consumer with the music he or she listens to. Because none of the releases can be downloaded, the listener is encouraged into visiting their local record store and engaging with the community.

            The Corner Record Shop stocked many of the limited-edition releases featured on Record Store Day and enjoyed a large flow of customers throughout the day, many accompanied with albums tucked between their arms.

            The store is part of a vital community of small-scale record shops that are preserving the pleasures of buying vinyl.

Profile (Revision)

Into the Eccentric

Cam Stewart

Walk through the heavy doors of Bell’s Eccentric Café and see what appears to be a haphazard combination of company product, local art and 1930’s African Safari. A tribal mask hangs to the right of the chalk board on which the bar’s draft beers are written. In three columns the available beers and occasional sangria are listed. High on the back walls are large posters advertising the brewery’s beers. They hang like grand statements of some higher knowledge, like what you are looking at is the culmination of infinite attempts at greatness. To judge whether or not the brewery has reached that level, one must only shift one’s gaze downward, to the swarms of people that, in gleeful cycles, parade to and from the bar with plastic cups of amber liquid.

It is March 26 and is the official release day of Bell’s most famous beer, Oberon. A wheat ale robust in fruity aromas and spicy malt, Oberon is the ultimate sign of spring in Kalamazoo. The bottle’s label looks like a Michigan sun spread out against a pale blue sky. Looking at the bottle is like looking into a summer afternoon void of any predicament or bad news. Looking around the bar on that Monday night in March, a scene more reminiscent of a rowdy Saturday night, one would be hard-pressed to disagree with the fact that Oberon’s release is something of a cultural event in Kalamazoo.

I approach the bar with my plastic cup, a material used only on Oberon day due to the high-volume of customers, and order an Oberon. The bartender, a tall man with focused eyes, asks me if I would like an orange slice in my beer. All around me I notice patrons with slices of orange in their ales, so I say yes, I’d like mine with an orange slice. I drink the beer and it is cold. Behind me four men are toasting one another, singing the praises of warmer weather all while holding cups of foaming Oberon.

Both Bell’s Brewery and its main eatery, the Eccentric Café are Kalamazoo institutions.

Recently christened the “4^th Best Beer Town in America” by Livability.com, Kalamazoo, Michigan owes this acclaim largely to Bell’s success. The award comes at a time when Bell’s Brewery is focusing on expansion and distribution, its product being sold in fourteen states and counting.

In 2003 Bell’s opened a massive brewing facility in Comstock, a neighboring town to Kalamazoo. Its exterior is like some military base where every person is stiff and upright, all walking in front of grey, dwarfing brewing barrels that look like upturned beer mugs. Comstock’s quaint atmosphere and its spanning open land make it an obvious choice for Bell’s main brewing facility. Here, nearly 180,000 barrels are brewed annually, allowing the brewery to be 8^th in volume out of all domestic craft brews in 2010. While downtown Kalamazoo could not facilitate such immense beer production, it is still home to the brewery’s main pub and eatery, the Eccentric Café. This café functions as the epicenter for everything Bell’s. It is the heart of the company’s endeavors and it embodies its many quirks and unique stylistic choices.

I return back to the Eccentric Café a month and a half later with my friend and Kalamazoo College Senior, Alex Griffin. It is a bright sunny afternoon and the inside of the café gleams with light. The crowd is older and dressed largely in business- casual attire. We approach the counter and the bartender studies our eyes. Amongst the clutter and décor of the Eccentric Café’s walls is perhaps the most important piece of wall fixtures, the draft board. Here the draft beers are written in chalk and updated daily. In the second column are some of the rotating beers, the seasonal ales and the beers available only at the café.

            Currently featured in the café are two of Bell’s Experimental Ales. These beers are brewed exclusively for the Eccentric Café and are attempts at seeing how differing hop levels affect a batch of beer. Another noticeable change from my last visit is the addition of Sangria to the board. A mixture of red wine and Bell’s fruity brew, The Oarsman Ale, the sangria tasted flat and bland- perhaps a result of mixing beer with wine.

            The rest of the board is filled with some of Bell’s more common brews. Toward the bottom of the list is The Smoked Stout. A dark beer that tastes like a breeze of campfire blown across a massive bar of dark chocolate, it is a brave mixture of disparate flavors.

