I want to say, first of all, that I might be going outside the parameters set for this assignment. The better part of my afternoon was spent completing make up assignments in my American History class and the routine of reading some things and answering some questions and then reading more things and answ...well, you get the point. My brain is currently picketing in my head for “worker’s rights” and if it’s not too much to ask I’m going to tap into a different, less agitated, portion of my organic cpu to reflect openly about how I processed this information.
But, I’m going to reflect a little further back first. When I was a lot younger than now, I got a lego table for a present. Now if you were neglected a lego table as a kid, just know, it was a table. I suppose I should also add that the tabletop was replaced by a lego board which translated to an imagination’s equivalent of paradise.
So, fast forward, however many years later, to about thirty minutes before I wrote this. I’m reading about narrative essays, obviously, and I’m absorbing various methods and techniques I’ll need to be a writing maestro, but my mind constantly wanders back to the lego table.
It’s not as random as it appears I assure you. The table itself is just a metaphor (shameless name drop) for the setting and scenery of your story. The little lego people, the characters, of course, and every other lego exists to fill in the blanks.
Now here is where things get dicey. Narratives are inherently true. It would be unwise and lacking in ethics to pass off a piece of fiction as true, but what if I gave you a true lesson behind a semi-real story? What if I bent the rules just a smidgen, or perhaps a lot more, to take you on a journey of my own self-discovery? I won’t, I promise, as I’ve already exceeded my word limit for this assignment, but mostly because it isn’t finished yet.
The answer, as with most things, lies somewhere in the middle. For example, wrestling was one of the sports I participated in during high school. My main method of progress was eating right, working hard, and always imagining a positive outcome. Pretty lame narrative. So, instead, I’ll use my mental lego board and add a villain with a complex backstory, create some tension between the two of us and leave you dangling until the ultimate climax where we battle it out like Rocky and Apollo. I’d shoot in with a takedown so fierce the gym would explode from the force and the scene would fade out as I walked away, my foe defeated, with fiery explosions at my back. The moral of the story: Eat right, work hard, and always imagine a positive outcome.
But, I’m going to reflect a little further back first. When I was a lot younger than now, I got a lego table for a present. Now if you were neglected a lego table as a kid, just know, it was a table. I suppose I should also add that the tabletop was replaced by a lego board which translated to an imagination’s equivalent of paradise.
So, fast forward, however many years later, to about thirty minutes before I wrote this. I’m reading about narrative essays, obviously, and I’m absorbing various methods and techniques I’ll need to be a writing maestro, but my mind constantly wanders back to the lego table.
It’s not as random as it appears I assure you. The table itself is just a metaphor (shameless name drop) for the setting and scenery of your story. The little lego people, the characters, of course, and every other lego exists to fill in the blanks.
Now here is where things get dicey. Narratives are inherently true. It would be unwise and lacking in ethics to pass off a piece of fiction as true, but what if I gave you a true lesson behind a semi-real story? What if I bent the rules just a smidgen, or perhaps a lot more, to take you on a journey of my own self-discovery? I won’t, I promise, as I’ve already exceeded my word limit for this assignment, but mostly because it isn’t finished yet.
The answer, as with most things, lies somewhere in the middle. For example, wrestling was one of the sports I participated in during high school. My main method of progress was eating right, working hard, and always imagining a positive outcome. Pretty lame narrative. So, instead, I’ll use my mental lego board and add a villain with a complex backstory, create some tension between the two of us and leave you dangling until the ultimate climax where we battle it out like Rocky and Apollo. I’d shoot in with a takedown so fierce the gym would explode from the force and the scene would fade out as I walked away, my foe defeated, with fiery explosions at my back. The moral of the story: Eat right, work hard, and always imagine a positive outcome.
