Report Draft: C. Experimenting

The process leading up to the final drafts of our personal essay project was very experimental.  Each step, from generating the ideas for the essays, to incorporating literary tools in our writing, to video and media production, and even to sharing with audiences, was an experiment.  

First of all, the way in which we chose topics about which to write was very creative.  Dr. Burton read a list of different topics or experiences, and if something interested us, we were supposed to begin generating raw material about that topic.  We then wrote multiple blog posts to narrow down the topics of our essays. The elimination process depended highly upon our taking in account of other people's comments about what what they found most interesting.  That was experimental in itself in that we had to find ways to collaborate with classmates to review, edit, and share our material.  As the essay topics were narrowed down, we began experimenting with different forms of Mormon personal essays.  We studied examples of personal essays written by several authors, like Edward Geary, "Disorder and Early Joy", Tessa Santiago, "Take, Eat", and Gideon Burton, "In an Open Field, Near a Gravel Pit".  We then analyzed ways to include Mormon Humor from Personal essays like DeNae Handy’s, "Falling for You.", and we even experimente with how to make our writing more like poetry.

Secondly, whilst actually writing our essays, we experimented with different ways of incorporating imagery, description, figurative language, and the inclusion of the Book of Mormon aspect in our writing. As a result of several differnt writing stages, we concluded that it was most effective to establish respect with the reader by building up our credibililty through the application of literary tools in our writing, and then bringing in the Book of Mormon content.

Lastly, we experimented with different ways of sharing the content of our essays.  This included experimentation with video production, as well as selecting audiences or individuals with whom to share our material through social media and offline interaction.   The video production included each member of the class developing their own minute-long video to advertise their essay with their own preferences to background, content, and inclusion of the Book of Mormon, as well as whose essay we talked about.  Our initial videos helped us to determine what the effective aspects were.  As a result of this experiment, and differences in aspects like sound and lighting, the final draft of our videos was much more uniform in the above-mentioned components.

Strengthening Ties Through Sharing

I will admit that, like many people in the class, I was hesitant to begin to share my personal essay.  I started off where I felt most comfortable.  So I shared it with all of my siblings, except for my brother (whom I talk about in my essay).  I emailed the link to them, and they quickly responded with positive feedback.  They were suprised that I would write something like that.  I had never shared any writing with all of them before.

Then, this last weekend, my brother flew into town from North Carolina, and I was able to share my essay with him face to face.  It honestly was a little weird having him read what I had to say about him.  I left the room while he read it, and came back in when he was done.  I had predicted how he would respond. Being the humble person that he is, I knew he would begin to compliment me and tell me how cool I was.  That is exactly what he did. It was actually a pretty cool moment.

Next I shared my essay with my girlfriend.  We were just passing the time with my roommates one evening, and I asked her if she could read my essay.  She was flattered that I would share that with her, and told me that it was apparent that Idaho, Guatemala, and my brother, were three very important things to me.

I began sharing my essay through email and personal facebook messages to my friends around the world.  Some responded, some others have yet to respond.   I received very positive feedback from sharing Viridianas essay with my converts in Chihuahua, México.

Once I gained momentum, and began sharing my essay and my classmates essays with other people, I began seeing more opportunities to reconnect with old friends and to leave further invitations.  For example, as I was preparing to share Jeremy's essay with my Christian friend from high school, I texted her to find out how her medical school interviews went with the University of Utah School of Medicine.  She responded to tell me that she had been accepted and will be moving to Salt Lake City.  After reconnecting, I felt much more comfortable sharing Jeremy's essay with her.  So one day, we skyped, and I emailed her the link so she could read it.  She loved it.  She said that it was really well written, and asked about the Book of Mormon reference.  I had given her a Book of Mormon in high school, and when she asked me about it, I found a perfect opportunity to invite her to actually read it.  She promised that she would.

What I have found is that it is easier for me to share other people's essays first, and then invite them to read my own essay as a further invitation.  I am still fairly self conscious of sharing my own work, but I have enjoyed the feedback that i have received.

