Dear reader,
This is the first time I have actually written about my accident. Sure, I’ve told the story hundreds of times because surviving a car accident often comes off as pretty badass. For me, it was quite difficult to tell it on paper, because I wasn’t able to physically demonstrate what actually happened like I usually do, nor was I able to make people touch my weirdly overgrown bone on my leg afterwards. That usually ices the cake on a pretty intense tale. What I found most difficult was describing what I was actually going through at the time, because I often stick to chronological events instead of dramatizing the story with an emotional twist.
After reading Zinsser I have realized that adding an emotional scope is a critical step in the writing process. He claims, “Ultimately the product that any writer has to sell is not the subject being written about, but who he or she is. I often find myself reading with interest about a topic I never thought would interest me—some scientific quest, perhaps. What holds me is the enthusiasm of the writer for his field. How was he drawn into it? What emotional baggage did he bring along? How did it change his life?”(Zinsser 5). Making your content personable is what keeps it interesting. This is most important when telling your own story, because if it does not carry emotional baggage, it can easily be mistaken for somebody else’s story. Experiencing emotions, whether it entails embracing or suffering, is a key factor in our individuality. Emotion builds and breaks our characters. It can alter perceptions and define episodes. I think connecting my story with hurricane Katrina maximized the emotional content, especially within the last few sentences of my essay. Anger is explicitly present, which can easily be the most dangerous emotion. It made the rest of the prior content laughable, and I’m not sure if I wanted to go that route. I may have to revise that in my editing process.
Sincerely,
Kristopher Kesoglides
As a young kid, I naively believed that a paper cut would hurt more than a broken bone. The horrid stinging sensation bestowed onto the webbing of your fingers from an act of amateurish envelope opening, equates to a traumatic torture session. Now before you are quick to judge, let me reiterate my mere naïve childish mentality, which lasted up until I was twelve years old and had just been released from sixth grade, free to roam wild until September once again grounded me with reality.
Summer is supposed to be a time of fun in the sun, relaxation and reckless mischievous adventures, especially for a young twelve-year-old boy. Well, my summer after sixth grade definitely started that way, but ended shortly after it began. An innocent game of one-on-one sidewalk handball quickly went awry after it was accidentally moved into the street.
The myth that your life flashes before your eyes prior to a near-death experience might be true for some people, but not for me. However, I did witness a flash; it was a huge white flash, much like that of a camera, which temporarily blinds you for close to a second. But the metaphorical photograph taken was not a pretty one. The graphic, high-resolution image of bone, skin and blood, laid out on a New York City street, was agonizing. Maybe even more so than the physical pain. For the moment, my leg was the victim of a million torturous paper cuts. Although instead of paper slicing my skin, it was a tire that cut through my bone.
What a nightmarish experience for a physically active young boy. My summer was down the drain, and I was in and out of the hospital week after week for check-ups, cleansing of my 20-pound exterior leg fixation, X-rays, and of course physical therapy. I have never before in my life been so familiarized with hospitals. They were excruciatingly annoying, and depressingly intimidating. Little did I know, I was spoiled. I was taking healthcare for granted. I was a typical twelve-year old brat.
On Tuesday August 30th, 2005, I was in the waiting room before attending my physical therapy. The television located above and diagonal from the water cooler showed non-stop coverage of victims of Hurricane Katrina, and the damage it had caused throughout New Orleans. 80% of the city was flooded, and initially the authorities did not even attempt to release a death toll. Tens of thousands of citizens were shoved into the Superdome to live for weeks with minimal food, water, supplies and surprisingly enough, lack of healthcare. Authorities were so busy in their attempt to clean up the city that crimes were becoming increasingly consistent within the dome. There were reports of looting, rape and numerous deaths.
For a moment, I was mentally incapable of complaining and physically incapable of being in any sort of pain. I was one person, who for over the course of two months had met probably over 20 doctors, physicians, physical therapists and nurses. In New Orleans, there were 20,000 victims who were in need of immediate medical attention. I was spoiled. I had the luxury of sitting in a comfortable wheelchair. I had the luxury of meeting a new doctor every week. I had the luxury of being able to push myself over to the water cooler and sip from my cup while watching the television above. I had the luxury of getting paper cuts. People in New Orleans probably longed for a paper cut, because that would signify returning to a functional society: slicing the webbing of your fingers from an act of amateurish envelope opening.