            Also included on the list are Bell’s Amber Ale, Porter, Lager of the Lakes, Best Brown and Hopslam. Each of these beers are the result of Larry Bell and his team’s efforts, they are what keep crowds of people pouring through the Eccentric doors.

            Food at the café takes a backseat for beer. The Roast Beef Bleu Cheese Sandwich was a pricy venture into ordinary deli fare. For the price, one would expect a larger sandwich crafted out of high-quality ingredients, but what one receives instead is a basic sandwich whose sole purpose seems to soak up the beer.

            Five men sit at the bar, backs bent forward into the wooden counter, sipping beer and laughing loudly. They do not notice my friend and I as we approach the bar.  Alex engages the bartender and asks him what beer he would recommend.

“Seems like a good day for Deb’s Red,” says the bartender without hesitation, grinning.

The Events of October: Response

Gail Griffin's brave book, "The Events of October" will surely be labeled by many as haunting and chilling. While this work is definitely both things at once, I cannot help but attach the term 'intimate' to it as well. The depth in which Griffin explores both Maggie and Neenef is remarkable, it forms two characters whose identities are expanded upon on the page. She starts her book off with a brief history of the campus, something essential for her book to reach out and over the Kalamazoo audience.

Upon grounding our campus in rich details alive with image, Griffin then gets into the lives of Neenef and Maggie. While Griffin often uses traditional summary techniques to write about a long amount of time, she also uses IM's between the two students, a technique I found to be the most potent and horrific.

The usage of IM's was hugely effective, in my opinion. This accomplished so many things, but the main thing it achieved was its ability to accurately and intimately look into the online discussions Neenef and Maggie were having soon before the incident occurred.  Some may think that this technique was invasive and rash, but I however feel it was necessary. Griffin explored the medium through which students at the time communicated. There was no Facebook yet. These messages show the utter dependency Neenef had on Maggie, and the irrational way he communicated with her. One learns much about both students when reading these messages, I am glad Griffin decided to include them in her book.

A question I have concerning these messages is- did Griffin remove any bits of text from the messages? Also, why did she choose to cut out what Maggie wrote in some of the exchanges? What effect on the conversation did this have?

Aaron Aupperlee's piece about Gail Hammett, a mother faced with the despair of having a child in prison, was an interesting character study. The story had a good pace to it and peaked for me upon learning about her handicapped child. Aupperlee's terse descriptions allowed for the piece to forego any melodrama one might expect when reading about such a harrowing topic. The arrests of her son were laid out well and provided just enough information into Hammett's strife. I wanted the topic of Hammett's drinking to be further fleshed out; it seemed to be a major player in her life and both of her son's lives. What is she doing to combat her addictions? It was very good to read something of a fellow Kalamazoo student.

CYOA Response: The French Fry Connection

Richard Read's expansive article on McDonald's french fries was in depth and informative, but felt as if lacking a concrete structure. His transitions from one topic to another often felt sporadic and rushed; this left me feeling confused about what his main focus was to begin with. Following the story was often a challenge because Read would introduce characters suddenly into his narrative without properly introducing them. It is clear that Read thoroughly researched his fries and their creation process, I simply would have enjoyed a more cohesive structure to his work.

The parallels Read draws between Oregon and Asian countries are fascinating, understanding the dependency both places have on each other was highlighted through focusing on the french fries. This is what I found most fascinating. The constant communication between the Northwest and Asia occurring through the fry market was something I previously had never thought about.

Brewery Process

Writing the profile on Bell's Brewery was an exercise in focus. For the longest time I did not know whether I wanted the piece to highlight the brewery itself or the wizard-like Larry Bell. Because I could not get an interview with Larry Bell, I decided to make the piece focus more on the brewery itself. But because Bell is such an integral part of his company, I could not spare mentioning him at least a few times. Lately I have been reading a lot of John Jeremiah Sullivan and am astounded at his ability to link two seemingly-unrelated things to discover a greater theme about both of them. This is what I tried to do with Bell's and Hedrix. Using the commercial as a launching pad, I tried to get deeper into Bell's as a company.

A Brewery Experienced

Cam Stewart

A man in classic German attire pumps his accordion. His face rapidly changes from somber to grimacing while the camera zooms in on his eyes and a red light burns from beneath. Then in a Hendrix-like fury he sets his accordion on fire and dances feverishly around his blazing instrument. While this may all sound bizarre (and it definitely is), perhaps what is most surprising is that this video is not an advertisement for spicy German sausage but for Bell’s Brewery. Or maybe it’s only strange until you really think about it for a moment.

