Egg Shells- Adell DeGraffenried Draft #3

ACT I

SCENE 1

SETTING

A man sits on a stool facing his kitchen in a small, run down New York apartment in the Bronx. His knuckles rap the surface of the counter in front of him impatiently. A coo coo clock chirps the hour. His hand tightens around a beautiful crystal egg as he looks at the clock.


TIME

Seven thirty p.m. Winter of 1995.

CHARACTERS

SUSAN A young woman in her mid twenties. Wife of Ham. Nervous and jerky in her movements like a dog who has been beaten. Plain in appearance.

HAM Thirty years old, suspicious, Ham is angry and tired. Purple circles under eyes. Drawn handsome face but tall, overbearing, and strong.


Door unlocks and Susan enters, her arms laden with
grocery bags.

HAM
(angrily)
Where have you been?


SUSAN
(setting groceries on counter and hanging coat on rickety peg)
Out.

HAM
Out where? Be specific. The things that
happen to you will be a lot worse coming
from some punk than from me if you get lost.

SUSAN
(her back always towards him)
I was shopping, Ham. For groceries. But
don’t be angry…Please.

HAM
(his words are slow and deliberate)
We’ve gone over this. You’re not to spend
money without my say so.

SUSAN
(quieter)
There was nothing to make you dinner in the
house.

HAM
(standing up from his stool, fist clenched
around the egg his voice raising)
You could’ve asked me to pick some up for
you on my way back from work. And don’t
pretend you care if I have anything to eat.

SUSAN
How was work? Did you have any buyers?

Susan drops cans of soup clumsily and begins
picking them up.

HAM
(voice raising louder still)
Why you ask how work was? Have you
been talking to Benny? He sold today. I
didn’t. DON’T try to change the subject.

SUSAN
(trying to be calm, taking a deep breath)
I haven’t seen Benny.

HAM
I didn’t ask if you’d seen Benny. I asked
if you’d talked to him.

SUSAN
(picking up groceries with shaky hands)
I haven’t talked to Benny.

HAM
(walking toward Susan, her back still toward
him)
Susan, look at me when I am saying some thing to you. That way I know you hear me.

SUSAN
(glancing over her shoulder)
Where did you get that egg? It’s pretty.

Beat.

HAM
Why do you want to know where I got this? You wanna sell it for groceries or something?

SUSAN
No. I was just wondering.

HAM
(holding the egg up to the light)
Well stop wondering. It’s from Dooney. He got it off a foreign guy for five ounces and mailed it to me. Paying up for last month.

SUSAN
(glancing at egg again)
Does tomato soup sound ok?

HAM
(throwing up arms)
Who eats tomato soup? I won’t keep this thing, Sue. It’s got no use.

Ham tosses the egg into the air catching it casually as Susan’s jaw hangs slack.

Beat.

SUSAN
Couldn’t we keep it for decoration?

HAM
People like us don’t have (sarcastically) ‘decorations’ That’s for money people. I don’t got money. You don’t make beans and I make more than you.

Beat.

SUSAN
(looking at the ground)
Money people are happy, aren’t they?

HAM
I used to be happy when you didn’t…

Ham reaches over and scratches at the peeling wall paper broodingly.

SUSAN
(looking at him for the first time)
Say it Ham. When I didn’t what?

A convulsive shiver shakes Susan.

HAM
When you didn’t run scared of me.

Susan looks toward the door shaking her head, reaching for keys.

HAM
You’d better not leave me here. I haven’t got my dinner.

SUSAN
Who eats tomato soup anyway? A dog knows the difference between when it’s been stumbled on and kicked. So do I.

Walks moves quickly toward door, leaving fast.

HAM
(to himself in outrage, glaring at crystal egg glimmering in light)
WHY?

Throwing egg on kitchen floor it shatters. He grabs a bottle from the cupboard and goes into the bedroom slamming the door.



SCENE 2

The same coo coo clock chimes eleven p.m. The door of the shabby apartment is unlocked and Susan walks in. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying. After kicking off her shoes, she stumbles into the kitchen and walks to the sink in her socks. We hear a CRUNCH.

SUSAN
OUCH!

She looks at her feet to see her socks are now turning red with her blood. She smiles to herself.

SUSAN
(picking up a piece of crystal)
An egg shell. I stepped on his egg shell.


CURTAIN

Ears (Intro) / Adell DeGraffenried

Note to Instructor: This was done when it was due. Check out my personal blog if you don't believe me for the first date it was posted, but I checked and it wasn't on the public blog. Please accept it with open arms.

To be precise, I was never at your Great-Aunt-Bertha's wedding, I do not have "one of those faces", and NO- I was not a part of the crusade to find King Tut. I am, however, an earwiggler.
My ears are my greatest asset and have been since that fateful day in 7th grade Algebra. I was playing with my rather juicy pencil, wondering what it would be like to be a beaver. This thought lead me to another thought (as thoughts often do). What if I were that stupid Disney elephant who could wiggle his ears? What would my Father and Uncle's reaction be? Most likely they would give me a ceremony of sorts, congratulating me on becoming a true DeGraffenried, and then initiate me into the clan. You see, we are prominate ear-wigglers in whatever part of the world we choose to occupy. I don't mean the grab-your-ear-with-your-finger wiggler. I mean a true, blue blooded, no touching your head, ear wiggler.
Anyway as I sat there in Algebra, wondering if I should get plugs to stop my brains from leaking out of my ears, it hit me like a manna from Moses: I was WIGGLING MY EARS!
It was my finest hour. I wiggled and wiggled. Subconciously I wiggled. Consciously I wiggled. I wiggled until I had the strongest ear muscles in the nation- (some day the world).
My dad looked at me with the expression of a moose seeing its calf grow antlers when I showed him at dinner that night. It was then I knew...I was the modern equivilant of that stupid Disney elephant.

Draft #2 Adell DeGraffenried

I LOOK I WAIT
I don't know how long I have been looking and waiting, but the look is always a day longer than the wait. This is given. I know it through the cracked condition of my bloody hands. They have been looking almost as long as I have. I wonder how long it takes for hands to crack white and bleed red. My mind is not cracked and bloody. I yearn to touch what I am waiting for so immensely I can see it, but no matter how hard and long I search for what I am looking for it never comes to my eyes. No matter how long I sniff it out, it doesn't hit my nostrils like she does. I had a daughter once. She is what I wait for. She is what I see and touch and breathe. She is beneath my skin, but she is not what I look for. My little girl was pretty and they knew it. With one giant swipe of their clean, white papers they took her away. Where, I do not know. But I am not looking for her. I am waiting for her, overturning her in my head. My pretty white thing will come.
I overturn the singular piece of furniture in my small house and look under it fifty two times a day, then I open the drain pipe and poke my eye ball down it twice in case I see what I am looking for before I start to howl strong and loud and ferocious. On one of the less painful desperate days my neighbor came over and said in her calm tone, "Stop screaming, Cherlie. It won't make things better." And then she left like she hadn't come at all. The walls of my house were so white after her colored skin went, I didn't howl. I lay on the floor and looked up at the ceiling. My white ceiling with one florescent light bulb makes me sick. Maybe it was up there purposefully and they want me to be sick. This way I cannot look for it anymore. Forces beyond my control call me back to waiting.
I call the neighbor Mrs. Lank but she doesn't answer to it. My daughter- my pretty white daughter- had a name once but when they took her, her pretty name went with them. It was a pretty name, and I wait for it to come back. If her name came back she would come back with smiles. The last time I saw her, she had pretty white tears on her cheeks sparking like bits of river falling from the mountains. My girl called me “Mommy” in the fresh mornings when it was still cold. Climbing upon my small lap she looked wonderfully sleepy and ready for breakfast. Maybe if it were cold she would clamor upon me again and say “Mommy” but here, in my house, the feel is always the same: 72 degrees until the moon glows yellow. For now it stays white under the crying face of the moon man until… forever. I can wait forever. I think. Something stirs my weary senses with that word: “Mommy.” Maybe it is the wind I haven’t tasted in forever. Is this what forever feels like?!
I feel the walls under my cut nails. Perhaps I will touch what I lost before I see or hear it. The walls are solid under my short fingernails bending and contracting with no woman’s touch. If the walls could tell me what they remember, things would be beautifully different. I would remember with their memories what went missing from my white world and sing about it with such joy and spirit these walls would not recognize me. A man asked me once what I do all day to make my house a mess. I said, “I look.” When he asked me what I looked for, my head hurt and I choked on my air. A stupid question. I knocked the air out of the man for asking his questions and now, I knock the air out of the silent walls. They forget who they answer to in her time of repose and the knocks I blow to their surface are ineffective. Someone wails. Maybe it is me.
I hear a knock upon my door but do not answer. Mrs. Lank enters with her hands in her pockets followed by that man—the one with the stupid questions. I back up into the wall, hoping I will melt with it into the other side of space. Mrs. Lank says, “Cherlie, it is time for you to take your medicine. Let me see your arm dear.” Her hands come out of their pockets with a syringe of clear liquid taking aim at the proper spot on my arm. I hear the sounds stop letting themselves out of me when the liquid is through magicing itself into my arm. “Cherlie, will you talk to Mr. Harvey for me?” Lank asks and I nod peacefully. Mr. Harvey smiles just as an insane person would, gesturing towards my couch, my one piece of furniture. “Please sit next to me on your bed Cherlie and tell me how you are doing today,” he sneers. I spit at his indignation and tell him about my waiting and my search. No Progress. Then my world reels.
“Cherlie, will you try to listen to me today?” he asks.
I nod, dimming.
“Cherlie, I will tell you again like I did yesterday and everyday for five years, Jill will visit you when she is older and can handle seeing this place. If you work towards giving up your search she might see you sooner than that.”
I look at my red, cracking hands and tell him I need to find.
“Mr. Roberts and I have deduced you are looking for the one thing you will never find. Is it your husband?”
I lean over the couch and watch my lunch come out of my mouth onto the floor. Then I lay and scratch at my hands. They hurt. I hurt all over. Another pain day comes at me again.
“That’s what I thought,” he shrinks at my pain. “Cherlie, he is dead. Try to understand. Tomorrow we will see if you have started to accept that you will not find him.”
Mrs. Lank leans forward to clean the orange pile. I lean forward lifting up the couch pillow. Time to overturn my singular piece of furniture for the twenty-sixth time today. I know I will find it. Its here somewhere.
I don't know how long I have been looking and waiting, but the look is always a day longer than the wait.

