Unit 3: Short Stories



4.Short Stories

Activity 1: Setting and Tone

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/10 T/I /20 App

Content

Imagine a story without a setting – impossible! 

While most of students know that setting refers to the place and time of a story, its importance is often not appreciated. Think of Hogwarts, the School of Wizardry. This castle-like setting for many important scenes in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books appears to rise out of the mists, creating an atmosphere of magic, mystery and mayhem throughout its spooky corridors.  Setting is an integral part of this series:  it not only provides a place and time for the action but plays a major role in creating tone and atmosphere.  

Rowling, along with most other good writers, achieves this by deliberately choosing language to “colour” the reader’s perception of a particular place. By carefully weighing the meaning of certain descriptive words, a writer can suggest meanings far beyond a literal understanding of the words, themselves. Good writers are aware of that many words and phrases have connotations – shades of meaning beyond an exact or denoted meaning.  When descriptive language “connotes” it suggests shades of meaning that establish the tone or atmosphere of a setting. When a writer uses this kind of descriptive language the setting can even signify the direction of the plot or the emotions of a character.

 

|Here are two descriptions of the same place – a tree located in a meadow.  |

|Setting |Descriptive Language Connoting a |Descriptive Language Connoting a |

| |Foreboding Tone |Positive Tone |

|[pic] |The tree stood alone by itself in |The tree stood alone by itself in a|

|Tree in a meadow on a sunny day in spring |a meadow. Its gnarled branches |meadow. Its knobbly branches |

| |were bent and twisted fingers |reached out to embrace anyone who |

| |reaching out to grab anyone crazy |wished to climb it. Centred in the |

| |enough to come near. Painful |meadow, it was an ideal target for |

| |desolation sharply contrasted with|children of all ages who clambered |

| |the spring day; grey limbs dully |up its welcoming silver limbs in |

| |reflected the sunshine. |the warm sunshine. |

 

|Notice how simply describing the setting with different words changes our perception of it: |

|Descriptive Words Which Connote an Foreboding Tone |Descriptive Words Which Connote a Positive Tone |

|“gnarled” |“knobbly” |

|“bent and twisted fingers” |“reached out to embrace” |

|“reaching out to grab” |“ideal target” |

|“painful desolation” |“children of all ages  who clambered” |

|“anyone crazy enough to come near” |“welcoming silver limbs” |

|“grey limbs” | |

|“dully reflected” | |

Some writers also use language that situates a story in a particular time. For instance, a writer may choose to set a story in the 16th century; references to historical events such as the Spanish Armada of 1588, use of “ye old-fashioned English”, descriptions which recall life before modern conveniences – all of this serves to anchor a narrative in a specific historical time period. What about a specific place – as in a story set in Newfoundland? A writer can use local references – often referred to as local colour - to evoke the characteristics of a unique place. Local colour might involve specific language used in an area or references to specific places.

“Twins” by Eric Wright

His wife had often criticized his plots for being too complicated, but this one worked.

“I want to get it right,” he said. “After making the mistake in the last book about how long it takes to get from Toronto to Detroit, I want this one to be water-tight. So just go along with me until I’m sure that it’ll work.”

They were standing on the edge of an old mine shaft about ten miles north of Sudbury. The shaft had been sunk in the thirties and they had had to claw their way through dense scrub pine to reach it, and pick the locks on two chain link fences that guarded the hole. At least it was too late in the year for mosquitoes. She wondered how he had found this place.

He seemed to hear what was in her mind. “I found it two years ago,” he said. “I came up here hunting with Art. Someone told us we might find a bear along at the garbage dump but we missed the road and came to this place.”

He was a writer of detective stories. As far as he could, he liked to “walk the course” of his plots until he was sure they would work. She always went along as a primary test that the story was possible. The stories often took them to some pleasant places, so it was like getting a second holiday, but this time she had come because she needed to know what was in his mind. Sudbury in October is not a popular vacation spot. “Tell me again,” she said. “How does he get her to come this far? I wouldn’t.”

“You just did,” he pointed out.

“That was research. Unless you make your villain a writer, you’re going to have trouble. What is he, by the way?”

“I haven’t decided yet. It’s not important. I want to make sure this works, then I can flex it out.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t work if the reader can’t believe she would stumble through a quarter mile of bush in this godforsaken landscape. You’ve got to find a good reason.”

“I’ll find one. Let’s get the plot straight, shall we?”

“This isn’t the way you usually work. Usually you get the characters first, then let the plot grow out of them. So you say, anyway.”

“Yeah, but this plot is ingenious. I mean, the villain thinks it is, so I want to test it before I spend my time creating his world. Okay?”

“Okay, so now he kills her. Right? And drops the body down there.” She kicked a small rock over the edge of the hole and listened hard, but there was no “ploomp” or rattle of the sound of the rock reaching the bottom. It must go down hundreds of metres.

“That’s right. He throws the gun in after her; he’s made sure it’s untraceable. Then he drives south to the motel in Parry Sound where they have a reservation. When he gets there it’s dark.” He looked at the sky turning pink in the west. “He registers as her.”

“Where did you get this idea?”

“From us. People are always saying we look alike, as if we’re a couple of gerbils.”

“Where does he change his clothes?”

“In the car, on a side road, probably the Pickerel River road, somewhere quiet. He doesn’t actually have to change much: just put on a blonde wig, lipstick, glasses.” He looked down at himself to show what he meant. Both of them were dressed in sneakers, blue jeans, and heavy bush jackets that came well below the waist. “Then he checks in at the motel, as her, ‘her’ husband is turning the car around or picking up beer or something. The point is the motel people have never seen ‘her’ and him. Then, around midnight, the fighting starts. The people in the units on either side hear a hell of a row going on, sounds of someone being smacked around, and it goes on so long they complain to the desk, and the night clerk phones over and asks them to pipe down.”

“The row is one tape, right?”

“Right. Then early in the morning the row starts and there’s a lot of door-banging and the neighbours see ‘her’ leaving, walking way. At breakfast time, he checks out leaving a message in case his wife returns. He tells the clerk she walked out on him during the night. She’s probably gone to another motel. His message is that he’s not going to wait around; he’s gone home.”

“So he left the motel in the blonde wig, then came back quietly as himself a bit later. Wasn’t he taking a chance?”

“Not really. If anyone saw him he could always say he had tried to follow his wife, but she disappeared. And that’s that. He goes home and when his wife doesn’t appear that day he reports it to the police. But in circumstances like these it looks likely that the wife has simply gone off somewhere. It’s a few weeks before he can get the police seriously interested.”

“And when they do take it seriously, do they find her?” There was not much light left now. In the east the sky was almost black.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. A few weeks is as good as six months.”

“They’ll suspect him. After the row.”

“But they won’t be able to prove anything. When he leaves the motel after breakfast, he checks in with the Ontario Provincial Police in Parry Sound, in case ‘she’ has checked in with them, and he does the same thing all the way down to Toronto, establishing a solid time trail with no gaps for him to drive back up to Sudbury. Then it’s easy to make sure he’s covered for the next week in Toronto.”

