1. The writer has a need to be recognized by his peers and anyone else who will read his work. He feels special and feels he has to prove it through his writing. He looks at his writing as if it were his child to be proud of and thus looks at his writing as pseudo-immortality.

2. The second aspect or personality trait is the desire to share something beautiful with the reader.

3. Third, the writer feels it is his or her responsibility to write down the truth and thus make it undeniable in the future. He feels it is his moral obligation to get it right because nobody else will.

4. Fourth, the writer feels a need to sell you on some idea he has adopted. There may or may not be anything sinister in his motives. He believes and wants you to believe the way he does.

The more I look at the four characteristics the more I believe Orwell may be on to something. Although I rarely have any desire to share beauty with the reader, I can see myself writing for one or a number of the remaining reasons. I would have to say that more often than not, I write for shear egoism. I think I have something to say and feel this is a good way to reach the masses. I want people to think I am a good writer and have something to say worth listening to (or reading). I would hope that somewhere in the future, someone would stumble across something I wrote and think I had my head screwed on straight. Reaching into the future through by writing in the present create lasting works that may help people only remember your strengths and not your weaknesses. For instance, I may not be a great father, and that will not be remembered. If I have a great idea, I will be remembered.

In my own twisted way, I would have a tendency to combine the third and fourth reason. I believe that I have a better understanding of the big picture than most people do. People generally can’t see the forest because they are concentrating on the trees. I believe that I see the big picture as being made up of the parts and pieces of the puzzle (trees). I want to make sure I tell people not what they want to hear but instead what they need to hear. I want to show or explain the big picture to the narrow-minded people who are so intent on electing politicians who promise and deliver poor legislation. People are so wrapped up in what they can get today, that they don’t see the damage they are causing even a short way down the road. I like to think that given the chance, I would/could write to educate these people. I have always adhered to the philosophy  that if it is too good to be true, it probably is. 

So, I write for a combination of traits one, three, and four. What does that say about me? I am egotistical, arrogant, and opinionated. God help my wife and kids!

Writing Warm Up: Disappearing Places

“We all have places that we feel connected to, but these places rarely stay the same.”

Write about a place from your past that has changed. Using spatial and chronological order, describe the place as you remember it and as it is now.

The first time we drove up to our house in Cheshire, Connecticut it was a snowy afternoon in the winter of 1968. We turned left off Sperry Road into our crushed rock driveway and stopped. Before us stood, a small mountain covered with trees and a strange house about half way up it. The crushed rock driveway snaked up before us toward the house four hundred yards away. There was a strange pole standing up in the driveway in front of my father’s car. As I got out help him move the pole, I noticed the small creek, which flowed through a pipe under the driveway. The bottom of the pole pierced the pipe and rested on its curved bottom. Once removed my father drove up to the house. I refused to get back in the car and chose to run alongside. It was as if we had moved to the middle of the forest. This was typical for the town. It was a quiet suburb of New Haven. It was trees, fields, and pastures for as far as I could ride my bike. I was eight years old at the time and thought I had gone to heaven.

As the years passed, the town changed. Slowly though, we did not even notice. I the summer of 1977, we got our first McDonalds. That was probably the beginning of the end, as I knew it. In the fall of 1978, I left for Ohio State and only made it home for the summers. In 1982, I graduated and returned to Cheshire looking for a job. In the spring of 1983, I joined the Navy and never looked back.

I returned to Cheshire this fall. It was the 25^th wedding anniversary of my best friend. During our trip, I thought we would take a nostalgic trip around town to show my wife where I had grown up.  Much to my disappointment, the fields, farms, and forests had become housing developments. New roads stretched where there were bike paths. The field where I stole my first kiss was a parking lot. My friends have moved on and strangers live in their houses. It is a clean community, but it is not the town I grew up in.

Writing Warm Up: Your Wildest Dream

What is your wildest dream? If you could do anything in the world, what would you do? Does your dream seem impossible to you? Why or why not? What’s standing in the way? How would you overcome the obstacles?

If I could do anything, I would live on a yacht in the Caribbean. My dream is not impossible but undoable. My greatest obstacle is my wife and kids. She will not leave Virginia while her parents are alive and I will not leave my kids while they are still young. When her parents pass, and my kids are grown, I will probably be too old to make it work. I have back problems now. I can only imagine how bad it will be in another ten to twenty years. Money fortunately is not an issue. I will always have enough, not too much, but enough.

Writing Warm UP: Quotation Response

“Most people pass by twenty stories a day and don’t notice any of them. Writers pass by twenty stories a day and notice five of them.”

I would have to say that either writers consider themselves more observant that their fellow man or, they are constantly on the hunt for new material. A writer for the most part is just another human being. We all live in our own little worlds of habit and familiar surroundings. A writer probably figures that most of his fellow man has experienced the same things he has. It is only when he passes something even slightly out of the ordinary that he feels it is worthy of writing down. On the other hand, most of us are not out there looking for some way to fill the void in our lives. We have a tendency to ignore the little things that have little to no impact on our otherwise dreary little lives. So I sure, writers do notice a little story when it presents itself. If they did not, they would miss out on a lot more opportunities to feed their families.