My Hero: A Modern-day Moroni

My brother is my hero.  He may be huge, but he is all heart.  Because of that, he has an ability to influence lives like he has mine.  So, who's your hero?

Strengthening Bonds

1.           My brother about whom I wrote my essay, and his wife.  He is studying medicine in North Carolina and I do not get to talk to or see him as often as I would like.  However, he will be coming to Utah next weekend and will be staying with me for a few days.  I think that sharing my essay with him face to face could create some nice brotherly bonding.
2.       My girlfriend.  She and I have not been dating very long, and are still in the process of getting to know one another.  I think that sharing these experiences of my family and my life in Guatemala, along with the religious emphasis, with one another, will allow us to better understand each other and grow closer together. 
3.       One of my roommates.  He and I are not very close, and he has not been attending church meetings very regularly.  However, he has been asking me for relationship advice, so I think that he is beginning to trust me more. .  I think that sharing this with him personally could allow us to get to know one another more, and also be able to bring up religious themes that will allow us to strengthen each other.
4.       Kara, my best friend from high school.  She is not a member of the church, but she has a Book of Mormon.  She recently got in touch with me and we went to lunch in Salt Lake before her medical school interview with the University of Utah.  I think that she will enjoy Jeremy’s essay because she loves taking care of people. I will email it to her.
5.       Guatemalan Facebook friends.  Most of them are not members of the church.  However, there are several of them that did attend church with me a few times when I lived there.  I am going to start commenting on their pictures on Facebook and message them to see how they are doing.  Then I can share my essay with them through the blog.
6.       Mexican Facebook friends.  Most of them are recent converts or less-active members.  I taught and baptized many of them while on my mission.  I still keep in touch with many of them, mostly through Facebook messenger.  It would be fun to share my essay with them, and also send them the link to see all of the personal essays from our class.
7.       Tere – She is a woman I taught on my mission who struggled with abuse growing up.  We have contact mainly through her children and Facebook.  However, I think that Mary Ellsworth’s essay about Herber and his outlook on life will help her so much.  I will share it to her through facebook.

What is the Real Mormon Experience?

No two people ever truly experience the exact same thing.  One of the beautiful things of life is that it is unique for every single person; even amongst the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  Because we all experience things from an inimitable point of view, it is impossible to capture a Mormon experience that can represent that experience for everybody, be it in fictional or non-fictional form.  However, in Douglas Thayer’s novel, Will Wonders Never Cease, his use of fiction to relate the coming-of-age experience of a Mormon teenager, can authentically represent common Mormon beliefs and themes.

I believe that it was much easier for Doug Thayer to express these themes in a fictional way rather than a non-fictional story.  Like Andrew Olson said here, “, it is very difficult to represent the negative aspects of a culture through one’s own personal writing or speaking.  Often the negative things in life get pushed aside and those involved try to ignore them.”  Thayer was able to tactfully demonstrate a Mormon viewpoint on things like repentance, sin, and sex education; whereas in a non-fiction setting, Mormon’s are generally less willing to discuss sex or even past sins publicly (like Kyle getting drunk at age fourteen).  We try to see from a more positive perspective, and save the personal information for Bishop’s interviews. 

Other works of Mormon fiction, like Nephi Anderson’s novel, Added Upon, can also relate important beliefs and themes in a way non-fiction could not.  It would be incredibly difficult to obtain the personal accounts of people who have experienced all of the stages of the Plan of Salvation, from the pre-existence to exaltation, like the characters in Added Upon.  However, while both novels relate themes and beliefs in a way that non-fiction may not, it is possible that they do not relate true Mormon experience as well as a personal essay would.  Real experiences from real people, real Mormons, could more accurately tell the reader what life could be like for a Mormon.

I personally enjoy fiction more than non-fiction.  It has the ability to explore the outrageous, even though it is not always 100% accurate.  As I read, I like being able to be placed in the minds of people like Kyle from Will Wonders Never Cease.  It allows me to go on their adventures with them, even though I have not experienced those things myself.  