“It might work,” she said. “Have you figured out how you are going to solve it? How Porter will, I mean.” Gib Porter was the writer’s her.

“Not yet.”

“You could start with a hunch. You could find out what time he left Sudbury and why it took him five hours to get to Parry Sound. Did anyone see his car parked along the highway, stuff like that?”

“Why would anyone be suspicious?”

She pondered. “Her father. He never liked the man she married, never trusted him, so he hires Gib Porter.” Now it was close to dark. “What about the car? Someone might have seen their car parked along the highway.”

“It’s rented. Perfectly ordinary rented car. If anyone sees it they won’t memorize the licence plate. They’ll just assume that it’s a couple of hunters. But I haven’t seen anyone around, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. Who would be wandering around this moonscape?” She had to admit that he seemed to have everything covered. “One last thing,” she asked. “Why? What’s the reason?”

“Motive you mean?” He shrugged. “Another woman, I guess.”

“Come on. This is 1990. That was a motive back when you had to wait seven years for a divorce. People change all the time now.”

“Not if she refuses. The other lady I mean. This guy has fallen in love with someone who refuses to see him unless he is free. She was raised in the Brethren. She loves him, but she believes in the sanctity of marriage.”

“Does she indeed. It isn’t his wife’s fault, then.” She turned her back on him and walked towards the road. She needed to know one more thing. “In the meantime, old buddy-boy,” she said over her shoulder, “we’d better be getting back.”

He reached inside his jacked and pulled out the little handgun he had bought in Detroit. “Don’t turn around Lucy,” he said. She turned and saw that her last question was answered. It wasn’t a game. She said, “it isn’t going to work.”

“It’ll work, all right. It’s going to work.” He pulled the trigger once, twice, three times.

Everything else went smoothly. Hi wife had often criticized his plots for being too complicated, but this one worked. Two hours later the night clerk at the Sturgeon Motel in Parry Sound signed in Mrs. Harry Coates, a blonde lady with sunglasses (thought it was quite dark), while her husband unloaded the car. During the night the clerk had to call them twice to ask them to pipe down because they were fighting and arguing so loudly that the guests on either side had called to complain. The rowing ended in the early morning with a lot of door-crashing, then Mrs. Coates came to the desk to check out. She still had sunglasses on, but now the clerk thought they were probably covering up a black eye. Her husband, she said, had left her, taken a train or bus back to Toronto, maybe even hitchhiked – she didn’t know or care. She left a message for him in case he called. He never did, though.

She drove home and waited for two days for him to return, then she called the police. They made some routine enquiries, but they weren’t very interested. The story of the night in the motel was clear, and the guy was almost certainly putting a scare into her by taking off for as long as his money held out, but pretty soon he would use a charge card or something like that, then they would be able to reel him in. They did establish that he had a girlfriend tucked away in a condominium on Sherbourne Street, and they kept an eye on her place but she was as mystified as they were and he certainly never showed up. Nor did he try to call her. A month later the police assumed foul play and sent out a serious enquiry, and she began the process of establishing her legal position if he should have disappeared for good. When the first snow fell she knew they wouldn’t find him until spring at the earliest, and then what would they find? A body, with no money in the wallet, and the gun that had killed him. (She had thrown his gun, from which she had removed the ammunition the night before they started their trip, when she realized what he was planning, into the French River on her way to Parry Sound.) and what would they conclude? That he had been picked up hitchhiking, robbed and killed and dumped into the mineshaft by a local thug. There was still the very slight risk that someone had seen them when they went into the bush that evening, but it was a chance he was prepared to take, so it was pretty small. Since the chance of finding the body in the first place was about ten thousand to one, the further remote chance that someone saw them near the mineshaft was an acceptable risk. All she had to do was nurse her grief for the few weeks while the police made their enquiries.

The plan had been perfect, or pretty good. If she had not long known about the lady in the condominium, and if she had not come across his fishing tackle box with the loaded fun, the wig, and the make-up kit, packed ready to go, while she was searching for a pair of pliers, she would never have wondered what he was up to. After that it was just a matter of getting hold of a gun herself, and giving him every chance to prove her guess wrong. The rest went exactly as he had planned.

[pic]

Assignment 1 /10 T/I

Journal – Understanding the Story

Read, "Twins” by page 213 in Echoes 11.

1. Pay close attention to the use of connotation by quoting specific examples of language which suggests certain tone. Find at least 3 examples. /6

2. You may want to point out how the author uses colour or specific references to create the setting. /4

Assignment 2: Understanding Setting and Tone /20 App

Complete the following assignment and submit your work to the teacher.

For this unit, you will have the chance to write a short story of your own. As your first assignment, take a few moments and complete the Establishing the Setting worksheet. When you have completed the worksheet, make revisions, and edit your final draft before submitting it to your teacher. Some tips to help you are:

• Think about what your story will be about. For example if it is a horror story or a murder mystery the setting and tone should reflect something dark and foreboding

• Think about why you chose this setting, it may help you describe it better

• Is it a place you know from your own memory? Have you used all specific details or have you chosen to make some of it up?

Establishing the Setting of Your Story

|1. List the Key Physical Features of the Setting |2. What tone or atmosphere do you hope to establish in your |

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|3. List language that will help you establish your choice of |4. Rough Draft of your setting description |

