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Samantha Watts LAE3333 Amy Piotrowski 18 November 2013 The Importance of Details Rationale The purpose of this two week lesson plan is to improve the students awareness and attention to detail in their readings by studying various forms of flash fiction in addition to short stories and Shakespearean dialogues and monologues. By looking into the intentional use of and absence of details by the author, students will better be able to analyze different works and improve their reading comprehension skills while also improving their attention to detail in their writing. Students will better be able to support their ideas through in text citations, as they will be more aware of details in text and more knowledgeable of the different meanings these details can hold. Through discussions students will also become more aware to the different interpretations a single written work can inspire and better be able to communicate their own understanding of a single text. By focusing on reading various works by different authors, students will become more exposed to different kinds of writing and broaden their own conceptions of genre while honing their skills and use of details in their writing. Objectives Students will be able to Analyze texts Look for and understand importance of details in text Support a narrative through the use of details Make a sound argument with in text details Use online resources to search for various works of fiction

Standards Common Core (Grades 11-12): Writing: CCSS.ELA-Literacy.W.11-12.2d Use precise language, domain-specific vocabulary, and techniques such as metaphor, simile, and analogy to manage the complexity of the topic

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Writing: CCSS.ELA-Literacy.W.11-12.3b Use narrative techniques, such as dialogue, pacing, description, reflection, and multiple plot lines, to develop experiences, events, and/or characters. Writing: CCSS.ELA-Literacy.W.11-12.3c Use a variety of techniques to sequence events so that they build on one another to create a coherent whole and build toward a particular tone and outcome (e.g., a sense of mystery, suspense, growth, or resolution). Writing: CCSS.ELA-Literacy.W.11-12.3d Use precise words and phrases, telling details, and sensory language to convey a vivid picture of the experiences, events, setting, and/or characters. Reading: CCSS.ELA-Literacy.RL.11-12.1 Cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the text, including determining where the text leaves matters uncertain. Reading: CCSS.ELA-Literacy.RL.11-12.3 Analyze the impact of the authors choices regarding how to develop and relate elements of a story or drama (e.g., where a story is set, how the action is ordered, how the characters are introduced and developed). Reading: CCSS.ELA-Literacy.RL.11-12.4 Determine the meaning of words and phrases as they are used in the text, including figurative and connotative meanings; analyze the impact of specific word choices on meaning and tone, including words with multiple meanings or language that is particularly fresh, engaging, or beautiful. (Include Shakespeare as well as other authors.) 21st Century Learner (Grades 11-12) 1.1.5 Evaluate information found in selected sources on the basis of accuracy, validity, appropriateness to needs, importance, and social and cultural context. 1.1.6 Read, view, and listen for information presented in any format (e.g., textual, visual, media, digital) in order to make inferences and gather meaning. 1.4.4 Seek appropriate help when needed. 2.1.1 Continue an inquiry-based research process by applying critical thinking skills (analysis, synthesis, evaluation, organization) to information and knowledge in order to construct new understandings, draw conclusions, and create new knowledge. 2.2.3 Employ a critical stance in drawing conclusions by demonstrating that the pattern of evidence leads to a decision or conclusion. 4.1.3 Respond to literature and creative expressions of ideas in various formats and genres.

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Materials Projector used to display relevant websites and share prezi, computer work stations, various handouts that contain rubric and instructions for project and in-class readings, markers and poster boards for in class presentations on readings. Anticipatory SetLets talk about details. When you tell your Mom about your day, what kinds of things do you tell her? What do you leave out? What about when you tell your friend this same story? Is it different? What details did you exclude or include and why? When you do this what are you trying to convey? What importance do these little details hold for your story, and how does the inclusion and exclusion of these details impact the meaning of your story?

Activity Day 1 Anticipatory Set: Lets talk about details. When you tell your Mom about your day, what kinds of things do you tell her? What do you leave out? What about when you tell your friend this same story? Is it different? What details did you exclude or include and why? When you do this what are you trying to convey? What importance do these little details hold for your story, and how does the inclusion and exclusion of these details impact the meaning of your story? Class Discussion (10 minutes)

Teacher Will Conduct class discussion of anticipatory set

Students Will Participate in class discussion

Teacher Displays photograph (included on first slide of prezi) on projector and instructs students to write a detailed narrative about the photograph (from whatever perspective they choose) Students write privately (15

Place photo on projector and allows students allotted time to write undisturbed (music optional: Pandora Maxence Cyrin Radio).

Study picture and write privately, detailing photograph.

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minutes)

Teacher instructs students to clear minds, and look at the photograph again. Now students must again write a narrative, but using very few details to convey the image. Students write privately (10 minutes)

Leave photo on projector and allows student allotted time to write undisturbed (music optional: Pandora Maxence Cyrin Radio).

Look at picture again, and write a brief narrative with as few details as possible.

Teacher begins slideshow outlining purpose behind exercise, what to expect in the coming days, and detailing the project due at the end of the lesson and extra credit. (15 minutes)

Present informational slide show and answer questions. Pass out rubric an informational sheet on project.

Listen to instructor and take notes on presentation.

Day 2 Class begins with continuation Conduct presentation/lead of presentation started last discussion and answer class that will elaborate on questions. importance of active reading, and include quotations and direct examples of importance of details in writing(conveying setting, emotions, actively engaging readers senses). (20 min.) Brief introduction to Google scholar (5 minutes)

Listen to presentation, take notes, and participate in discussion.

Use projector to show students Pay attention and ask how to get to and use google questions if needed. scholar to find academic papers.

Students will be broken into groups, and will use the computers in the classroom to research academic papers discussing details and fictional narrative. (15 minutes)

Walk around class assisting students and making sure students stay on task.

Search through articles on Google scholar and find important information on what details convey when used in writing.

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Group representative from Listen attentively to their each group will share what classmates speak and take they found with the rest of the notes at will. class and how they can use Google scholar to help them in their own writing and reading. (10 minutes) Day 3 Anticipatory Set: Class sits down and responds to writing prompt on board: There it was. That which he/she had always detested most and Continue this narrative and be as descriptive as possible! (10 minutes) Brief Discussion about what class wrote and what descriptions they used. (5 minutes) Class reading of The Red Fox Fur Coat by Teolinda Gersao. (15 minutes) Class Discussion on reading. (20 minutes)

Keep class on task and attentive to speaker.