Lukeman Exercise 3| AJ Split River

Sercopia Syndrome
(Rough draft)

I'm so far behind because I didn't get my head out in time to learn the system. I just thought that I would throw this in for good measure and oh....I'm not sick in the head. This actually happened to a cute little girl I know. (Wife).




A dark haired girl cowers under the covers as a storm begins to rage outside. Still she is fascinated by the noise and light. She goes to her window and focuses on the street lamp lighting the dirt road. A large winged thing is fluttering around the in the light, seemingly excited by the storm. The girl is mesmerised. What bird would be flying around a light and in the middle of a storm? As she lay in bed and wondered, she noticed that sun-light was shining on her face. Morning had come, but when?Being young meant no responsibility. Only to mind your P’s and Q’s. Outside everything was washed fresh. Skipping over the lawn she decided to make herself dizzy by spinning in place, fell and giggled. Sat up to enjoy the effects. She looked around and noticed a fluttering, flopping thing dancing on the lawn by the lamp-pole. She squinted. It looked like an Autumn leave pushed about by the wind, but there was no wind. Not even a slight breeze. She skipped over to investigate.On the ground, shaking itself nervously was a large moth with slightly tattered wings. A beautiful thing that made her feel com-passion. She picked up gently and went for the house. How fun this would be. She found a shoe box left in the back shed, put in a bed of fresh grass and a bottle cap for water. She was content. And then the thought came to her; what if it were suffering? Nail polish remover, just in case. Days of care went on. The Little girl emotions began to bind with the creature from the storm. The day came when the thing was thrashing wildly to get out. It was dark now. The sun having gone to bed to leave the world to its own devices. Out she sprang through the screen door. She stood in the middle of the yard and gently lifted the lid and out sprang the insect fairy. Up in a flutter; it flew towards the street lamp that was holding back the night. Around and around it circled in joyous freedom. The girls stood there hugging herself. Maybe some day she would be a veterinarian!Lost in her thoughts and victory, she didn't notice the sound of large and heavy tires screaming and dusting the nearby road. The truck passed by and the moth and it shared the same space. The oblivious flier disintegrates into powder and juice. The night deepens on one small figure standing in the circle of lamp light, mouth agape, shoebox dangleing by one tiny finger.Note: Isn’t it just the way life is? Another Murphy’s law.

FINE’

Ayer James. Sept 23, 2007

Lukeman Excersise 3 AJ Split River

I took the opportunity to read Lukemans section on the semi-colon. It was then that I decided to apply this knowledge to my draft of "Ace" and found no use for it unless I made changes. Still, I have learned that this funtion can be used for even greater pause effect than the comma if used in the correct place. Also it is possible to use this and all punction for the creation of "tone". The more I learn, the more I have yet to know.

How Real Is It?

HOW REAL IS IT?

It's only real because society says so. I realized this a long time ago, but what is it that keeps us from focusing? The worry of survival and survival is whomp-um.(money). Just think about what you could or would do if you didn't have to worry about it. Maybe you don't have to worry about it. Don't take it for granted.That's my imput to get this ball rolling. You know? A bit philosopoghy to kick the day in gear. Other than that, my name is Aj SplitRiver Maclaren.
I was born on a Michigan reservation to Huron ancestry and a Scot's father. I left home at 14 and have been on the road ever since. What you all see today is a culmination of those times. Aren't you thrilled?
Labels: Ayer James

Lukeman Exercise 3 | Melissa Erickson

I know...I know. After what seems like forever, I finally got my blogger account to work. It really only cost a few hours of internal pain, frustration, and extreme homicidal feelings toward everything electronic or technical. So really; not a big deal. Again, thank you so much for your patience!

LUKEMAN EXCERCISE THREE

I am really glad I received the opportunity to read this book, and apply it to works I had already written. I've never been one for "correct" punctuation. I would always just cruise along, plopping commas in wherever I "felt like it." Reading Lukeman gave me a better understanding of the effect punctuation has on writing when used properly.

I have never realized the power that a colon could have when used correctly. It really made something of importance stand out from the rest of the text.
Using semi-colons helped my work too by making it flow alot better together, rather than have a whole bunch of short sentences. The semi-colon connected this sentences, and the piece flowed much more smoothly. Of course, these are only a few examples from what I learned in this section; there are so many more things that I've taken into account after my reading.

While I still tend to overuse commas, and sometimes forget there are other types of punctuation, I am beginning to judge my work more and more, and apply semi-colons, colons, quotations, and the various other marks we learned about in Lukeman's book.

Lukeman really made me see what my style with punctuation was, and how my work could be greatly improved by using the marks he explained very clearly in his book.

Lukeman Exercise 3 | Katrina Cox

I didn't see any exercises at the conclusion of part three of the book, but I thought I'd give writing with a colon another shot and using italics.

The ring around her neck almost seemed to mock her. She reached behind her neck and undid the clasp, letting the smooth metal pool together in her hand. She ran her fingertips around the ring, imitating the circle. She thought about what it used to mean. It meant that she was his, that they were in love, that nothing would get between them.

She slipped the ring on her finger and sighed. The day he had given her the ring was a day she would never forget. He had looked her in the eyes and opened the small case on one bended knee. She had teared up, throwing her arms around his neck and saying how much she loved him.

She set the ring down on the table, stopping the memories she had held so precious to her heart. How happy she had been was more than she could bear. She had to admit that what he had said didn't mean what she had thought it meant. It was merely a ring, no longer a symbol of the promises they had made to each other.

Tears ran down her cheeks. The heartache of his unfaithfulness was like a knife, mercilessly massacring what was left of her heart. The thought of him chosing another woman, or two others for that matter, plagued her mind. Not a night had gone by since she had found out where she had slept peacefully without nightmare or night terror.

The telephone rang, startling her out of her morose reverie. She looked down at the caller ID felt the world spin around her: it was him.

Lukeman Exercise Part Three | Kimberly Bennett

I didn’t see a third exercise listed, so I figured I’d take this opportunity to have a little fun with punctuation. I liked how the book said that punctuation should be used to enhance text, not clarify. I feel like we’ve been taught quite the opposite for most of our lives. So, I guess I’ll take this moment to play with some of my favorite punctuation and see if I can be affective.


An Extremely Brief Overview of the History of Music

FIRST: there was rhythm.

From the beginning of time (meaning somewhere between the creation and the whole apple incident) there has been a beat.
DUH, DU DU DU DU! DUH, DU DU DU DU!
The pulsation echoed through valleys and bounced off of mountainsides; frightening dinosaurs and small birds.
Then after rhythm, there was the melody. The Greeks used this to great effect at funerals. The Seikilos Epitaph is one of the oldest pieces of transcribed music in existence. It was found near Turkey written on the headstone of some dead Greek person.
Melody didn’t change much.
The melody for many years was dominated by the Christian churches. Monks were very fond of it. That is where we get Gregorian chant. Then one day someone said:
“Hey, what if I sing two different notes at the same time?”
And harmony was born.
Now the church had the market cornered on both melody and harmony. But songs of lasciviousness were starting to creep in. (I won’t tell if you won’t.)
Then there was the Renaissance. Enlightenment for all; Music for everybody!
The Renaissance brought wide changes in the way music was thought of. After the Renaissance, there was the Baroque – If it’s not Baroque, don’t fix it – in which composers like Bach and Handle were very prominent.
If you hate opera, you should blame its existence on the Baroque period. You should also blame Claudio Monteverdi. He wrote madrigals until some guy criticized his style. To get back at his critic Monteverdi wrote Orpheo. The first opera was written out of vengeance. Take from that what you will.
Then there was the classical music period. Mozart and Beethoven were the men of the day. Rock me Amadeus.
Next came the Romantic period: the favorite themes of the day were death and unrequited love. That just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, doesn’t it?
At last we reach modernism. That would be from the turn of the century up till now. We won’t go into the more “interesting” styles of music (atonal) but will instead go right to Spirituals. From spirituals to gospel, from gospel to jazz and from jazz to rock and roll.
Elvis made us swoon and swing our hips in the 50’s. In the 60’s The Beatles made us Coo, Coo, Cachoo; The Who gave us Babba O’Reily with Teenage Wastelands.
Then there was the 70’s. Disco didn’t die. Rock and roll killed it.
In the 80’s we had hair bands and leg warmers. In spite of all its failings, most of us still love the 80’s. In the early 90’s we had rap music and in the later part of the decade, the invention of punk rock. Sadly, this was also a strong teeny bopper era.
Currently we have a diverse culture of music, consisting of everything from Opera to R and B. From Gilbert and Sullivan operettas to Simon and Garfunkle’s easy listening.
And that has been a brief overview of music.
Good day.