|tone. You may chose some from the list of toned words. | |

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Tone Words

|POSITIVE TONE WORDS |NEUTRAL |NEGATIVE TONE WORDS |

| |(+, -, or neutral) | |

|admiring |hilarious |commanding |abhorring |hostile |

|adoring |hopeful |direct |acerbic |impatient |

|affectionate |humorous |impartial |ambiguous |incredulous |

|appreciative |interested |indirect |ambivalent |indifferent |

|approving |introspective |meditative |angry |indignant |

|bemused |jovial |objective |annoyed |inflammatory |

|benevolent |joyful |questioning |antagonistic |insecure |

|blithe |laudatory |speculative |anxious |insolent |

|calm |light |unambiguous |apathetic |irreverent |

|casual |lively |unconcerned |apprehensive |lethargic |

|celebratory |mirthful |understated |belligerent |melancholy |

|cheerful |modest | |bewildered |mischievous |

|comforting |nostalgic | |biting |miserable |

|comic |optimistic | |bitter |mocking |

|compassionate |passionate | |blunt |mournful |

|complimentary |placid | |bossy |nervous |

|conciliatory |playful | |cold |ominous |

|confident |poignant | |conceited |outraged |

|contented |proud | |condescending |paranoid |

|delightful |reassuring | |confused |pathetic |

|earnest |reflective | |contemptuous |patronizing |

|ebullient |relaxed | |curt |pedantic |

|ecstatic |respectful | |cynical |pensive |

|effusive |reverent | |demanding |pessimistic |

|elated |romantic | |depressed |pretentious |

|empathetic |sanguine | |derisive |psychotic |

|encouraging |scholarly | |derogatory |resigned |

|euphoric |self-assured sentimental | |desolate |reticent |

|excited |serene | |despairing |sarcastic |

|exhilarated |silly | |desperate |sardonic |

|expectant |sprightly | |detached |scornful |

|facetious |straightforward | |diabolic |self-deprecating |

|fervent |sympathetic | |disappointed |selfish |

|flippant |tender | |disliking |serious |

|forthright |tranquil | |disrespectful |severe |

|friendly |whimsical | |doubtful |sinister |

|funny |wistful | |embarrassed |skeptical |

|gleeful |worshipful | |enraged |sly |

|gushy |zealous | |evasive |solemn |

|happy | | |fatalistic |somber |

| | | |fearful |stern |

| | | |forceful |stolid |

| | | |foreboding |stressful |

| | | |frantic |strident |

| | | |frightened |suspicious |

| | | |frustrated |tense |

| | | |furious |threatening |

| | | |gloomy |tragic |

| | | |grave |uncertain |

| | | |greedy |uneasy |

| | | |grim |unfriendly |

| | | |harsh |unsympathetic |

| | | |haughty |upset |

| | | |holier-than-thou |violent |

| | | |hopeless |wry |

Activity 2: Characterization

/12 K/U /20 Comm

Content

What interests me are people, that is, characters – creating them, finding out about them, revealing them through showing how they think and feel, what they say and do. 

Patricia Grace

Just as there can be no truly successful story without a setting, so too, can no truly successful story take place without characters. Those who read stories creatively recognize that there are essentially three ways in which a writer connects a reader with a character:

|[pic] |A character’s manner of standing, walking, facial features, smile, frown, clothing, manners, |

|Through a character’s physical |gestures, eating or drinking, driving … |

|appearance or actions |  |

|[pic] |Interior monologues and stream of consciousness can actually imitate the random thoughts of a |

|Through a character’s thoughts or |character, often revealing innermost feelings. Use of a dialect, pauses, repetition of certain|

|speech. |phrases – all of these can help to establish a character in the mind of a reader. |

| |  |

|[pic] |The way a character treats others as well as their response to her or him deepens a reader’s|

|Through a character’s interaction |understanding of a characters’ nature. Interaction and reaction may include thoughts, speech|

|with other characters. |or actions. |

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All successful attempts at characterization take the above three approaches into consideration. Another key element to understanding character is the different types of characters:

|Types of Characters |

|Flat or Static Characters |Round and Dynamic Characters |

|This character does not grow or learn anything throughout the|These characters do grow and learn something throughout a |

|story.  Therefore, he or she doesn’t change in personality; |story.  They develop and change often maturing or gaining new|

|there is no real development throughout. Very often, they |insights.  They have more than one personality trait. Often |

|have only one main personality trait. For this reason, these |they are the main character or protagonist in a short |

|characters often play a minor or secondary role in a story. |story.   |

|Examples:  George Costanza in Seinfeld, the TV series |  |

|Tom Buchanan in The Great Gatsby. Jack in The Lord of the |Examples:  Harry Potter throughout all the books and movies |

|Flies. |in the series.  |

|Stock characters are instantly recognizable as flat |Nick in The Great Gatsby. |

|characters.  They are familiar to us through books, |Ralph in The Lord of the Flies. |

|magazines, TV shows and other media.   Examples are the jolly|Certain stories and novels focus on  round character’s |

|monk, the wisecracking short fat man, the dizzy blond, the |passage from innocence to maturity.  These are called |

|strong but dumb jock, the nerdy bookworm and the prudish |bildungsroman or “coming of age stories.”   Examples of this |

|librarian.  These characters appear over and over again; most|are Pip in Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations,  Gene in John|

|often, they have minor importance.  |Knowles’ A Separate Peace,  Holden in J.D, Salinger’s The |

| |Catcher in the Rye. |

The Final Word… Characterization and Motivation

A character must be believable.   Characters need motivation – a reason for behaving, looking, speaking and thinking the way they do.  In a sense, we need to know what a character’s short or long-term goals are, along with the reasons behind those goals.  Successful characters make us feel for them; we become interested in their fate.  They should also seem real, as in we should be able to imagine meeting them in real life.

Assignment 1 /12 K/U

Read, "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" by James Thurber.

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| |After you have read the story, answer the following questions in your journal, in full sentences: |

| |What are the five fantasies of Mitty? /5 |

| |Describe how Mitty is different in both his real life and fantasies. /4 |

| |Is Mrs. Mitty an overbearing wife? /3 |

"The Secret Life of Walter Mitty"

By James Thurber

"WE'RE going through!" The Commander's voice was like thin ice breaking. He wore his full-dress uniform, with the heavily braided white cap pulled down rakishly over one cold gray eye. "We can't make it, sir. It's spoiling for a hurricane, if you ask me." "I'm not asking you, Lieutenant Berg," said the Commander. "Throw on the power lights! Rev her up to 8500! We're going through!" The pounding of the cylinders increased: ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. The Commander stared at the ice forming on the pilot window. He walked over and twisted a row of complicated dials. "Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" he shouted. "Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!" repeated Lieutenant Berg. "Full strength in No. 3 turret!" shouted the Commander. "Full strength in No. 3 turret!" The crew, bending to their various tasks in the huge, hurtling eight-engined Navy hydroplane, looked at each other and grinned. "The Old Man'll get us through," they said to one another. "The Old Man ain't afraid of hell!" . . .

"Not so fast! You're driving too fast!" said Mrs. Mitty. "What are you driving so fast for?"

"Hmm?" said Walter Mitty. He looked at his wife, in the seat beside him, with shocked astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman who had yelled at him in a crowd. "You were up to fifty-five," she said. "You know I don't like to go more than forty. You were up to fifty-five." Walter Mitty drove on toward Waterbury in silence, the roaring of the SN202 through the worst storm in twenty years of Navy flying fading in the remote, intimate airways of his mind. "You're tensed up again," said Mrs. Mitty. "It's one of your days. I wish you'd let Dr. Renshaw look you over."

Walter Mitty stopped the car in front of the building where his wife went to have her hair done. "Remember to get those overshoes while I'm having my hair done," she said. "I don't need overshoes," said Mitty. She put her mirror back into her bag. "We've been all through that," she said, getting out of the car. "You're not a young man any longer." He raced the engine a little. "Why don't you wear your gloves? Have you lost your gloves?" Walter Mitty reached in a pocket and brought out the gloves. He put them on, but after she had turned and gone into the building and he had driven on to a red light, he took them off again. "Pick it up, brother!" snapped a cop as the light changed, and Mitty hastily pulled on his gloves and lurched ahead. He drove around the streets aimlessly for a time, and then he drove past the hospital on his way to the parking lot.

