I was really excited our class had the opportunity to speak with Angelique Perrin on Thursday. I thought it was very beneficial to hear the ins and outs of the business most of us are interested in. I thought she was very personable and when we heard her tape I was amazed! I thought she was great.
I've been brainstorming for my "death story" and I am a little nervous about this just because I get uncomfortable talking about death. I also think this could be a really cool story and very interesting if it is done well. I'm brainstorming to try to find the perfect angle.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Flight Attendant
A young attractive Brunette picks up the telephone hanging on the wall. “Welome to the USAirways non-stop flight from Fort Walton Beach to Charlotte,” she announced.
The nameless flight attendant stands at the front of the aircraft and introduces herself as Amanda and her fellow flight attendant, Judy. The only similarity between the two is the pin in the shape of wings, each of them wear on their blouses.
Amanda wears a white blouse with blue patches on the top of both shoulders accompanied by a slimming black business skirt that reaches just past her knees. Tied loosely around her neck is a stylish red and blue scarf.
Judy could be described as the complete opposite of Amanda—a heavy set, middle aged woman, with blonde hair and glasses. But, appearances aside, there is no doubt Judy has been doing this longer than her fellow co-worker.
Time to prep for departure. Seatbelts fastened. Bags stowed. Seatbacks upright.
Flying high above the clouds, the flight attendants rummage around the cabin and begin serving complimentary beverages including soda, coffee, and water. For those trying to let off a little steam, alcoholic beverages are available for a price.
Once the passengers are served and satisfied, the two women start their rounds to collect trash. Every couple of minutes, they walk by carrying large white plastic bags packed to the max, somehow not splitting at the bottom.
Time to prep for landing. Seatbelts fastened. Electronics off. Shades up.
At the front of the aircraft, the young flight attendant, Amanda, unfolds her temporary chair and takes a seat. She moves her hands around, locates the seatbelt and pulls the straps over her shoulders.
Her figure is hard to make out because the darkness has taken over. Facing the passengers, she crosses her legs and folds her hands delicately across her lap.
Amanda shoots a smile to the couple seated directly in front of her. Her eyes continue to wander around the cabin then become stuck in one spot. No longer wandering aimlessly, her eyes remain still, turning into an uninterrupted stare.
For a split moment, her eyes are no longer visible. She couldn’t resist such heavy eyelids anymore, her fatigue finally got the best of her. In an attempt to wake herself, she squirmed and readjusted herself in the seemingly uncomfortable chair.
City lights crept through the small windows on either sides of the plane, giving more definition to those around. Shadows stain the worn out gray carpeting that stretches infinitely down the aisle to my left.
The nameless flight attendant stands at the front of the aircraft and introduces herself as Amanda and her fellow flight attendant, Judy. The only similarity between the two is the pin in the shape of wings, each of them wear on their blouses.
Amanda wears a white blouse with blue patches on the top of both shoulders accompanied by a slimming black business skirt that reaches just past her knees. Tied loosely around her neck is a stylish red and blue scarf.
Judy could be described as the complete opposite of Amanda—a heavy set, middle aged woman, with blonde hair and glasses. But, appearances aside, there is no doubt Judy has been doing this longer than her fellow co-worker.
Time to prep for departure. Seatbelts fastened. Bags stowed. Seatbacks upright.
Flying high above the clouds, the flight attendants rummage around the cabin and begin serving complimentary beverages including soda, coffee, and water. For those trying to let off a little steam, alcoholic beverages are available for a price.
Once the passengers are served and satisfied, the two women start their rounds to collect trash. Every couple of minutes, they walk by carrying large white plastic bags packed to the max, somehow not splitting at the bottom.
Time to prep for landing. Seatbelts fastened. Electronics off. Shades up.
At the front of the aircraft, the young flight attendant, Amanda, unfolds her temporary chair and takes a seat. She moves her hands around, locates the seatbelt and pulls the straps over her shoulders.
Her figure is hard to make out because the darkness has taken over. Facing the passengers, she crosses her legs and folds her hands delicately across her lap.
Amanda shoots a smile to the couple seated directly in front of her. Her eyes continue to wander around the cabin then become stuck in one spot. No longer wandering aimlessly, her eyes remain still, turning into an uninterrupted stare.
For a split moment, her eyes are no longer visible. She couldn’t resist such heavy eyelids anymore, her fatigue finally got the best of her. In an attempt to wake herself, she squirmed and readjusted herself in the seemingly uncomfortable chair.
City lights crept through the small windows on either sides of the plane, giving more definition to those around. Shadows stain the worn out gray carpeting that stretches infinitely down the aisle to my left.
death story
To be honest I am a little nervous about the upcoming death story. Even the title, Death Story, sounds scary. I am just not sure where to even begin. What have some of you guys been doing?
I think I just might go to a local funeral home and talk to someone there, but I am not even sure if I will be able to do that. Dead people scare me haha. So does anyone have any other ideas to help me out??
I think I just might go to a local funeral home and talk to someone there, but I am not even sure if I will be able to do that. Dead people scare me haha. So does anyone have any other ideas to help me out??
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Humor Writing
By Cathy Caudill
Having Angelique Perrin in the class last week was great. Even though we're not posting the stories on the blog, I hope we will get to see each others' work--I'm really curious to see different peoples' unique approach to the story.