I think you nailed the emotional display aspect of Zinsser’s advice. It is alive and endearing just like the advice from Chapter 5. On a personal note, I’ve known you for over a year and I can’t recall you articulating your experiences like this before. Well done writing a personal topic that I’m sure took courage to put to paper and pixel.
As for my editing, I tried to provide as much helpful criticism as I could beyond the sentence or two analysis that was the minimum for reader-response. Please take my advice with a grain of salt since I am by no means an expert on editing.
Let’s go to specific things that stuck out as well as global comments on the draft:
– Sentence 3 appears run-on: “Now before you are quick to judge, let me reiterate my mere naïve childish mentality, which lasted up until I was twelve years old and had just been released from sixth grade, free to roam wild until September once again grounded me with reality.” I get what you’re trying to describe, but I believe it would be better to break it up into two sentences. The clutter lies in the words “which lasted up until I was twelve years old and had just been released from sixth grade”
– Consider editing the second clause of this sentence to add more suspense: “Well, my summer after sixth grade definitely started that way, but ended shortly after it began.” Hook the reader with *why* your summer ended so abruptly.
– You have a set of descriptive sentences (included below) that provide “evidence” and is the most arresting part of your draft. I feel could be a bit more powerful. You make great metaphors between a camera and the paper cuts. The first I didn’t catch on my initial reading through the material and I think it could be have less clutter (consult with the pro, Professor Smith). The second is a brilliant metaphor for what I’m sure is indescribable pain that was of a greater magnitude than any other pain you’ve experience before; hence, scaling it against a menial paper cut is a savvy choice. “The graphic, high-resolution image (one seared in your mind?) of bone, skin and blood, laid out on a New York City street, was agonizing (the image in its own right outside of the bodily injury?). Maybe even more so than the physical pain. For the moment, my leg was the victim of a million torturous paper cuts. Although instead of paper slicing my skin, it was a tire that cut through my bone.”
– Consider strengthening the next paragraph’s opening sentence: “What a nightmarish experience for a physically active young boy” – be blunt, be angry. Maybe include the phrase “in mere moments” or something of that nature to stress how quickly your fun, innocent summer turned into a personal hell.
– Your note of self-reflection is fantastic and the tie-in to Katrina is very relevant. “Little did I know, I was spoiled. I was taking healthcare for granted. I was a typical twelve-year old brat.” Maybe lead off with the word “yet?” I also think you’re being a bit too harsh on yourself (I’m not sure if this editing or personal advice), especially given the circumstances. In hindsight, it could have beyond the scope of 12yo you’s understanding, but brat is a bit extreme. Although you can rephrase it as I was “ultimately I was fortunate to have access to healthcare, a chance at a recovery, supportive family, etc.” Perhaps modify the last part to “Yet, little did I know my pain was only a small slice of the suffering thousands experienced during Hurricane Katrina.”
– Use more passionate language to express your indignation at the condition Katrina victims faced, i.e. “appallingly enough, lack of healthcare”
– You have to compare things equally. What I mean is you mention you had “20 physicians, physical therapists and nurses” but don’t mention how many they had available to them. I think it’d be more powerful to flatly say “there were 20,000 victims who had zero physicians, no physical therapists, and no nurses.”
– Detailed, short sentences are working.
– Elaborate slightly more on how you had immediate access to water “refreshingly sip from my cup” when others were desperate for life-sustaining liquid
– I’m not happy with the final sentence. I love the message (i.e. full-circle comparing it to mundane paper cuts) but the delivery is unsatisfying. I’m thinking it over in my head but Prof. Smith would probably be the best help.
What did you intend your message to be? Given that it’s a short draft, we can’t really see its long-term impact on your life, but it’s clear it’s a life changing experience that made you re-consider your circumstances. I interpreted it from a philosophical perspective. What exactly is pain? Does our pain have any significance? How does our subjective pain compares to others?
