Blog 4: proposal

Title: Customers at My Work

 

Topic: the customers that come in to my work

 

Personal Connections: I work there so I have to deal with all sorts of different people.

 

Audience: Everyone.

 

Purpose: People should learn how to treat other people. Especially people who are just doing their jobs and doing it the way their boss would like.

 

Classification or Division: I will use classification.

 

Potential Categories: The rude people who don’t acknowledge your existence, the people who are actually nice, the needy people, the people who non-stop talk through-out the store, the people who get mad at you for following simple rules, the people who ignore the rules and touch/play with everything or break things.

 

Examples: 1. Some people will come up and ask if you have something or what you would recommend for a child, then ask you to get everything down for them, ask for other things, ask your help for decision making, don’t let you go even when there are other people who need to be helped.

2. People who come in and start talking half to themselves half to you, they don’t want you to actually talk back, they just want to talk about everything but do expect you to listen and nod your head. They do this throughout the entire store at the checkout and on their way out the door. Sometimes they even stop and lean over the counter for 15 minutes yapping about stuff.

3. One lady freaked out because we stopped accepting the coupons she had. And we couldn’t combine her two rewards cards, and we had to void her last sale because the SYSTEM not us did something wrong.

 

Techniques: I will use compare and contrast, classification, examples, brand names

 

Potential Problems: I don’t think there will be any

Blog 3: Different Introductions

    My name is James Michael Richardson. I was a homeless man living in Manhattan up until June Seventeenth, two-thousand-two. My story made me famous. I was not a part of a family who lost a loved one because of it, not a loving boyfriend, husband, son, uncle. Not a friend, coworker, nothing. Instead I sat on the street and watched them pass. Some of them not giving me a glance or second of their time. A few though were probably the nicest people I have ever met. A hot coffee, a simple “How are you doing?” or “What’s your name?” is what made their lives important to me. The rest of them I watched shuffling along, suits fresh from the dry-cleaners, neatly pressed skirts and blouses, hair gelled and sprayed in position, shoes clacking along. I got to know their routines as I am sure they didn’t care about mine. Helen Burkbe, however, she was one of a kind. Chocolate brown curls, Granny Smith-green eyes with sun-drop flakes. Her lips were soft pink and thin, faint freckles were delicately placed across her high cheek bones and small nose. She remained my beacon of light long past her death. She is the reason I told this story. She didn’t have any to remember her, like me she was an adult orphan in a big city of people who didn’t care. No boyfriend, no siblings, no extended family she knew or cared for. It was my job to make sure her death wasn’t over-looked. I watched One World Trade and Two World Trade burn and fall to the ground on September Eleventh, Two-thousand-One.
CHANGES:

Statistic:
The attacks of 9/11 resulted in a death toll of 2,996 people.These numbers included World Trade Center employees, the passengers of the airplanes American 11, and United 175, firefights, police officers, emergency workers, paramedics, EMT's for private services, the attacks in Arlington and Shanksville, Military personnel, and the hijackers themselves. New York City was only able to identify remains for about 1,600 of the World Trade Center victims. As of August 2011, 1,631 victims have been identified, while 1,122 of the victims remain unidentified. Helen is a part of the 1,122 unidentified victims.

Dialogue from character:
"James, Gatsby was so high school, not to say Fitzgerald wasn't a wonderful writer, but the book didn't leave a.. uhh, lasting effect on me." Helen argued over a pipping hot cup of coffee.
"I see what you're saying, but today's authors have no idea what they're doing. They just write and don't bother with symbolism or-" James was cut off.
"All that nonsense?" Helen questioned. "I know what you mean, it's really sad. But just because I don't like that book doesn't mean I don't enjoy good literature."
"I see, I see. Well-" James was cut off again.
"I'm sorry but I gotta run to work!" Helen exclaimed while jumping up coffee in hand.
"Where DO you work?"
"See you tomorrow morning!" Helen called out while leaving the Dunkin Donuts they were sitting in. Her curls bounced, and her gray skirt swayed in the wind as she crossed the busy New York City street.
That was the last time James spoke with Helen or watched her dodge taxi's as she ran to work.

