Personal Essay - Franklin Rewrite

Into the Outback

Personal Essay

By: Cassie Thompson

Word Count: 780

Intended Publication: Lives

            The Land Rover bounced along the red dirt, down a path that could barely be considered a road.  All around stood bare brown bushes, yellowing grass, and miles of nothingness.  I ground my teeth, sure that once the sun set we would be lost.  The danger of running into a kangaroo also became more present, though I was hopeful that our sturdy truck would survive a collision.

I was on a four-day service expedition to a remote mining town in the desert of Western Australia.  Riding with me was my close friend Nathalie from my school in the United States, a girl from Singapore, and our leader, who was an Australian.  I was stressed about spending the weekend in a predominantly Aboriginal community, since I hadn’t interacted with them very much.  I had heard many white Australians in Perth saying how mean, dangerous, and untrustworthy they all were and my passing experiences with them hadn’t changed my mind.  Whenever I saw them on buses or on the streets they seemed aggressive and loud.  Before the trip, the coordinators had given us several tips, including; don’t ask Aboriginal people any direct questions about themselves or they’ll think you’re being nosy.  This worried me even more.

Luckily, the Aboriginal children we met at school the next day were nothing like I had feared.  They were energetic, friendly, and took to us very quickly.  We were invited to join the children on a true outback, or ‘bush’ experience led by an Aboriginal policeman, Rex.  Rex dressed like a cowboy: flannel shirt, brimmed straw hat, light jeans, and leather boots.  He was the stand up man of the Aboriginal community and he often took the children out to learn about their heritage and the bush.

            Twenty adorable and energetic children piled into Rex’s truck and ours, climbing over us to look out the windows, or clambering into the driver’s seat to help steer.  I found it oddly comforting when one small boy wanted to sit on my lap for the whole day.  I felt that I had been accepted into this little community almost immediately.  We followed Rex along dirt paths, winding through the scrub bushes and around rocky outcroppings.  Although I immediately felt lost, somehow he seemed to know exactly where he was going. 

Every few minutes Rex would stop to show us something and tell a story.  He told us about water holes, different uses of plants, and the huts that Aboriginal people had lived in up until the 1970’s.  I was amazed by Rex’s knowledge and willingness to share with us as outsiders.  All of my fears had been unjustified and I started to feel a little ashamed of my preconceived notions.

As we drove towards a large rocky outcropping, the children all began whispering to us quietly about how Bigfoot lived up on the hill and how so and so had seen him one night.  I thought the story must be true since all of the children in our truck were warning us of the danger with such solemn eyes.

            In the late afternoon, we stopped at a large salt river near the Aboriginal settlement.  Rex told us that the river had healing powers and confessed that he came down once a month for a soak to rejuvenate his body.  The children raced to the water, abandoning shoes and shirts; we soon followed.  I squished along the mossy bottom, trying not to worry that I couldn’t see my feet through the mud stirred up by the children.  After a few minutes I started enjoying myself and dug my toes into the mud below. It was freeing, almost, to let go of any discomfort and focus on the warm water around me.

            The children seemed to enjoy dripping all over us on the way back, but I was dirty enough that I didn’t care and hugged one close.  Nathalie had a young girl sitting on her lap, who was comparing their complexions.  “My skin is normal but yours is white,” remarked the girl as she put her arm next to Nathalie’s.  Nathalie and I stared at one another, shocked by such a profound comment coming from a child.  The girl said no more about it and moved on to the next topic.

Her comment wasn’t meant to make us feel alienated, it was purely a statement of fact that she found interesting.  The Aboriginal children had taken to us with ease, despite potential beliefs about white people, if they even thought about them.  They allowed us to share in their culture and learn things that we never could have without their openness and kindness, something the stereotypes never accounted for.

Franklin Outline

Complication: Stereotypes scare Cassie

Development:

1)   Cassie meets children

2)   Cassie goes Outback

3)   Children accept Cassie

Resolution: Cassie learns

Frank Sinatra Has a Cold response (Week 5)

The profile on Frank Sinatra was a pleasure to read, and the length of it didn’t seem as hefty because of its quality.  The amount of information that Gay Talese was able to get just by hanging around Sinatra and talking to people who knew him is incredible.  For the first ¾ of the piece there are no quotes from Sinatra himself, the story is told through the eyes of the narrator, looking on from afar. 

I really enjoyed the structure of the piece with its discourses away from the main chronology of events giving the story a much greater depth.  The chain of events gave Talese many opportunities to share more about Sinatra’s childhood and family without the information seeming out of place.  I will try and experiment with this technique in my future pieces because I really enjoyed reading this style. Talese seems to know Frank personally with everything he knows, but it just comes from extensive observation.

One thing that stuck with me from the very beginning of the piece was the description of Frank Sinatra.  The way that it grew out of Sinatra lighting a cigarette for one of his blonde companions, focusing on his hands and then moving on to his other features.  The little detail about the woman who makes $400 a week to carry his hair around was great.  I definitely will try to pay attention to details when I am writing my profile because I think that these physical descriptions can actually reveal a lot about the character, something that Talese has done very well.