Writing Warm Up: Ten Things I Used to Hate

1. Reading – It was always a chore. Something I was told to do by my teachers. Now I read because I want to. I am doing it for me and nobody else.

2. Small Dogs – I never thought they were worth their weight in fur. No I can see where they would make a good companion for someone with limited living space.

3. Exercise – It used to be something I had to do to get ready for the competition. I loved the competition. Now I exercise because I like the activity.

4. Fish – My mother used to make the worst tasting fish. She had to cook it badly because of my father’s health concerns. Now I cook it the way I like and it tastes good.

5. Power Boats – My grandfather was a big-time yachtsman and hated powerboats. I sailed with him often enough that I too developed the same dislike for powerboats. Now I own one and have a great time with it.

6. Sweaters – As a kid, I could not stand them. Now I have an extensive collection and usually find myself wearing one three times a week (one average).

7. Salsa – As a kid I hated anything hot or spicy. I love the taste of salsa and chips now. Finished off with a Corona makes for a delightful evening.

8. Sour Kraut – Could not stand the taste and love it on hot dogs now.

9. Women over forty – Hey what can I say?

10. Beer – As a younger man, I never developed a liking for it. Although my tastes are constantly evolving, and the style of beer I like changes, I have always managed to find a flavor I like.

Writing Warm Up: Quotation Response

“I am a man, I consider nothing that is human alien to me.” ~ Terence

Terence believes that because he is human, he has experienced all there is to experience. Maybe it is more likely that he feels he can empathize with people because he shares the same emotions as they do. I am not talking about the exact same experiences or emotions, but the same types of experiences and emotions.   I think he is pretty ignorant to make a statement like that. He has no idea what it is like to be me. The old saying about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes and all should apply to him. I believe the man who believes he know everything, knows less than a man who admits he know nothing.

You can teach an architect how to draw a straight line. Does possessing this skill mean he can design a building? If a man can drive a nail, does this mean he can build a house?  Just because I can turn on the oven, does it mean I should open my own bakery? Obviously, these three poor souls, the other two plus myself, need much more information to design a building, build a house,  or run a bakery, than they need to be competent in their most basic tasks. This is true much in the same manner as being competent in sentence structure does not mean you can write.  I agree with Collin Brooke in that “Writing is necessarily the blending of form and content in a particular context.”( Brooke, Collin 2005)

Content is very important to the writing process. It is the content, the message; the writing is attempting to convey that gives the work meaning. The content gives us the format for the essay. What are we trying to say determines the length of the work (unless specified by our teacher). The organizational structure is dependent on content. Certainly, there is a variety of formulas, which we must be follow in order to convey our meaning.  Without the content, the formulas would be worthless.

Fish is correct in that form is vital to properly express content. Using the incorrect form with the correct words, will often ensure the context of the message is lost. “I am hot.” What did I mean? Am sitting at the equator wearing a fur coat? Do all women desire me? Did I just shoot ten free throws in a row? The reader cannot easily understand the context of my message because I failed to have the correct blend of form and content.

Sometimes I wonder why all the self-proclaimed intellectuals feel it necessary to bash each other. Haven’t they ever heard that their candle does not burn any brighter by extinguishing some one else’s?

I can use my own experience as evidence. I grew up not liking to read. I could read, and certainly knew how to read, but the interest was not there. Perhaps it was the influence of television or maybe the radio? My lack of reading is the result of a combination of the television, radio, and the fact I found nothing interesting to read when I was young. Perhaps if Rowling’s or King were writing when I was a kid I would be more of an avid reader today. I often find myself in the position of having to read but procrastinating due to my lack of desire.

With the youth of today reading less and less, I believe our best course to develop readers of the future is to provide them with what they want to read. Rowling’s, King, and others like them, are selling books today because they are providing content that appeals to our youth. Some may go on to greatness as writers and literary critics, and some may end up like me. If they do not read anything, they will not have a chance.

Baily Drive was very steep and a dead end. One end of the road intersected Bennem Hill Road and the other was a field where a large eight-foot long, four-foot diameter, concrete pipe lay.  There was no way I could have ever moved that pipe let alone push it up and down our street ten times. It was also late in the day and the sun was just setting. It would be very dark soon. I had never wandered far from our street during the day and Our Lady of Victory Church might as well been in a different country. I was very scared of the dark. Surely, I would have gotten lost or one of the many monsters of the night would have killed me.

I wish I could have managed the pipe as I would at least be laboring in front of my own house. If a night beast came, I could have run inside. I finally chose the run around the church. I waited for a few of the gang members to leave and then I started toward the church. Right before I made it up to Bennem Hill Road, I heard a whisper from behind the last house. It was Gene. He was one of the older kids and had some advice for me. He told me to duck in behind the last house and sneak home.  As I closed the door behind me, I hoped no one had seen me. The next day they asked about the run and I lied. I told them I was not scared and it did not take me very long at all. Gene just smiled and kept our secret until after I moved away. I will always remember him for his kindness.