Question:
How do you remember the tragic events on 9/11? Were  you even born yet? What do you remember? I was not in it, but I watched it all happen. I sat on a street curb watching the two magnificent towers tumble to the ground. I stood by as nameless people were pulled from the rubble and families frantically search for their loved ones. Many people were never found or named, Helen was one of them. Her story was never told, a body to match her name, she was just a name on a list of people who worked in the building.

blog 2- 3 ways of writing

Telling only-

I was sitting in a Diner somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania. It was small and cozy, the floors had a dark blue carpet, and the walls were beige color. There were lots of windows, it was a free standing building. Where there weren't windows, there were pictures. All different  but same in style, mostly of the blue variety. My mother and I were sitting at a light wood table with two matching chairs. Our table had crayon wax on it, a child had obviously sat here before. We were across from each other. We had just ordered our own breakfast and were now waiting. We had been talking about college applications and what not, filling in the time until we could finally eat. The bell at the door dinged and a friendly hostess inquired on the number of people. She pulled out a menu, just one. She put him in the table behind my mother, he sat in the chair facing me. He sat there for a little bit before a waitress walked up and gave him a menu. The menus had dark blue binding and off white paper, laminated. He stared at it for just a second and then asked if they're orange juice was freshly squeezed. He went on to ask about the blueberry pancakes, the special ones. He didn't want blueberry compote in the center but he wanted the blueberries on the top. He wanted to know if the blueberries were fresh as well. The waitress was responding to his demands as best as she could, as for the freshness, she had no clue. She has a look of distress on her face. She was an old young. She had a young face, but with a few smile lines. No crows feet yet. Her hair was shoulder length, black, and pin straight. She still had a young body. She wore her white blouse buttoned up to the top and tucked in to her black pants. She had a blue apron folded over at her hips, and standard black, nonslip sneakers. The man kept yapping about what he liked and how he wanted it. Finally the waitress cut in and said she would find a manager. The man said never mind and asked for something completely different. The woman with the black hair turned on a dime and hurried away.

Dialogue Only-

"So wasn't North Carolina great? Sure wish we were still there, Pennsylvania is absolutely terrible." My mother was going on about North Carolina.
"Yeah I really loved the college." I replied.
"I really hope you get in!" She was basically screaming.
The bell at the door dinged.
"How many today sir?" asked the hostess.
"Just one" The man said.
He was seated by us. A waitress approached after a moment.
"Is your orange juice freshly squeezed?" He asked.
"Uh, I don't think so." said the waitress.
"Of course not" replied the man with a sigh after. "These pancakes, is there blueberry in the middle and on top?"
"Yes it-"
"I only want the blueberries on top, not in the middle and that gooey syrup in a cup on the side. I want bacon but not really crispy, just kind of. No black on it but I don't want to have to bite it like a bear."
"Okay anything else."
"Actually yeah, are the blueberries fresh? Or is like your orange juice? And is the bacon local farms or it processed from some other state?"
"I'm not sure, let me get a manager" She said with a bit of distress.
"Never mind, it's fine. I'll just have buttermilk pancakes with hash browns."
"Alright" Her voice turned to obvious annoyance.
"Jeez, what a piece." My mother whispered to me.
"Yeah, glad I don't work in restaurants." I whispered back.