. . . "It's the millionaire banker, Wellington McMillan," said the pretty nurse. "Yes?" said Walter Mitty, removing his gloves slowly. "Who has the case?" "Dr. Renshaw and Dr. Benbow, but there are two specialists here, Dr. Remington from New York and Dr. Pritchard-Mitford from London. He flew over." A door opened down a long, cool corridor and Dr. Renshaw came out. He looked distraught and haggard. "Hello, Mitty," he said. `'We're having the devil's own time with McMillan, the millionaire banker and close personal friend of Roosevelt. Obstreosis of the ductal tract. Tertiary. Wish you'd take a look at him." "Glad to," said Mitty.

In the operating room there were whispered introductions: "Dr. Remington, Dr. Mitty. Dr. Pritchard-Mitford, Dr. Mitty." "I've read your book on streptothricosis," said Pritchard-Mitford, shaking hands. "A brilliant performance, sir." "Thank you," said Walter Mitty. "Didn't know you were in the States, Mitty," grumbled Remington. "Coals to Newcastle, bringing Mitford and me up here for a tertiary." "You are very kind," said Mitty. A huge, complicated machine, connected to the operating table, with many tubes and wires, began at this moment to go pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. "The new anesthetizer is giving away!" shouted an intern. "There is no one in the East who knows how to fix it!" "Quiet, man!" said Mitty, in a low, cool voice. He sprang to the machine, which was now going pocketa-pocketa-queep-pocketa-queep . He began fingering delicately a row of glistening dials. "Give me a fountain pen!" he snapped. Someone handed him a fountain pen. He pulled a faulty piston out of the machine and inserted the pen in its place. "That will hold for ten minutes," he said. "Get on with the operation. A nurse hurried over and whispered to Renshaw, and Mitty saw the man turn pale. "Coreopsis has set in," said Renshaw nervously. "If you would take over, Mitty?" Mitty looked at him and at the craven figure of Benbow, who drank, and at the grave, uncertain faces of the two great specialists. "If you wish," he said. They slipped a white gown on him, he adjusted a mask and drew on thin gloves; nurses handed him shining . . .

"Back it up, Mac!! Look out for that Buick!" Walter Mitty jammed on the brakes. "Wrong lane, Mac," said the parking-lot attendant, looking at Mitty closely. "Gee. Yeh," muttered Mitty. He began cautiously to back out of the lane marked "Exit Only." "Leave her sit there," said the attendant. "I'll put her away." Mitty got out of the car. "Hey, better leave the key." "Oh," said Mitty, handing the man the ignition key. The attendant vaulted into the car, backed it up with insolent skill, and put it where it belonged.

They're so damn cocky, thought Walter Mitty, walking along Main Street; they think they know everything. Once he had tried to take his chains off, outside New Milford, and he had got them wound around the axles. A man had had to come out in a wrecking car and unwind them, a young, grinning garageman. Since then Mrs. Mitty always made him drive to a garage to have the chains taken off. The next time, he thought, I'll wear my right arm in a sling; they won't grin at me then. I'll have my right arm in a sling and they'll see I couldn't possibly take the chains off myself. He kicked at the slush on the sidewalk. "Overshoes," he said to himself, and he began looking for a shoe store.

When he came out into the street again, with the overshoes in a box under his arm, Walter Mitty began to wonder what the other thing was his wife had told him to get. She had told him, twice before they set out from their house for Waterbury. In a way he hated these weekly trips to town--he was always getting something wrong. Kleenex, he thought, Squibb's, razor blades? No. Tooth paste, toothbrush, bicarbonate, Carborundum, initiative and referendum? He gave it up. But she would remember it. "Where's the what's-its- name?" she would ask. "Don't tell me you forgot the what's-its-name." A newsboy went by shouting something about the Waterbury trial.

. . . "Perhaps this will refresh your memory." The District Attorney suddenly thrust a heavy automatic at the quiet figure on the witness stand. "Have you ever seen this before?'' Walter Mitty took the gun and examined it expertly. "This is my Webley-Vickers 50.80," ho said calmly. An excited buzz ran around the courtroom. The Judge rapped for order. "You are a crack shot with any sort of firearms, I believe?" said the District Attorney, insinuatingly. "Objection!" shouted Mitty's attorney. "We have shown that the defendant could not have fired the shot. We have shown that he wore his right arm in a sling on the night of the fourteenth of July." Walter Mitty raised his hand briefly and the bickering attorneys were stilled. "With any known make of gun," he said evenly, "I could have killed Gregory Fitzhurst at three hundred feet with my left hand." Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom. A woman's scream rose above the bedlam and suddenly a lovely, dark-haired girl was in Walter Mitty's arms. The District Attorney struck at her savagely. Without rising from his chair, Mitty let the man have it on the point of the chin. "You miserable cur!" . . .

"Puppy biscuit," said Walter Mitty. He stopped walking and the buildings of Waterbury rose up out of the misty courtroom and surrounded him again. A woman who was passing laughed. "He said 'Puppy biscuit,'" she said to her companion. "That man said 'Puppy biscuit' to himself." Walter Mitty hurried on. He went into an A. & P., not the first one he came to but a smaller one farther up the street. "I want some biscuit for small, young dogs," he said to the clerk. "Any special brand, sir?" The greatest pistol shot in the world thought a moment. "It says 'Puppies Bark for It' on the box," said Walter Mitty.

His wife would be through at the hairdresser's in fifteen minutes' Mitty saw in looking at his watch, unless they had trouble drying it; sometimes they had trouble drying it. She didn't like to get to the hotel first, she would want him to be there waiting for her as usual. He found a big leather chair in the lobby, facing a window, and he put the overshoes and the puppy biscuit on the floor beside it. He picked up an old copy of Liberty and sank down into the chair. "Can Germany Conquer the World Through the Air?" Walter Mitty looked at the pictures of bombing planes and of ruined streets.

. . . "The cannonading has got the wind up in young Raleigh, sir," said the sergeant. Captain Mitty looked up at him through tousled hair. "Get him to bed," he said wearily, "with the others. I'll fly alone." "But you can't, sir," said the sergeant anxiously. "It takes two men to handle that bomber and the Archies are pounding hell out of the air. Von Richtman's circus is between here and Saulier." "Somebody's got to get that ammunition dump," said Mitty. "I'm going over. Spot of brandy?" He poured a drink for the sergeant and one for himself. War thundered and whined around the dugout and battered at the door. There was a rending of wood and splinters flew through the room. "A bit of a near thing," said Captain Mitty carelessly. 'The box barrage is closing in," said the sergeant. "We only live once, Sergeant," said Mitty, with his faint, fleeting smile. "Or do we?" He poured another brandy and tossed it off. "I never see a man could hold his brandy like you, sir," said the sergeant. "Begging your pardon, sir." Captain Mitty stood up and strapped on his huge Webley-Vickers automatic. "It's forty kilometers through hell, sir," said the sergeant. Mitty finished one last brandy. "After all," he said softly, "what isn't?" The pounding of the cannon increased; there was the rat-tat-tatting of machine guns, and from somewhere came the menacing pocketa-pocketa-pocketa of the new flame-throwers. Walter Mitty walked to the door of the dugout humming "Aupres de Ma Blonde." He turned and waved to the sergeant. "Cheerio!" he said. . . .