Point out prompt on board and makes sure class sits quietly and immediately begins writing.

Write narrative from prompt on the board and pay special attention to details in writing.

Ask questions and keep discussion brief.

Engage in discussion.

Make sure that students are actively reading and annotating. Actively engage students in discussion by writing notes on the board (i.e. what does the author want us to feel/smell/taste/hear. What emotions do the details convey and why/how does the author choose to elaborate certain parts?)

Read quietly and write down notes to refer to during discussion. Engage in discussion and write down notes from board. Keep annotated short story in folder to refer to later.

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Day 4 Class begins with students picking a partner, and annotating A Visit of Charity by Eudora Welty that is on their desk, prompted by directions written on the board. (15 minutes) Students will get into four groups and make posters that list specific scenes where the author uses detail to convey feeling, human senses, or setting etc. (10 minutes) Groups present posters and explain reasoning to class. (10 minutes)

Make sure students are on task.

Choose a partner and begin annotating A Visit of Charity.

Assign students to groups as necessary, hand our supplies, and answer questions while keeping students on task.

Split into groups, and begin work on short presentation.

Class will write a brief journal entry discussing the readings so far (what they thought, what they found interesting, what they might use in their own writing etc.). (10 minutes) Brief introduction to flash fiction and overview for the next days reading. (5 minutes)

Maintain class attention and assist students in addition to making suggestions and pointing out points that the groups may have missed. Initiate writing and make sure students are writing silently and are on task.

Listen attentively to their peer presentations and actively participate in their own group presentations. Write briefly about the class readings.

Introduce flash fiction as a Listen attentively and ask genre, give a brief overview of question if necessary. texts to be read, and answer questions.

Day 5 Anticipatory Set: Class sits down and responds to writing prompt on board: She/he watched as the woods went up in flames

Write prompt on board and enforce journal.

Sit quietly and respond to prompt on board.

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Continue this narrative in four sentences or less. (5-10 minutes) Brief discussion on journal entry, was it easier to right with fewer details or harder? Were you more aware of the descriptions used? (5-10 minutes) Lecture/continuation of slideshow on flash fiction. (15 minutes) Lead discussion on journal and keep students engaged throughout. Participate in discussion by analyzing their own writing process, and sharing with class.

Lead discussion/presentation on flash fiction. (What do students think of examples? If there are little to no details, is it still a good work? Is there intention behind the absence of details? If so, what? What does the absence of words communicate?)

Participate in discussion and take notes as needed.

Instructor shows students how to find the website www.flashfictiononline.com, and then searches for a literary flash fiction piece and displays it. Class reads over piece and briefly discusses. (10 minutes) Homework Discussion: Students are to go home, find and read three literary flash fiction works through the website reviewed in class. (www.flashfictiononline.com) Write down the authors name, the title, and a brief synopsis of each piece. (5 minutes) Day 6 Instructor walks around class and checks that every student completed assigned

Load flashfictionoline.com onto projector, and shows students how/ where to access literary flash fiction. Chooses a piece to read as a group, and leads discussion about work.

Participates in discussion and take notes on website navigation to use for homework assignment.

Assign homework and answer Ask questions if necessary and questions. Also remind pay attention to discussion. students to start thinking about their projects due in a week.

Walk around and check students homework for completion (no assessment

Have homework on desk, waiting quietly to be graded.

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homework. (2-5 minutes) Discussion on flash fiction pieces that students read over the weekend. What did you notice? (5-10 minutes)

needed). Lead discussion on students homework and what they noticed or learned. Did students enjoy the reading? Will they reference the website again for research or to publish their own work? Participate in discussion by sharing their homework, thoughts and concerns.

Individual reading of article Going Long, Going Short by Grant Faulkner. (10 minutes) Class will complete a worksheet, found at the end of their article. (5-10 minutes)

Pass out copies of article and make sure that students immediately begin reading.

Read and annotate article.

Instruct students to reread article as necessary and answer questions located on worksheet.

Complete worksheet.

Discussion of what class read in article, using worksheets as a guide. (10 minutes)

Lead class discussion on Participate in discussion, using article, highlighting main answers to worksheet points (what is flash fiction, questions as guide. meaning of space/emptiness in writing, looking at flash fiction as ambiguous etc). Refer back to prezi and have class reread the examples from previous class. Has the meaning changed now that we have a better understanding?

Journal prompt: Respond to the articles last sentence, Our lives are as much about the unspoken as the spoken. (10 minutes) Day 7 Students split into four groups. Each group is assigned two flash fiction pieces to read and analyze.

Give students prompt, and ensure that students stay focused on journal.

Complete journal.

Arrange groups by flash fiction pieces found on tables and maintain working environment while answering

Sit in groups, read and analyze works as assigned by instructor.

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(Group 1: Excursion into the Mountains by Franz Kafka and The Lemon by Curtis Sittenfeld. Group 2: Absent-minded Window-gazing by Franz Kafka and Planning an Atlantic Funeral by Hugh Sheehy. Group 3: Passers-by by Franz Kafka and The Orator by Curtis Sittenfeld. Group 4: Bachelors Ill Luck by Franz Kafka and Prometheus by Franz Kafka.) (15 minutes)

questions and keeping students on task.

Each group will present one of the pieces to the class, emphasizing details/lack of details, literary elements, and demonstrate an understanding of the work. (15-20 minutes) Transition into dialogue and details as shown through film. (5 minutes)

Track time and make sure that each group presents literary work appropriately and that other students give their full attention to peers presenting.

Present a literary work and listen to other groups present.

Play film clip found on prezi and advise students to pay close attention to details given through speech, setting, background noise etc.

Watch short video clip, taking notes on what they notice about details.

Ending Journal: Keeping the video we just watched in mind, think about how one conveys details through film? (5-10 minutes) Day 8 Brief introduction to dialogue

Write prompt on board and make sure that students work quietly and diligently.

Respond to prompt on board.

Lead discussion.