I hope that works. I’ve certainly enjoyed it. I’m mot concerned about my semicolon use. But I found it very interesting how I kept wondering if I should go with a period or a colon.

A Dash of Style/ Latoya Rhodes

Well, it is the end of the book. The end was my favorite part of the whole book. Why? Because he let us know what marks we can not really use, and the ones to use sparingly. Well for my last exercise, I think that I am going to write something that most writers, or readers, or what Lukeman calls "amateur" writing. Also, I am going to use some of the lines from the book that I would like to call them "amateur no nos"

Here goes:

Did I kill my wife? Will I be caught? Will others find out that I did it!? What provoked me to do such a thing? Just watching her body upon the floor - she's draped with blood. Oh, I'm sick to my stomach. At this moment I wish that I could turn back the hands of time, and bring her back. I'M SORRY!!! I'm sorry. Should I run? Should I hide? I have no where to go [He turns to walk toward the body. He longs to embrace her. To kiss her face, but he is to afraid to go the marks of death on his hands. His eyes are in a gaze. Tears run down his face. He whispers...] I love you honey [He walks out the door].

The End

Thoughts:

Yea, I can see why those are not supposed to be used often. It is funny because when you read the story, it really sounds like a melodrama... a really bad melodrama! I am proud to say that I wrote this horrifying piece. It was actually kind of fun.

Lukeman Exercise Three / Karrie Gull

There were no exercises at the end of section three. I liked what Lukeman said about the use of the question mark. Sometimes i have a problem with using the question mark in an improper way. I didn't realize it, but i often use the question mark as lukeman says, "to immediately hook the reader in a cheap way." I find that I often start a short story with the use and continue to frequently use the question mark throughout some of my work. With this knowledge i will work on limiting my use of the comma.

Lukeman Exercise 3 | Corinn B. Sessions

At the end of the book in section three, Lukeman cautions us as writers not to use certain punctuation marks, and if we ever did for stylistic purposes, to use them rarely. I just want to see if I can actually write something using all of the "hands off" marks: the question mark? And the exclamation point! As well as italics....ellipsis...and the hyphen-mark. (I've already violated so many rules. It's fun!) Underline, [brackets], and bold were completely off limits! I'm not sure I can use them.

Well, I guess I already did that exercise. I bet I failed.

Lukeman Exercise, Part 3 | Rayla Gomez

I didn't see any exercises for Part 3, but I figured that maybe I should post a third exercise that includes most or all of the punctuation skills as needed in my writing. This is also my Draft #2.

*Although I like the dialogue and placements of certain punctuacted phrases, I found that there were a few punctuation marks I wanted to change.

Empty Pockets

He blinks into the sunlight and breathes in the new air,
Rusted soil clouds his feet,
Peppers the trousers that he took off a dead man.
It’s not stealing if he won’t come looking for them.
He stumbles along the road,
Stopping under a tree providing a thin, needle-like shadow
To shield his wasting body from the heated sun.
That reminds him to sew the small hole
In the pants where the last of his change
Slipped unnoticed and fell God knows where,
At least, when this place is out of sight.
He sighs, puts on the worn, patched hat that
Belonged to his father,
Reminding himself that he was rid of him too,
And treks out into the scorching summer heat again.
Despite his wretched circumstances,
He starts to whistle “Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby”.
Out of the dust comes an old, navy blue pickup truck,
And he falls silent, putting on a smile.
An old farmer is behind the wheel, and he says,
“You need a ride?”
His bloodshot eyes bore into the driver’s,
But he nods silently and climbs in.
“Hot day today. In fact, just saw a guy on the road.
Died in the heat, I think.”
He just nods to the farmer, whistling,
And fingers the hole where the change fell to the dust.

*Even though the changes are subtle, I think that each punctuation mark used in the revised version below helped impact how the words are read.

Empty Pockets

He blinks into the sunlight and breathes in the new air;
Rusted soil clouds his feet,
Peppers the trousers that he took off a dead man-
It’s not stealing if he won’t come looking for them.
He stumbles along the road,
Stopping under a tree providing a thin, needle-like shadow
To shield his wasting body from the heated sun.
That reminds him to sew the small hole
In the pants where the last of his change
Slipped unnoticed and fell God knows where;
At least, when this place is out of sight.
He sighs, puts on the worn patched hat that
Belonged to his father,
Reminding himself that he was rid of him too,
And treks out into the scorching summer heat again.
Despite his wretched circumstances,
He starts to whistle “Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby”.
Out of the dust comes an old navy blue pickup truck,
And he falls silent, putting on a smile.
An old farmer is behind the wheel, and he says,
“You need a ride?”
His bloodshot eyes bore into the driver’s,
But he nods silently and climbs in.
“Hot day today. In fact, just saw a guy on the road.
Died in the heat, I think.”
He just nods to the farmer, whistling,
And fingers the hole where the change fell to the dust.

Lukeman Exercise #2 | Bree Seely

Dashes and parentheses can be used to spice up sections of writing that feels too simplistic or straightforward. Are there any such areas in your work? Using a pair of dashes or parentheses, add an aside or two. Be less constrained. How does it transform the writing?

Original:

The worn wood lays still as tennis shoes scuff over it wearing it further. It's friends nearby moan and groan as the weight of the humans is put on their backs. The humans pass and the planks relax, their knotted smashed selves nailed to the iron prison of a bridge. At the end of the day, each plank dreams of his home. Many were from forests thousands of miles from their present location. Many are from the same mountains as this bridge was made in. There are birch, oak, aspen and ash, all crammed integrated to make these humans lives easier. They each loved the sound of the water's gurgling laughter as it freely floated beneath them. Each plank remembers his won journey. Being sawed in half and chopped up into pieces to make the plank of wood they became. The rest of their tree entity went on somewhere else, never to have a reunion with its counterparts again.

Revised with Dashes and Parentheses:

The worn wood lays still as sneakers scuff across it-- wearing the wood further. It's friends nearby moan and groan as the weight of the humans is put on their backs. The humans pass and the planks relax, their knotted smashed selves nailed to the iron prison of a bridge. At the end of the day, each plank dreams of his home. Many were from forests thousands of miles from their present location. Many are from the same mountains as this bridge was made in. There are birch, oak, aspen and ash, all crammed integrated to make these humans lives easier. They each loved the sound of the water's gurgling laughter as it freely floated beneath them. Each plank remembers his won journey. Being sawed in half and chopped up into pieces to make the plank of wood they became. The rest of their tree entity went on somewhere else-- never to have a reunion with its counterparts again.

I think it put more emphasis on the fact that people walking across the bridge were wearing it down further with each step. Also when the tree's parts were to never be reunited. It emphasized that fact more and made it more important, more emotional.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two |Tawn Jewkes

Wow, everybody else has written a lot on this exercise. I just picked out one sentence I wanted to change. I wanted to do a colon exercise because I don't use them very often so it was hard to find a spot in my writing where I felt one would fit. The only exercise I would do for this was the first one. That is why I only have one sentence on the exercise, but it's a good one and well worth the change. I felt it was very appropriate to change the sentence and add a colon. I think it made a huge difference in the overall effect of the sentence and what was to be revealed. I like the revised version a lot better. I originally used a dash, but decided the point would be better put across if I used a colon. So the original sentence says:

There are two boys that compete for my affection--best friends actually.

I revised it to read:

There are two boys that compete for my affection: they are best friends.

By changing the dash to a colon I felt that it made the fact that the boys were best friends more dramatic. It emphasized this more and shows the reader the importance of the fact. The colon makes the reader pause to think about the conflict that will arise in two boys who are best friends liking the same girl. The colon definitely adds the emphasis I was looking for.

Lukeman Exercise 2 | Katrina Cox

I usually go out of my way to avoid using colons in my writing, whether writing prose or poetry. I chose an exerise that had me look at an ending of one of my writings and try ending it with a colon. The difference was absolutely stunning! When I used a colon at the end, I also revised some of the words as well.

Original:

I remember standing at the coffin side, my Uncle Sean from my mother’s side of the family gazing at me in sympathy. His eyes held so much concern, so much sorrow. He looked so miserable at the helplessness of the situation. He, too, looked so old. The shine had left his clear blue eyes, leaving his normally beautiful eyes hard and dead. He reflected the attitude of the flowers. He reflected how I was so dead inside as I gazed in numbness at that horrible coffin. The wind tangled my hair in every direction and chilled my insides. My fingers were a pale purple and all feeling from my knees down had been lost. My nose was deepening to a fine crimson color and tears strained my exhausted and sore eyes. I just stared at the sealed lid. I just stared at the cruel flowers. I stared. I barely heard myself as my lips uttered those hollow words that still haunt me these many years later. Those words, which made me into the young poet and novelist I am. Those words, which gave me another area of fine arts that Granni was so proud of before Gramps passed away. Those horrible, horrible words. The tears flowed freely then. I didn’t even bother to raise my hand and wipe them away. They just streamed from my red eyes and down my frozen cheeks, finally dripping to the dead, frozen earth. They froze instantly, marking the spot where the one who so greatly lifted the family up would lie after the viewing the following morning. Those icy words…those horrible, horrible words.