Bell’s Brewery, Inc. makes beer like Jimi Hendrix played the guitar: both using a shared knowledge of classical rules with which to experiment to produce something that is wild and unique. But while Hendrix revolutionized guitar music, Bell’s founder Larry Bell focuses instead on ales and stouts, porters and lagers.

And his focus has met its bounty.

Recently christened the “4^th Best Beer Town in America” by Livability.com, Kalamazoo, Michigan owes this acclaim largely to Bell’s success. The award comes at a time when Bell’s Brewery is focusing on expansion and distribution, its product being sold in fourteen states and counting.

In 2003 Bell’s opened a massive brewing facility in Comstock, a neighboring town to Kalamazoo. Its exterior is like some military base where every person is stiff and upright, all walking in front of grey, dwarfing brewing barrels that look like upturned beer mugs. Comstock’s quaint atmosphere and its spanning open land make it an obvious choice for Bell’s main brewing facility. Here, nearly 180,000 barrels are brewed annually, allowing the brewery to be 8^th in volume out of all domestic craft brews in 2010. While downtown Kalamazoo could not facilitate such immense beer production, it is still home to the brewery’s main pub and eatery, the Eccentric Café.

Walk through the heavy doors of Bell’s Eccentric Café and see what appears to be a haphazard combination of company product, local art and 1930’s African Safari. A tribal mask hangs to the right of the chalk board on which the bar’s draft beers are written. In three columns the available beers and occasional sangria are listed. High on the back walls are large posters advertising the brewery’s beers. They hang like grand statements of some higher knowledge, like what you are looking at is the culmination of infinite attempts at greatness. To judge whether or not the brewery has reached that level, one must only shift one’s gaze downward, to the swarms of people that, in gleeful cycles, parade to and from the bar with plastic cups of amber liquid.

It is March 26 and is the official release day of Bell’s most famous beer, Oberon. A wheat ale robust in fruity aromas and spicy malt, Oberon is the ultimate sign of spring in Kalamazoo. The bottle’s label looks like a Michigan sun spread out against a pale blue sky. Looking at the bottle is like looking into a summer afternoon void of any predicament or bad news. Drinking the beer is like one’s first experience listening to ‘Purple Haze’: everything you tasted before it becomes stale in a wash of intense flavor. Just like many would argue “Are You Experienced” to be Hendrix’s best work, many craft brew fanatics would claim Oberon to be Bell’s master work. Looking around the bar on that Monday night in March, a scene more reminiscent of a rowdy Saturday night, one would be hard-pressed to disagree.

I approach the bar with my plastic cup, a material used only on Oberon day due to the high-volume of customers, and order an Oberon. The bartender, a tall man with focused eyes, asks me if I would like an orange slice in my beer. All around me I notice patrons with slices of orange in their ales, so I say yes, I’d like mine with an orange slice. I drink the beer and it is cold. Behind me four men are toasting one another, singing the praises of warmer weather all while holding cups of foaming Oberon.

The beer comes from the same Comstock plant roughly 20 miles away. The same plant that is faced with the riveting yet daunting task of expansion, of pushing one’s product further into the market. But doing so can often be met with conflict. In 2006, Larry Bell pulled his product from the Illinois market due to a dispute over distribution rights within the state. Bell felt that his product was not going to be thoroughly represented under the strict laws and therefore decided to withdraw completely from the state, a bold statement that embodies the passion Bell has for his product.

Through clever labeling tactics Bell has begun to reintroduce his beer into the Chicago-area market. Under the guise of “Kalamazoo Beer,” Bell has put two new beers back into the state of Illinois, a move that proves his desire to become a national institution.

I return back from Oberon night at Bell’s and think again about the online commercial and its intended message. Why am I so convinced of the image of Larry Bell bent over his voodoo potion like Hendrix knelt before a guitar engulfed in flames?

Maybe there truly is an existent parallel between Jimi Hendrix and Bell’s beer. Something in the wailing blast of wheat and orange notes would make Jimi smile. After sipping his beer, that is.