Your choice of the writing about this indecent in connection with the event really clicked. You took to Zinsser’s questions, the ones you quoted to in your draft quite well.
Editing isn’t a great strength of mine so look at this response as a reader asking for clarification. The entire piece is littered with run-on sentences. If you were to take them apart not only would they make more impact but less taxing to read. Zinsser, I believed called it “clutter”.
-“Now before you are quick to judge, let me reiterate my mere naïve childish mentality, which lasted up until I was twelve years old and had just been released from sixth grade, free to roam wild until September once again grounded me with reality.” This sentence could’ve have been cut into two more sentences; Now before you are quick to judge, let me reiterate my childish mentality. I was twelve years old and had just been released from sixth grade, free to roam wild until September grounded me with reality. Even this could be rewritten to a shorter sentence. Let the reader breath.
The words themselves are brilliant words; reckless mischievous, traumatic but also strong words. This is the telling of the piece and not the show. The last paragraph did it wonderfully with the point of the lesson clear. But what is the meaning for the reader? In writing the scene of the accident the writing lost focus, voice. It lacked a voice the rest of the writing had.
Hi Kris,
I’m posting my comments here since you didn’t upload a word document that I could download and comment into. It’s okay–but it’s preferable, if I’m asking for drafts to be submitted on the blog, if you could post the essay into the post and upload the word doc., too.
The second sentence of the essay is laborious. Check it out and see if you can edit for greater impact. I like the ideas expressed in there, but I find it hard to parse.
I really like how you use your childhood fear of paper cuts as the entry into this essay. I’m not sure you want to use the paper cut as the title; I wonder if there’s some better title out there?
I like how you address the reader here as “You.” It gives the essay an immediacy, but also, strangely, a certain light-hearted tone. It’s like you’re just chatting with us. I say that’s strange because your content is hardly light-hearted, but you slowly unfold, with a little suspense, the darker side of the essay, so the tone starting out on the lighter side works for me. It withholds the darker side a little, which I like. I also like the description of the impact–good “showing” there. The camera flash makes for a very vivid image for me. The next paragraph, however, starting :”what a nightmarish experience” tends much more toward the telling. Try out some showing there. Can you defamiliarize the experience of being seriously injured, being in a hospital, having surgery? Any of that? Try to tell it more from the “inside.” Right now, the description feels like it’s from the outside, that is, it feels a little detached.
In your cover letter you question if the Katrina bit works, and I have to agree with you: at the moment, it doesn’t feel “authentic” to the essay; it’s not quite working. IT feels, to me, to be “tacked on.” I believe there’s real potential there, however. You might work up to it more slowly, for instance. Instead of jumping ahead form right after the accident to the physical therapy session, slow down and unfold over a couple of paragraphs the process of recovery. Then put us in that waiting room, seeing the Katrina images through your–what?–12 year-old eyes? What did they look like? What thoughts did they set off in your imagination? I think you have to deal with the Katrina fallout a little more–umm, immediately or authentically. One thing that comes to mind about Katrina is, yes, it’s overall much worse than your accident in terms of the widespread human cost/suffering. But I imagine it mustn’t have felt PERSONALLY worse than everything you’d been through. Katrina, after all, was filtered through the TV for you. Your injury and pain wasn’t filtered at all. Perhaps it was the very first experience of intense suffering in your life that wasn’t filtered–or if not the first, one of them. Maybe immediate vs filtered experience can be a theme here, somehow, part of your message. Many of our childhood experiences are, after all, filtered, in some way, through the actions of protective care takers. I don’t know, I’m brainstorming here. But this is the kind of brainstorming and creative thinking you’d have to do to make any act of contextualization work. You have to think about the parallels and potential meaning makers, both concrete and abstract, within your context.
And in general, in revision, think about meaning and purpose here. What is it? What’s the ultimate message you want to leave reverberating in people’s minds? You don’t have to spell it out, but you need to suggest it. And it should be clear in your mind as you enter into the revision process, so you can bring it out more. It’s not quite there in the draft yet.
Use your blog post assignments as “pre writing” for generating ideas and starting points, but in your drafts, take your ideas to new places and the next level. Don’t stick too closely to what you use in your pre-writes. Try out new things with the material.