“God, be with you until we meet again. I love you, Gramps.”


With using a colon:

I remember standing at the coffin side, my Uncle Sean from my mother’s side of the family gazing at me in sympathy. His eyes held so much concern, so much sorrow. He looked so miserable at the helplessness of the situation. He, too, looked so old. The shine had left his clear blue eyes, leaving his normally beautiful eyes hard and dead. He reflected the attitude of the flowers. He reflected how I was so dead inside as I gazed in numbness at that horrible coffin. The wind tangled my hair in every direction and chilled my insides. My fingers were a pale purple and all feeling from my knees down had been lost. My nose was deepening to a fine crimson color and tears strained my exhausted and sore eyes. I just stared at the sealed lid. I just stared at the cruel flowers. I stared. The tears flowed freely; I didn’t even bother to raise my hand and wipe them away. They just streamed from my red eyes and down my frozen cheeks, finally dripping to the dead, frozen earth. They crystalized instantly, marking the spot where the one who so greatly lifted the family up would lie after the viewing the following morning. I barely heard myself utter the words that meant he was truly gone. The words that have continued to haunt me throughout these many years: “God, be with you until we meet again. I love you, Gramps.”

Lukeman 2 | Keisha McGovern

In my writings I have found that I do not use dashes or parentheses really in my last few writings. I have discovered that I need to make my writings richer and actually use these techniques to make my writings stand out. I need to be more aware of what I am putting into my writings and make them more broad and make the reader want to read what I have to say.So down below is one of my first writings , with no dashes or parentheses, then below that I tried adding in some.

well the other day when i was outside walking to the school, there was this couple sitting close to me kissing the whole time. Now i was thinking really cant you take this somewhere else. It made me laugh and just shake my head. The couple did this for like an hour, everytime i would look up there they were still attached at the hip and lips. What an exciting day, it was hot outside with a little breeze and i was just sitting there by the trees and wondering will these two ever give up. well that is all i have for now on this subject i will be back to ellaborate a little more.

Well the other day when I was outside walking to the school, there was this couple sitting close to me kissing the whole time. Now I was thinking, " really can't you take this somewhere else."It made me laugh and just shake my head. The couple did this for like and hout, everytime I would look up there they were still attached at the hip and lips. What an exciting day, it was hot outside- with little breeze- and I was just sitting there by the trees and wondering will these tow ever give up. Well that is all I have for now on this subject I will be back to ellaborate a little more later.

Lukeman Exercise Part 2 | Little

TASK:
You can learn a lot about section breaks by studying how poets use stanza breaks. Read through a wide variety of poetry, looking specifically for these breaks. When are the poets using stanza breaks? What does it add to the poem? What can this teach you about section breaks? How might this principle be applied to your own writing?

Poets seem to use stanza breaks to represent changes in either topics or themes, or when they have a new statement that doesn't tie into the last one. They even use them just to create drama; as in a dramatic pause. It adds a sense of reality, a sense of humanity and a sense of connection. It draws you in and makes you feel for the words: forcing emotions.

I never really thought about (well never say never, but almost never) using the spaces to create a statement; I had always used the words themselves alone. I believe now I will be able to maximize impact by combining both my words, and the spaces and pauses of the entire page.

An American Prayer

I wish I could, I hope I might
neVER have to kill or fight.

But a l l those men that died for me,
made for me this country free.

We won't forget how hard they fought,
and theywon'tforget from Whom they sought.

The One that could show----------------- the way,
His home in heaven is far away.

Lukeman Exercise Part 2 | Samantha Gay

I rarely use dashes in my writing; I avoid them. I picked an exercise that required me to add some more style into the writing. Below is the original excerpt and the second paragraph is the revised edition.

“Why hello!” He said, his voice surprisingly clear and bright. “Been looking for you all day. Come on in!” Kyle’s father shook his head regretfully. “Love to Dad, but I am afraid that I have to hit the road again. Gotta get back into town for work in the morning.” Kyle watched as his grandfathers eyes became clouded with disappointment. “Are you sure you won’t come in for a cup of coffee?” Kyle’s father nodded as he walked back down the steps, waving at the two of them. “Yeah, I’m sure. See you later Kyle! Have a good time! Bye Dad.” Then he pulled out before they even had time to say good-bye.



“Why ‘ello!” He said, his voice surprisingly clear and bright. “Been looking for you all day—come on in!”
Kyle’s father shook his head, a false smile stuck on his face. It made Kyle sick.
“Love to Dad, but I am afraid that I have to hit the road again. Gotta get back into town for work in the morning.”
Kyle looked away as his grandfathers eyes became clouded with disappointment.
“Are you sure you won’t come in for a cup of coffee? It has been so long since you—”
Kyle’s father shook his head again, and walked back towards the car, waving at the two of them.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure.” He said distractedly, “See you later Kyle! Have a good time and help your grandfather! Bye Dad.” Then he pulled out before they even had time to say good-bye.

Now that I have learned more about the dash, I am not as afraid to use it in my writing. It gave me extra freedom, and added a more realistic feeling to the piece.

Lukeman Excercise Part Two | Brian Wall

In this paragraph I tried adding some parenthesis and dashes as an experiment to see the effect on my writing.

Dark clouds rolled forebodingly above the pine encrusted hills. An unforgiving, bitter cold wind rushed down over the rocky ledges – winter had come in strong this year -- and stung the young boy’s face. Surely another winter blizzard was eminent. He slowly pushed aside one of the pine boughs (which the wind was blowing repeatedly in his face) and attempted to get a better view of the surrounding. Trying not to knock the snow from the branch, he gazed intently in the direction from whence he had come. His hands were turning red from the cold and began to throb – they were already wet from the trek he had made thus far through the snow -- as he tightly gripped the rough bark trunk. Shifting his feet on the slick branch twenty feet in the air, he shrunk farther into the branches to keep himself from view, while peering through the long needles toward the ground.

I very rarely, if ever, use parenthesis and dashes. I think that by introducing these marks into my work, it gives more detail into what exactly is going on in the scene. It gives more information that may help the reader better understand the position and circumstances of the character. I believe that I will now use more dashes and parenthesis to add a new aspect to my writing.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two | William B. Gray

I decided to shorten paragraphs. To keep the sense in it, I didn't really change anything, so it mainly just adjusts the timing of the piece.

Here's the revised edition: (here's the original)

The wind howled outside my bedroom window. I knew it was cold. I still wanted to be out shooting pictures of the night. Mom said I'd catch a cold. I didn't care about that.

There were so many things to explore at night. First there were the stars. They called me to take pictures of them with my shutter open for hours. I'd bundle up to stay warm. Mom didn't care. She'd never understand. But I just had to go out in to the night.

It snowed yesterday too. There's a full moon tonight. I couldn't wait for the day to take pictures of the snow and the moon. The sun would ruin everything. I'd have to keep the shutter mostly closed. The clouds would just be in one spot in the picture. With the shutter open I could let the clouds move softly across the frame.

The wind still howled. I decided to defy Mom and take pictures of the night without her permission. I opened my window to check the temperature. The wind took my breath away. It had to be well below zero. I gathered up the camera and some film. Then I grabbed my tripod and a coat.

Where are my gloves? I couldn't find them. I tried to think of where I left them. Then I remembered. In my coat pockets. They were right where I left them. I crept through the door. Mom might be awake. I had to be quiet so that I didn't disturb her. I tip-toed down the stairs. I tried to avoid the noisy stairs. Finally I opened the back door. I stepped out into the cold.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two | Adell DeGraffenried

Question: For summation. Choose a place in one of your works where you describe something at length and would like to conclude with an overall impression. Perhaps it's a passage where you describe a character or a setting. As you conclude your describption, use a colon at just the right moment. What difference does it make? Can you apply this technique elsewhere in your work?

BEFORE:
She was slim and dark, pieces of her wilted hair catching in the flicker of the candle, casting spider-like shadows on the walls. The woman stood taller than she was accustomed to, her hands clenched into tense balls flexing in and out. Her eyes were meant to be blue but when she was in this tyrannic state they were steel marbles waiting to plunge down the throat of her victim choking them to no end. The line of her small mouth was firm, holding in the obscenities she was yearning to spit at him. How could he do this to her after months of torturous agony spend uselessly on him? Her hands flexed the last time, ending with talons drawn. She was ready for the fight. She was going to slaughter this man who had ruined her last piece of dignity. She was the woman of death and hate and anguish and the image of rage.

AFTER:
She was slim and dark, pieces of her wilted hair catching in the flicker of the candle, casting spider-like shadows on the walls. The woman stood taller than she was accustomed to, her hands clenched into tense balls flexing in and out. Her eyes were meant to be blue but when she was in this tyrannic state they were steel marbles waiting to plunge down the throat of her victim choking them to no end. The line of her small mouth was firm, holding in the obscenities she was yearning to spit at him. How could he do this to her after months of torturous agony spend uselessly on him? Her hands flexed the last time, ending with talons drawn. She was ready for the fight. She was going to slaughter this man who had ruined her last piece of dignity. She was the woman of death and hate and anguish: she was the image of rage.

