How do we apply what we learn about reading to writing?
Dr. Kopp challenged me to apply the methods of the class to reading my own work. Why would he do this? (I mean except to challenge me, or because he likes to read my griping, groaning blogs) Because when we apply critical reading to our work while editing, we can see the faults or missed opportunities. It is in doing this work that I hope to encounter a deeper experience with my own work and develop a richer text for my readers. This pursuit reminds me of the Rowan Writing Arts Core Value # 2: |
Writing Arts students will understand theories of writing and reading and be able to apply them to their own writing. |
About Scarlett Splinter
Scarlett Splinter is a novel about two girls growing up in a cult where child sex abuse seems to fester alongside the "live off the land," wholesomeness. The novel starts with a brutal rape of a young girl as initiation into cult living. The tone of the prologue is eerie and violates the reader. |
I hurt. I hurt. I hurt, like the way your finger hurts, blistering—skin-- sizzling , under a flame in that moment before the skin bubbles in protection, before your fingers spark neuron signals to your brain. Pops of fiery signals smoking, is this good is this bad? For a moment it had all felt good, Pastor’s lips on my shoulder, tender almost. I was being initiated by a prophet, I felt special. | ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↑ ↑ ↑ ↑ |
My throat was a pill taken without water, my eyes stung like onions. The door swung back and forth still reeling from Scar’s kick. She had seen me, the version of me that I hated, the girl I didn’t want to be. Only Scar could get me like that, she hated me. She hated me for being what- too polished? I wished I didn’t need everyone to like me, why can’t I just hate Scar? I looked in the mirror and saw blemishes tiny and bumped on my skin. Like the blemishes on my soul, you had to get so close to see them | ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ |
I wear a scar upon my face, a deep, fucking, rigid, crimson colored scar, that stretched down my chest but no one knows that. Once a bad man held the knife against my neck, he slashed me up and puzzled my face, my chest splintered with lipstick red. He thought he named me Scar. I named me that. I told them that name. I wore that scar upon my face like Hester Fucking Prynne. But I was never supposed to know Hester Prynne. I own that scar. I wear it on my face and on my soul like my own Red Badge of Courage. Another old friend I was never supposed to know. | ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ ↑ ↑ ↑ ↑ ↓ |
The Value Graph
Next to the lines you will see I have a side key of ↑↓. You can see I have decided to graph the lines of the text with their positive/up charge or negative/ down charge. This was strange because as a whole I tried to create Lettie to be the more positive of the two, so it is odd that the passage where I felt her voice was most refined was when she was mostly negative. In Scar's passage I chose a passage that began negative and ended mostly positive, because she was strong and empowering. I am forced therefore to explore this method further. On to the metonyms and metaphors. |
* pain
* Not being protected
* the unexplainable
* confusion
* good/bad motif
* religion
* chosen/ special
* naivete
* signals- getting the wrong signals
* smoke
But it was not my intention to do any of this. I actually originally had more heavily religious text in the prologue but felt I might lose whatever readers I had left after witnessing a rape scene:) Also, even though I love the repetition of I hurt- I question whether given the duality of the story if having it twice would be better than three times stated. I now question other directions I could go in my story, burning and fire seem so important in the prologue, I'm wondering if I shouldn't incorporate a fire scene, I almost think Scar could burn something down.
What I found most curious in my own writing of this passage is the neurons. It doesn't even sound like me. I mean, I remember writing it. I know that is what happens. But the actual "science" talk is not exactly me. And in fact, I realized it is something of a clue along side other clues in the novel, like my favorite line:
As we drove on, I imagined a world where there might be no god, no magic, and just blue blood that turns red, only when we are watching.