A Mother's Critique

I chose to share my personal essay with the smartest person I know: my mom.  She was traveling internationally and so it was surprisingly difficult to get a hold of her until today.  But as we read over my essay together, I was reminded of how cool she is.  She is an English major and her favorite pastime is reading novels.  Therefore, I imagined that she could give fairly helpful feedback.  I was correct.

Most of the feedback I received was literary.  She analyzed a lot of aspects of my paper, like tense, transitions, and wording.  She helped to recognize a lot of areas where I was too vague, for example, by saying, “we sat,” instead of explaining who was sitting.  “Do not overestimate your audience and assume that they can always follow what you are thinking.” As she pointed this out, I realized that it is something that I do a lot in my writing.  

At one point during our conversation, I even felt slightly frustrated because there were so many things that were apparent to her that I needed to improve.

However, she also was very happy to see me writing about my brother. “You’re a good writer, I like what you’ve done.  I’m quite impressed actually.”  She told me this when I finished reading it to her.  She suggested that I also show it to my brother because he was the subject of my personal essay.  It makes me wonder what his reaction to it will be.  But I believe that I will wait until the final draft before showing it to him.

All in all, this sharing experience opened my eyes to a more clear style of writing, and helped me to bond with my mother.  We remained talking for over an hour after she finished giving me feedback on my essay. 

Things Discovered in "Things Missed" by Simon Peter Eggertsen

I was lucky to find this poem within my section to which I felt that I could relate.  Simon Peter Eggertsen’s poem, “Things Missed” is basically a descriptive narrative of a trip that he took to Giza in a sort of independent self-discovery attempt.

            I went to Giza once this way, entered the wind-dusted

            space, dodged the thronging hawkers, slid sideways

past the harried shirtsleeve tugs of the pleading guides,

as they offered to sell me a day or two of knowing.

It was not only my personal fascination with pyramids and archaeological sites that called my attention to this essay, but also the way that the author begins by reverently stating the themes in the first stanza, and then describes an experience using imagery for the rest of the poem.  He spoke of shuffling in the sand, exchanging smiles with camels, and squinting into the west-leaning sun, in a vivid way. 

I have had similar experiences.  I am always dodging the tour guides as well whenever I visit an archaeological site.  There is something majestic about being alone in places like these, with the possibility of finding or seeing something that perhaps no one else has ever seen.  It can make that place sacred to you.  But what the author was really describing in a metaphorical way was his experience of finding truth on his own.

           

            Every now and then I make it a point to go

            without knowing to these places, try to discover

            a view of my own, be surprised, have

            an experience uncluttered by history or the facts.

This is something that we all do as Latter-day Saints.  In the church, especially while young (in age or in the church), we seem to be constantly bombarded with the idea that we need “to discover a view of [our] own.”  We are regularly reminded to obtain our own testimony.  We all wish to “have an experience” which allows us to “imagine [our] way to a bit of truth.”  Luckily, we do not have to go all the way to Egypt to find it.

A Modern-day Moroni

Revision Plan

I have received a lot of helpful feedback that I will be trying to apply on my second draft.  Hailey commented on my post about how she would like me to be clearer in the characterization of my brother (show more plainly why the girls wanted to date him and the guys wanted to be like him).  She also asked me to explain more about why I was in the jungle.  So I plan to give a better explanation of those two things.  Professor Burton also asked me to explain those two aspects of my essay more: to develop more my relationship with my brother, and to be more explicit about why I was in the jungle.  He also asked me to be clearer with my reference to the Book of Mormon and my introduction of Captain Moroni.  Through all of the feedback I have received, I have realized that I need to be less vague for the next draft.  Here goes nothing. 

Green.  It went on endlessly. A seemingly never-ending expanse of trees extended as far as the eye could see in either direction, until it crashed with the graying sky on one side, and a rich and heavenly collage on the other.  Orange had been painted across the horizon, with lines and shadows as if a real paintbrush had left it there.  Rays of gold and red nestled into the paint intermittently.  The angles of light allowed tree-covered mounds to rise up out of the forest floor in sporadic patterns, like green waves frozen in time.  