Watch videos, taking notes on

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in plays and films and the role that details(camera angle, tone of voice, setting, word choice etc.) can convey and then play two short clips found on prezi (slide 10). (10-15 minutes) Discussion on what we saw in the clips and how we can use this in our own writing of dialogue/making of extra credit film. (10 minutes) Rest of class is used to work on project. (20-25 minutes) Day 9 Students will work privately on their projects for the first half of class. (25 minutes) Students will get into groups and workshop their pieces, rotating their work so that each person in the group can write down their comments and then they will discuss one anothers pieces as a group. (25 minutes) Day 10 Class Presentations: Students will share their rewritten narratives and homemade videos. (40 minutes) Closing discussion on segment, what we can take away from this lesson and how we can improve our writing. (10 minutes) Lead discussion, pointing out specific examples and asking leading questions (where was Shylock? What does this tell us about him? What did the tone of voice convey? Etc.) Survey classroom, answer questions, and keep students on task.

details.

Participate in discussion and take notes, specifically on examples to be reused if creating own video for extra credit.

Begin work on projects or continue work on projects.

Walk around room and answer Work silently on their projects questions while keeping and ask for assistance when students on task. needed. Offer assistance to groups and make sure everyone is on task and actively work shopping. Workshop each others work in a rotation and then discuss the work shopped narratives and offer constructive criticism.

Maintain air of classroom Present their projects to the professionalism while students class and listen attentively to present their projects and/or each others work. videos. Lead final discussion and collect papers. Participate in discussion and turn in projects.

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Summary/Closure Students will present their projects that they have been working on and we will have a final discussion on the importance of and use of detail in a literary sense, focusing on how students can use this lesson on their assignments and readings for the rest of the school year. Assessment A Student demonstrates superior understanding of text and has successfully created a believable rewritten work that does not undermine the original works meaning and story line. B Student demonstrates accurate understanding of text and has created a believable rewritten work that occasionally undermines the original works meaning and story line. Student demonstrates effort and time invested into work through accurate sentence structures and representation of the original text. Writing process and C Student demonstrates basic understanding of text and has created a work that is somewhat accurate to the original works meaning and story line. D Student lacks understanding of text and has created a work that is not accurate to the original text. F Student does not convey a rewritten work of any of the texts read in class.

Accuracy

Effort

Student demonstrates significant effort and time invested into work through well thought out sentence structures and reorganization of the text. Writing process and revision is

Student demonstrates slight effort invested into work, but lacks accurate sentence structure and representation of the original text. Writing process and revision is

Student has not put much effort into assignment, and has no evidence of revision or writing process. Project is messy and unclear.

Student has put no effort into the assignment. The assignment is not complete and lacks structure and revision.

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evident in final product.

Conventions Student demonstrates a mature command of language through use of details and various literary devices. Sentence structure is varied with little to no mistakes in mechanics, usage, punctuation and spelling.

revision is somewhat evident in final product. Student generally follows conventions of language, punctuation, and spelling. Slight variation in sentence structure.

lacking.

Student makes regular mistakes in the conventions of language, punctuation and spelling. Slight variation in sentence structure.

Student makes mistakes in the basic areas of convention, and lacks understanding of language, punctuation, and spelling. No variation in sentence structure.

Student makes frequent and blatant errors in the basic conventions of language.

Homework Students will have one homework assignment, assigned the fifth day and due the sixth day of the segment that will require them to find and read three literary flash fiction pieces, and write a brief synopsis that will be graded on completion. In addition to this, students must also complete a project, due the last day of the segment. Accommodations Students receiving special education services will be provided the following accommodations as per their IEP: preference seating, more time, individual time with instructor. Lesson is divided between discussion, group work, and private work, so if student is unable to hear or communicate a translator will be provided. If student cannot work with another student, they will work individually with instructor, or alone. Handouts in large print will be provided, in addition to recording or written copy of discussion highlighting main points for visual or hearing impaired.

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Citations Brown, A.C., Schulten, K. (2013 October). Short and Sweet: Reading and Writing Flash Fiction. Retrieved from http://learning.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/10/03/short-and-sweet-readingand-writing-flash-fiction/ Burroway, J., Stuckey-French, E., Stuckey-French, N.(2011). Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft. Print. Faulkner, G. (2013 September). Going Long. Going Short. Retrieved from http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/09/30/going-long-going-short/?_r=0 Gersoa, T. (2004). The Red Fox Fur Coat. Retrieved from http://www.threepennyreview.com/samples/gersao_sp04.html Kafka, F. (2005). Excursion into the Mountains. Absent Minded Window Gazing. Passers-by. Bachelors Ill Luck. Prometheus. Print. Shakespeare. Twelfth Night, Act 1 Scene 1, Orsino: If Music Be the Food of love [video file]. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJcCLr19tIs Shakespeare. The Merchant of Venice, Act 3 Scene 1, Shylock: To Bait Fish Withal [video file]. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FC8KMnC3O_4 Shakespeare. King Lear, Act 3 Scene 2: Trevor Nunns King Lear. [video file]. Retrieved from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jn9V3gtwMrc Sheehy, H. (2013 July). Planning an Atlantic Funeral. Retrieved from http://www.3ammagazine.com/3am/planning-an-atlantic-funeral/ Sittenfeld, C. (2012 August). The Story Behind My Very, Very Short Stories. Retrieved from http://6thfloor.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/08/27/the-story-behind-my-very-very-short-/ Sittenfeld, C. (2012) The Lemon. The Orator. Retrieved from http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2012/08/27/magazine/summer-fiction-series.html Smagorinsky, P., Johannessen, L., Kahn, E., McCann, T. (2010). The Dynamics of Writing Instruction: A Structured Process Approach for Middle and High School. Print. Welty, E. (1941). A Visit of Charity. Retrieved from http://biblioklept.org/2013/02/04/a-visit-ofcharity-eudora-welty/

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Appendix A

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Students will be required to rewrite two fictional works that we will read in class. Students will choose one of the short stories covered or a short excerpt (to be cleared by Ms. Watts first) from one of our larger texts read this year to be rewritten in a shorter context with few details. Students will also choose one of the flash fiction pieces read in class and rewrite it as a denser work with more details. Students will have class time to work on this assignment and will have the option of presenting their finished work to the class at the end of the two week segment.