Little Bit of Both

I was sitting in a Diner somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania. It was small and cozy, the floors had a dark blue carpet, and the walls were beige color. There were lots of windows, it was a free standing building. Where there weren't windows, there were pictures. All different  but same in style, mostly of the blue variety. My mother and I were sitting at a light wood table with two matching chairs. Our table had crayon wax on it, a child had obviously sat here before. We were across from each other. We had just ordered our own breakfast and were now waiting.
 "So wasn't North Carolina great? Sure wish we were still there, Pennsylvania is absolutely terrible." My mother was going on about North Carolina.
"Yeah I really loved the college." I replied.
"I really hope you get in!" She was basically screaming.
 The bell at the door dinged and a friendly hostess asked "How many today sir?"
She pulled out a menu, just one. She put him in the table behind my mother, he sat in the chair facing me. He sat there for a little bit before a waitress walked up and gave him a menu. The menus had dark blue binding and off white paper, laminated. He stared at it for just a second.
"Is your orange juice freshly squeezed?" He asked.
"Uh, I don't think so." said the waitress.
"Of course not" replied the man with a sigh after. "These pancakes, is there blueberry in the middle and on top?"
"Yes it-"
"I only want the blueberries on top, not in the middle and that gooey syrup in a cup on the side. I want bacon but not really crispy, just kind of. No black on it but I don't want to have to bite it like a bear."
"Okay anything else."
"Actually yeah, are the blueberries fresh? Or is like your orange juice? And is the bacon local farms or it processed from some other state?"
The waitress was responding to his demands as best as she could, as for the freshness, she had no clue. She has a look of distress on her face. She was still pretty young. She had a smooth, young face face, but with a few smile lines. No crows feet yet. Her hair was shoulder length, black, and pin straight. She still had a young body. She wore her white blouse buttoned up to the top and tucked in to her black pants. She had a blue apron folded over at her hips, and standard black, nonslip sneakers. The man kept yapping about what he liked and how he wanted it. Finally the waitress cut in and said she would find a manager.
"Never mind, it's fine. I'll just have buttermilk pancakes with hash browns."
"Alright" Her voice turned to obvious annoyance. She turned on a dime and hurried away.
"Jeez, what a piece." My mother whispered to me.
"Yeah, glad I don't work in restaurants." I whispered back.

Welcome post :)

My welcome post is about me as a person, and a writer. My name is Leah Elizabeth Salmon, my favorite colors are purple and yellow, not related to one of my favorite NFL teams. The Baltimore Ravens, thank you Brendan Way. My dog's name is Stewie and in my previous life I was a cat. That is all you need to know about me. The purpose of my blog is to share my writing with everyone else, not that I really want to. The actual purpose is to get credit for the class and please Ms Basko so she doesn't want to kill me. So one to who I am as a writer. Writing isn't my favorite thing to do in the world, but I love to read. My favorite writer is Stephen King. He inspires a lot of the things I write and choose to read. What really inspires me about King's work is how in depth he gets with the characters. Into the first chapter you already know everything about them. I usually love to write with detail. Most of the time I get really bored with school assignments and I start off good, then just wrap it all up in one paragraph. In my opinion reading/writing a good story isn't only about a good plot, you have to understand the character. Although due to my desire for detail I get very self conscious about my writing. I could turn a half page assignment into a novel if you gave me enough time. It is also an "acquired taste". Some people want a quick read and no deeper understanding other than why Bella is crying when Edward left her in the woods alone. So not all people will care for what I write. Then there are people who read the The Hunger Games, and do not actually understand what it is about. Then again the author of the book lost sight of what she wanted it to be about during the second and most of the third book. Towards then end it kind of came back. Katniss did a lot of uneeded crying though. Anyways, I'm also one of those people that complains until no end when my english teacher rambles on about the green light in Gatsby and all the symbolism they have to pointlessly pick apart, but I happen to look for symbols in everything I read because it's always there. There's not much more about me other than I wish I was the Hulk because I would Hulk smash SO many things. It would be grand. John is my boyfriend, but no body really cares. I like chinese food. and Kevin annoys me when he asks what he should write about :p. anndddd that's all I have to write about, have fun stalking my blog, creeper.