This profile has definitely given me a lot to think, and worry, about as I continue to do more work on my piece.  I look forward to hearing what all of you thought about it.

Writing for Story response (week 4)

Writing for Story gave me quite a few things to think about as I approach the upcoming profile assignment.  I was especially interested in Franklin’s suggestions about structure as far as framing every story with a complication and resolution.  Looking back, I don’t know if I have ever knowingly did this, but in many cases it definitely would have helped me.  I think my personal essay definitely could have benefited from me using this organizational tactic.

I was intrigued by Franklin’s ability to turn a sad story into one of triumph just by rewording the complication and resolution on which the story was based.  In Mrs. Kelly’s Monster he tells the sad story of Mrs. Kelly’s death, but by focusing on the internal struggle within Dr. Ducker instead Franklin makes it a story about resolve instead.  I will certainly keep this strategy in mind when I am writing my profile in the event that I uncover something really sad and unfortunate. 

Lastly, I was struck by Franklin’s ability to detect a good untold story and I definitely wanted to talk more about this in class.  So, my discussion questions;

1)   What sort of starting questions can lead us to the real story when interviewing someone? Should we go in with some sort of strategy or let the conversation grow organically?

2)   Franklin says to leave character until as the very end of writing.  Do you agree? Disagree?

3)   Franklin talks about always having a positive resolution.  Looking back at our other readings, what sort of resolution was there in the story Trina and Trina?  Does that work have a positive ending?  Did the complication and resolution focus on Trina or the narrator?

Into the Outback (final draft)

            The Land Rover bounced along the red dirt, down a path that could barely be considered a road.  All around stood bare brown bushes, yellowing grass, and miles of nothingness.  I ground my teeth, sure that once the sun set we would be lost.  The danger of running into a kangaroo also became more present, though I was hopeful that our sturdy truck would survive a collision.

I was on a four-day service expedition to a remote mining town in the desert of Western Australia.  Riding with me was my close friend Nathalie from my school in the United States, a girl from Singapore, and our leader, who was an Australian.  Our job was to interact with the town’s children and set up various activities to entertain them.  I was stressed over having to spend a whole weekend with children, who I have always found to be needy and obnoxious in large doses.

Luckily, the Aboriginal children we met at school the next day were nothing like I had feared.  They were energetic, friendly, and self-sufficient.  It was barely necessary for us to do anything at all except provide entertainment and supervision. If a younger child fell down or two children got into an argument, the others were always there to soothe them, or quell the disagreement.  Their independence was refreshing and it was heart-warming, to see them care for one another even if they weren’t blood relatives.

            We were invited to join the children on a true outback, or ‘bush’ experience led by an Aboriginal policeman, Rex.  Rex dressed like a cowboy: flannel shirt, brimmed straw hat, light jeans, and leather boots.  He was the stand up man of the Aboriginal community and he often took the children out to learn about their heritage and the bush.

            Twenty adorable and energetic children piled into Rex’s truck and ours, climbing over us to look out the windows, or clambering into the driver’s seat to help steer.  I found it oddly comforting when one small boy wanted to sit on my lap for the whole day.  I felt that I had been accepted into this little community almost immediately.  We followed Rex along dirt paths, winding through the scrub bushes and around rocky outcroppings.  Although I immediately felt lost, somehow he seemed to know exactly where he was going. 

Every few minutes Rex would stop to show us something and tell a story.  He told us about water holes, different uses of plants, and the huts that Aboriginal people had lived in up until the 1970’s.  I was amazed by Rex’s knowledge and willingness to share with us as outsiders.  I learned more about Aboriginal culture and bush survival in those few hours than many white Australians would know in their whole lives. 

As we drove towards a large rocky outcropping, the children all began whispering to us quietly about how Bigfoot lived up on the hill and how so and so had seen him one night.  I thought the story must be true since all of the children in our truck were warning us of the danger with such solemn eyes.

            In the late afternoon, we stopped at a large salt river near the Aboriginal settlement.  Rex told us that the river had healing powers and confessed that he came down once a month for a soak to rejuvenate his body.  The children raced to the water, abandoning shoes and shirts; we soon followed.  I squished along the mossy bottom, trying not to worry that I couldn’t see my feet through the mud stirred up by the children.  After a few minutes I started enjoying myself and dug my toes into the mud below. It was freeing, almost, to let go of any discomfort and focus on the warm water around me.

            The children seemed to enjoy dripping all over us on the way back, but I was dirty enough that I didn’t care and hugged one close.  Nathalie had a young girl sitting on her lap, who was comparing their complexions.  “My skin is normal but yours is white,” remarked the girl as she put her arm next to Nathalie’s.  Nathalie and I stared at one another, shocked by such a profound comment coming from a child.  The girl said no more about it and moved on to the next topic.

Her comment wasn’t meant to make us feel alienated, it was purely a statement of fact that she found interesting.  The Aboriginal children had taken to us with ease, despite our physical differences, if they even thought about them.  They allowed us to share in their culture and learn things that we never could have without their openness and acceptance.  

Word Count: 782

Intended Publication: Lives