Although we're not writing until Tuesday, I've decided I'm going to try my hand at humor-writing. The other day I was reading a review in a magazine, and I was struck by the way in which it was written: it wasn't just informative, it was amusing. I've incorporated humor into writing before in personal essays and fiction, but I haven't done it with feature writing yet. After all, aren't we taking this class so that we can convey a story while entertaining our readers?
Artistic wording is the method I've worked with so far, but with Angelique's story I think it would be great if I can add some humor to the mix. Hopefully my story will be as entertaining to read as it was to listen to Angelique speak.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
My Performance Feature: Tic
By Cathy Caudill
Stage 1: Her hands clench the chair. She lowers her head, her chestnut bangs obscuring her tightly-closed eyes. She looks as if she is about to be swept away by a cyclone or sucked into a vortex, desperately grasping her stronghold (that flimsy plastic chair), her eyes shielded from the imaginary swirling debris that whisks and whirls through the study hall.
Stage 2: She begins to shimmy—not like a dancer, rather she looks like she is struggling to forcibly cast a demon out of her body. Her shoulders move back and fourth, rapidly accelerating: left shoulder, right shoulder, left, right, left, right, left-right-left-right-left-right. Her head is still lowered, her body is hunched. Her hands are still clenching, her arms rigidly straight, moving mechanically like a set of pistons.
Stage 3: She begins to emerge from the mire: the shaking ceases and her eyes reluctantly reopen. One hand pries itself from the chair and seizes a blue click-top pen. She bashes the top of the pen against her open notebook in a rapid-fire of clicking: tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic-a-tic.... Then she stops and stretches, tilting her head far far back, forcing her shoulders out of the hunch by rolling them back, as if to flex the entire length of her spine. At last, she relaxes into a normal posture and returns to her homework.
Each stage lasts a little more than ten seconds; altogether, the spasms do not amount above a minute. She recedes into these tics once every few minutes, but somehow she is able to keep them well enough controlled that the other 30 students busily studying in the room fail to notice the girl with Tourette Syndrome.
Performance Piece from Fuddy Meers
As the green curtain rises, and the stage lights come up, Gertie Mason, played by Eliza Walmsley, is crossing the stage to her kitchen table. In her left hand is a bear-shaped, yellow-lidded bottle of golden honey; in her right, a silver teaspoon. On the brown, wooden table, waiting for her, is a ceramic coffee mug.
Gertie is making tea.
When Gertie reaches the table, she silently sets down the spoon. She flips up the cap of the honey, and squeezes the honey bear right in his middle.
No amber syrup comes out, no splash is heard, no tea leaps up from the cup.
Gertie though, does not seem to mind. A contented sigh slips through her lips, upturned into a slight smile. She sets down the honey, pausing to click the lid closed, and crosses left to the brown, wooden chair.
The chair is a little too close to the table, and needs to be pulled out, which Gertie does. After one tug, there is enough room for her slightly ample figure, so she sits.
She picks the teaspoon up off of the table, and sticks it into the mug. With a gentle touch, she twirls the spoon. Once, twice, three times around. She is careful not to let the spoon hit the sides of the mug, careful not to make it obvious there is no tea inside.
She lifts the spoon, which is not dripping with liquid, out of the mug. Her lips open greedily as she sticks the tip of the spoon between her lips. A full-fledged, delighted smile takes over her wrinkled face.
Yum. Imaginary tea with honey is sweet.
Gertie is making tea.
When Gertie reaches the table, she silently sets down the spoon. She flips up the cap of the honey, and squeezes the honey bear right in his middle.
No amber syrup comes out, no splash is heard, no tea leaps up from the cup.
Gertie though, does not seem to mind. A contented sigh slips through her lips, upturned into a slight smile. She sets down the honey, pausing to click the lid closed, and crosses left to the brown, wooden chair.
The chair is a little too close to the table, and needs to be pulled out, which Gertie does. After one tug, there is enough room for her slightly ample figure, so she sits.
She picks the teaspoon up off of the table, and sticks it into the mug. With a gentle touch, she twirls the spoon. Once, twice, three times around. She is careful not to let the spoon hit the sides of the mug, careful not to make it obvious there is no tea inside.
She lifts the spoon, which is not dripping with liquid, out of the mug. Her lips open greedily as she sticks the tip of the spoon between her lips. A full-fledged, delighted smile takes over her wrinkled face.
Yum. Imaginary tea with honey is sweet.
Upcoming Assignments
I've been thinking a lot about our upcoming assignments, the death story, the profile, our final project. I know that as journalists, we will have to do stories about people we don't know. That's pretty much a given. But, since we are interviewing people solely for an academic setting, why will these people we don't know want to spend their time letting us interview them?
I feel like the main reason people like to be interviewed is because a story about them is going to be published. With this class though, there is no guarantee that our story will be published anywhere. This basically makes our stories purely academic.
So, my big question is, will people be willing to give so much of their time to us when they get nothing out of the time? Maybe I'm being a little cynical of people. I think I'm just a little afraid to go beyond friends and family, for fear of rejection, or fear that the interviewee won't be willing to give me enough time for me to get the information I need.
I feel like the main reason people like to be interviewed is because a story about them is going to be published. With this class though, there is no guarantee that our story will be published anywhere. This basically makes our stories purely academic.
So, my big question is, will people be willing to give so much of their time to us when they get nothing out of the time? Maybe I'm being a little cynical of people. I think I'm just a little afraid to go beyond friends and family, for fear of rejection, or fear that the interviewee won't be willing to give me enough time for me to get the information I need.
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