It was not the first time I had hiked the pyramids in that place.  In fact, the jungle was beginning to feel like home to me.  Growing up with a father who was an archaeologist and a farmer gave me a world of possibilities.  Every spring, I would wake up early each morning to pull on my rubber boots and trudge through the cold Idahoan soil to move the water lines on our potato fields.  I always stopped to look for frogs around the irrigation ditches.  Then summer would come, and my family would have to leave our farm in the care of my uncles in order to move to Guatemala.  I would walk the leafy trails all day to explore the pyramids, and help my dad with the excavations.  But we would be back in Idaho for the crop harvest in the fall.  I treasure the fact that, every summer, the jungle became my home.

 My western-themed bedroom was now just nylon walls surrounded by mosquito net.  Leafy paths became my hallways.  Handmade benches became part of our dining room furniture.  Our oven was made out of clay.  My bathroom was now not so pleasant, but our new endless backyard made it worth the inconvenience. And a miraculous view was available at the top of each staircase. 

I liked being out here.  The solitude and primitive lifestyle made me think.  Not many of the people from home had this.  I guess that adventures were harder to come by in Idaho.  I was privileged to be here.  Then again, back home, they were privileged that they could do their business on something that flushed. The little things I had before, now seemed almost like a dream.  Carpet; the long shaggy kind. Wouldn’t it be awesome to be able to press your cheek up against carpet? Or a mattress! I was so privileged back then.  Why had I taken it for granted?  I didn’t realize that so many people, like the ones here, did not have those small and simple things.

We sat. Black shadows of different sizes occasionally soared across the scene, dancing in the last rays of daylight. I remember sitting on that limestone block, taking in the scenery, and chuckling next to my brother.  His scraggly beard was evidence that he had not seen a mirror in months.  His hiking boots were covered in mud, with twigs and leaves plastered to the bottoms.  He clapped his hands together like a seal when he laughed, before leaning his mountain-man-like head on his wrist, his wide shoulders still shaking with laughter.  He seemed so different physically from the clean-cut man I had grown up with, but he was the same in every other sense: always wanting to compliment others; laughing at everyone’s jokes; and he could still quote the entire Dumb and Dumber movie even though he had not seen a television in ages.  Even though this 6’5” twenty-six year old behemoth was eight years older than myself, I still considered him my best friend.

He was the kind of person that had every reason in the world not to be humble, and yet he was; extremely so.  He was the most spiritual man I had ever met; I often caught him reading his scriptures late into the night.  He was smart.  He was valedictorian in high school, graduated from BYU in Neuroscience, and received a full-ride scholarship to the Duke University School of Medicine where he is preparing to become a brain surgeon.  But what I admired most about him was his ability to influence people’s lives.  He was always caught doing service.  He was even the BYUSA Student Service Association vice president.  And even though he was always so busy, he would find time to call me just to check in and see how I was doing.

If it wasn’t true that all of the girls wanted to date him, it certainly was true that all of the guys wanted to be him.  He had kind eyes; especially when he laughed. After composing ourselves, with a chuckle or two here and there, his breathing became slower, and heavier.  His shoulders fell as he breathed out; his face overcome with peace.  I had read of near-perfect men in my lifetime.  The Book of Mormon was full of them.  I do not remember what we talked about on that pyramid that evening, but that evening, when I sat there with him, I might as well have been sitting there with my other childhood hero, Captain Moroni. 

I was instantly taken there.  The trees were gone; the walls became vibrant with color once again; and the city buzzed with life.  People scurried about below us as they carried out their assigned tasks.  Some wore jade ornaments. Many were laden with tools, or weapons.  A seemingly never-ending expanse of people extended as far as the eye could see. Men could be seen adding the last blocks to the outer wall.

We were able to be enjoying a moment of peace together before the oncoming battle.  Like most ominous occasions, I found comfort in how calm and composed he was.  He was a strong and mighty man; he was a man that did not delight in bloodshed; but he joyed in liberty and freedom for his brethren.  He was thankful for the things he had.  His people enjoyed many privileges and blessings. I knew that he would defend his people, his rights, his country, and his religion, until his last breath.  If all men could like him, surely the devil would be powerless.  I would follow him anywhere; through any battle

Green again. I was back.  A seemingly never-ending expanse of trees extended as far as the eye could see in either direction. A howler monkey roared like a lion in the distance.  With the sun almost gone, the dragonflies chasing mosquitos, and bats chasing dragonflies danced across the sunset.  The humid breeze ruffled through my hair.  And we sat.