To me, the difference the colon made was incredible. Where there was just a long sentence finishing off the discription of my character before, and an incomplete ending, I felt the colon did what I wanted it to. It concluded with a bang. I think I will try to apply this more in my free writing to see if it makes a difference in other pieces.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two | Lara Bennett

Before:

Kevin opened his yellow '65 Cadillac's door for me. Music poured out the sides. "Celebrate! Celebrate!" Kool and the Gang sang. We drove down the empty main street, passing closed down shops and bars, singing along with the ancient radio and cracking jokes as if we'd been best friends for years.

We pulled up to a house and walked throuh the graden gate into the backyard. Broken glass was scattered upon the floor, reflecting the colorful strands of christmas lights upwards, giving our faces all a soft glow.

A tiny girl wearing boots with her skirt introduced herself as Cheech took my hands and pulled me into the house. She introduced me to all sorts of strange people. I met girls with multi-colored hair and cat-eyed glasses who hugged me when we met, beraggled, bearded boys taking drags of each other's cigarettes.

The walls of the house were covered in modern art and old movie posters. A group of kids were seated in the living room, watching a documentary their friend made about an epidemic in another country. Each room was painted a different color of the rainbow, and there were several staircases leading up to the bedrooms.

Zur and I descended one stairwell and discovered a circular room full of instruments. Several guitars, keyboards, accordians, a banjo, a mandolin, xylophones, ocarinas, and a few more strange music makers I'd never even heard of, were strewn across the room. On the walls, life-sized pictures of Jim Morrison, John Lennon, George Harrison, and Jimi Hendrix were watching over like guardian angels.





After:

Kevin opened his yellow '65 Cadillac's door for me. Music poured out the sides: "Celebrate! Celebrate!" Kool and the Gang sang. We drove down the empty main street, passing closed down shops and bars, singing along with the ancient radio and cracking jokes as if we'd been best friends for years.

We pulled up to a house and walked throuh the garden gate into the backyard. Broken glass was scattered upon the floor, reflecting the colorful strands of christmas lights upwards, giving our faces all a soft glow.

A tiny girl wearing boots with her skirt introduced herself as Cheech took my hands and pulled me into the house. She introduced me to all sorts of strange people: girls with multi-colored hair and cat-eyed glasses who hugged me when we met, beraggled, bearded boys taking drags of each other's cigarettes.

The walls of the house were covered in modern art and old movie posters. A group of kids were seated in the living room, watching a documentary their friend made about an epidemic in another country. Each room was painted a different color of the rainbow, and there were several staircases leading up to the bedrooms.

Zur and I descended one stairwell and discovered a circular room full of instruments: several guitars, keyboards, accordians, a banjo, a mandolin, xylophones, ocarinas, and a few more strange music makers I'd never even heard of. On the walls, life-sized pictures of Jim Morrison, John Lennon, George Harrison, and Jimi Hendrix were watching over like guardian angels.




By replacing periods and a few extra words with colons, you decrease the choppiness of certain sentences. The sentence flows more naturally, and you eliminate excess.

I rarely before used semicolons, because I was unsure of the rules, or why they would be necessary, but now I see how they can improve a work to stress points and increase a shortl phrase's effectiveness.

Exercise 2/Latoya Rhodes

Question: Take two pages from your work and cut the paragraph length in half. You might need to cut or add material so that these paragraphs work at half length. Take a step back and reread the material. How does it read now? What impact did it have on pacing, on style? Did switching to such a style spark any ideas? Can you apply this technique elsewhere in your work?

1st Draft:

The sky is a blue hue with a hint of white in it. Not because of the clouds, but because there are no clouds in the sky. The sun shines so bright where if I look at it, it makes my eyes become engulfed in the flaming, beaming, blinding rays that shimmer, and flick behind a giant tree which shades and hugs my being. The mountain with its colors of red, orange, brown, tan; and cracks that are deeply formed which looks like a female womb. And mysterious caves that are dark, black, and have inner ridges. The mountain stands supreme, determined, destined to continue its growth toward the never ending sky.

Revised:

The sky is a blue hue with a hint of white in it. There are no clouds. The sun shines bright. I can not look at its flaming, beaming rays because it's blinding. The trees shade my being. The mountain is covered with the colors of red, orange, brown, and tan. There are cracks in the mountain that looks like a female womb. Mysterious caves are dark, and black. They have inner ridges. The mountain stands supreme. Determined to touch the sky.

Thoughts:

That was interesting. I felt that I had to change my style from what it was before. When I read both again, it sounds different. Not as much description. I think in a way it was harder. But than when I think about how I write. I sometimes can drag a thought out way to long. How does one person find a good balance?

Lukeman Excercise Part Two/ Cherity Prince-Phillips

I picked the exercise where one needed to drop a bombshell and make it stronger by colon use. I wanted to try it in two different places.

Version: Old

He knew while brushing his teeth that it would be the last time. He smelled it in the air and it was sweet. He tasted it, so forgiving, in every breath. Night fell upon him. He opened his arms to the darkness.
He looked up at the sky when the earth surrounded his body. His soul escaped him. He closed his eyes and gave his body to the earth. Many hours passed. The sun kissed the night good day. The light came and found him there, smiling.

Version: New

He knew while brushing his teeth that it would be the last time. He smelled it in the air and it was sweet. He tasted it, so forgiving, in every breath. Night fell upon him: he opened his arms to the darkness.
He looked up at the sky: the earth surrounded his body. His soul escaped him. He closed his eyes and gave his body to the earth. Many hours passed. The sun kissed the night good day. The light came and found him there, smiling.

I like the difference it makes by setting it up, to what he was going to do. I also noticed the difference in where it stressed the meaning. I think stressing the opening to the darkness was more important than the earth surrounding him. So, I would probably take that second colon out. I want to keep it focused. I can use this technique elsewhere as long as it goes along with keeping the focus on embracing death.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two / Karrie Gull

I did the exercise at the bottom of page 179. It said to count the number of sentences in my paragraphs, and what is the average? My typical short paragraph had anywhere from 3 sentences to 5 sentences. Then is said to go back and look at the individual paragraphs and see if any paragraphs significantly exceed or fall short of that length. And could i find a way to balance them out? What impact does this have on my work? I decided to choose a small section from one of the papers i am writing in another class. At this area of my paper my paragraphs are small and could do with some more content. I could be more broad.
Here is the Paragraphs to begin with:
Is one’s individual happiness worth the misery or hurt of another? In The Market Economy, it is appalling that someone would actually consider selling the health of their child for a color TV (499). It is very irrational. It’s selfish to inflict something so permanent in exchange for a momentary, short lived pleasure.
In a perfect world, all who knew the truth of Omelas would walk away and never take a second glance back. Though an individual’s answer would depend solely on what they find important, and what they would sacrifice to achieve a Utopian happiness.
Therefore a moral economy is based on goodness, fairness, and justice. It is not set up perfectly with one minor imperfection. A moral economy is fair and just to all who live within the economy’s borders. This may be a strict and overly general statement, but perhaps a certain place does not and will never exist. Given the choice the story provides, it would be far better to walk away into the unknown, then to partake of the inner turmoil daily and possibly eternally.
Here is what i changed:
Is one’s individual happiness worth the misery or hurt of another? In the poem The Market Economy, it is appalling that someone would actually consider selling the health of their child for a color TV (499). It is very irrational. It’s selfish to inflict something so permanent in exchange for a momentary, short lived pleasure. What is the price for happiness, this is the question that should influence a decision. Everyone is different and many would give up many things, that are different to another. What is irrational to me may not be irrational to the next person. Therefore it should be considered what a general Utopia would be defined as.
In a perfect world, all who knew the truth of Omelas would walk away and never take a second glance back. Though an individual’s answer would depend solely on what they find important, and what they would sacrifice to achieve a Utopian happiness. Hopefully it would not be at the pain of another human being. Many feel that if they do not feel pain, then the pain does not exist. This is not true, and it is not moral.
Therefore a moral economy is based on goodness, fairness, and justice. It is not set up perfectly with one minor imperfection. A moral economy is fair and just to all who live within the economy’s borders. This may be a strict and overly general statement, but perhaps a certain place does not and will never exist. Given the choice the story provides, it would be far better to walk away into the unknown, then to partake of the inner turmoil daily and possibly eternally.
(I don't know if i did this right, but i tried)

Lukeman Exercise Part Two | Corinn B. Sessions

I never really employed the colon in my writing, but after seeing examples of how it can be used in stylized context makes me want to use it more. It is very effective how it grabs the readers attention and gives a direct impression of a description as a whole. There are not any usages of colons in any of my work, but I will experiment with it.