Students will also have the opportunity to create a video for extra credit. This video must be 30 seconds to 1 minute long and must have a focus on details, be they facial expressions, a dripping sink, or a red table that is always in scene. Students will also have to write a single page synopsis (double spaced) that explains their choice in specific details (or lack of) and the reason behind this choice. Students are also welcome to share their videos with the class on the last day of the segment.

Below I have included the rubric that you will be graded on: A Accuracy Student demonstrates superior understanding of text and has successfully created a believable rewritten work that does not B Student demonstrates accurate understanding of text and has created a believable rewritten work that occasionally C Student demonstrates basic understanding of text and has created a work that is somewhat accurate to the original works D Student lacks understanding of text and has created a work that is not accurate to the original text. F Student does not convey a rewritten work of any of the texts read in class.

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undermine the original works meaning and story line. Effort

Conventions

undermines the original works meaning and story line. Student Student demonstrates demonstrates significant effort effort and time and time invested invested into into work work through through well accurate thought out sentence sentence structures and structures and representation reorganization of of the original the text. Writing text. Writing process and process and revision is revision is evident in final somewhat product. evident in final product. Student Student demonstrates a generally mature command follows of language conventions of through use of language, details and punctuation, various literary and spelling. devices. Sentence Slight variation structure is in sentence varied with little structure. to no mistakes in mechanics, usage, punctuation and spelling.

meaning and story line.

Student demonstrates slight effort invested into work, but lacks accurate sentence structure and representation of the original text. Writing process and revision is lacking.

Student has not put much effort into assignment, and has no evidence of revision or writing process. Project is messy and unclear.

Student has put no effort into the assignment. The assignment is not complete and lacks structure and revision.

Student makes regular mistakes in the conventions of language, punctuation and spelling. Slight variation in sentence structure.

Student makes mistakes in the basic areas of convention, and lacks understanding of language, punctuation, and spelling. No variation in sentence structure.

Student makes frequent and blatant errors in the basic conventions of language.

Your Extra Credit video will be graded on completion.

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Appendix B

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Appendix C The Red Fox Fur Coat Teolinda Gerso

On her way home one day, a humble bank clerk happened to see a red fox fur coat in a furrier's shop window. She stopped outside and felt a shiver of pleasure and desire run through her. For this was the coat she had always wanted. There wasn't another one like it, she thought, running her eyes over the other coats hanging from the metal rack or delicately draped over a brocade sofa. It was rare, unique; she had never seen such a color, golden, with a coppery sheen, and so bright it looked as if it were on fire. The shop was closed at the time, as she discovered when, giving in to the impulse to enter, she pushed at the door. She would come back tomorrow, as early as possible, in her lunch break, or during the morning; yes, she would find a pretext to slip out during the morning. That night she slept little and awoke feeling troubled and slightly feverish. She counted the minutes until the shop would open; her eyes wandered from the clock on the wall to her wristwatch and back, while she dealt with various customers. As soon as she could, she found an excuse to pop out and run to the shop, trembling to think that the coat might have been sold. It had not, she learned, been sold; she felt her breath return, her heartbeat ease, felt the blood drain from her face and resume its measured flow.

"It could have been made for you," said the saleswoman when the bank clerk put the coat on and looked at herself in the mirror. "It fits perfectly on the shoulders and at the waist, and the length is just right," she said, "and it really suits your skin tone. Not that I'm trying to pressure you into buying it," she added hurriedly, "obviously you're free to choose anything you like, but if you don't mind my saying so, the coat really does look as if it had been made for you. Just for you," she said again, with the hint of a smile.

"How much is it?" the bank clerk asked, half turning round-thus setting the hem of the coat swingingbecause she found it hard to take her eyes off her own image in the mirror.

She recoiled, stunned, when she heard the reply. It cost far more than she had thought, five times more than she could possibly afford

"But we can spread out the payment if you like," said the saleswoman kindly.

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She could always sacrifice her holidays, the bank clerk thought. Or divert some of the money intended for a car loan. She could use less heating, eat smaller meals. It would do her good, really, because she was beginning to put on a bit of weight.

"All right," she said, doing rapid calculations in her head. "I'll give you a deposit and start paying next week. But it's definitely mine now, isn't it?'

"Absolutely," said the saleswoman, attaching a "Sold" label to the coat. "You can take it away with you when you've paid the third installment."

She started visiting the shop at night, when it was closed and no one would see her, in order to gaze at the coat through the window, and each time it brought her more joy, each time it was brighter, more fiery, like red flames that did not burn, but were soft on her body, like a thick, ample, enfolding skin that moved when she moved...

It would be admired, as would she, people would turn to stare after her, but it was not this that provoked a secret smile; rather, she realized, it was an inner satisfaction, an obscure certainty, a sense of being in harmony with herself, that spilled over in all kinds of small ways. It was as if the rhythm of her breathing had changed, had grown calmer and deeper. She realized too, perhaps because she no longer felt tired, that she moved more quickly, that she could walk effortlessly now, at twice her usual speed. Her legs were agile, her feet nimble. Everything about her was lighter, quicker; her back, shoulders, and limbs all moved more easily.

It must be all the keep-fit I've been doing, she thought, because for some reason she had started taking regular exercise. For a few months now she had been spending two hours a week running at the track. But what she liked most was to go running in the forest, on the outskirts of the city, feeling the sand crunch beneath her feet, learning to place her feet on the ground in a different way-in direct, perfect, intimate contact with the earth. She was intensely aware of her body; she was more alive now, more alert. All her senses were keener too, she could hear, even from some distance away, infinitesimal sounds which, before, would have gone unnoticed: a lizard scurrying through the leaves, an invisible mouse making a twig crack, an acorn falling, a bird landing on a bush; she could sense atmospheric changes long before they happened: the wind turning, a rise in humidity, an increase in air pressure that would culminate in rain. And another aspect of all the things to which she had now become sensitized was the discovery of smells, a whole world of smells; she could find paths and trails purely by smell; it was strange how she had never before noticed that everything has a smell: the earth, the bark of trees,

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plants, leaves, and that every animal can be distinguished by its own peculiar smell, a whole spectrum of smells that came to her on waves through the air, and which she could draw together or separate out, sniffing the wind, imperceptibly lifting her head. She suddenly became very interested in animals and found herself leafing through encyclopedias, looking at the pictures-the hedgehog's pale, soft, tender underbelly; the swift hare, of uncertain hue, leaping; she pored over the bodies of birds, fascinated, pondering the softness of the flesh behind their feathers; and a single word kept bobbing insistently about in her mind: predator.