CYOA:This Must Be the Place

When watching Prime I was astounded by the sense of intimacy the filmmakers achieved in their work. In under ten minutes I felt like I had a good sense of what Prime Burger was like. The interviews were calm and natural and the immaculate camera work was captivating and revealing. Many of the slow pans across the front of the restaurant were effective because, to me, they reflected the relaxed atmosphere of the place. Shots varied from close-ups on food to minute capturing of wall fixtures.

Film as a profile has a visual element working to its benefit. Where lines of words would normally need to be deployed, the filmmaker can instead just show this through the lens. But Prime did not feel like a lazy documentary; the cameramen used their equipment like pens to craft a cohesive narrative. The interviews augmented the work as well and tied everything together.

CYOA Response: Gamer

"The Most Dangerous Gamer" felt more like a portrayal of Taylor Clark's admiration of Jonathan Blow than an in-depth depiction of his character. Perhaps what made me think this was her choice to insert the bit of dialogue in which she analyzes the meaning of his previous game. I get it. This what supposed to inform non-gamers about Blow's past work. However,  instead of being intrigued by the atomic bombs, I was appalled by Clark's blatant bragging. You made Blow smile. Great.

And if that was not enough self-indulgence, Clark transcribes Marc ten Bosch's rant about some 'fourth dimension.' The article lost me here. Because Clark did a poor job of earning my attention and trust in the first part of her profile, I was not willing to attentively read about game play-intensive analysis.

Clark clearly admires Blow. She at one point in the article calls him a "Spiritual seeker," an alliteration I find vague and inaccurate. That Blow could be pursuing profound spirituality through the context of a video game was not justified in her article. I felt as if I hardly got a handle on Blow, perhaps knowing only that he was, as Clark constantly reminded us, very wealthy and successful.

Maybe this is all just a reaction stirred up by the fact that I am an outsider to the video game world. A non-gamer. But Clark could have at least extended a hand and invited me in, if only briefly.

Reading Response: Telling True Stories

Because there were so many disparate messages and bits of advice in our reading for the week, I am going to focus on one story in particular to ground my discussion. Phillip Lopate's "The Personal Essay and the First-Person Character" was a useful article on the multifaceted nature of the word "I" in a personal essay. Lopate begins by acknowledging the importance and basic need for a writer to use the word when writing about one's self. The problem is not in the usage of the word but rather in the assumed weight it carries. Lopate says in page 78, "I swarms with a lush, sticky past and an almost fatal specificity, whereas the reader encountering it for the first time in a new piece of writing sees only a slender telephone pole." What Lopate is saying is one must build up this "I" with specific details that distinguish the first person in the narrative. This resonated with me because I will often drop an "I" in a personal essay and assume it says more than it really does.

To remedy this problem, Lopate suggests we strengthen our work with conflict. Through conflict an original narrator is born. Conflict in a story has the potential to both test the narrator and cause specific details about one's life to be revealed. To fully achieve this status of well-rounded narrator, one must distance one's self from the writing in order to better understand how the reader will view your work.
Lopate's article was a useful tool for sharpening my first-person narration and like the rest of "Telling True Stories," is something to which I will be often referring.

Response to Shooting an Elephant

Orwell's brilliant narration and gift for story-telling are seen throughout "Shooting an Elephant." Having read his memoir, "Down and Out in Paris and London," I was accustomed to Orwell's no-nonsense style of non-fiction. In "Down and Out," Orwell recounts his experiences of poverty in the two cities to expand upon a greater theme of human suffering. In "Shooting an Elephant," Orwell uses his experience as an officer in Burma to critique imperialism and its effects on everyone involved. What was most climatic for me was when he was holding his gun and looking at the elephant, realizing that he was there against his will, feeling mainly like an 'absurd puppet.' His pressure did not come from his higher-ups but instead from the thousands of natives around him. He felt compelled to shoot the elephant because it was what the people expected him to do. The image of a single British officer surrounded by a crowd of Burmese citizens is very striking and potent. It symbolizes the absurdity of the British rule in the area. How so few people could rule over such a populous country is as amazing as it is perplexing. Perhaps in Burma the British were not so different from the mammoth elephant at which Orwell shot: a dwarfing power whose presence would soon be terminated.

