· Who is my audience (What kind of readers? What age? What interests? What connections to other writers? What level of Writing/reading?)
My audience is comprised of young/adult readers who have completed at least Middle School and can comprehend reading material with words not seen in your typical magazine.
· What is my purpose (what do I want to tell my readers and why? How do I want my readers to respond? What do I want them to know for sure? What do I want them to have to figure out for themselves? AND What do they want to get out of reading my essay? How will what I write connect to my readers/ how will they use my writing?)
I want my reader to realize that there is no point in living if you can’t feel alive. That we all only have one life to live and that it should not be spent pondering “what if’s” and thinking about what could have been…
· In what context will my writing be read? (=> how will readers read my essay? What will they be doing as they read? Where will they be? How will they feel? )
The reader will have to visualize my essay due to the fact that it is an account of the past. There will be many adjectives to assist them in picturing these accounts. They will feel as if they are in the story.
· What form should I use to achieve my purposes (think about the forms described by Root, and about the forms of the essays you have read.) How should you organize your material to connect to your audience + achieve your purpose? How will you use the FORM of your essay to help your reader understand what you are writing?)
Segmented essay; possibly one that contrasts/compares the past and the present. Using this form will help the reader decide whether there has been progress or a decline in the evolution of characters.
How will you test your essay to make sure you are successful in achieving your purpose? Reaching your audience?
Allow a few people to read it prior to handing it in.
Rough Draft
Monday, September 24, 2007
So yeah, this is my first post...Blogger seems up there with the rest of the competition. It has things that other blogs don't have and vice versa.
I didn't much around with the HTML and coding too much since I didn't really have much time...I changed the background to a view of Tokyo...one of my Top 3 Favorite Cities in the universe.
Below the links to my fellow classmates' blogs I put a list of videos featuring the guys I skateboard with so you can check that out if you'd like.
Since this is a writing class I'll throw in an old homework assignment which required us to write a poem that used alliteration, onomatopoeia, assonance and a plethora of other poetic devices.
I didn't much around with the HTML and coding too much since I didn't really have much time...I changed the background to a view of Tokyo...one of my Top 3 Favorite Cities in the universe.
Below the links to my fellow classmates' blogs I put a list of videos featuring the guys I skateboard with so you can check that out if you'd like.
Since this is a writing class I'll throw in an old homework assignment which required us to write a poem that used alliteration, onomatopoeia, assonance and a plethora of other poetic devices.
Mr. Renaissance Man
His finger tips tip-toe across the keyboard on their way to Backspace Boulevard
He’s made several slip-ups while tap, tap, tapping a little less than hard
His finger prints appear to be leaving bizarre scars
Yet no one will wonder what they are
They call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
His scars and mistakes are loud like angry animals, but are magically minimal
His influence on the world makes them suddenly subliminal
Jack and his trade’s bring him fans and phenomenal praise
Though they don’t realize his title needs a rephrase
They still call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
His pencil point outputs a dry smile of Mona Lisa
A completely traced disgrace he’ll hand in to the teacher
His pencil’s lead appears to have left bizarre scars upon the paper
Where there are clues he’ll clean them up later
They’ll still call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
He plays piano with his fingers as if they weighed like light
Causing him to barely break the notes in quite right
He’s missed multiple notes while maneuvering measures
Yet in the eyes of many, his footnotes are tiny treasures
And so, they call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
Swoop, smack, slam…two karate kicks, a miss, and then the land
His form’s flawed; yet he’s hypnotized humanity to find it grand
Both his ebony eye and ruined wrist are blunt bizarre scars
Yet, once again, no one will see them for what they truly are
They continue to call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
His lungs look for air as he hums that final footnote
The two stop searching since seeking seems to be a joke
His voice vibrates violently as it gives in to futility
And the master of the mind purposely promotes personal humility
The note is mistaken for eclectic elegance and something grand
In spite of everything, they still call him Mr. Renaissance Man
Master of the mind and skillful with his hands
His finger tips tip-toe across the keyboard on their way to Backspace Boulevard
He’s made several slip-ups while tap, tap, tapping a little less than hard
His finger prints appear to be leaving bizarre scars
Yet no one will wonder what they are
They call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
His scars and mistakes are loud like angry animals, but are magically minimal
His influence on the world makes them suddenly subliminal
Jack and his trade’s bring him fans and phenomenal praise
Though they don’t realize his title needs a rephrase
They still call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
His pencil point outputs a dry smile of Mona Lisa
A completely traced disgrace he’ll hand in to the teacher
His pencil’s lead appears to have left bizarre scars upon the paper
Where there are clues he’ll clean them up later
They’ll still call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
He plays piano with his fingers as if they weighed like light
Causing him to barely break the notes in quite right
He’s missed multiple notes while maneuvering measures
Yet in the eyes of many, his footnotes are tiny treasures
And so, they call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
Swoop, smack, slam…two karate kicks, a miss, and then the land
His form’s flawed; yet he’s hypnotized humanity to find it grand
Both his ebony eye and ruined wrist are blunt bizarre scars
Yet, once again, no one will see them for what they truly are
They continue to call him Mr. Renaissance Man, master of the mind and skillful with his hands
His lungs look for air as he hums that final footnote
The two stop searching since seeking seems to be a joke
His voice vibrates violently as it gives in to futility
And the master of the mind purposely promotes personal humility
The note is mistaken for eclectic elegance and something grand
In spite of everything, they still call him Mr. Renaissance Man
Master of the mind and skillful with his hands
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