Something struck his shoulder. "I've been looking all over this hotel for you," said Mrs. Mitty. "Why do you have to hide in this old chair? How did you expect me to find you?" "Things close in," said Walter Mitty vaguely. "What?" Mrs. Mitty said. "Did you get the what's-its-name? The puppy biscuit? What's in that box?" "Overshoes," said Mitty. "Couldn't you have put them on in the store?" 'I was thinking," said Walter Mitty. "Does it ever occur to you that I am sometimes thinking?" She looked at him. "I'm going to take your temperature when I get you home," she said.

They went out through the revolving doors that made a faintly derisive whistling sound when you pushed them. It was two blocks to the parking lot. At the drugstore on the corner she said, "Wait here for me. I forgot something. I won't be a minute." She was more than a minute. Walter Mitty lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking. . . . He put his shoulders back and his heels together. "To hell with the handkerchief," said Waker Mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.

[pic]Assignment 2 /20 Comm

It’s time to start thinking about developing the main character for your original short story.  Use the Character Planning sheet to help you with this task. Remember that your final story will not necessarily contain every detail you list on the sheet; this is a brainstorming exercise to get you started.

Character Planning Sheet

NOTE: While not every box will apply, make sure that your sheet gives a complete understanding of your character.

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|Name of Character: |His/Her Age: |

|Character's Nickname: | |

| |Male or Female |

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|Present location: |

|Education: (elementary or high school, university, favourite subjects, relationship with teachers and students) |

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|Occupation/Vocation: |

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|Marital Status: |Recreations/Hobbies |Status/money/favourite possessions: |

|Physical Description (physical appearance, facial features, |Personality Traits (attitude, relationships with others, |

|clothing, gestures, walk…): |character flaws and/or strengths, ambitions, religion/key |

| |beliefs, culture, obsessions, superstitions, talents): |

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|What “word traits” does your character have that help to reveal his or her personality? (What they say - consider actual words, |

|diction, accent) |

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|Other characters in your story (names, physical appearance, personality, relationship with main character): |

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|Are these other characters flat, round or stock characters? |

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|What do these other characters say or think about your character? |

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|What is your main character's favourite food? Why? |

|What is your main character's astrological sign? Why? |

|What is your character's motivation? |

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|What obstacles will your character encounter in his or her attempts to fulfill this motivation? |

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|Give the above, is your main character flat or round? Explain. |

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|Please add ONE more aspect of your character here: (remember to explain why!) |

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|Student readers please add ONE more aspect for this character here: (remember to explain why!) |

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Activity 3: Conflict and Scene

/13 T

Content

Conflict and scene work together to create tension and drama. Whether the scene is comic, tragic or somewhere in between, a story relies on the interaction between a character and the following to stimulate the reader’s interest. Conflict is usually defined as one or more of the following:

|[pic] |[pic]Person vs. Person |[pic] |

|Person vs. Society | |Person vs. Self |

|[pic] |[pic] |

|Person vs. Circumstances or |Person vs. Supernatural |

|Environment | |

All scenes – and stories – rely on these common conflicts to create the kind of tension that keeps a reader turning the pages.  Key scenes allow the main character to move the story forward or reveal important information through conflict.  Often, this conflict involves competition of some kind since each character – or force – comes into the scene wanting something of the other.  Shifts in power take place but eventually, someone or something has to lose and the other side has to win – for now.  This competition can be verbal, as in a discussion or argument; it may also take place within the thoughts of a character. Finally, it may be physical in nature:  a series of grimaces, gestures, a fight, or a long journey across the unforgiving heat of the desert.   Any combination of the above is also possible.  A good writer chooses her “big scenes” wisely, making sure that their competitive element highlights the major conflict of the story.

Inner and Outer Conflicts:

Interior and exterior conflicts are usually connected to the main character of a story. Inner conflicts refer to what’s going on in a character’s mind: what are his or her needs, motivation, wants or desires. Exterior conflict focuses on a character’s relationships with other individuals, society in general or the environment. Some stories concentrate on the interior experience of a character; others use dialogue and action to explore the main character’s exterior conflicts.

Assignment /13 T/I

[pic]

[pic]Assignment 1: Understanding the Story

Read, "The Cask of Amontillado” by Edgar Allen Poe.

1. Read the story carefully. Note all the moments of conflict between Montresor and Fortunato and /5

2. Make specific notes on the use of conflict in this story, using examples from the story. /5

3. Decide if which conflict you think this story most falls under, and provide proof from the story. /3

THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO

by Edgar Allan Poe

(1846)

THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely, settled --but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.

It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my in to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my to smile now was at the thought of his immolation.

He had a weak point --this Fortunato --although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity, to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially; --I was skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could.

It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand.

I said to him --"My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking to-day. But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts."

"How?" said he. "Amontillado, A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!"

"I have my doubts," I replied; "and I was silly enough to pay the full Amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain."

"Amontillado!"

"I have my doubts."

"Amontillado!"

"And I must satisfy them."

"Amontillado!"

"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchresi. If any one has a critical turn it is he. He will tell me --"

"Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry."

"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own.

"Come, let us go."

"Whither?"

"To your vaults."

"My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an engagement. Luchresi--"

"I have no engagement; --come."

"My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre."

"Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have been imposed upon. And as for Luchresi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado."

Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm; and putting on a mask of black silk and drawing a roquelaire closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.

There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in honour of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the morning, and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned.

I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood together upon the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors.

The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he strode.

"The pipe," he said.

"It is farther on," said I; "but observe the white web-work which gleams from these cavern walls."

He turned towards me, and looked into my eves with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.

"Nitre?" he asked, at length.

"Nitre," I replied. "How long have you had that cough?"

"Ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh!"

My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.

"It is nothing," he said, at last.

"Come," I said, with decision, "we will go back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is Luchresi --"

"Enough," he said; "the cough's a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough."

"True --true," I replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily --but you should use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will defend us from the damps.

Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row of its fellows that lay upon the mould.

"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine.

He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his bells jingled.

"I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us."

"And I to your long life."

He again took my arm, and we proceeded.

"These vaults," he said, "are extensive."

"The Montresors," I replied, "were a great and numerous family."

"I forget your arms."

"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel."

"And the motto?"

"Nemo me impune lacessit."

"Good!" he said.

The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had passed through long walls of piled skeletons, with casks and puncheons intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the catacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow.

"The nitre!" I said; "see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the vaults. We are below the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your cough --"

"It is nothing," he said; "let us go on. But first, another draught of the Medoc."

I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not understand.

I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement --a grotesque one.

"You do not comprehend?" he said.

"Not I," I replied.

"Then you are not of the brotherhood."

"How?"

"You are not of the masons."

"Yes, yes," I said; "yes, yes."

"You? Impossible! A mason?"

"A mason," I replied.

"A sign," he said, "a sign."

"It is this," I answered, producing from beneath the folds of my roquelaire a trowel.

"You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. "But let us proceed to the Amontillado."

"Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak and again offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route in search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame.

At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. From the fourth side the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior crypt or recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no especial use within itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one of their circumscribing walls of solid granite.

It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavoured to pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not enable us to see.

"Proceed," I said; "herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchresi --"

"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stepped unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In niche, and finding an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back from the recess.

"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed, it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the little attentions in my power."

"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.

"True," I replied; "the Amontillado."

As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which I have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche.

I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered that the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. The earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The noise lasted for several minutes, during which, that I might hearken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labours and sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed the trowel, and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh tier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with my breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within.

A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a brief moment I hesitated, I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, and felt satisfied. I reapproached the wall; I replied to the yells of him who clamoured. I re-echoed, I aided, I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamourer grew still.

It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said--

"Ha! ha! ha! --he! he! he! --a very good joke, indeed --an excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo --he! he! he! --over our wine --he! he! he!"

"The Amontillado!" I said.

"He! he! he! --he! he! he! --yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone."

"Yes," I said, "let us be gone."

"For the love of God, Montresor!"

"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!"

But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I called aloud --

"Fortunato!"

No answer. I called again --

"Fortunato!"

No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells. My heart grew sick; it was the dampness of the catacombs that made it so. I hastened to make an end of my labour. I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat!

Activity 4: Plot and Structure

/24 Comm /15 App

Content

For most of us, plot is the events of a story while structure is how those events are arranged at the beginning, middle and end to tell that story.  For instance, a writer might begin a story with the waking thoughts and emotions of a character.  The story may contain each event of that day, one after the other, until that character falls into bed at night.  This chronological or linear structure is one of the commonest examples of a plot structure.

|[pic] |Here, the first part of the story, the exposition |

| |(a) is directly followed by a series of events or |

| |complications (b-e) that lead to the big scene |

| |ending in a climax (f).  Following this is the |

| |story’s conclusion or dénouement (g) |

Not all plots and structures are linear. 

Read "Maternal Ties,” a story by Sable Sweetgrass. 

Maternal Ties- By Sable Sweetgrass

When I graduated back in 2011 from the Faculty of Law at the University of Calgary, I

was wearing my family’s elk tooth dress underneath a purple graduation robe. I had asked the

grad committee if I would be able to wear the dress alone, but my request was denied.

I decided to wear it anyway, underneath their robe. Just before my name was called I

planned to slip off my shoes and put on my grandma Annie’s moccasins which were tucked under

my arms, beneath the robes. My grandma Annie was there, so was my mom and dad, and I had

told them to look at my feet when I went up there to accept my degree, so that they would know

that underneath I had on the dress.

I sat there listening to the names being called out followed by the applause and camera

flashes as each graduating student had their moment. My name, Mary Stands Alone, daughter of

Pearline and Alex Stands Alone, was still far off and so I pulled my right hand into the robe and I

held the beaded and quilled amulet that hung from my neck. I let go and started stroking the

hundreds of elk teeth sewn onto the midnight blue wool, feeling the rows and rows of smooth

polished teeth running from the neck to the waist. I could imagine the pride my great, great

grandmother Appanii would have had wearing her dress.

Grandma tells me that Appanii gave her dress over to her daughter Sikotan when she

came home from boarding school. For a woman the elk tooth dress was a symbol of status and

achievement, the more teeth the more prominent, and the dress had hundreds. My great grandma

Sikotan was the first person in our family to go to the boarding school and the first to speak

English. Grandma says that her mom was to wear the dress to the Okan, the sundance, that

summer where it was held secretly. However, when her mom got home from the school she

refused to put the dress on. What was worse was that Sikotan’s baby cord amulet she had worn

since birth was gone, taken away from her at the school.

My grandma says that her mother Sikotan was a devoted Catholic. The dress that

Appanii tried to give her and the amulet that Sikotan would have worn throughout her life were

no longer of value to her in her new faith, new education.

My mom says that when she found the elk tooth dress at the Glenbow Museum 25 years

ago, she also found Sikotan’s amulet in a box containing dozens of other baby cord amulets.

Sikotan’s English name was tagged to both the dress and the amulet, Mary Theresa Crying Head.

When mom pressed the amulet between her fingers she could feel her grandmother and great

grandmother’s umbilical cord still inside.

Mom was a nursing aid at the Indian Hospital in Cardston at the time. She went

to the museum to physically assist the elders who were brought there to help the curators obtain

more information on the their Blackfoot artifacts. She said that the storage area was like a maze

of wall sized cabinets filled to capacity with the belongings of our people. Mom and the other

people there to assist the elders stood still and silent as the curators opened one cabinet after

another. They saw rattles, whistles, ceremonial clothing and headdresses, medicine shields, pipes

and bundles. Cabinet after cabinet held more Kainai history: children’s clothing, men’s clothing,

dolls, weapons, moccasins, tipis, story robes, winter counts, the list went on and on. Mom asked

the curators where the elk teeth dresses were located. She said that as her and the curator

approached the cabinets that held all these women’s dresses, the doors of the cabinet were already

open. Sikotan’s dress was in there, in the first drawer mom pulled out.

Mom stood by the dress taking off the white gloves that were mandatory in the museum’s

collection area and started counting all the elk teeth, running her fingers along the stitching,

wanting so badly to put the dress on, to take it home. She found several strands of long gray hair

stuck in the fastenings of the elk teeth and delicately placed them inside one of the white gloves, then the gloves into her pocket.

One of the elders cried out that they had found their baby cord amulet and mom went

over to her. In a long rectangular metal box lay dozens of amulets; one of them back around the

neck of it’s owner. That elder who found them started pulling out the rest of them and reading

out the few amulets that had names printed on them. One of the names, Mary Theresa Wells, was

the English name of my great grandma Sikotan.

Mom says that she returned to the cabinet that held her grandma’s dress. There was an

item card sitting next to it and she turned it over. The owners name Mary Theresa Wells, was

printed on it, as well as the person who sold it to the museum, Annie Crying Wolf.

My name would be called next. I took my grandma Annie’s moccasins from under my

arms and dropped them to the floor. I removed my shoes with my feet and bent over to pull on

the moccasins. “Mary Stands Alone,” they called out and I stood up. I made my way toward the

stage, the elk teeth under my robe clicking together with each step, people clapping and several

camera flashes coming from the back of the auditorium where my mom and grandma were

sitting. I went up the seven steps to the top looking across the stage floor to the president of the U

of C who waited for me to accept my degree. I stopped and stood still for a moment.

It was my grandma Annie who sold the dress to the museum. A decision that she tells me

over and over will never stop hurting in her. It was a decision she had to make at that time in her

life. Just out of boarding school, her mother Sikotan and grandma Appanii both since passed

away, she married my grandpa John Crying Wolf at the age of 16. Grandma had inherited

Sikotan’s elk tooth dress and she says that she would wear it around the house all the time.

In those days grandma says there was more poverty, more poverty and desperation. With

four kids and another baby on the way, grandma and grandpa started selling off the few valuable

things that they owned; livestock, farming equipment, furniture, and Sikotan’s elk tooth dress.

It was a teacher and the priest from St. Mary’s who brought the men from the museum

over to my grandparents place. They were bringing them around the reserve because these men

were looking for things to put on display in their Banff museum. They saw my grandma wearing

her dress as she served them the little food and tea they had in their cupboards and offered her

$70 for her dress. Grandma says that the $70 she got for her dress was enough to get them by

with food for another two winter months.

My mom never left that museum empty handed. Her and the elder who found the baby

cord amulets would not leave without them. It was 1988 and the museum was getting ready to

display their biggest exhibit of Aboriginal artifacts for the Calgary Olympics. That whole group

of elders mom was with were upset and angry at what they had to leave behind and they all

refused to leave without the two amulets. I guess the curators let them go, so as not to cause any

controversy at the opening of their big exhibit. So they left, mom with Sikotan’s amulet around

her neck, and the elders determined to get back all of our ancestors belongings.

It seemed like forever that I stood on that stage at the top of the steps, but it was only a

few seconds. It took me only a few seconds to make up my mind to do what I did. I took off my

purple graduation robe, pulling it over my head to get it off. The clapping died down instantly

and I could hear people talking and some people snickering. The robe was off and I hung it over

my right arm in front of me and continued on to the podium. I stood next to the president and

accepted my degree, taking it from her as she gave a faint, polite smile. I had on my family’s elk

tooth dress, though not the dress that was made for my great grandmother Sikotan, which was still

locked up in the storage spaces of the museum. Instead I was wearing the elk tooth dress that my

mom and grandma had spent that past year making me. What I did have that belonged to my

great grandmother Sikotan was the baby cord amulet. Inside it Appanii and Sikotan’s umbilical cord, worn to keep the ties of mother and daughter strong.

While the structure and plot of this story does not follow a straight path,  there can be no doubt  that Mary Stands Alone has both a “straight mind” and a “straight heart!”  This kind of plot is known as the parallel structure; two storylines are told at the same time.  Sable Sweetgrass uses a series of flashbacks to create this kind of plot:

|[pic] |Here, the exposition (a) contains the scene that |

| |takes place just before the climax (f); after this|

| |is a series of flashbacks (b-e) that provide |

| |needed background.  Then comes the big scene with |

| |the completed climax (f) followed by the |

| |denouement (g). |

A third plot structure is the open ended structure.  In this type of story, the plot events build to a climax but there is no conclusion or denouement.

|[pic] |While the exposition and complications follow the |

| |traditional pattern, the conclusion is left open |

| |ended.  The reader is simply left with a series of|

| |questions at the end of the story.  |

Sometimes this ending will be very dramatic and is referred to as a story with a cliff-hanger ending. At other times, the plot simply ends, allowing the reader to draw his or her own conclusions without clearly stating the denouement.

 

Did You Know?

|[pic] | |

| | |

| |Sable Sweetgrass is a member of Kainai Nation and lives in Calgary, Alberta.  Her story, “Maternal|

| |Ties”, won the Dominion Institute’s 2006 Aboriginal Youth Writing Challenge.  She is 29 years old |

| |and is a single mother to her three year old son, Zachary.  She says that she wrote her first |

| |story “in detention in grade six and haven’t stopped writing since.”  Ms. Sweetgrass is currently |

| |finishing her bachelor’s degree in English at the University of Calgary.  About her story, she |

| |says that she hopes “that I have been able to express the loss experienced by five generations of |

| |an individual family of women…When Mary takes off her graduation robe to reveal her family's elk |

| |tooth dress and Sikotan's baby cord amulet, it is not just in defiance of the institution, but her|

| |way of acknowledging the generations of women in her family.” |

| | |

Assignment /24 Comm

Assignment 1: Understanding the Story

|[pic] | |

| |Read the following questions about “Maternal Ties” answer: |

| |In her comments on this story, the Sable Sweetgrass mentions that it is written to acknowledge the generations of |

| |Aboriginal women in the main character’s family. By referring to at least three incidents, demonstrate how she uses |

| |the parallel plot of this story to build tension to the point where Mary Stands Alone takes off her graduation robe to|

| |proclaim her heritage. /6 |

| |The graduation ceremony is over.  An official from the Law School approaches Mary and asks her to justify why she has |

| |defied tradition and removed her graduation robe.  “How could you be so disrespectful of our ceremony by taking off |

| |your gown?” she asks.  In a response of 150-200 words, give Mary’s explanation for her actions. /8 |

| |The following poem/prayer was written for all First Nation’s peoples: |

| |A First Nation’s Prayer |

| |O Great Spirit, |

| |Whose voice I hear in the winds, |

| |And whose breath gives life |

| | to all the world, |

| |Hear me. |

| |I am small and weak. |

| |I need your strength and wisdom. |

| |Let me walk in beauty, and |

| |make my eyes ever behold |

| |the red and purple sunset. |

| |Make me wise so that I may |

| |understand the things you |

| |have taught my people. |

| |Let me learn the lessons you |

| |have hidden in every leaf |

| |and every rock. |

| |I seek strength, not to be |

| |greater than my brother or |

| |sister but to fight my greatest |

| |enemy – myself. |

| |Make me always ready to |

| |come to you with clean |

| |hands and straight eyes. |

| |So when life fades, like the |

| |fading sunset, my spirit may |

| |come to you without shame. |

| | |

| |(Poem from Mindemoya Health Centre/M’Chigeeng Health Clinic,Manitoulin Island) |

| |[pic] |

| | |

| | |

| |You are Mary Stands Alone and have just read this prayer. Comment on the appropriateness of this prayer given your |

| |situation in “Maternal Ties.” Remember to refer to specific moments in the plot of the story that relate to the |

| |concept of human dignity to support your statements. You may write your comment in any format – poem, prayer, journal |

| |entry, letter – that you deem appropriate. /10 |

 

[pic]Assignment 2: Working with Plot and Structure /15 App

[pic]Complete the following assignment and submit your work to your teacher.

By now, you should have some ideas about the plot and structure of your original story. Complete the Plot Outline Planning Sheet; when you are finished, please submit it to your teacher.