Floating People (2)

Floating People

Cam Stewart

There is a line of cars waiting to leave the island. It grows with each halting Saab and Cadillac. To leave Grosse Ile, an island in the Detroit River, one can choose from two bridges: the Toll Bridge or the Free Bridge.

Today I was without tokens and chose the Free Bridge- an obvious mistake. The bridge is now sluggishly opening to make way for an approaching barge or recreational yacht. When a bridge opens, a large red light glows over the entrance. This means there is no escape. Unless you are in the very rear of the line, you are forced to wait while your day is put on hold for an oversized boat. Such an absurd inconvenience is the humor of living on an island.

Grosse Ile is tucked between Canada and a town called Trenton. Roughly 10,000 people reside on the island, most of whom frequent one of the many golf and yacht clubs.

Behind me the line of cars is now spanning the length of Grosse Ile Parkway. The Dirtbombs’ raucous guitars blast from my speaker for a moment before fading out. During the fade-out, I hear the siren of an ambulance. First a light whistle, the sound builds into a piercing cry as it joins the line of cars. I wonder whether or not the driver will commit to waiting with the rest of us, leaving its desperate passenger to the mercy of an open bridge. Or will it turn around; pull a sharp U and head for the Pay Bridge?

The image of an injured person pawing at the walls of the motionless ambulance makes me feel a strange anger. It is not so much directed at the bridge, but at the helpless situation.

I think of how many times I have crossed this bridge without even acknowledging it. So frequently have I driven over the water, seen the shimmering river below me and thought nothing of it.

Life on an island involves constant leaving and returning. Because we are surrounded by water, we are not a physical part of the continental United States. However subtle this disconnect may seem, it is at play in the conscience of every island resident. When we are leaving home we are returning to the mainland, when we are leaving the mainland we are returning home.

And because of our physical disconnect, we establish for ourselves our own identity- one of tennis courts and swimming pools, one of kayaks and Sperry’s. While I used to think of these things as unique, I see now they are characteristic of infinite other suburbs. Over the years I have been digging deeper to find a defining feature of my hometown- I have found it in the way Grosse Ile blends the American dream with wild plant and animal life.

There are no white picket fences to mark property lines. We have trees instead. Pine and maple trees dwarf many of the houses; their bodies are nature’s demarcation. The lush vegetation on our island also helps diminish the 1950’s nuclear-family-image you might expect. That, and the coyotes.

Coyotes roam the island, often favoring the open terrain of golf courses, feeding on the infinite population of deer and rabbits. Twice I have seen them, crossing the street like pedestrians, carrying themselves to another forest.

 On summer nights it is not unusual to hear the hum of a jet ski echoing from the river, the buzzing of cicadas singing their August hymn and the howls from a pack of coyotes. It is a strange, sonorous harmony found only on Grosse Ile.

But our floating town is not a famous place. We residents of Grosse Ile locate ourselves to the unfamiliar by holding up our right hand and pointing to a vague space below our thumb. We are the small tear of land in the Detroit River. When we cannot hold up a hand to locate our town, we describe it in rough proximity to Detroit. To someone out of state, Grosse Ile becomes “About 25 minutes south of Detroit.”

We dwell on a place we feel is unique and charming, but are forever finding it to be non-existent to the rest of the world. Once a troublesome thing, I now find the mystery of Grosse Ile to be of great intrigue.

That few people have seen the sunrise over Canada from our shores gives me a sense of pride. I scan up and down the line of cars and am thankful to live in a place that is both distant and similar to the rest of the state.

Somewhere in the back I notice the ambulance is still flashing its lights. People are now exiting their cars to see what the prolonged delay is all about. I see two men from separate cars shake hands, smile and then point to the bridge, acknowledging their familiarity with both each other and the situation. They gesture and talk like two people in on the same joke.

Just as the men get back inside their respective vehicles, I see the ambulance cut and maneuver into the opposite lane. As it completes its 180-degree turn, it restarts its siren and drives hastily away from our line. In a quick dissolve it makes its way for the Toll Bridge, leaving our town of mysterious beauty.

Franklin Outline

Complication: Bridge Opens and I am forced to wait in a line of cars
Development: 1. I think about how many times I have crossed the bridge
                       2.By doing so, I re-assess island life and what defines my hometown
                       3. I realize the things that actually make Grosse Ile unique
Resolution: I find that Grosse Ile is both similar to Michigan but also different. What defines the islands is its strange beauty and location and in this I redefine how I view home.