Green

            Green.  It went on endlessly. A seemingly never-ending expanse of trees extended as far as the eye could see in either direction, until it crashed with the graying sky on one side, and a rich and heavenly collage on the other.  Orange had been painted across the horizon, with lines and shadows as if a real paintbrush had left it there.  Rays of gold and red nestled into the paint intermittently.  The angles of light allowed tree-covered mounds to rise up out of the forest floor in sporadic patterns, like green waves frozen in time.  

It was not the first time I had hiked the pyramids in that place.  In fact, the jungle was beginning to feel like home to me.  My western-themed bedroom was now just nylon walls surrounded by mosquito net.  Leafy paths became my hallways.  Handmade benches became part of our dining room furniture.  Our oven was made out of clay.  My bathroom was now not so pleasant, but our new endless backyard made it worth the inconvenience. And a miraculous view was available at the top of each staircase. 

I liked being out here.  The solitude and primitive lifestyle made me think.  Not many of the people from home had this.  I guess that adventures were harder to come by in Idaho.  I was privileged to be here.  Then again, back home, they were privileged that they could do their business on something that flushed. The little things I had before, now seemed almost like a dream.  Carpet; the long shaggy kind. Wouldn’t it be awesome to be able to press your cheek up against carpet? Or a mattress! I was so privileged back then.  Why had I taken it for granted?  I didn’t realize that so many people, like the ones here, did not have those things.

We sat. Black shadows of different sizes occasionally soared across the scene, dancing in the last rays of daylight. I remember sitting on that limestone block, taking in the scenery, and chuckling next to my brother.  His scraggly beard was evidence that he had not seen a mirror in months.  His hiking boots were covered in mud, with twigs and leaves plastered to the bottoms.  He clapped his hands together like a seal when he laughed, before leaning his mountain-man-like head on his wrist, his wide shoulders still shaking with laughter.  He seemed so different physically from the clean-cut man I had grown up with, but he was the same in every other sense: always wanting to compliment others; laughing at everyone’s jokes; and he could still quote the entire Dumb and Dumber movie even though he had not seen a television in ages. 

He was the kind of person that had every reason in the world not to be humble, and yet he was; extremely so.  If it wasn’t true that all of the girls wanted him, it certainly was true that all of the guys wanted to be him.  He had kind eyes; especially when he laughed. After composing ourselves, with a chuckle or two here and there, his breathing became slower, and heavier.  His shoulders fell as he breathed out; his face overcome with peace.  “Isn’t it incredible; to think about the people that were here before us?” 

I nodded my approval, and for a moment, I was instantly taken there.  The trees were gone; the walls became vibrant with color once again; and the city buzzed with life.  People scurried about below us as they carried out their assigned tasks.  Some wore jade ornaments. Many were laden with tools, or weapons.  A seemingly never-ending expanse of people extended as far as the eye could see. Men could be seen adding the last blocks to the outer wall.

We were able to be enjoying a moment of peace before the oncoming battle.  “Do you really think we can do it?,” I asked him.  I could see in his eyes that he did.  He was a strong and mighty man; he was a man that did not delight in bloodshed; but he joyed in liberty and freedom for his brethren.  He was thankful for the things he had.  His people enjoyed many privileges and blessings. I knew that he would defend his people, his rights, his country, and his religion, until his last breath.  If all men could like him, surely the devil would be powerless.  I would follow him anywhere; through any battle.  “Come on. We have work to do,” he said with a reassuring smile.

Green again. I was back. We sat.  A seemingly never-ending expanse of trees extended as far as the eye could see in either direction.  The sun was almost gone. A howler monkey roared like a lion in the distance.

“You know, it really is true.”

“What is?”

“The Church.”

“Yeah… I know,” I whispered as a dragonfly landed on a branch next to me. “I know.”