She seemed to be hungrier too, she thought, as she put away her books and went into the kitchen, and this negative aspect to all the physical exercise displeased her greatly. She tried to find a way to avoid putting on weight and prowled, dissatisfied, past patisseries, never finding what she was looking for, because the smell of coffee was repellent to her and made her feel nauseous. No, she was hungry for other things, although she didn't quite know what, fruit perhaps; this might be an opportunity to lose a little weight. She bought a vast quantity of grapes and apples and ate them all in one day, but still she felt hungry, a hidden hunger that gnawed at her from inside and never stopped.

She was cheered by an unexpected invitation to a party, welcoming any diversion that would make her forget that absurd hunger. She reveled in getting dressed up and in painting her lips and nails scarlet. Her nails, she noticed, were very long, and even her hands seemed more sensitive, more elongated. Anyone she touched at the party that night would remain eternally in her power, she thought, smiling at herself in the mirror-a feline smile, it seemed to her. She narrowed her eyes and widened the smile, letting it spread over her face, which took on a pleasingly triangular shape that she further emphasized with make-up.

In the middle of the party, she noticed someone slicing up some meat, cooked very rare-roast beef, she thought, although these words had suddenly ceased to have any meaning. She reached out her hand and devoured a whole slice. Ah, she thought, the taste of almost raw meat, the action of sinking her teeth into it, of making the blood spurt, the taste of blood on her tongue, in her mouth, the innocence of devouring the whole slice, and she took another slice, already sensing that using her hand was now a pointless waste of time, that she should just pick it up directly with her mouth.

She burst out laughing and began to dance, waving her bloodstained hands in the air, feeling her own blood rise, as if some tempestuous inner force had been unleashed, a malign force that she could transmit to others, a plague or a curse, but this idea was nevertheless sweet, quiet, almost joyful, she felt, as she swayed, slightly drunk, listening to the echo of her own laughter.

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She would spend the night obeying all these newly released forces and, in the morning, she would go and fetch the coat, because the day had come when it would be hers; it was part of her; she would know it even with her eyes closed, by touch alone, the soft, thick pelt burning her skin, cleaving to her, until she could no longer tell skin from skin...

"It could have been made for you," the saleswoman said again, as she removed it from the coat hanger.

The coat cleaving to her, until she could no longer tell skin from skin, as she could see in the mirror, as she turned the collar up around her head, her face disfigured, suddenly thinner, made up to look longer, her eyes narrow, restless, burning...

"Goodbye, then, and thanks," she said, rushing out of the shop, afraid that time was getting short and that people would stop in alarm to stare at her, because suddenly the impulse to go down on all fours and simply run was too strong, reincarnating her body, rediscovering her animal body; and as she fled, as she left the city behind her and simply fled, it took an almost superhuman effort to get into her car and drive to the edge of the forest, keeping tight control of her body, keeping tight control of her tremulous body for just one more minute, before that slam of the door, that first genuine leap on feet free at last, shaking her back and her tail, sniffing the air, the ground, the wind, and, with a howl of pleasure and joy, plunging off into the depths of the forest.

(Translated from the Spanish by Margaret Jull Costa)

Teolinda Gerso, a Portuguese novelist and short story writer as well as a former professor of German and Comparative Literature, lives in Lisbon. Her translator, Margaret Jull Costa, has also translated Jos Saramago, Javier Maras, and other Portuguese and Spanish writers.

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Appendix D A Visit of Charity by Eudora Welty It was mid-morninga very cold, bright day. Holding a potted plant before her, a girl of fourteen jumped off the bus in front of the Old Ladies Home, on the outskirts of town. She wore a red coat, and her straight yellow hair was hanging down loose from the pointed white cap all the little girls were wearing that year. She stopped for a moment beside one of the prickly dark shrubs with which the city had beautified the Home, and then proceeded slowly toward the building, which was of whitewashed brick and reflected the winter sunlight like a block of ice. As she walked vaguely up the steps she shifted the small pot from hand to hand; then she had to set it down and remove her mittens before she could open the heavy door. Im a Campfire GirlI have to pay a visit to sold old lady, she told the nurse at the desk. This was a woman in a white uniform who looked as if she were cold; she had close-cut hair which stood up on the very top of her head exactly like a sea wave. Marian, the little girl, did not tell her that this visit would give her a minimum of only three points in her score. Acquainted with any of our residents? asked the nurse. She lifted one eyebrow and spoke like a man. With any old ladies? Nobutthat is, any of them will do, Marian stammered. With her free hand she pushed her hair behind her ears, as she did when it was time to study Science. The nurse shrugged and rose. You have a nice multiflora cineraria there, she remarked as she walked ahead down the hall of closed doors to pick out an old lady. There was loose, bulging linoleum on the floor. Marian felt as if she were walking on the waves, but the nurse paid no attention to it. There was a smell in the hall like the interior of a clock. Everything was silent until, behind one of the doors, an old lady of some kind cleared her throat like a sheep bleating. This decided the nurse. Stopping in her tracks, she first extended her arm, bent her elbow, and leaned forward from the hips, all to examine the watched strapped to her wrist; then she gave a loud doublerap on the door. There are two in each room, the nurse remarked over her shoulder. Two what? asked Marian without thinking. The sound like a sheeps bleating almost made her turn around and run back. One old woman was pulling the door open in short, gradual jerks, and when she saw the nurse a strange smile forced her old face dangerously awry. Marian, suddenly propelled by the strong, impatient arm of the nurse, saw next the side-face of another woman, even older, who was lying flat in bed with a cap on and a counterpane drawn up to her chin. Visitor, said the nurse, and after one more shove she was off up the hall.Marian stood tongue-tied; both hands held the potted plant. The old woman, still with that terrible, square smile (which was a