Choose Your Own Assignment

New Yorker Sonic Youth Piece


Sasha Frere Jones'  article on the legendary band Sonic Youth is a fine example of profiling a group of people. He combines lush, descriptive language with concrete history to weave a narrative that is both insightful and engaging. 
We chose this article because we thought it was a good example of how to write about music and audio, and we thought that reflecting on writing about something that is heard could give the class an advantage when it comes to doing our final audio-based project. 

1. How does Frere-Jones use non-music specific language to describe to the reader what he is hearing?
2. How does Frere-Jones use the band's latest release to expand and reflect upon the band's 30-year history?
3. Do you think that Frere-Jones integrates elements of storytelling and fact (such as album releases, changes in band lineup, etc) in such a way that the profile flows and is cohesive?

Reading Questions

In "Mrs. Kelly's Monster," Franklin diverts the focus from Mrs. Kelly to Dr. Ducker. Initially reading the story, one would think it was Mrs. Kelly's story. However, later in 'Writing for Story," Franklin explains it was a piece on Dr. Ducker. Where in the story did Franklin provide insight into Ducker's experience? How early did he foreshadow that this piece would focus on the struggles faced by Ducker?

In Section Five, Franklin describes the importance of a 'Resolving Focus.' Why is this resolve so essential to a piece, and does it always have to be structured at the end of a work?

'Writing for Story' Response

Jon Franklin's guide to storytelling was overall a useful read, one often filled with potent tips to craft a fine piece of journalism. His book read like that of a man reflecting heavily on his successes and sharing them with his reader. While for the most part I was pleased to read about these narrative triumphs, his statements of bragging sometimes weighed the prose down with ego.

Introducing us early on with his work was a strong technique. It allowed the reader to analyze the work of the man teaching you his lessons. "Mrs. Kelly's Monster" was a well-organized piece that was fully aware of its overall intention: to bring the reader into the mind of Dr. Ducker through the vehicle of Mrs. Kelly and her condition. When I first realized this I thought it was a cold technique, I I thought he should have focused more on the tragedy of Mrs. Kelly's death. Reading further into his book, however, showed me that a piece of narrative journalism does not have to have a happy ending. As long as that ending expands on some greater human condition. In this case it was Dr. Ducker's ability to transition from one failure into  pursuing something he could conquer. One issue I had with his piece, perhaps stemming from my background in fiction writing, was his dependence on the usage of onomatopoeia. All of the 'pop pop pop's' felt a bit trite.

Franklin's book assessed many key parts to crafting a captivating, fresh piece. In section Five he outlines structure. Something with which I was previously unfamiliar was the "Complicating Focus." Franklin writes, "The first focus in any story is the 'complicating focus.' This is the one in which the writer sets the stage for, and finally reveals, the event that complicates the character's life," (Franklin, 100). What Franklin is describing is the importance of placing other minor focuses on details in the character's life, all of which will eventually hook the reader and call back to one another.

Franklin also emphasized the importance of finding a story with a complications and resolution. A story without one or the other will be an uninteresting to a larger audience. "A resolution, like a complication, can either be physical or psychological, external or internal," (Franklin, 77). Here Franklin explains that a resolution does not have to be some neat, happy ending. What instead needs to occur is a significant change, for better or worse, in the character's life or conscious.

Franklin's book on craft was an interesting look into the mind of a man with his fair share of successes in the journalism field. It's a guide to which I will be referring often.

Writing for Lives

For most of college I have been writing fiction. I have been creating fictional characters leading fictional lives. Their actions are all the creations of my imagination. I decide what consequences their actions have. 
Therefore, writing an honest piece of non-fiction was initially a huge challenge for me. Suddenly I could not lie or expand in depth about a fictional character. What a dilemma. From writing this piece, I learned some valuable things, though. I was forced to judge closely the way my memory recalled certain events- such as that day I waited in an endless line to cross a bridge. Expanding on one event and taking it into another narrative about my hometown in general was also a great challenge. I still think I can improve on this. Through this piece I wanted to convey the problematic way I view my home town. My love for where I grew up is real, but it is not unconditional. I wanted to take the absurdity of an ambulance having to wait for a bridge to close and relate it to the greater theme of island life in general. This technique will be made more clear through a series of close revisions, looking at how each sentence is functioning in the piece as a whole. I want to further elaborate on the complex beauty of my hometown while expanding on this greater theme.