I had and uneasy feeling as I slowly peered through the window of the classroom door. There were many students in the class, ranging from the timid freshman to the opinionated and almost outspoken senior. Breathing deeply and trying to clear my head of doubts, I grasped the door handle, turned it quickly, then briskly walked inside and took a seat in the center of the classroom. I didn't recognize anyone in the room, so I kept to myself, wondering what class I was taking in the first place. Then the conversations around me began to take overrun my own thoughts.
"I strongly believe that the presidential..." and "Abortion is being attacked just as same-sex marriage is...", along with "President Clinton was a much better suited President than Bush because..." were flying around everywhere. Then I realized that I was sitting in a class, waiting to be lectured about politics. I knew exactly where I was: Hell.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two | Melissa Erickson

This is only a section of the original work:
All of a sudden, something smacked violently against the side door. We had hit something, and fear swelled within us. Screeching to a complete stop, we could see the small, crumpled outline of what could only be a child. Slowly, and dazed, we opened the door as unexplainable dread rose within us as we began to make our way over to the dark mound. Unexpectedly, the figure began to crawl away, almost in fear. Squinting against the rain, we tried to follow, only to have it again try to run from us. Lighting flashed against the dark backdrop of the sky, and for a brief moment we could see the face of the child we had hit. It’s tangled face was fused with sticks and shrubbery. Our mouths dropped with shock. The beaten down child was actually a tumbleweed.
REVISED: (Colons in Red)
All of a sudden, something smacked violently against the side door:we had hit something. Screeching to a complete stop, we could see the small, crumpled outline of what could only be a child. Slowly, and dazed, we opened the door as unexplainable dread rose within us as we began to make our way over to the dark mound. Unexpectedly, the figure began to crawl away, almost in fear. Squinting against the rain, we tried to follow, only to have it again try to run from us. Lighting flashed against the dark backdrop of the sky, and for a brief moment we could see the face of the child we had hit. It’s tangled face was fused with sticks and shrubbery. Our mouths dropped with shock. The beaten down child was: a tumbleweed.

The colons really made an impact on my work. Instead of having everything meshed together, the colons made the most important parts and focus of the work stick out; making it have alot more of an impact. The point of the story was that we had hit something in a dark road, and believed it to be a child. The first important focus of the story was that we had hit something. Seperating this from the rest of the sentence with a colon really made it stand out. When we find that it was only a weed instead of something much worse was the other main part of the story. Again, seperating it with a colon draws more attention to it, and seperates it from the rest of the descriptions in the story.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two | Celeste Johnson

I have always known the basic use of a colon taught in elementary school. I never knew that I could add it to my writing and be creative with its use. That was an exciting revelation! I poured over all sorts of pieces I am working on trying to find one that I could add a colon or two, changing the structure and pace for the better. Here is a selection from the short fiction piece I am working on before I changed it:

A bit of extra dust kicked up in the breeze, blowing up his nose. He sneezes then grimaces, as the pain in his thigh resonates through his battered body. He leans back against the jagged rock and looks at his lame, blood coated leg. It is now that Hank decides rescue may not come. No one knew exactly where he went. He mutters self-loathing criticism under his breath. He must be vigilant to stay awake, sleep would end badly. Trying to keep his mind alert, he occupies it by remembering how he got into this predicament.

Here is a few changes (including also some of the things learned from part one of Lukeman's book):

A bit of extra dust kicked up in the breeze blows up his nose. He sneezes, then grimaces as the pain in his thigh resonates through his battered body. He leans back against the jagged rock and looks at his lame, blood coated leg. It is now that Hank decides rescue may not come; no one knew exactly where he went. He mutters self-loathing criticism under his breath. He must be vigilant to stay awake: sleep would end badly. Trying to keep his mind alert, he occupies it with memories of how he got into this predicament.

I learned more than I thought I did. I don't know if anyone can really notice the differences between the two, but I did. I like the emphasis on the "sleep would end badly" part. I don't have the previous paragraph posted here, so it might not make much sense, but for the overall piece, it adds a lot to the story. I love these new realizations about creative writing punctuation.

Lukeman Exercise, Part 2 | Rayla Gomez

*This first version shows some dialogue, but not enough character or setting description.

The swirling desert sands were so hot and confining that Elise collapsed after about an hour, according to her sense of time, of wandering over the endless desert or wherever she was. She was worn out and felt as if a scorching fire was blazing all around her. Her mouth was as dry as cotton and her face caked with sand that stuck to her face from the sweat.

"We have another one," a vague voice said in a wary tone.

"Who are you?" Elise asked. And why are you in my dream? she thought.

"We are not a part of your dream. This is the dream of everyone who is trapped here in this desert. We have been trapped here for... I don't even remember anymore. Do any of you remember how long we have been stuck here?" a tall black man said from inside a large cage. No one said anything.

He continued. "In this cage, we know everything there is to know... except how to get out of here," the black man said.

*Now here is the revised version, which sounds a lot better because although dialogue can help speed up the pace of a story, it can also lose the reader. In the revised version, I added more detail to the setting and characters in order to balance the dialogue out with the rest of the story. It flows better and gives the reader more than just a few snippets of disconnected dialogue.

The swirling desert sands were so hot and confining that Elise collapsed after about an hour, according to her sense of time, of wandering over the endless desert. She was worn out and felt as if a scorching fire was blazing all around her. Her mouth was as dry as cotton and her face caked with sand that stuck to her face from the sweat.

Elise's head drooped until it hit the ground and she panted from the heat and exhaustion she felt. She could feel sand burning into her skin but she didn't care anymore. Suddenly, Elise heard a voice beside her.

"We have another one," a vague voice said in a wary tone. Elise lifted her head and looked in the direction of the voice she had heard. Then she saw something she had not seen through the blowing sand before. A large and thick-barred cage was directly in front of her, with four people trapped inside.

"Who are you?" Elise asked. She was curious to see who these trapped people were, even if they were just a part of her dream.

A tall black man stepped forward to the bars of the cage. "We are not a part of your dream. This is the dream of everyone who is trapped here in this desert. We have been trapped here for... oh, I don't even remember anymore. Do any of you remember how long we have been stuck here?" he asked his inmates. The man looked strong, had black hair and brown eyes, and was wearing tattered clothes that looked in desperate need of washing.

In fact, all of the people that were inside of the large prison were ungroomed and positively filthy. One woman had a tattered black cloak about her, another female had an old picture clutched in her hand, and the other two men in the cage were the black man and a tall man who looked like a dirty pirate. But, nonetheless, they all looked friendly.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Elise questioned, edging closer to the large cage.

"In this cage, we know everything there is to know... except how to get out of here," the black man said.

Lukeman Excercise Part Two | Benjamin Dowse

I decided to continue to work on the paragraph from excercise one because I think that the addition of a colon or two would improve it greatly. Here is the original, followed by revision including use of the colon.

Here it was, the culmination of a lifetime of hunting. There was only one animal from the "big 10" that he hadn't yet killed, and this animal had only been elusive because of the prohibitive price of hunting opportunities. Now was his chance for the buffalo. He had already paid for the opportunity to shoot one of the buffalo on this range and he greatly looked forward to the challenge. Waiting in green shadow, he heard as they rounded the buffalo toward him. As he tensed in anticipation, the buffalo charged into the middle of the clearing. He sized it up in his scope.

After a lifetime of hunting, waiting for this opportunity to finally come, he was finally here: he was ready. There was only one animal from the "big 10" that he hadn't yet killed, and this animal had only been elusive because of the prohibitive price of hunting opportunities. Now was his chance for the buffalo. He had already paid for the opportunity to shoot one of the buffalo on this range and he greatly looked forward to the challenge. Waiting in green shadow, he heard as they rounded the buffalo toward him. He tensed in anticipation, the buffalo charged into the middle of the clearing: he sized it up in his scope.

I think the addition of the colons in this paragraph make it much more dramatic. I like the way it "sounds" now.

Lukeman Part 2

Question: Look through your work for a moment where you’d like to create an impact. To do so, can you contrast a long paragraph with a short one?
Original draft:
Shaking her head she couldn’t figure out how she landed on her feet, until she looked down and saw her, ripped apart body, bathed in blood, dead on the street, her wrist watch was glowing showing the time, 12:22 a.m.
Then like magic Pyper was not on that street anymore, but sitting on a comfortable white couch. The entire room was white, but not so white that it was blinding, the white was more comfy than anything she could think of. Her hair was dry and neatly combed; actually Pyper couldn’t remember when she ever felt so clean. She was wearing a simple white dress that fit her body perfectly and was unbelievably perfect.
A man in a white suit walked into the room. Pyper thought he looked familiar. He started speaking, his voice was so clear it made her smile.
“Hello Pyper, my name is Paul. I was an apostle after Jesus Christ was resurrected. I’m here to help you fix something that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Changed Draft:
Shaking her head she couldn’t figure out how she landed on her feet, until she looked down and saw her ripped apart body, bathed in blood, dead on the street, her wrist watch was glowing, showing the time, 12:22 a.m. Then, like magic, Pyper was not on the street anymore, but sitting on a comfortable white couch. The entire room was white, but not so white that it was blinding, the white was more comfy than anything she could think of. Her hair was dry and neatly combed; actually Pyper couldn’t remember when she ever felt so clean. She was wearing a simple white dress that fit her body perfectly and was unbelievably perfect. A man in a white suit walked into the room. Pyper thought he looked familiar. He started speaking, his voice was so clear it made her smile.
“Hello Pyper, my name is Paul. I was an apostle after Jesus Christ was resurrected. I’m here to help you fix something that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Lukeman Excercise Part Two | Kaytlen Bennett

Before
When I went away to college, many things changed. My first week away was a great adjustment. I didn’t have my mom anymore to tell me what to do, when to do it, and how it was to be done. I was living in a new place with new people. I didn’t have my friends who’d I’d known since elementary to be the source of my social life. My usually sheltered world was breached by a new and exciting but scary reality that I was in charge. No longer could I be dependent on others to do things for me. I know now more than any other time in my life that I am truly alone.

After
When I went away to college, many things changed. My first week away was a great adjustment. I didn’t have my mom anymore to tell me what to do, when to do it, and how it was to be done. I was living in a new place with new people. I didn’t have my friends who’d I’d known since elementary to be the source of my social life. My usually sheltered world was breached by a new and exciting but scary reality that I was in charge. No longer could I be dependent on others to do things for me. I know now more than any other time in my life: I am truly alone.


I've never really used colons in my writing. I though that they were pretty much just for making lists. I never really thought that they could have that big of an impact in a piece. I feel that colons do add to dramatic revelations. I bet I could find ways to better use them in my work.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two| Cassidy Maxwell

before:
A delicate, white butterfly fleets in and out of the contrasted green sage brush. blooming with luminous yellow flowers that overwhelm the bush. the butterfly seems overwhelmed too by the copious amount of blooms. it seems she floats over the blooms trying to decide which on has the sweetest nectar, which one can tempt her to land. after tedious searching she lands suddenly, catching me by surprise. this is so opposite from her constant flutter. she sits still on the flower extracting nectar from the internal bloom. that's the only time a butterfly is still, being distracted by sweet. her white silhouette last only a moment on the sage brush, the moment now gone. the wind has picked up and she movies with it, ever more collecting more sweet nectar in order to survive.
During:
I found that my sentences can use more ump by using the dashes within my work. I mostly just use commas or start another sentence-it seems I'm afraid to distract the reader by using a dash or parentheses. I choose to use exercise 4, to spice up my writing by adding dashes or parentheses. here is my work-
After:
A delicate, White butterfly fleets in and out of the contrasted green sage-blooming with luminous yellow flowers that overwhelm the bush.
by connecting these two sentences i actually bring the reader in by adding more detail to the sage. when i had them separated by a period, i felt the reader would not know i was talking about the sage still.
After tedious searching, she lands-catching me by surprise.
by adding the dash here I add more dimension to my sentence. I get to explain what the butterfly is doing but also add my own thoughts. this brings my perspective and thoughts into the piece.

Lukeman Part 2 | Chase Ferguson

After reading the section titled "The Colon", I decided to perform a colonoscopy on some of my writing. It really wasn't that messy. I did learn something though, along with my stupidity. I never knew colons could be used other then for list. So heres a paragraph from one of my childhood stories titled, "Accident in the Rafters".

Before:

I remember one particular morning very distinctly. Our family had been invited to go to Lake Powell with the doctor my mother worked for. This would be the first time I would travel to these waters. Even as young as I was, I had heard the exiting stories of the great reservoir. I remember being more excited about the doctor’s house boat then the actual lake. We would soon be departing to Lake Powell. This morning in the rafters was a bit different when my brother decided to join me.

After:

I remember one particular morning very distinctly. Our family had been invited to go to Lake Powell with the doctor my mother worked for. This would be the first time I would travel to these waters. Even as young as I was, I had heard the exiting stories of the great reservoir. I remember being more excited about the doctor’s house boat then the actual lake. We would soon be departing to Lake Powell. This morning in the rafters was a bit different: my brother had joined me.

I really enjoy the last sentence of the paragraph with the colon added. I mean everyone needs a colon! Ok not everyone, at least not when writing. But the placement of this colon in this writing seems to give me the flag that I wanted and missed the first go around.

Lukeman exercise part two | Suzanne Christensen

Original
Why hello there, my name is Jo and I would like to tell you a story.

Fixed
Why hello there, my name is Jo (yes I am a boy) and I would like to tell you a story.

Original
Why is McGregor’s factory so important? He makes his socks from the finest cotton and wool found in Canada.

Fixed
Why is McGregor’s factory so important? Because - he makes his socks from the finest cotton and wool that can only be found in Canada.

When I added the parenthesis I was able to clarify the gender of the sock quickly without adding a bunch of words that could have taken away from the story. Instead I was able to have a smooth transition and still clarify the socks gender.

I looked at a few lines and found one that is important but needed a boost you could say, so I added a dash. When I added the dash I was amazed at what a difference it made to the story. It made me stop and really look at the next sentence. I was happy with the results because I want people to see why this factory is better than someone else’s factory. This factory makes only the best which is why he is considered to be the best.

I never really thought about using the parenthesis or the dash in a piece of work besides poetry and found myself amazed at the results it brought to my story.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two | Chris Tash

After reading up to this point I've noticed I have always had colons and semicolons confused. Can you blame me? Should have different names! Anyway, I tend to use semicolons when I want to put the driving end point, the real meaning. I now, however, realize I've been misusing this. Oh well, live and learn. I went ahead and found a piece of writing that I've been questioning for a while. It displays my childish misuse of the semicolon and also doesn't have the opportunity to fully convey the meaning I intended.

Before:
I think the sky can begin to wilt. It's all connected to our imagination. When you look into the sky what do you see? I usually see blue, a cloud, or a sunset. Beyond that? I see dual stars wrapping around each other and a chaotic mix of dust and planets fighting around them. I see enormous, solar system scale, clouds of colored dust. The bending of time as a star exhales for the final time. And then what? I'm not sure.. So, tell me, does the sky end where my imagination ends? It has too. With that theory in mind, ask yourself when the sky ends.

After:
I think the sky can begin to wilt. It's all connected to our imagination. When you look into the sky what do you see? I usually see blue, a cloud, or a sunset. Beyond that? I see dual stars wrapping around each other and a chaotic mix of dust and planets fighting around them. I see enormous, solar system scale, clouds of colored dust. The bending of time as a star exhales for the final time. And then what? I'm not sure. The sky must end the moment my imagination does: it's required too.

I actually did a few things to this but it was all for the sake of improving the strength of the point. For starters, I decided to transform the rhetorical question into a statement. This forced me to change the wording a bit. By adding the colon I was able to give it a stronger end. 'Required' was added as well for more definite power. Lastly, the final sentence was removed. The paragraph needed to end where it started. To come full circle. Anyway, yay, I liked it.

Lukeman exercise part two | Kimberly Bennett

So, first I thought I would add a colon to make an ending statement more profound. I chose a paragraph from the story I did my public reading on that I didn't have a chance to read. It went as follows.
I would eventually come to find out that there was a chosen one and that this little incident was really a reflection on my companion’s people skills, not his sanity. But the problem is this. I am not the chosen one. And I never was.

I changed it to this:

I would eventually come to find out that there was a chosen one and that this little incident was really a reflection on my companion’s people skills, not his sanity. But, there is a problem. I am not the chosen one: I never was.

Though interesting, I can't decide if I want the sentence break there to strike a friendlier tone or not. I feel on the one hand, having the colon makes a big impression. It says that the fact that this girl is not the chosen one is a big deal. But I feel it adds a more serious implication than I want the tone of the story to have. It is a comedy. I guess more appropriately it is a "dramady", a situation in which the drama is built up through nuances and character development in the face of a somewhat rediculous situation. Having "And I never was," as a new sentence makes it seem more thrown out as a "by the way, this is going to be interesting". A colon seems to explain the gravity of the situation. Which, maybe is what I want. A brief moment of complete seriousness amidst the comady.
I'm not sure, I'll have to think on it some more. I just never would have thought of it before.

Lukeman Exercise Part Two | Robin Cole

I want to create impact with dashes. In the piece I chose to work with there were no dashes, just a zillion commas.

Ten hour days of working in the sun, bleeding from clay roof tiles as I lay beneath the sign, "Educacion Especial," lead-based primer dripping into my mouth and hair.

The original drones on forever, and a pointed moment is completely run over by the quotations later in the sentence.

Ten hour days of working in the sun - bleeding from clay roof tiles - I lay beneath the sign, "Educacion Especial," lead-based primer dripping into my mouth and hair.

With the double dashes supporting the aside, I feel that the sentence (at least the first half) flows the way I intended.

I also found another section that would be perfect for colon usage:

Paper plate balanced on thin legs, leaning against the cracked blue plaster she whispered, "¿Cuánto cuestan tus ojos verdes?" I could not answer.

Although the comma preceding the dialogue works just fine, especially with the young girl whispering, her words come at the end of a paragraph and demand more attention.

Paper plate balanced on thin legs, leaning against the cracked blue plaster she whispered: "¿Cuánto cuestan tus ojos verdes?" I could not answer.

With the colon, her words are really set off. The finality of the last sentence also complements colon usage.

Lukeman Exercise 2, Megan

I decided to take a dialogue where a break was needed and fix it by adding "he said". I think by adding the break it helped portray the intensity of the situation, and the intensity building between the three friends. I'm sure there is always a need to apply the technique elsewhere in work, but I think I do a pretty good job with it--usually.

Original:
"Why do you always have to be so stubborn? Why can't you just listen to me and do what I say?"
"Sorry, Chris, but not everyone believes you are right all the time. Is it so hard for you to accept that maybe I'm doing things the right way?" Jill asked, obviously very annoyed.
"I'm older than you Jill. I know how best to handle the situation. You should just listen to me."
"Why? You know Jill does have a good point. Her way would make it easier to get across. Maybe we should try it."
"Oh so now you're taking her side. Why? Because she's pretty? Because you like her better? Because you've been in love with her since the fourth grade?"
"Hey Chris, back off. Her idea just seems to make more sense. Is it really such a big deal if we try her idea instead of yours?"
"Yeah it's a big deal. We only have time to try one idea. I don't want to die simply because you want to make your girlfriend feel better."
"Look, Chris is right. We only have time for one so let's stop arguing and get to it. Chris, you win. My idea was stupid-let's try yours."


Technique Applied:
"Why do you always have to be so stubborn? Why can't you just listen to me and do what I say?"
"Sorry, Chris, but not everyone believes you are right all the time. Is it so hard for you to accept that maybe I'm doing things the right way?" Jill asked, obviously very annoyed.
"I'm older than you Jill. I know how best to handle the situation. You should just listen to me."
"Why?" Eric interjected. "You know Jill does have a good point. Her way would make it easier to get across. Maybe we should try it."
"Oh so now you're taking her side," Chris said defensively, giving Eric a betrayed look. "Why? Because she's pretty? Because you like her better? Because you've been in love with her since the fourth grade?"
"Hey Chris, back off. Her idea just seems to make more sense. Is it really such a big deal if we try her idea instead of yours?" Eric defensively replied.
"Yeah it's a big deal. We only have time to try one idea. I don't want to die simply because you want to make your girlfriend feel better."
"Look, Chris is right. We only have time for one so let's stop arguing and get to it," Jill admitted hastily. She had just realized how much the water had come up in the short time they had been arguing. "Chris, you win. My idea was stupid-let's try yours."

Lukeman Excercise Part Two | Marjorie Riches

Original Description:
My dates name was Jessica and her shirt was hanging off of her like a window drape, barely keeping the light out. I knew she had done it for me, wanting me to see what I had the chance to get tonight. I wasn't impressed.

New Description:
My dates name was Jessica and her shirt was hanging off of her like a window drape, barely keeping the light out. I knew she had done it for me, wanting me to see what I had the chance to get tonight: I wasn't impressed.

I think that adding the colon changes the effect of the last line. I can't decide whether it is the effect I want or not. I never really use colons in my work and I think that I should start using them more. I think that that will help me to get used to them and to realize that they really do add the emphasis. In this description, the last par "I wasn't impressed" is the most important line. I do think that the colon helps it to stand out and shows its importance in summing up everything about this date.

Lukeman Exercise Two | Kelly Cannon

I read the section about the dash and parentheses because I don't have any in my work at all. Here is the original sentence:

"One such thing was the olive green washing machine. It was constantly breaking and Ben was constantly fixing it. It seemed that as soon as he got something fixed another part would break and he'd have to trudge down the stairs to the concrete basement to fix it. My uncles say you could hear him muttering behind the door of the basement. "

This is my revision:

One such thing was the olive green washing machine. It was constantly breaking and Ben was constantly fixing it. It seemed that as soon as he got something fixed another part would break and he'd have to trudge down the stairs to the concrete basement to fix it--muttering behind the door.

I really didn't like the sentence, "My uncles say you could hear him muttering behind the door of the basement." so I thought adding a double dash could fix it a bit. It sounds better and makes the idea sound more like apart of the rest of the paragraph.

Lukeman Part 1 | Keisha McGovern

Choose a sentence from your work that might be confusing to the reader, or perhaps too open for interpretation.
When I was a little girl, my brother and I had these two fishes who were beta's. They were our favorite because of all the wonderful colors they had on them. These were the only pets we could have because we lived in an apartment complex that did not allow other animals excepts fish. Well when we were both younger, my parents divorced and my dad had visitation in the summer time. So when summer came, we had to leave our wonderful fishes with my mom; who promised she would take very good care of them. So my brother and I went on with our daily lives for the summer having fun with my dad and family. It was time to go back home to my moms house, and we were so excited to see our fishes. We ran right into the house and my mom sat there and told us that she had some bad news, we were like OK. She said that when she went to clean our fish bowls, she forgot to add water to the bowl when she put the fishes back and killed them. We were both heartbroken, because to us these were our pals. Needless to say my mother had a new nickname, " the fish killer."

Lukeman Exercise One | Katrina Cox

This is from the exercise where I'm supposed to think of a character who thinks in long sentences. That said, here is how I've decided to portray her:

Look at her, that smug little brat who stares at me behind bushy bangs with the scowl across her face. Who does she think she is, openly mocking and judging me every chance she gets. How dare she have such audacity as to scrutinize me every morning, every afternoon, every evening, every time I walk by her, every time I think of her, and every time she wants to see me. Look at her with her hands at her hips, pulling down the horribly plain, gray sweater over her midrift--as if that will save her from everyone knowing that she's a whore! Anyone can tell she's a whore just by the way she slumps as she walks from class to class, holding her binders up close to her flat chest with her chin resting atop, her eyes avidly averting to the floor.

She disgusts me with her plaid skirt that reaches past her ankles and drags on the floor due to her vertically-challenged height. Her baggy, ugly sweater that hangs limply from her child-like shoulders droops down past her waist and hips, hiding any chance of her to prove she's older than a thirteen-year-old via curves.

I don't know why she bothers plastering her ashen-white skin with makeup by CoverGirl or Mary Kay. Go ahead, girly, wipe that eyeshadow across your eyelids and draw eyeliner on both top and bottom of those same eyelids. Plump up your already full crimson lips with lip liner and lip stick while making them shine with lip gloss.

Run your fingers through your long, thick, coarse mane of hair. Uh, Rapunzel called; she'd like her rug back, please. Another bad hair day it seems, you're pulling the scrunchy from your wrist and flicking your head down and up, holding that mane in your hands. One, two, three times wrapped around that hair, tighten ever so slightly, and now you're wearing a ponytail.
I can't stand seeing that girl every morning, every evening, and every chance she gets to find me. I hate watching her fake a smile and pretend she's an accepted one; someone popular and loved. She makes my stomach twist up in knots when I think of her walking out into the REAL world, where she'd have to face the reality of who she really is and how she REALLY doesn't belong anywhere.

I can't stand it anymore!

Girl in my mirror...who are you kidding?

Lukeman Exercise Part 1 | Bree Seely

ASSIGN.: Choose a page from your work and remove all qualifications or asides, along with their commas. For some writers, who rarely use these, this will have little impact. For others, it will make a tremendous difference. How does it read now? Can you apply this principle to any other sentences throughout your work?

This is just an excerpt from a short story I'm writing but I use commas alot in it.

Original:

I woke up today, just like any other day, hanging in Paul's closet, chillin' by my buddy T-Shirt. Paul had opened the closet door and was going through the daily "POTO," or "Picking Of The Outfit." He'd been favoring black lately (he'd been in a sour mood), but today he had a smile on his face. He shuffled through his shirts until he came to my friend T-Shirt. Paul pulled T-Shirt out of the closet, took him off the hanger, and put him on. He strode to the window, opened it and stuck his head out. He quickly withdrew back into the room with a shudder, walked back to the closet, and pulled me, Favorite Sweater, out and put me on. I got to go out today! I was jubilant as I hung carelessly on Paul's shoulders. I got to spend the day with Paul AND my buddy T-Shirt! Needless to say, I was elated!

Our first stop today was for breakfast at a gas station next to the school. Paul was in this habit of buying a breakfast burrito and hot chocolate , no matter the weather, for breakfast every morning. Since it was a habit, it was quick and painless, no dawdling in the aisles looking for something else to spend money on. He entered the gas station, grabbed a burrito and stuck it in the microwave. He wanted it warm today, considering it was cold outside. As the burrito was being nuke, Paul picked up a cup, filled it with steaming hot cocoa, put a lid on and stuck a straw in the little opening. By then the burrito was done and he was headed to the register. $4.56 was exchanged between customer and cashier, Paul always had the exact amount, and the journey to school continued. This little ritual only took up 3 minutes and 45 seconds of his day. We got into his car and headed to school.

Revised without Commas:

I woke up today just like any other day hanging in Paul's closet chillin' by my buddy T-Shirt. Paul had opened the closet door and was going through the daily "POTO" or "Picking Of The Outfit." He'd been favoring black lately he'd been in a sour mood but today he had a smile on his face. He shuffled through his shirts until he came to my friend T-Shirt. Paul pulled T-Shirt out of the closet took him off the hanger and put him on. He strode to the window opened it and stuck his head out. He quickly withdrew back into the room with a shudder walked back to the closet and pulled me Favorite Sweater out and put me on. I got to go out today! I was jubilant as I hung carelessly on Paul's shoulders. I got to spend the day with Paul AND my buddy T-Shirt! Needless to say I was elated!

Our first stop today was for breakfast at a gas station next to the school. Paul was in this habit of buying a breakfast burrito and hot chocolate no matter the weather for breakfast every morning. Since it was a habit it was quick and painless no dawdling in the aisles looking for something else to spend money on. He entered the gas station grabbed a burrito and stuck it in the microwave. He wanted it warm today considering it was cold outside. As the burrito was being nuke Paul picked up a cup filled it with steaming hot cocoa put a lid on and stuck a straw in the little opening. By then the burrito was done and he was headed to the register. $4.56 was exchanged between customer and cashier Paul always had the exact amount and the journey to school continued. This little ritual only took up 3 minutes and 45 seconds of his day. We got into his car and headed to school.

Without commas my writing is very... confusing. Thoughts blend together and don't make very much sense. The commas set actions apart from each other in these excerpts. There's a list of Paul's actions and without the commas everything seems chaotic and jumbled together. I use commas alot to distinct certain thoughts and actions. I can apply this to anything I write. I am an avid fan of commas. They help me connect my thoughts in ways that no other punctuation does.