ENG3U - Writing a Plot Outline for an Original Short Story

| | |

|Critical Questions regarding Plot: |Your Answers: |

| |You have just begun the process of working through the plot outline for your |

|What type of plot (linear, parallel or open-ended)|original short story. |

|will you be using in your story? |Answer the following the questions on the side to explain the plot of your |

|Where and when does the main action occur? How |story. If you wish, you may draw a diagram of the plot structure you have chosen|

|strong is the impact of the setting on the plot of|to assist your explanation. Remember to keep the needs of your specific audience|

|the story? |in mind as you work through your plot structure. |

|Who are the main characters? Who are the minor | |

|characters? What characters’ quirks or | |

|characteristics, if any, are most crucial to the | |

|plot? | |

|What are the central conflict and secondary | |

|conflict(s)? | |

|What is the protagonist’s goal or purpose in the | |

|story? | |

|What obstacles or antagonists are blocking the | |

|path? What is the goal or purpose of the | |

|antagonists? | |

|Why do these conflicts come about? | |

|How are the conflicts resolved? How does the | |

|protagonist achieve his or her goal? | |

|How do the main characters change during the | |

|story, or as a result of the story’s events? | |

| | |

|Beginning, Middle, Ending… | |

| | |

|What happens at the beginning? Introduce important| |

|characters and the main conflict. | |

|What happens in the middle? Tell more about the | |

|characters, conflicts, and how the challenges are | |

|tackled. | |

|What happens at the end? Tie up loose ends in a | |

|conclusion where the conflicts are resolved, the | |

|problems are solved, and the character has | |

|changed. | |

| |Exposition: |

| |Complications and Climax: |

| |Dénouement: |

Activity 5: Point of View

/10 K/U /10 App

Major Points of View

In writing there are usually THREE major points of view, first person, third person omniscient objective and third person omniscient limited. Here are their key features:

|  |

|Point of View |Key Features |Example |

|First Person Participant|narrator uses “I” |“I opened the door and shivered when I saw what |

| |narrator is often the main character |awaited me.” |

| |everything that happens in the story is told from| |

| |this character’s perspective | |

|Third Person Omniscient |appears like a camera |“Scott and Katie walked to the store, slowly hand|

|Objective |readers do not know the inner thoughts of the |in hand.” The reached the store where they met |

| |characters |Hannah. |

|Third Person Omniscient |narrator uses “he”, “she” or “they” |“As John gazed at her protectively behind the |

|Limited |does not participate in the story |stairwell, Andrea opened the door, shivering with|

| |is “all-knowing” and is therefore able to see |fear. “I hope she’ll be OK”, thought John. |

| |into the minds of all characters |“I can’t believe it”, she thought, “the stairs to|

| |can move from one character to another |the basement are made of bones.”  She tried not |

| | |to make eye contact with John. |

As you can see, an author’s choice of point of view profoundly affects a reader’s understanding of a story.  There are two other considerations with point of view:

• Unreliable narrator:  the narrator is either sneaky, deceiving, perhaps even deluded or entirely deranged.  Many of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories rely on this kind of narrator, as in “The Tell-Tale Heart” or the “The Cask of Amontillado.” 

• Naïve Narrator: a character who fails to understand the full meaning of the story.  In Flowers for Algernon, a novel by Daniel Keyes, the main character is a mentally challenged adult. His observations about the people around him, and his interactions with them, reflect this. 

Assignment: /10 K/U

Use one of the stories we have read and complete:

|Point of View Analysis |

|Title of Story: |

| |

|Point of View: (first person observer, third person limited, |Evidence: (choose quotations which demonstrate this point of |

|unreliable narrator…) |view) |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

| | |

|How does this point of view affect your understanding of the story? |

| |

| |

| |

| |

| |

| |

| |

Assignment 2: Understanding Point of View /10 App

This is your opportunity to experiment with point of view. Choose an important yet unwritten scene of your original story and create an initial draft of it, choosing the first person point of view.  Then rewrite the scene from another point of view – perhaps third.  Each scene should be about 200 words in length.  You may also choose to use an unreliable or innocent narrator in one of your versions. 

Activity 6: Culminating Activity

You ought to be able to discover something from your stories. If you don’t, probably no one else will.

Flannery O’Connor, American writer

 

Theme is perhaps the hardest aspect of a short story to determine.  Many aspiring writers believe that the most challenging part of the writing process is coming up with a ‘great idea’ to write about.  For most writers, however, this is the easy part: it is putting flesh on the theme, turning it into characters, conflict, and other story elements that proves to be difficult.

However, no discussion of the short story should be without some consideration of theme.  Perhaps the best definition of theme is that it is the question, message or insight that the reader will take away from the story.  In a sense, it might be considered the story’s lasting impact. 

[pic]The Power of Parables

Some writers begin with a theme in mind. Others, such as Flannery O’Connor suggest that a writer might not know what the theme is:  it will be discovered as the character and plot of the story develop.  Some stories have a clear moral theme. However, in literary fiction, the theme is usually not so obvious.  Often, the theme can be found in the new growth and maturity of the main character; at other times, the theme can be found in a reference to the title of a story.  The author or narrator may even go so far as to make a statement about life during the story.  Finally, in some stories, the use of special symbols, aspects of the setting or even repeated phrases and images can suggest a theme.   

Assignment /40 All Strands Summative

[pic]

The universe is made up of stories, not of atoms.

Muriel Rukeyser, American poet

This assignment allows you to demonstrate your understanding of short stories by combining the various elements you have studied into the final draft of your original story. 

This assignment allows you to demonstrate your understanding of short stories by combining the various elements you have studied into the final draft of your original story. 

Your original story should contain and make successful use of: 

setting,

characters,

conflict and scene,

plot and

point of view. 

You may use any of the written material you have thus far submitted in your final draft. 

As you prepare to write your draft, consider the theme of the story.  Will you focus on relationships, on raising questions about our treatment of each other?  Perhaps your story will explore humans and their interaction with the environment.  Or, your story may create whole new worlds and populate them with mythical creatures.  With all of this, you must consider what the reader will take away from the story.  After the last scene has ended what insight, message or question will linger.  This will be the ultimate impact of your story. 

Good luck with your writing! 

|Short Story |

|Categories |Level 1 |Level 2 |Level 3 |Level 4 |

| |(50 - 59%) |(60 - 69%) |(70 - 79%) |(80 - 100%) |

|Knowledge and Understanding |demonstrates limited |demonstrates some |demonstrates |demonstrates a high |

|the elements of a short story |understanding of the |understanding of the |considerable |degree of understanding|

|(setting, characterization, |elements of a short |elements of a short |understanding of the |of the elements of a |

|conflict and scene, plot and |story |story |elements of a short |short story |

|point of view) | | |story | |

|Thinking and Uses Uses |uses critical thinking|uses critical thinking|uses critical thinking |uses critical thinking |

|critical thinking skills to |skills to develop the |skills to develop the |skills to develop the |skills to develop the |

|develop the elements of a |elements of a short |elements of a short |elements of a short |elements of a short |

|short story |story with limited |story with some |story with considerable|story with a high |

| |effectiveness |effectiveness |effectiveness |degree of effectiveness|

|Application |applies the elements |applies the elements |applies the elements of|applies the elements of|

|Applies the elements of a |of a short story to |of a short story to |a short story to |a short story to |

|short story to original story |original story with |original story with |original story with |original story with a |

| |limited effectiveness |some effectiveness |considerable |high degree of |

| | | |effectiveness |effectiveness |

|Communication |uses language |uses language |uses language |uses language |

|Use of language conventions |conventions with |conventions with some |conventions with |conventions with a high|

| |limited effectiveness |effectiveness |considerable |degree of effectiveness|

| | | |effectiveness | |

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