Floating People

Cam Stewart

There is a line of cars waiting to leave the island. It grows with every halting Saab or Cadillac. To leave Grosse Ile, an island in the Detroit River, one can choose from two bridges: the Toll Bridge or the Free Bridge.

Today I was without tokens and chose the Free Bridge- an obvious mistake. The bridge is now sluggishly opening to make way for an approaching barge or recreational yacht. When a bridge opens, a large red light glows over the entrance. This means there is no escape. Unless you are in the very rear of the line, you are forced to wait while your day is put on hold for an over-sized boat. Such an absurd inconvenience is the humor of living on an island.

Grosse Ile is tucked between Canada and a town called Trenton. But we are not Canadian (and we certainly are not from Trenton!). Roughly 10,000 people reside on the island and many of these people frequent one of the various golf and yacht clubs.

Behind me the line of cars is now spanning the length of Grosse Ile Parkway. The Dirtbombs’ raucous guitars blast from my speaker for a moment before fading out. During the fade-out, I hear the siren of an ambulance. First a light whistle, the sound builds into a piercing cry as it joins the line of cars. I wonder whether or not the driver will commit to waiting with the rest of us, leaving its desperate passenger to the mercy of an open bridge. Or will it turn around; pull a sharp U and head for the Pay Bridge?

The image of an injured person pawing at the walls of the motionless ambulance makes me feel a strange anger. It is not so much directed at the bridge, but at the helpless situation.

I think of how many times I have crossed this bridge without even acknowledging it. So frequently have I driven over the water, seen the shimmering river below me and thought nothing of it.

Life on an island is a series of leaving and returning. Because we are surrounded by water, we are not a physical part of the continental United States. However subtle this disconnect may seem, it is at play in the conscience of every island resident. When we are leaving home we are returning to the mainland, when we are leaving the mainland we are returning home.

And because of our physical disconnect, we establish for ourselves our own identity- one of tennis courts and swimming pools, one of kayaks and Sperry’s. Parents drive along the river to drop their children off at Middle School, watching the sunrise over the water. Our homes are a makeshift combination of the American Dream and wild plant and animal life.

There are no white picket fences to mark property lines. We have trees instead. Pine and maple trees dwarf many of the houses; their bodies are nature’s demarcation. The lush vegetation on our island also helps diminish the 1950’s nuclear-family-image you might expect. That, and the coyotes.

Coyotes roam the island, often favoring the open terrain of golf courses, feeding on the infinite population of deer and rabbits. On summer nights it is not unusual to hear the hum of a Jet Ski echoing from the river, the buzzing of cicadas singing their August hymn and the howls from a pack of coyotes. It is a strange, sonorous harmony found only on Grosse Ile.

Like a giant exhalation from Canada, the wind blows waves that scrape at our shores. When winter comes and the waves subside, the river freezes; the white space like a natural bridge to a foreign country.

However bizarre this place might seem, however famous you may guess it to be: it is not.  We residents of Grosse Ile locate ourselves to the unfamiliar by holding up our right hand and pointing to a vague space below our thumb. We are the small tear of land floating calmly in the Detroit River. When we cannot hold up a hand to locate our town, we describe it in rough proximity to Detroit. To someone out of state, Grosse Ile becomes “About 25 minutes south of Detroit.”

We dwell in a place we feel is unique and charming, but are forever finding it to be non-existent to the rest of the world. This residential contradiction can certainly make one feel as insignificant as someone living in a normal suburb!

Perhaps this is the source of our “GI Pride.” Perhaps we are slowly trying to come to terms with what the rest of the state already knows: that although we are floating we are no different from the rest of Michigan.

Somewhere in the back I notice the ambulance is still flashing its lights. People are now exiting their cars to observe the bridge clasp itself shut. I see two men from separate cars shake hands, smile and then point to the bridge, acknowledging their familiarity with both each other and the situation. This does not surprise me.

Just as the men get back inside their respective vehicles, I see the ambulance cut and maneuver into the opposite lane. As it completes its 180-degree turn, it restarts its siren and drives away from our line. In a quick dissolve the ambulance becomes distant, just one more vehicle crossing water to get from one part of Michigan to another. 

(For Lives)