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smile of welcome) stamped on her bony face, was waitingPerhaps she said something. The old woman in bed said nothing at all, and she did not look around. Suddenly Marian saw a hand, quick as a bird claw, reach up in the air and pluck the white cap off her head. At the same time, another claw to match drew her all the way into the room, and the next moment the door closed behind her. My, my, my, said the old lady at her side. Marian stood enclosed by a bed, a washstand and a chair; the tiny room had altogether too much furniture. Everything smelled weteven the bare floor. She held on to the back of the chair, which was wicker and felt soft and damp. Her heart beat more and more slowly, her hands got colder and colder, and she could not hear whether the old women were saying anything or not. She could not see them very clearly. How dark it was! The window shade was down, and the only door was shut. Marian looked at the ceilingIt was like being caught in a robbers cave, just before one was murdered. Did you come to be our little girl for a while? the first robber asked. Then something was snatched from Marians handthe little potted plant. Flowers! screamed the old woman. She stood holding the pot in an undecided way. Pretty flowers, she added. Then the old woman in bed cleared her throat and spoke. They are not pretty, she said, still without looking around, but very distinctly. Marian suddenly pitched against the chair and sat down in it. Pretty flowers, the first woman insisted. prettypretty Marian wished she had the little pot back for just a momentshe had forgotten to look at the plant herself before giving it away. What did it look like? Stinkweeds, said the other old woman sharply. She had a bunchy white forehead and red eyes like a sheep. Now she turned them toward Marian. The fogginess seemed to rise in her throat again, and she bleated, Whoareyou? To her surprise, Marian could not remember her name. Im a Campfire Girl, she said finally. Watch out for the germs, said the old woman like a sheep, not addressing anyone. One came out last month to see us, said the first old woman. A sheep or a germ? wondered Marian dreamily, holding on to the chair.

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Did not! cried the other old woman.Did so! Read to us out of the Bible and we enjoyed it! screamed the first.Who enjoyed it? said the woman in bed. Her mouth was unexpectedly small and sorrowful, like a pets. We enjoyed it, insisted the other. You enjoyed itI enjoyed it. We all enjoyed it, said Marian, without realizing that she had said a word. The first old woman had just finished putting the potted plant high, high up on top of the wardrobe, where it could hardly be seen from below. Marian wondered how she had ever succeeded in placing it there, how she could ever have reached so high. You mustnt pay any attention to old Addie, she now said to the little girl. Shes ailing today. Will you shut your mouth? said the woman in bed. I am not. Youre a story. I cant stay but a minutereally I cant, said Marian suddenly. She looked down at the wet floor and thought that if she were sick in here they would have to let her go. With much to-do the first old woman sat down in a rocking chairstill another piece of furniture!and began to rock. With the fingers of one hand she touched a very dirty cameo pin on her chest. What do you do at school? she asked. I dont know said Marian. She tried to think but she could not. Oh, but the flowers are beautiful, the old woman whispered. She seemed to rock faster and faster; Marian did not see how anyone could rock so fast. Ugly, said the woman in bed. If we bring flowers Marian began, then fell silent. She had almost said that if Campfire Girls brought flowers to the Old Ladies Home, the visit would count one extra point, and if they took a Bible with them on the bus and read it to the old ladies, it counted double. But the old woman had not listened, anyway; she was rocking and watching the other one, who watched back from the bed. Poor Addie is ailing. She has to take medicinesee? she said, pointing a horny finger at a row of bottles on the table, and rocking so high that her black comfort shoes lifted off the floor like a little childs. I am no more sick than you are, said the woman in bed. Oh, yes you are! I just got more sense than you have, thats all, said the other old woman, nodding her head.

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Thats only the contrary way she talks when you all come, said the first old lady with sudden intimacy. She stopped the rocker with a neat pat of her feet and leaned toward Marian. Her hand reached over it felt like a petunia leaf, clinging and just a little sticky. Will you hush! Will you hush! cried the other one. Marian leaned back rigidly in her chair. When I was a little girl like you, I went to school and all, said the old woman in the same intimate, menacing voice. Not hereanother town Hush! said the sick woman. You never went to school. You never came and you never went. You never were anythingonly here. You never were born! You dont know anything. Your head is empty, your heart and hands and your old black purse are all emptyyou showed it to me. And yet you talk, talk, talk, talk, talk all the time until I think Im losing my mind! Who are you? Youre a strangera perfect stranger! Dont you know youre a stranger? Is it possible that they have actually done a thing like this to anyonesent them in a stranger to talk, and rock, and tell away her whole long rigmarole? Do they seriously suppose that Ill be able to keep it up, day in, day out, night in, night out, living in the same room with a terrible old woman forever? Marian saw the old womans eyes grow bright and turn toward her. This old woman was looking at her with despair and calculation in her face. Her small lips suddenly dropped apart, and exposed a half circle of false teeth with tan gums. Come here, I want to tell you something, she whispered. Come here! Marian was trembling, and her heart nearly stopped beating altogether for a moment. Now, now, Addie, said the first old woman. Thats not polite. Do you know whats really the matter with old Addie today? She, too, looked at Marian; one of her eyelids dropped low. The matter? the child repeated stupidly. Whats the matter with her? Why, shes mad because its her birthday! said the first old woman, beginning to rock again and giving a little crow as though she had answered her own riddle. It is not, it is not! screamed the old woman in bed. It is not my birthday, no one knows when that is but myself, and will you please be quiet and say nothing more, or Ill go straight out of my mind! She turned her eyes toward Marian again, and presently she said in the soft, foggy voice, When the worst comes to the worst, I ring this bell, and the nurse comes. One of her hands was drawn out from under the patched counterpanea thin little hand with enormous black freckles. With a finger which would not hold still she pointed to a little bell on the table among the bottles. How old are you? Marian breathed. Now she could see the old woman in bed very closely and plainly, and very abruptly, from all sides, as in dreams. She wondered about hershe wondered for a moment