Blog 13

When the class first discussed doing this project I was worried that it would take up too much time and I wouldn't have enough time to finish it. I was also worried that I would not be able to come up with a good enough plot or characters that were life like. Now that it's done I realized it wasn't all that bad and that I actually came up with good characters and a fairly flowing dialogue. I think it would be fun to do again. Maybe not with all the prep work though.
I think that the script outline really helped me map out how i wanted the script to be and what i would need to include. It put it into perspective of what needed to be written about and what the climax needed to be and so on and so forth. The things that helped me the least were the character bios and a lot of the other blogs we did on it. I knew that I would change a lot of what i previously wrote in the blogs. I thought it was a lot of extra things that I didn't really help me. Especially with the character bio's. During the entire script I never used that much description of the characters. I had the character in my head and that was all I really needed, not so much all the random little things about him. I didn't look back at any of the other blogs for help really.
I learned I can actually be really creative while writing this script.
There is a total of twenty-eight pages in my final script. I didn't really manage my time well. Especially since my partner wasn't there much and I got annoyed, but he pulled through in the end. I should have worked more on it though because it would have been cool to get through everything i wanted to. We could have made it longer but we reached writers block a lot too. We sat there for a while thinking about how we would move from one scene to the next.

I think that the greatest strength's of the script are good dialogue and a good plot. What makes me proud of the script is how it all pulls together in a sense where it feels like something that could actually happen. I'm also proud of the use of foreshadowing in some of the scenes especially with the character Sheriff Mills. It was foreshadowed well that there would be more problems with him in the future. I also like that the cashier in one scene was used to really make it obvious that something strange was going on, yet she did not know either of them. Some other good foreshadowing was with Lisa, the Store owner. Although I didn't have enough time to finish the script completely, It would turn out that Lisa was the mother of Daniel who had "died" a long time ago and was now watching her son from a distance. It was foreshadowed when she was all nervous talking to Daniel in the store. I also liked all the description used in that scene. The way we described what the store looked like and everything.
The weaknesses of the script would have to be lack of description as well as the amount of characters. I say this because i felt a slight lack of description of the settings and Daniels house. I also think the amount of characters could have been increased making the dialogue and plot longer for the script. I would improve on description of everything. Like in the scene I used in my other blog, the one in the store, i would probably write more dialogue and add in more description. I would describe what the isles are like, what kind of things he had in his cart, what Sheriff Mills was wearing, and what the cashier looked like. I would have made it longer than what it is now. I also may have added some other people in the store and have Daniel talking to them or Sheriff Mills asking a random person in the store what way he had gone. I think doing that would help make it more life like too. It seemed like there were only three people in the entire store and that wouldn't really happen.
If we had more time on this project I would do what i had explained in the previous part. I would work on my time management better and go back and fix a few things, well i think a lot. There were quite a few of mistakes and things i could have made seem more realistic. Overall though it was a fun experience.

Blog 12

During the peer reflection my group said that the greatest strengths of this script was that it has a really interesting plot and the dialogue flowed well. They said it was a pretty original story line. I agree that the greatest strength's of this scene are good dialogue and a good plot. The things I am proud of in this scene is how it all pulls together in a sense where it feels like its a situation that could actually happen. I'm also proud of the use of foreshadowing in this scene especially with the character Sheriff Mills. It was foreshadowed well that there would be more problems with him in the future. I also like that the cashier was used to really make it obvious that something strange was going on, yet she did not know either of them.
I think the weakness of this scene is the lack of description as well as the amount of characters. I think so because i felt a slight lack of description in the setting's of this scene. I also think the amount of characters could have been increased making the dialogue and plot longer for this scene. If i was to re-write this scene i would probably write more dialogue and add in more description. I would describe what the isles looked like, what kind of things he had in his cart, what Sheriff Mills was wearing, and what the cashier looked like. I would have made it longer than what it is now. I also may have added some other people in the store and have Daniel talking to them or Sheriff Mills asking a random person in the store what way he had gone.
Over all I think this scene was really well written and I liked it a lot. I'm also glad that my grouped like it a lot.

Blog 11

1. In Daniel and Jane's house.
2. Daytime
3. Jane is rambling on about something daniel does not want to do
4. Daniel is eating mike n ikes. random food in the fridge.
5. Daniels face is supposed to be getting increasingly mad, Jane just goes on and on about stuff, daniel gets extremely sarcastic