Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Three (Really) Cluttered Pigs -- And Angels Dancing on A Pin.



NOTE: This is a little something I whipped up for my BYU-Idaho students this week.

A few of you have asked me privately to comment on your individual attempt to declutter that now-famous Three Cluttered Pigs assignment. Rather than do that, I’m going to provide a classwide example of two ways I’d do it, then discuss each way (both the good points and the bad points).

First, the original paragraph:

Upon hearing that the local indigenous predator was in the neighborhood in the act of prowling and in search of food, the oldest in age of three pigs made the decision to make some modifications to his domicile. While his male siblings perpetuated their inactive lifestyles by experiencing all sorts of fun activities like dancing and ice hockey, he maximized his efforts and worked hard to rebuild his house with bricks. His efforts were the cause of much laughter for the other two pigs. His house was mocked by them over and over, repeatedly, but he refused to give heed to them. When the time came and the wolf appeared, the other two pigs, who tried to hide in houses of hay and sticks, received an unexpected surprise and quickly became fast food for the hungry wolf, who hadn’t eaten in days. But the wolf, continuing to experience hunger, was not satisfied, so he made the decision to visit the third pig as well and give him an invitation to join him for dinner. The wolf was not aware that the pig had been diligently and faithfully working to fortify his home. When the wolf tried to gain entrance by using his nose to blow the house down with a huffing and puffing action, he quickly became the victim of a depleted supply of oxygen to his cerebrum and lost all sense of consciousness. The pig was triumphant in the end and beat the wolf with the use of a hard work ethic and a big, large stick.

The eyes bleed reading this. It’s hard to decide who is doing what. There are a lot of extra words that get in the way of the story. And it’s 258 words long.

So, you could just edit the thing, like this:

Upon hearing that the local indigenousWhen he heard the local wolf predator was in the neighborhood in the act of prowling and in searching for of food, the oldest in age of  of three pigs made the decision decided to make some modifyications to his domicile. While his male siblings perpetuated their inactive lifestyles by experiencing all sorts of fun activities like danceding and played ice hockey, he maximized his efforts and worked hard to rebuild his house with bricks. His efforts were the cause of much laughter for the other two pigs. His house was mocked by them over and over, repeatedly, but he refused to give heed to them. When the time came and the wolf appeared, the other two pigs, who tried to hide in houses of hay and sticks, received an unexpected surprise and quickly became fast food for the hungry wolf, who hadn’t eaten in days. But the wolf, continuing to experience hunger, was not satisfied, so he made the decision to visited the third pig as well and give him an invitation to join him for dinner. The wolf was not aware that the pig had been diligently and faithfully working to fortify his home. When the wolf tried to gain entrance by using his nose to blow the house down with a huffing and puffing action, he quickly became the victim of a depleted supply of oxygen to his cerebrum and lost all sense of consciousness. The pig was triumphant in the end and beat the wolf with the use of a hard work ethic and a big, large stick.

Better, right? A lot of the redundancies are gone. Some of the big words are now smaller words. And it’s now only 201 words long. Improved, right?

But it’s still a little awkward.

Take that first sentence – who is doing all this action? The pig, right? But we have to swim through a lot about the wolf prowling to get to him. That’s making us work too hard. And I don’t know about you, but I’m a lazy reader. If I can’t figure out who is doing what in the first read through, I might read a second time. But I’m also as likely to skip over what didn’t make sense and keep on reading – hoping further light will come.

So I continue reading. I see at first (if I read that first sentence right) that the pig is modifying his home. Later on, he’s rebuilding his home. Then he’s fortifying his home. Modify. Rebuild. Fortify. Can he do all at once? I’m having a hard time figuring out what he’s doing to this shack.

And there’s still a lot of weird vocabulary here. Maybe I ought to try again:

“The wolf is coming,” the third little pig said, “and my house won’t stand against him.” Wolves are always hungry, he thought. This one won’t stop at the doormat if he knows there’s pork behind it. He kicked his wooden door and it fell to pieces. “No,” he said. “This won’t do.”