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as though there was nothing else in the world to wonder about. It was the first time such a thing had happened to Marian. I wont tell! The old face on the pillow, where Marian was bending over it, slowly gathered and collapsed. Soft whimpers came out of the small open mouth. It was a sheep that she sounded likea little lamb. Marians face drew very close, the yellow hair hung forward. Shes crying! She turned a bright, burning face up to the first old woman. Thats Addie for you, the old woman said spitefully. Marian jumped up and moved toward the door. For the second time, the claw almost touched her hair, but it was not quick enough. The little girl put her cap on. Well, it was real visit, said the old woman, following Marian through the doorway and all the way out into the hall. Then from behind she suddenly clutched the child with her sharp little fingers. Oh, little girl, have you a penny to spare for an old woman thats not got anything of her own? We dont have thing in the worldnot a penny for candynot a thing! Little girl, just a nickela penny Marian pulled violently against the old hands for a moment before she was free. Then she ran down the hall, without looking behind her and without looking at the nurse, who was reading Field & Stream at her desk. The nurse, after another triple motion to consult her wrist watch, asked automatically the question put to visitors in all institutions: Wont you stay and have dinner with us? Marian never replied. She pushed the heavy door open into the cold air and ran down the steps. Under the prickly shrub she stooped and quickly, without being seen, retrieved a red apple she had hidden there. Her yellow hair under the white cap, her scarlet coat, her bare knees flashed in the sunlight as she ran to meet the big bus rocketing through the street. Wait for me! she shouted. As though at an imperial command, the bus ground to a stop. She jumped on and took a big bite out of the apple.

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Appendix E

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Appendix F

Going Long. Going Short. By Grant Faulkner


Ive always wanted to go long, as in writing that big behemoth of a saga called the Great American Novel, no matter the absurdity of questing after such a holy grail. I thought the best way to understand the endless ribbons of Americas highways, the oozing boundaries of our suburbia and the rhythms of life they induce in us, resided in an ever expansive aesthetic of maximalist comprehensiveness, full of crisscrossing tentacles of story lines and sentences bursting with syntactic curlicues. Our souls sprawl with this land, after all. Think of the labyrinthine universe of David Foster Wallace, the dense weight of William Faulkners past (which I share only literarily, not genetically) or Saul Bellows overflowing, burbling prose. Most of my writing life has been a training ground of more, so I rarely conceived of less. In the many creative-writing workshops I have attended, I so frequently heard I want to know more about _______ . More characterization, more back story, more details more of everything. Rarely did anyone advise places to cut or condense. And I gave similar feedback, as if being tapped on the knee with a doctors rubber hammer. A few years ago, however, a friend of mine, Paul Strohm, wrote a memoir consisting of 100 100-word stories. He modeled the form after a fixed-lens camera, with the idea that an arbitrary limit inspired compositional creativity. I tried my hand at writing such tiny stories because I like to experiment, but I quickly became exasperated by my early attempts. I couldnt come anywhere close to the 100-word mark. At best, I could chisel a story down to 150 words, but I was frustrated by the gobs of material I left out. My failure at concision made me reflect on my writing habits, especially when shaping a second draft. I began to think of how the chants of more, more, more Id heard in my writing workshops were often the single least helpful bit of feedback, impinging upon the vaporous whorls of suspense and necessary reserve that are integral to good storytelling, no matter the form. Id trained myself to write through back stories, layers of details and thickets of connections, but the more I pared my prose to reach 100 words, a different kind of storytelling presented itself. Flash fiction, which is defined as being a story under 1,000 words, goes by the names of short shorts, miniatures, sudden fiction and postcard fiction, among many others. Flash communicates via caesuras and crevices. There is no asking more, no premise of comprehensiveness, because flash fiction is a form that privileges excision over agglomeration, adhering more than any other narrative form to Hemingways famous iceberg dictum: only show the top 10 percent of your story, and leave the other 90 percent below water to be conjured.

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This form speaks to the singularity of stray moments by calling attention to the spectral blank spaces around them; it can perfectly capture the disconnections that existentially define us, whether its the gulf between a loved one, the natural world or God. For example, I recently wrote a 100-word piece about a man waking up in a tawdry hotel. He feels a pistol under his pillow and thinks how his mother would have never imagined him in a situation like this. Everything starts as a game of pretend, the story concludes. I suppose I could have fleshed this out by writing about his close relationship with his mother, how he was a good boy, what had happened to put him there and, sure, that could make a perfectly good short story or novel but such back story wouldnt as effectively evoke this simple, troubling situation: he is alone in unfriendly circumstances, still one part child, disoriented by where his decisions had led him. The storys indeterminateness serves to invite the reader to infer the back story and conclusion in a more evocative way than I could have created it. Flash fiction is about ambiguity, writes the flash author Nathan Leslie. My memory, like that of many of us, tends not to follow a narrative trajectory with rising action as in a conventional plot, but is rather a collage smattered with as many small mundane moments as big, dramatic ones. Moods mix with events. The memory of a scent, an illness, a random day at the beach, a slight, can be as piquant and poignant to me as any more dramatic, plot-worthy event. Such moments invite a different sort of treatment. I learned that each line of a flash story must carry a symbolic weight that moves the story forward. Yet, at the same time, the gaps within and around the story speak as large as the text itself. The words of the last line should create a silence, a white space in which the reader breathes. The story enters that breath, and continues, writes another flash writer Jayne Anne Phillips. Such evocative, fragmentary brevity makes this Twitter and Facebook era perfect for flash fiction. Flash allows literature to be a part of our everyday life, even if we are strange multitasking creatures addled by a world that demands more, more, more. Yet I must admit that I embrace a paradoxical process. One might even say Im schizophrenic. As executive director of National Novel Writing Month, which challenges writers to write a 50,000-word novel in November (akin to Faulkners bursts of 3,000 words a day), I adhere to the notion of writing with abandon to bang out a first draft of a novel to explore narrative possibilities and push boundaries of all sorts without the presence of a censorious internal editor. This process also works for me when Im writing flash fiction. Ill let a gush of more guide the initial narrative. But then I focus on words that can be carved from sentences and how paragraphs and chapters can move with hints rather than divulgences. I conceive of creating spaces around the chapters of my novel instead of cramming those spaces with skeins of connecting text. I feel a deep, even ecstatic pleasure when I shave entire pages away from a draft,

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as if Ive cleaned out a messy closet. As much as I liked watching my word count go up in a first draft, I thrill to see it go down in a second draft. Now I rarely ask for more when I give feedback on an early draft of anothers work. Ghosts are good for writing, Ive learned, so Ive invited them in. Our lives are as much about the unspoken as the spoken.

