BELONGING

1. AREA OF STUDY BELONGING Writing is a craft that can be learned and transformed to become artistry! Explicitly focus on the craft and artistry!

2. Section II: Writing Task “They demonstrated structural complexity, cohesion, the use of an authentic, sustained and engaging voice and took advantage of the opportunity the question presented to showcase originality and perceptiveness. The mechanics of language, punctuation, sentence structure and paragraphingwere applied skillfully in these responses.”

3. Writing Task • Cohesion: • The idea • Setting • Motif or extended metaphor • Voice: • Writing from experience • Word choice • Characterisation

4. Writing Task • Mechanics: • Syntax: varying length and beginnings • Imagery: figurative devices/synathaesia • Sound: euphony, discordance, disruption • Powerful verbs not too many adjectives

5. Writing Task Craft the writing: Imagery Sound devices Senses Poetic devices Structure Voice Syntax Lexical density Extended metaphor Powerful verbs Motif

6. Concepts Alienation • When individuals experiences a strong connection to a place the notion of belonging is strengthened and enriched. • The simple act of unquestioning friendship and kindness nurtures the notion of belonging. • If don’t accept who we are and believe in ourselves then we may spend a life time searching for our identity and a place where we belong. Empathy Compassion

7. Suggestions Consider the tension between belonging and not belonging Focus on the setting- mood/ atmosphere/ tension-> is it a place of belonging or a hostile environment? Focus on characterisation – the crafting of a character: voice, gestures, relationships, what is their situation in terms of belonging or not belonging?

8. The concept…choose two or three of the following ideas to start you thinking: • Acceptance and understanding • Family, friends, enemies, authority/ the institution • Identity • Conformity • Outsider • Being different • Relationships • Those who challenge a community • Individuals who enrich a community • Cultural difference • Intergenerational connections/ differences • Moral dilemma/ conflict- when belonging means compromising values • Longing for a place to feel accepted/ be yourself • Experience in a foreign land • And???

9. We buzz north through hours of good farm country. The big, neat paddocks get browner and drier all the while and the air feels thick and warm. Biggie drives. He has the habit of punctuating his sentences with jabs on the accelerator and although the gutless old Volksie doesn't exactly give you whiplash at every flourish, it's enough to give a bloke a headache. We wind through the remnant jarrah forest, and the sickly-looking regrowth is so rain-parched it almost crackles when you look at it. (Tim Winton, The Turning)

10. There’s a nothingness on the horizon that watches and waits. Nothing. I turn around and stare at the empty beach. There is no other place I want to be. I see a set coming. Digging deep into the ocean I gain speed and push my way onto the wave. A great force urges me on and on. A huge rush of adrenalin kicks in as I stand up and fly down the glassy face. For that split second nothing else matters. No thoughts in my mind about school or my future or anything. All that matters is here on this wave. I don’t care what will come next…

11. In the afternoons while the sea wind brawled in across the river mouth we lay on our bunks and read. Our noses were peeling, our feet scabby, our hair bleached, our lips chapped…The house was full of smells of fried fish, vinegar and Coppertone. One year I lay there for three weeks, in the midst of broken Christmas presents and Scrabble tiles, and read Jules Verne’s ‘Journey to the Centre of the Earth’…those afternoons I was safe and the world of books opened up to me like a dim shaft into the centre of the earth. (Tim Winton, The Turning)

12. Swan Bay was like one of those happy heaven pictures from a Sunday school story book, Farren thought; all the different birds together on water that was flat, black, and silver like a new frypan. He watched, listening, their contented quiet honking and whistling coming to him sweet and sour on air that smelled of seaweed, saltbush, and tidal mud. Here he belonged. Right Here. The colours of the estuary, sky-blue over fifty tones of green and brown merged and soothed, the occasional beating of wings and the furrowing of water causing no more fuss than the ticking of a clock. But the crashing of a rifle, as flat and sharp as shattering glass, caused instant commotion. Across the inlet hundreds of waterbirds rose, more like a swarm than a flock. (Black Water by David Methzenthen)

13. The gunman, is useless. I know it. He knows. The whole bank knows it. Even my best mate Marvin knows it and he’s more useless than the gunman. The worst part about the whole thing is that Marv’s car is standing outside in a fifteen-minute parking zone. We’re all face-down on the floor and the car’s only got a few minutes left on it. ‘I wish this bloke’d hurry up,’ I mention. ‘I know,’ Marv whispers back. ‘This is outrageous.’ His voice rises from the depths of the floor. ‘I’ll be getting a fine because of this useless bastard. I can’t afford another fine, Ed.’ ‘The car’s not even worth it.’ ‘What?’ Marv looks over at me now. I can sense he’s getting uptight. Offended. If there’s one thing Marv doesn’t tolerate, it’s someone putting shit on his car. He repeats the question. ‘What’d you say Ed?’ ‘I said,’ I whisper, ‘it isn’t even worth the fine, Marv.’ ‘Look,’ he says, ‘I’ll take a lot of things, Ed, but…’ (The Messenger by Markus Zusak)

14. I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it’s wrong what they say about the past, I’ve learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws it way out. Looking back now, I realise I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty six years. (The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini)