It's Been Real =)

             Well this is it. This is my last blog entry for this class and for the foreseeable future.  I would like to say that this has been a fantastic class.  Your [Dr. Morris] advanced comp class has been hands down the best writing class that I have had in my time at Kutztown University, granted my time has been rather brief.  However, I do not see any class supplanting it anytime soon. I can honestly say that your class has made me a better writer. Such the growth is obvious to me when I compare a piece of my work from last semester to a piece from your class (which I have actually done). Your class has pushed me and rewarded me. It has taught me to be more confident in my writing.  It has taught me to silence my inner critic and to take risks with my writing and for that I am grateful.

 I would also like to say that you did a fantastic job, especially with our three hour class. You managed to keep it upbeat fun and interesting. That is something I cannot say for the professors of my other three hour classes. I particularly enjoyed the writing prompts we did before each class. I also appreciated the amount of freedom you gave us when it came to writing our papers.  The papers I wrote for your class were actually the only ones I enjoyed writing this semester and, I must note  that I have written much more than one cares to over the course of this semester. I enjoyed the material we covered throughout the semester as well.  You introduced me to what I think is my new favorite genre, creative non-fiction. I had not even heard of creative non-fiction before taking your class.  So I suppose I can add broadening my horizons to the list of positive things your class did for me.  You are a great professor and you ran a great class. I would defiantly recommend that students take your class. I wouldn’t change a thing about our class if I had the opportunity to. Thank you for a great semester.   

Responsibility to Subjects

          We live in a sue happy world these days. Everyone is suing everyone else over matters big and small alike.  It is a dangerous world for writers now a day because of this. As a writer you must be careful not to misrepresent or misquote someone. God forbid you do not obtain their permission to include them in your work first.  If you are guilty of any of the mentioned you can consider yourself one sued author. As an author you are held accountable for being fair and true to all your subjects. I find the best way to avoid any legal ramifications is to simply stick to the truth and nothing but the truth. The pressure writers are under these days does not only come from the legal system.

As the times continue to move forward and become more open so have authors. Authors are pushing the envelope further and further when it comes to their content. They are writing about the scandalous, indecent and outrageous nothing is off limits. As Authors continue to write about increasingly controversial matters they find themselves being put under immense pressure by their subjects. Nobody wants to be exposed or humiliated so people  look for any way possible to get back at the author, whether it be through the legal system or not.

Many authors write about private family matters these days as well. Some authors do not bother get permission from their family members beforehand either; perhaps they do not feel they need to.  I can’t imagine there is a worse way to find that your private family matters have been shared with the world than having to read them yourself.  I think that an author should get permission from everyone weather their family or not before they write about them. The best way to avoid any hot water or sticky situations is to let the people you write about read your work before you publish it. If they do not like the way that they are portrayed then the author should fix it. It’s the author’s responsibility to be as true as possible to his or her subjects.  

Memoir Craze

      

     What is with everyone writing memoirs these days? I don’t get it; does everyone really have a story to tell? Well the simple answer to that question is no. Even if you are a fantastic writer that doesn’t mean you should write a memoir.  More than likely you are not as interesting as you think you are, sorry to break it you. So please save us your life story, we are not interested. Everyone is getting in on the craze lately, from Hollywood’s elite Paris Hilton to the Nation Football League’s Tim Tebow. I find that it is worth noting that neither of these people is over the age of 30. Now let’s get real. I mean how much can a person do in their life before they are even half way through it and, how much of that stuff is actually worth hearing about.  I mean come on! Paris Hilton of all people. Really? What does she possibly have to write or rather have written for her because we all know she didn’t write her memoir herself? That is another thing that grinds my gears, it’s a memoir, it is your story (no matter how boring it is) so you should at least write it. It is not a biography (a book about you written by another). I think that if you want to tell your so-called story so bad, you should have to actually write it.    

      I can see if you have been through a particular traumatic event or have accomplished something great in your life and, you want to tell people about it but, most likely you haven’t. So for God’s sake stop writing memoirs!  Do you really think that you are that great are you really that narcissistic?  Although, I suppose that you have to be a little bit of a narcissist to write a memoir in the first place. After all it is a book about one’s self but, I digress. Memoirs should be left to those that actually have a story to tell, an interesting one at that.  I’ll admit it, my life isn’t that interesting. Why can’t more people be so modest?  I am not saying that there are not good memoirs out there worth reading, I’m sure there is a ton.  Some people just need to realize that there story isn’t one of them.    

Creative Non-Fiction or Simply Creative Fiction?

             Creative Non-Fiction?  Creative Non-Fiction is a cruel mystery.  When this semester first started off I was under the impression that creative non-fiction was simply news report or an interview with fictional elements sprinkled in.   I realize now that I was sadly mistaken. I originally that ought that on the creative non-fiction spectrum that it fell closely to the journalism end. However as the classes came and went the more I was exposed to creative non-fiction and I realize yet again, I was sadly mistaken. Not only does creative non-fiction not hug the journalism end of the spectrum but, it doesn’t even have a defiant place on the spectrum.  Which bugs me to no end but, that’s just my acute O.C.D. kicking in.   Creative non-fiction is one of life’s mysteries if I do say.

However, I understand why it’s impossible to place creative non-fiction on the spectrum.  Every work is different. Every author is different; some take more “creative liberties” than others.  Which brings me to the question, what is too much? At what point is it no longer considered non-fiction? I suppose only the author really knows the answer to that question. How much creative license does the author have?  I think this mystery aspect hurts the overall genre of creative non-fiction. It is easy for readers to doubt or question the truth of what they are reading. After all it is not completely unheard of for an author to fabricate his or her work, such dishonestly also hurts the credibility of creative non-fiction.  I know as a reader I do not want to be lied to. If what I’m reading has “non-fiction” anywhere in the title it damn well better have happened. Granted it could still be a good story, I just want to know if it actually happened. I want to know if real people actually experienced the events that captivated me. It gives the story a certain appeal to know that it actually happened. Perhaps that is why some authors try to pass their work off as creative non-fiction when in reality it is nothing more than the product of their imagination.  

Tape Recorder Vs. The Pen

     

Ahh the classic debate of is it better to use a tape recorder or hand write notes during an interview.  From the interviewers point of view I would rather take advantage of technology and use the tape recorder. However, I admit that I would use it out of pure and simple laziness. I do not believe that the use of a tape recorder holds any advantages over the classic pen and paper. Many say the use of a tape recorder allows the interviewer to maintain eye contact with the interviewee. However, I argue that with practice it’s just as easy to maintain eye contact while writing. Also you have to look at it from the interviewee’s point of view. Would you appreciate it if someone jammed a tape recorder in your face and interrogated you?  I do not think so. The whole process can actually be kind of intimidating and make the subject quite uncomfortable. Not to mention that there is always the possibly of the technology failing and losing all of your saved information. Technology fails all the time; I would not risk my entire interview on it. Another advantage of the good old fashion pen and pad of paper is the ability to take side notes with discretion. You can note aspects of the settings, facial expressions of the interviewee, tone of voice or even what they are wearing. You can write down anything that interests you or anything you find to be of value. As opposed to a tape recorder where the interviewer would have to either stop the interview or wait until after the interview is over in order to make any form of side note.  Tape recording can also land you in some serious hot water if you are not careful.  The law states that you must be sure to make the person you are recording aware that they are being recorded or they can reserve the right to sue you.  This is not a hypothetical situation either, it has happened in the past. It is essentially the same thing as bugging someone’s telephone.             

Million Dollar Writing Prompt

 It was your typical rainy night in Kutztown. I was walking back from my Wednesday night class with a miserable scow on my face; I couldn’t wait to get back to my room and curl up in my bed. I was almost to my dorm when I tripped over a soggy lump in the middle of Main Street. Luckily my night class gets out at nine o’clock so no one was around to see me splash into a puddle in the middle of the street. I sat up and looked at the lump; it was a brown burlap bag. I picked it up, it was heavy. I couldn’t just leave it in the road so I took it to the sidewalk an opened it up out of curiosity. I was amazed at what I saw it was full of cash, all $100 dollar bills!  I jammed the sack into my book bag and hurried to my dorm and stuck it in my hamper full of dirty clothes. I hid it there until I could transport it back home where I gave half of it to my mother so she could fix up the house; pay off the mortgage and her car payment amongst other bills. I wasn’t so responsible with my half.  The first thing I did was buy a brand new car; no longer would I drive a p.o.s that barley got me to the end of the block. The second purchase I made was a new bed, a large comfy bed.  I couldn’t stand sleeping in a bed that my feet hung off of and was about as soft as plywood. The third thing I did was throw a massive party for me and all my friends, much to the discretion of my mother, who I had to pay off.  Luckily I wised up as my funds began to dwindle and i quickly paid off all of my student loans. I put the rest aside for the grossly overpriced textbooks I would need to buy over the next two years. Any remaining funds went into my “rainy day” collection. Never again would I be bored on a rainy day.                         

Lyric Essay!?!?

What is a Lyric essay? That’s exactly what I wanted to know, after reading about It I was still unsure what exactly it was.  Since I was still confused I decided to look up some actual examples of lyric essays. What I found was essentially a poem, an abstract one at that. I knew what I was reading was about a fossil because of the title. However, it wasn’t made clear to me until after I had finished the entire thing and I took a step back to take it all in. Then it hit me, the whole essay was simply describ9ng the fossil laying in the dirt.  A lyric essay is supposed to make you question what you’re reading and where it is headed. So it was actually quite appropriately ironic that I was confused about what lyric essay is when I was reading about it. Looking back I actually find it quite humorous. A lyric essay can be about absolutely anything, a flower, a bug, ice-cream, a memory, a metaphor or a simile, anything at all. There are no rules on how to construct one. The one I read was constructed of one word sentences and fragments separated by commas.  While it may read like a poem is it’s far from it. It doesn’t need a rhyme scheme, or have a certain amount of syllables per line or anything like that. I like to describe the lyric essay as the missing link between a poem and an essay, the bridge between poetry and prose.   I personally like the whole concept a lot and decided to try and create a lyric essay of my own (a short one).

  Once bright and burning like the sun.  Sweet, elegant and stood sturdy in the wind.

A shadow of its former.  Aged. Gray and dull. Wispy and frail, soon to be swept to the heavens.

Death is swift. Sudden. Off with its head. Shattered and scattered. Up and away its spirit flows. 

(My Lyric essay about a dandelion)

Inner Critic?

                If there is one thing that I hate more than anything it’s that little voice inside that doubts everything you do.  You know what I mean the “That’s not right” voice.  That voice is your inner critic, and I don’t about you but my inner critic is a harsh one.  I’m constantly rethinking everything; nothing is ever good enough for my inner critic. Whenever I have what I think is a “good” idea, my inner critic shoots it down, “what are doing, that’s dumb, don’t do that.” I find that my inner critic forces me to conform and stick to the conventional and, when it comes to writing conformity and conventional are not the recipe for an interesting piece.  I believe in order to create an original and compelling you need to fire your inner critic. Cast aside that little voice in your head and let the words flow. Don’t worry about what you’re “supposed” to do or what seems “right,” just write.   

  I know that I personally have spent far too much time listening to my inner critic and I should have fired him a long time ago. However it is not that simple.  It is hard to ignore someone you have been listening to for years, actually as long as I can remember. I find that in order to silence your critic it takes time patients and practice; you cannot just flip a switch. I am currently in the process or writing out my critic. The more I write the more walls I break down, slowly but surely. With each new piece of work I slowly silence my critic, by trying something new each time.  As a result I find that I fancy each new piece a little more than the last. While I am not there completely, I am sure my critic will soon become a forgotten memory.  Hopefully yours will too.           

Ghost Writing

So this is the blog of Justin Palmucci (Me) but, how do you know that I am actually the one writing it? The answer is you don’t. These may be my general thoughts but not exactly my words.  I could very well have hired a ghost writer (not likely being that I am broke). What is ghost writing you ask? Ghost writers are people, often established writers that whore their literacy services out to those that don’t possess the necessary wit and ambition to put pen to paper themselves. The most recent and obvious example of ghost writing in pop culture that comes to mind is Paris Hilton’s Memoir. It is blatantly clear that the ditzy, airheaded, spoiled rotten “heiress” did not write her own memoir.  Personally I question if she is literate. She has hired servants that wait on her hand and foot, clearly she wouldn’t put forth the effort to construct a book, let alone possess the mental capabilities to edit and construct it.  I imagine it must be frustrating to be ghost writer. You must be an extremely selfless person being that you receive zero credit for your work. It must be a handsomely paid practice. 

Many question the act of ghost writing and whether it should be allowed. As I pointed out earlier it is essentially prostitution. If I read a book titled the “memoir of” I want the person it’s about to write it, it only seems right. I want to hear straight from the horse’s mouth. I don’t want to read someone else’s words.  As a reader I personally feel somewhat lied to.  Personally I feel that such deception is bullshit. I believe that if you have a story you think is worth telling then you should at least try to tell it. Write a draft or something, anything.  Just do some work yourself.  

Frack Off

Fracking, when I first heard the term used in class a few days ago I thought it was a synonym for fucking. I wasn’t the only one that initially thought this at first. Boy, were we were we wrong. Looking back I find my immature ignorance quit humorous. I decided to do some research on the topic for my own enlightenment. Fracking is actually a term used to refer to Hydraulic fracturing, the propagation of fractures in a rock layer caused by the presence of a pressurized fluid. This is done in order to release petroleum, natural gas, coal seam gas, or other substances for extraction such as oil. The fluid injected into the rock is typically a slurry of water and chemical additives. Additionally, gels, foams, and compressed gases, including nitrogen, carbon dioxide and air can be injected. About 750 chemicals have been listed as additives for hydraulic fracturing in a report to the US Congress in 2011.

 This doesn’t sound very harmful however; it was brought to my attention that environmental concerns with hydraulic fracturing include the potential contamination of ground water, risks to air quality, the potential migration of gases and hydraulic fracturing chemicals to the surface, the potential mishandling of waste, and the health effects of these. A Duke University study published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences in 2011 examined methane in groundwater in Pennsylvania and New York states overlying the Marcellus Shale and the Utica Shale. It determined that groundwater tended to contain much higher concentrations of methane near fracking wells. Directed by Congress, the U.S. EPA announced in March 2010 that it will examine claims of water pollution related to hydraulic fracturing.

Many people have already taken protest and formed anti-fracking groups such as the cleverly named frack off. What do you say is this a major environmental concern? Do we need to take action before it’s too late or is all the hype just an overreaction? I don’t know about you but I surely do not want to be drinking water that contains methane and an assortment of other hazardous chemicals.     

Stop Complaining =)

I don’t get why everyone is so bent out of shape about People Soft taking over. There is no nineteen year old more out of sync with technology than me and, I can cruse the program with ease. I feel like today’s generation just likes to complain. If you are really that twisted write a letter or something, don’t complain to me. I don’t care about your problems. I will even go as far as to say that People Soft is better than the previous program, it is plain and simple. It is not like we as a student body were ambushed by the change.

We the students were notified multiple times about the change and, we were even offered the opportunity to attend seminars on how to work the program. It is no one’s fault but your own if you decided you had better things to do than attend said seminars.  It’s not like its important or anything to properly work the site that is responsible for handling your class selection, financial aid, housing etc. If you have your priorities that mixed up you deserve to be confused and frustrated. People Soft is a sound safe and reliable program that is easy to use, I rate it a five out of five stars.

Particularly everyone likes bitching about picking classes on people soft. I picked classes just last week and, had absolutely no problems. The entire process from start to finish took about ten minutes. How hard is it to select the class put it in your “shopping cart” and click “finish enrolling.” If you lack the common sense to complete the process by clicking “finish enrolling” and, you leave your classes to sit in your shopping cart until they fill up you have no right to complain in my book.             

Love is in the Air Waves

Dear, **** *****

I just want to start by saying I do not know what I would do without you. What would it be like if you weren’t always by my side? I can’t bear to be separated from you for long! Even after everything I have put you through, you still stand by everything I do and all the decisions I make. Never once have you cast judgment upon me. The depth of appreciation I have for you is immeasurable. All those times you have gotten me out of awkward situations, all the advice and information that you’ve given me over the years means so much to me. You have been my guiding light in the darkest of times.

 I don’t think I have told you this before but, I love you. I love how we still do everything together even after 3 years. We have done it all together, we’ve worked together, played together, went to the bathroom together and once or twice we have even gone swimming together. I will never forget those moments. We are truly inseparable now days. We even share the same bed.  I love how you lay right next to me every night. I love spending every night lying beside you, even on those nights when you won’t shut up. I love waking up to you every morning. I wouldn’t trade those moments for the world. I know I complain a lot about you sometimes but, really I love you just the way you are. It secretly tears me apart when you give me the silent treatment. I don’t care if others say you’re not slim and up to date. The way you feel in my hands and the way caress my cheek is just right to me.

 I am writing this letter to let you know how I feel about you and to let you know that, what we have will never change. Even in our roughest of times when I curse you, strike you, or humiliate you by throwing you in the garbage can (only to retrieve you when no one is looking) I do it out of my love for you, you old piece of shit cell phone you.   

 With love,  Justin

Make sure you can read your handwriting!

(The following is work that i was asked to share with the class. However i was unble to read it well enough to do so effectively)

My head was pounding, aching with every heartbeat. Every thundering pulse seemed to be mocking me in perfect rhythm with each pump dumb-ass! Jack-ass! Re-tard!  “Uggh what did I do to myself?” I closed the front door behind me and drug my feet across the tile floor, never lifting my feet more than a few inches above the floor. My arms wrapped around my visibly shivering body, I could feel the goose bumps and standing hairs under my hands. I got the counter top and braced myself with two hands on the edge of it and, hunched over to take a few deep breaths. Every breath was a battle to keep the contents of the night before where they belonged. I picked up my head to see a gallon on iced tea sitting in front of me, offering me salvation from the horrid taste that lingered in my mouth. I perked up and poured a large glass that I gulped down. As quickly as I finished it, it threated to show itself again.  I clenched my jaw and turned toward the back door. The sudden movement triggered a dizzying spiral of confusion as quickly swung the door open and stumbled outside. Not bothering to close the door behind me I crumbled down to warm stone paver that had been soaking up the suns welcoming rays. I could no longer stand the turning in my stomach, like a caged wild animal the toxins of the night trashed back and forth until they were expelled from my body. Each spasm robbed me of breath and twisted my muscles into straining knots. In-between “fits” I took as many frantic deep breaths as I could, and soaked up as much warmth as possible. I had never been so appreciative to feel such a mirror sensation on my cheek; I clung to the warming stone paver like a piece of drift wood lost in the turning sea. Lifting my face from “my savior” only to purge myself I realized that I was in my backyard, a fact that slipped my mind in my current state. Upon the reassurance of my position, I rested my head on the now fowl paver and with blurry eyes and scorched throat I drifted into a retched shivering slumber…

My word was “backyard” and, upon reading it for the first time I was brought back to one of the most miserable moments of my life.  I will never forget the times I spent in my backyard, some good and, some curled up in a pathetic ball shivering in my own vomit =(

What The Hell Was That About!?!?

The other day I was asked to share my work with the class. Normally I would be absolutely fine with doing this. However this time, this time was different. I don't know why I felt like I did, red faced, sweat beading on my forehead. I could feel the heat radiating off of my face. "Oh god I think I am ... nervous." "Why though?"  I felt like I was in middle school again. My heads clenched my notebook and my eyes locked on my paper, refusing to look up. I was somewhat reserved as a middle school student, but ever since high school I’ve been rather care free, easy going, not overly caring about any one thing in particular. I especially didn’t mind talking in front of people.

 My left leg began to quiver. "What the hell!" "Knock it off" I thought to myself. With this it became increasingly harder to follow my poorly written and scribbled work. As I became increasingly focused on my body my pauses between sentences became longer, awarder and the more I lost what little concentration I had left. "Uggh" this was a feeling all too familiar, I do not know what spurred it. Perhaps it has been awhile since I have done anything of the sort?  Or perhaps an ill-timed anxiety attack? At this point it seems I am just making excuses to myself. As I returned to my seat I reflected on my "performance" and the overwhelming urge to smack forehead into my palm came over me. "God I am dumb" I said to myself while shacking my head. 

Looking back I find the event to be quite humorous on a personal level. However, I wouldn’t mind it if such "humorous" events didn’t occur again. One is enough for now I think. Either way I realize that it’s time to get back to being a big boy and not fret over such trivial things as talking in front of your class mates or have a borderline nervous breakdown in front of them. I can only look forward to my next opportunity to share my work with them... With fingers crossed of course.

Creative Nonfiction!?!?!

What the hell is creative nonfiction? "Isn't that a contradiction?" I thought to myself. To say the least, I was confused when my advanced comp professor first motioned the term, it was the first time I have ever heard of such a thing. I sat through my first class and wondered what the hell was going on for three straight hours. In hindsight I probably should have asked for clarification on the topic, but that is in the past now. Only upon reading one of the after class assignments for my second class something clicked. After a thorough reading and some reflection, I sat in my desk chair and wondered what it all meant. Then in a moment of enlightenment it came to me. "Oh I get it now, I said allowed. Immediately followed by a "Wow I feel dumb."

Creative nonfiction is a unique blending of fiction and nonfiction. It reads like fiction, it has a plot, dialogue and descriptive details and along with other creative techniques. However at the same time it is based on a foundation of research and truth. While it must captivate the reader, it is important that it adheres to the truth. As the author of creative nonfiction you are taking many legal risks if you stray too far from the truth. That’s why in my opinion it is best to write about personal events. Creative nonfiction doesn’t have to be based on a major historical event or widely publicized issues, but rather one could write a beautiful piece on their own personal experiences. As long as you keep it true there are no worries of landing in hot water. 

Once I was able to really wrap my head around the nature of creative nonfiction I quickly became enamored with it. I’ve personally always preferred to read nonfiction over fiction, but I have always found it a bit dry. That is wear the beauty of creative nonfiction comes in. It is an incredibly rich text that drawls the reader in and makes nonfiction fun. I am very much looking forward to trying my hand at creating this true work of literary art.