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Flash Fiction: Exploring Detail


Name: Date:

So, now that we have read this article, lets take a more in depth look. Be sure to answer the following questions in full and use in text examples when necessary. 1. What does the author have to say about his previous work shopping process, in regards to the constant need for more? Does this have a good or negative connotation?

2. How does the author define flash fiction, and what/how flash fiction communicates an idea?

3. How does the author describe his own process when writing flash fiction?

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Appendix G Excursion into the Mountains by Franz Kafka Translated by Willa and Edwin Muir 'I don't know,' I cried without being heard, 'I do not know, If nobody comes, then nobody comes. I've done nobody any harm, nobody's done me any harm, but nobody will help me. A pack of nobodies. Yet that isn't all true. Only, that nobody helps me - a pack of nobodies would be rather fine, on the other hand. I'd love to go on an excursion - why not? - with a pack of nobodies. Into the mountains, of course, where else? How these nobodies jostle each other, all these lifted arms linked together, these numberless feet treading so close! Of course they are all in dress suits. We go so gaily, the wind blows through us and the gaps in our company. Our throats swell and are free in the mountains! It's a wonder that we don't burst into song.'

The Lemon By Curtis Sittenfeld I was known as the mean one. All these years have passed since Septuplets! went off the air my brothers and sisters and I are nearing 40, I became estranged from them, then reconciled with our mother before her death yet a day doesnt pass without a stranger approaching me to ask, Why did you tie Frankie to that chair and make him eat a worm?

Absent-minded Window-gazing by Franz Kafka Translated by Willa and Edwin Muir What are we to do with these spring days that are now fast coming on? Early this morning the sky was gray, but if you go to the window now you are surprised and lean your cheek against the latch of the casement. The sun is already setting, but down below you see it lighting up the face of the little girl who strolls along looking about her, and at the same time you see her eclipsed by the shadow of the man behind overtaking her. And then the man has passed by and the little girl's face is quite bright.

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Planning an Atlantic Funeral By Hugh Sheehy. Eyes drawn to blue haze drag up thoughts of crest and spume, a baby horseshoe crab scurrying in a drill of seawater. How clouds come marveling to the ocean only to hurry off across it. Over maps the gazes drift out to the deep blue, stirring up dreams of bones and ghosts from carpets of seaweed. When fantasy falters, the grown take children in their arms and journey to see. Like revisiting an old crush, maybe your first, at the movies. The Atlantic of my memory loves the moon the best. Groping for her chilly face, the waters crush the sailors and surfers piling on for a piece of their own. Remember that Odysseus, lost in strange bedrooms, met only monsters and difficulty. If you must be heedless, take up a trade, learn a form of respect, catch the jissom in your palm. Ask needless questions. Just who are the oceans sleeping with? A gravid affair, it moves us, warps our seed and grain and stalk, lights our houses with its moods, makes overtures to our unborn kin. Under the fleshy fatness of full lunar exposure, attendant waters mute the pain, assume the mess. Brackish or Martian, waters conspire. Where bodies move, life impends. Remember your roots. Each day, children reach their first coast. There they acknowledge what calls to them in the most intimate of beds. Theres a girl with red hair, green eyes, a disturbance of freckles under a banana-green sundress. She rushes the mineral blue, as if to cross or pierce it and lift it like a turtle to carry home. See recognition catch her high on her toes, where the sea meets the nails her mother painted red.

Passers-by by Franz Kafka Translated by Willa and Edwin Muir When you go walking by night up a street and a man, visible a long way off - for the street mounts uphill and there is a full moon - comes running toward you, well, you don't catch hold of him, not even if he is a feeble and ragged creature, not even if someone chases yelling at his heels, but you let him run on. For it is night, and you can't help it if the street goes uphill before you in the moonlight, and besides, these two have maybe started that chase to amuse themselves, or perhaps they are both chasing a third, perhaps the first is an innocent man and the second wants to murder him and you

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would become an accessory, perhaps they don't know anything about each other and are merely running separately home to bed, perhaps they are night birds, perhaps the first man is armed. And anyhow, haven't you a right to be tired, haven't you been drinking a lot of wine? You're thankful that the second man is now long out of sight.

The Orator By Curtis Sittenfeld If your right hand itches, my grandma used to say, then moneys on its way to you. And its true I was scratching like crazy the week before I found the envelope stuffed with 20-dollar bills in the alley next to my apartment, but 1) I thought it was just my atopic dermatitis acting up again, and 2) the cash had to be from some drug deal, right? No one else was around, though, so I slid the envelope into the pocket of my shorts.

Bachelor's Ill Luck by Franz Kafka Translated by Willa and Edwin Muir It seems so dreadful to stay a bachelor, to become an old man struggling to keep one's dignity while begging for an invitation whenever one wants to spend an evening in company, to lie ill gazing for weeks into an empty room from the corner where one's bed is, always having to say good night at the front door, never to run up a stairway beside one's wife, to have only side doors in one's room leading into other people's living rooms, having to carry one's supper home in one's hand, having to admire other people's children and not even being allowed to go on saying: 'I have none myself,' modeling oneself in appearance and behavior on one or two bachelors remembered from one's youth. That's how it will be, except that in reality, both today and later, one will stand there with a palpable body and a real head, a real forehead, that is, for smiting on with one's hand.

Prometheus By Franz Kafka There are four legends concerning Prometheus: According to the first he was clamped to a rock in the Caucasus for betraying the secrets of the gods to men, and the gods sent eagles to feed on

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his liver, which was perpetually renewed. According to the second Prometheus, goaded by the pain of the tearing beaks, pressed him-self deeper and deeper into the rock until he became one with it. According to the third his treachery was forgotten in the course of thousands of years, for-gotten by the gods, the eagles, forgotten by himself. According to the fourth everyone grew weary of the meaningless affair. The gods grew weary, the eagles grew weary, the wound closed wearily. There remains the inexplicable mass of rock. The legend tries to explain the inexplicable. As it comes out of the substratum of truth it has in turn to end in the inexplicable.

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Appendix H

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