He found a book on house-building, left in a pile he inherited from his father. He found in town a man willing to trade him bricks for wild strawberries. Bricks and strawberries. Strawberries and bricks.

His two younger brothers laughed at him in his mania. “You’re missing all the fun,” the first little pig said. “Besides, who wants to live in a rock pile when you could live in a house of hay or of wood? The hay smells sweet, and the wood is smooth! Not like those awful, rough bricks!” They danced as he gathered his strawberries. They played hockey as he laid his bricks. And every night they went to bed in their little houses built of hay and built of wood, laughing as their foolish brother attempted to lay brick by moonlight.

He didn’t listen to their scorn. He kept his ears cocked for other noises, far off in the night.
Then, the night after the final brick on the chimney was put in place and the final bit of slate was in place on the roof, the first little pig heard the noise he feared: A howl, quite near, followed by clacking jaws and the drip, drip of drool on the cobblestones.

The wolf.

“So hungry,” the wolf whispered to herself. “So –“ she sniffed the air. She sniffed again, puffing her chest out until the ruff of fur tickled her chin. “Mmmmm,” she thought, licking her lips. “Pork.”

She put her nose to the cobbles and swiftly darted through the night, tail whisking through the air. She found the house of the first little pig and without a word blew, knocking the house of hay to bits. With a leap and a clack she had her meal.

“Still hungry,” the wolf said through a burp. Nose back to the cobbles. Nose to the house of wood. Nose through the rubble and nose to the air, howling after another morsel.

“So hungry,” the wolf said. And because it had worked before, she put her nose to the ground and followed the scent of pork and sweat and wild strawberries. She ran faster, anticipating the feast, and bruised her nose as she ran it into the brick steps of the house of the third little pig.

“The line, the line,” she thought to herself. Then howled: “Little pig, little pig, let me come in!”

“Not on your life, sister,” the little pig shouted.

The wolf stood aghast. “There’s protocol here, pig. Lines to say, you know!”

“I know,” the little pig said. “But I shaved my chinny-chin-chin. You’re NOT coming in.”

The wolf drew a deep breath and blew. Windowpanes rattled, but the bricks stood.

The wolf drew a deeper breath and blew. Cottonwood fluff flew through the air, but the bricks stood.
The wolf drew a deeper breath still. Coughed. “Oh, oh my,” she said. “I’m a little – “she staggered on the doorstep “dizzy.”

Under the moonlight, the wolf collapsed.

The little pig peeped out his front door. From a stand in the corner, he pulled out a shotgun.

Crows darted from their nests in the trees when the shot rang out.

So, in one way I screwed up. This is 578 words long. Much, much longer than the original text. And, yes, I cheated. I added details to the story that aren’t there before. But did I change the meaning of the text? I hope not. And, I hope, I made this more enjoyable to read. Sometimes clearing clutter isn’t enough to make a text worth reading.

Here’s the rub: Sometimes you’ve got to rebuild a text, much like the little pig rebuilt his house. The pig could have used additional wood to reinforce his house, but fundamentally it would have still been the same house underneath.

I know this is a different kind of writing than what we’re used to in an academic setting. This is creative writing, not essay writing. Well, I don’t believe the two have to be mutually exclusive. There are plenty of essays out there where writers use details and dialogue – the foundation of creative writing -- to help make their point and to help the reader through the story to that point.

ALSO IT SHOULD BE NOTED: This is not the one correct way to do things. This is one way to do things, and whether it is correct is in the eye of the beholder. In writing, we are all (or should be) like AlexanderCalandra’s student: Searching for many answers, not just one answer. This is how I would revise the text. This is not the only way it should be done. Each of us can come up with our own revisions, and our own justifications. If you want a subject with a right answer and a wrong answer, you don’t find it in English class.

Here’s an essay on grief in which the author uses copious details to connect to his dead father through memorabilia and old Sherlock Holmes films.

Here’s an essay on public education in which the author, C.S. Lewis, uses allegory to criticize trends in public education.

Here’s an essay on what it’s like to attend San DiegoComic-Con.

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