Brothers,
The best way to learn how to write is often by immitating the style of published and critically acclaimed authors who display their literary prowess by poetic force.
As you read Crane's novel, notice how rich his language is--especially in his descriptions of setting and his protrayal of the inner turmoil with which the young Henry must deal in the face of battle.
For the weekend, I would like you to find a passage--at least two (2) to three (3) paragraphs in length--that struck you as both profound and poetic.
Immitate the style in which the passage was written and rely upon (or even manipulate) Crane's sentence structure to create the framework for your own passage, while changing the subject matter to suit your purpose.
For instance, you could express the inner turmoil--or even happiness--that you feel during the course of the school day; or while at practice for some athletic team, club, or group to which you belong; or while in proximity to someone you either loathe (despise) or love. You could also take a passage the includes dialogue and set something up in which you are speaking to someone with whom you often associate in the context of academic life, social life, or family life. And even still, you could describe some setting relevant to your own lived experience in which you explore the details of your surroundings.
The point of the activity is to have you enter into your own, everyday psychic (i.e., psychological) experiences and explore them by replicating Crane's style of verse.
Post your "immitations" to the blog by the beginning of class Monday morning (12/18) so that we can review them in class. Please indicate the page number on which we can find the passage you choose to immitate.
Enjoy the experience!
BRob
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As the sun set, it cast its fiery light across the valley and onto the opposing mountains, making a brilliant gold like glow as it hit the blood red rock. The magnificent changing of colors made an amazing show until the scorching sun retired below the horizon. The massive plateaus darken as the purple shadows crawl up until they reach the summit.
As soon as the fiery sun started to recede, the areas in the dark purple shadows began to stir with life as their “day” began. They gather by as small snaking creek that runs down into the valley from the mountains, giving the inhabitants of the region their source of life. It is the main street of the desert, extending in an excursive path from community to community, stretching until forever.
As the sun slowly creeps above the horizon, light begins covering the Earth. Alarm clocks begin ringing, time for school. The utter displeasure of some going to school disheartens others as they prepare for their day. The buses arrive full of people tired enough they can barely keep their eyes open. They prepare for the hardships of the day: tests, quizzes, homework not done, despising every pary of it. After homeroom, the day begins. All the questions what the day hold in store for them begin to be answered. Some days the periods go by slow, some days fast. As they drag on so does the anticipation of reaching 2:15. Time goes slow, you constantly watch the clock, the minutes seem like hours. As the day winds down, sixth, seventh, and eighth period students get antsy wanting to leave to go to clubs and activities. Finally when 2:15 comes around we are free, free from work, free from tests, and free from the prison of what we call school.
Pg. 1, 1st 2 paragraphs
The cold of the morning was slowly turning to warmth. Many still in bed lying restless under their covers. The sun slowly peeking over the horizon as daybreak is coming, the morning breeze from the ocean is still chilling the sand. As the sun creeks up the horizon even more, people start to wake. The soldiers of the morning are already in the cold water with the ocean breeze chilling their heads. They sit and wait for the sets to come in. Sitting and waiting for the right wave to come around. They talk to one another telling stories and laughing. Many hours spent doing what they love, the feeling of catching the perfect wave, the soldiers hold their ground still waiting for that wave.
Page 3 - First Paragraph
He had, of course, deamed of the arena all his life-the roaring mob urging these "warriors" on to victory. In visions, he had seen himself in these same battles. He could imagine the people cheering him on. But as time had passed, he had believed that his dreams of participating in these games were impossible and a part of some wild childhood dream. There was a time in his life when he had regarded these dreams as a possiblity, but those thoughts had been long gone and would never return.
As the coldness of winter lifted from the face of the land,a new dawn gave sight to a vally of green.The trees which surrounded the vally turned from the brown of death to the green of life as they awoke to the feet of spring.The river`s water still clinging to the last of winter`s cold was still thawing. The sun of dawn shining like a glem of light through the trees pierced the den of the fox.Slowly the fox awakened from it`s slumber. The fox sat at the top of his burrow, and looked out at the paths which opened up like consuming mouths to the very mount of his den.The fox then thought what to do now.
P. 22 2nd Paragraph:Getting on the Bus
A bus' brakes whaled to a halt in front of the huddled school boys. It stopped in the parking lot, and as it stopped the exhaust billowed out the exhaust pipe. A small cloud formed from the school buys breath hung over them.
Silently the boys form an organized line around the bus. Double doors open. It was if, silently, they were ordered to board. Many of them had to hop and dodge over school bags.
someone stole my book so I will do it Monday mourning when I get a new book.
pg 3 3rd paragraph
He had, of course, dreamed of the opportunity his whole life- the thrilling rush as he stepped on the ice with its many champions of past and future victories controlling his mind. In his visions he had seen himself upon the fresh cut ice. In his eyes he had imagined the power of controlling the destiny of his team. But he had realized all of the victors were of the long past before him and this was his chance. He had put these things in his past-with the images of trophies and awards ahead of him. He had once seen the past times as times of champions and legends, but he realized, that it was long gone over the horizon and it was all gone.
Page 14: Paragraphs 6 and 7
He was all alone after his best friend left the court. He was now unable to relate to the viewpoints of his teammates and the feeling caused him misery. No one else had the experience that he did and for this he was a physical outcast.
He walked to the end of the bench and sat down next to obe of his teammates. In his reflection he thought toward times late in games in which he would be comfortable, but heavily relied upon. He would be put under pressure and would be the only player able to comprehend the magnitude of the situations. He felt that he may tense up and make a costly mistake while his teammates relied on him, but felt no pressure to contribute themselves.
Page 3, 2nd Paragraph
From his view from the other side of the field, his eyes looked at the ball going back and forth between the two teams. It must be some sort of set play. He has waited so long to see such a brilliant set play executed perfectly like the brazilians. This play will be no more, he said. Men were better, or more timid. Bad passing and worng descisions effected the level of play, or maybe it was because both of the two teams best players were taking the night off.
Page 1, paragraph 1
I was roused by my alarm in the dead of night, and turning on the light revealed my brother still in his bed, resting. As my eyes came into focus, I began to quiver with eagerness, remembering the date. I listened for any sounds, and hearing none crept quietly down the stairs. A mountain of gifts, gold tinted from the glow of small lights, was propped against the tree's base; and that night, in its silence, you could almost hear the surprises waiting for you when shaking the packages.
pg 2 para. 5
She lay softly upon the bedsheets as she pondered about the setting. It was Christmas, and she enjoyed the red and green of the lively room. She came upon a lamp and smiled slightly. Her name carved on the wood of the core, presented to her by the one she cared about the most. She enjoyed the picturesque view of the illuminated tree from her bedside. Her eyes glistened as the moon light shined upon her precious face from the window above. She enjoyed how the log cabin embraced the illustrious glow from the fireplace. But mostly, the breathe of fresh air, from the breeze of the wind as it flows through the cracks of the logs, acquired her a feeling of security.
pg. 19 paragraph 2
The player was told by his coach that he must become another thing on the ice. He saw his victory in this change. The conditioning on the ice during practice was difficult. The player was in a mood of impatience. There was a lack of purpose of the coach. The player could not take anymore. He went and complained to the coach. He said "it doesnt make any sence for us to go out and tire ourselves for nothing". He realized that he was wrong in his doubts, and that his being conditioned would help during the games. The player was of importance on the ice with his conditioning. The continous skating was felt to be unimportant.
Page 3, paragraph 2
Of course, he had dreams of playing in games like this all of his life- games where each player would leave all they had on the field for their teammate. In his dreams he had seen himself in this same position many times before. He knew every step that would need to be taken to accomplish his goal. But they were more easily said than done. He could see the victory past the horizon, but at the same time taking the precise cautions to protect the victory. But with one small mistake all his wishes and dreams would amount to nothing.
Page 1 Paragraph 2
eventually one boy was bored enough and went to go do his homework. he came running back from the study commons throwing his books in revolt. He stared to tell his friends of a rumour that he had heard from his good friend, who had heard it from another person from an earlier class. he gained the important gleam of a saint in blue and gold.
"Broth'r Peach is'nt in t'day - pos'tiv," he said proudly to his group of class mates. "We don't hav' ta go ta class, or hand our homeworks in t'day!"
Page 10 5th paragraph
I sat in the boat that morning as the sun rose.
I got nervous as we moved into the lane ready for the race realizing it was time. I heard the yelling ahead of other boats and officals as they started another race. Our opponents stared at us with determination others with fear or anxiety. We moved closer and closer to the starting line as the officals yelled at us about placement various rules. I suddenly felt ready to row as the race became closer and closer.
Page 10 Paragraph 6
At last It hit me, the sound of the percussion, the alluring sound of the bass. The show was about to start and it still hadn't hit me. My pulse raced as the curtain dropped and I was there, dead center of the stage. The crowds commodious voice steered me in the right direction. It slowly grew silent, and from the dead the music grew, enticing to the people.
Page 1 first paragraph:
Some poeple show up at dawn, before the mountain even opens, and get in line so that they can get a ticket. Snowboarding or skiing, family or anyone else. They all have the same general purpose, to have a great day on the powdered slopes. Snowboarders and some skiers stay mainly on the jumps and rails. The families on the other trails, and the ski school students - cutting people off in the terrain park, almost like its their job, they do it so often.
Amen
He dreamed of when his moment of battle would come, but a different type of battle. A battle of strength and stamina, a battle og heart and desire. He visualized himself in this spot and knew that every little decision counted. As he dribbled up the court he could almost smell victory, but with one small mistake it could all disappear.
He waited for his moment of glory when he would sieze the moment and soak in the adoration of his adoring fans. He knew of the obsticles he'd have to overcome, but his fear and willingness to do it will make him be victorious in the end.
pg. 72 paragraph 1
The 500 meter post marker passed the edge of my vision; the home stretch upon which I had promised myself I would row my hardest. Feeble, complaining muscles held me back though. And out of the edge of my vision, I saw the other sterns of the enemy's boats stealthily creeping forward, soon to be out of sight. All thoughts of pain vanished from my mind completely and I was filled with rage. The thought of coming this far to lose was unthinkable. The thoughts in my head, the pain of my muscles, and the sounds of the race left me. I felt no pain and no restriction to how hard I could pull. There was only one single thought in my head and that was row to as I had never rowed before. All that I felt was the rythem of pulling in time and the forward leaps of the boat through the water. Then the clouds of rage cleared and we had finished the race. I vaguely heard my coxswain say we got second place. And then, the pain returned in a wave and hit back.
page 1, paragraphs 1-2
The cold winter night hesitantly dispersed, and as my eyes slowly opened I saw the snow spread across the ground, silent. As I moved from my room to the hallway, I felt awakened, and started to tremble with the remembrance of the date. I cast my eyes upon the presents, which I had imagined the night before. The brightly-wrapped presents, tinted in the glow of the tree. Upon hearing a noise, my brothers came flying out of their rooms.We were swelled with happiness, as the air adopted the feeling of Christmas.
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