Imagery Have you included sensory details?

1. Imagery Have you included sensory details? This essay requires a vivid presentation through the use of imagery. What are some ways to make your essay more vivid?

2. Two strategies for making your essay come to life! “Explode the Moment” And “Show, Don’t Tell”

3. “Exploding the Moment” • Choose ONE specific moment and write about it in detail. • Somewhere in your essay, slow down time, focus on detail, make it seem like the moment is happening in slow motion • The whole essay can’t be “exploded” • Pick an IMPORTANT scene and EXPLODE it. • Let’s read an example…Try to pick out the moment that is exploded.

4. “Bet he kisses mushy and wet!” my sister taunted me. I twisted around and looked at her, my elbows deep in dishwater. “Look—just finish your dinner and be quiet. He does not either.” I didn’t want to discuss my boyfriend David with my blabbermouth little sister. What did she know about kissing anyway? “Wet mushy kisses—wet mushy kisses—Janie loves David’s wet mushy kisses,” she sing-songed to herself but clearly intended for my ears. I scraped the soap suds off my arms and picked up a quart of milk, shoving it in her face. “If you don’t hush up and be quiet I’m going to pour this right over your head.” The quart was nearly full. “You wouldn’t dare,” she glowered. “Dad would kill you.” “You don’t think so? I would, too. You’re just asking for it.” “You’re chicken! You’d never do it,” she said assuredly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. I watched myself begin this horrible deed. My hand suddenly seemed to have a will of its own. It picked up the milk carton. The spout was already opened. My arm extended over Abby's head, tipping the carton. The liquid poured in a slow, steady, thick, unending stream through her long blonde hair, soaking the back of her clothes and running onto the floor. As the milk reached the floor, I shifted the spout slightly to begin a long, milky journey down the front of her. It poured over the forehead, in the eyes, running in rivers down each side of her nose, converging on her chin and splashing into her plate. Her food was awash as the milk poured over the edge and into her lap. And still I poured on. It was too late to stop now. The rapture of it all. Oh sweet revenge! Carol was shocked into absolute silence, her milk-washed eyes staring at me in total disbelief – almost uncomprehending. What had I done? I only meant to pour a little to scare her and now it was all over the place. Her chair was a four-legged island in the middle of a giant white pond in the kitchen floor. For a second or two she didn’t react and I had a brief but fleeting prayer that she was stunned speechless. However, not for long. “Dadeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” she screamed at the top of her lungs.  

5. “Bet he kisses mushy and wet!” my sister taunted me. I twisted around and looked at her, my elbows deep in dishwater. “Look—just finish your dinner and be quiet. He does not either.” I didn’t want to discuss my boyfriend David with my blabbermouth little sister. What did she know about kissing anyway? “Wet mushy kisses—wet mushy kisses—Janie loves David’s wet mushy kisses,” she sing-songed to herself but clearly intended for my ears. I scraped the soap suds off my arms and picked up a quart of milk, shoving it in her face. “If you don’t hush up and be quiet I’m going to pour this right over your head.” The quart was nearly full. “You wouldn’t dare,” she glowered. “Dad would kill you.” “You don’t think so? I would, too. You’re just asking for it.” “You’re chicken! You’d never do it,” she said assuredly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. I watched myself begin this horrible deed. My hand suddenly seemed to have a will of its own. It picked up the milk carton. The spout was already opened. My arm extended over Abby's head, tipping the carton. The liquid poured in a slow, steady, thick, unending stream through her long blonde hair, soaking the back of her clothes and running onto the floor. As the milk reached the floor, I shifted the spout slightly to begin a long, milky journey down the front of her. It poured over the forehead, in the eyes, running in rivers down each side of her nose, converging on her chin and splashing into her plate. Her food was awash as the milk poured over the edge and into her lap. And still I poured on. It was too late to stop now. The rapture of it all. Oh sweet revenge! Carol was shocked into absolute silence, her milk-washed eyes staring at me in total disbelief – almost uncomprehending. What had I done? I only meant to pour a little to scare her and now it was all over the place. Her chair was a four-legged island in the middle of a giant white pond in the kitchen floor. For a second or two she didn’t react and I had a brief but fleeting prayer that she was stunned speechless. However, not for long. “Dadeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” she screamed at the top of her lungs.  

6. Another strategy for adding vivid detail to your essay is called “Show, Don’t Tell” • Show the readers through your words what you want them to see; don't just tell them about it. • The idea is if you tell the readers something, they might remember it and they might believe it -- or they might not. • BUT, if you show the readers something so that they can experience it for themselves, they are more likely to remember it and, more importantly, to believe it.

7. Here is an example of part of a belief essay. Where are there opportunities here to “show, not tell”? What makes people judge others? I have yet to figure it out. But I do know that no matter how young or innocent children may be, they still can hate. I believe that people hate others for all kinds of reasons. They may hate them for looking different, having different clothes or different color of skin. But whatever the reason, I think it is wrong to hate and judge other people. When I was younger, I thought I looked like a freak, but my mother told me it would be fine. At school, the name calling and bullying was just a game for kids, but for me it was a nightmare. I felt that school was a snake pit and I was judged because the way I looked. The year slowly came to a close. When the new year came I got to transfer schools and things did start to change for the better. As I got older, I kept my good eating and exercise habits My teeth are straight and I have contacts instead of glasses. I’m a lot taller now, but now people are saying it’s a good thing. When I hear the quote “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me,” all I can do is laugh because that is not true. To me, words hurt more than any rock you can throw.

8. The bolded sections are opportunities to “show, not tell.” What makes people judge others? I have yet to figure it out. But I do know that no matter how young or innocent children may be, they still can hate. I believe that people hate others for all kinds of reasons. They may hate them for looking different, having different clothes or different color of skin. But whatever the reason, I think it is wrong to hate and judge other people. When I was younger, I thought I looked like a freak, but my mother told me it would be fine. At school, the name calling and bullying was just a game for kids, but for me it was a nightmare. I felt that school was a snake pit and I was judged because the way I looked. The year slowly came to a close. When the new year came I got to transfer schools and things did start to change for the better. As I got older, I kept my good eating and exercise habits My teeth are straight and I have contacts instead of glasses. I’m a lot taller now, butnow people are saying it’s a good thing. When I hear the quote “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me,” all I can do is laugh because that is not true. To me, words hurt more than any rock you can throw.

9. Here is the same essay after the student decided to “explode the moment” “Fatso.” “Four-eyes.” “Metal mouth.” “Giant.” Over and over with an intense sound like thunder growing louder were the voices of a class of third graders at recess chanting around me. The whistle blew and recess had finally come to an end. I fell to my knees in tears while the rest of the class lined up for class. At the early age of nine I learned discrimination comes in different forms and all levels. What makes people judge others? I have yet to figure it out. But I do know that no matter how young or innocent children may be, they still have the power to hate and cast it on others. The summer before third grade I had just moved to San Antonio from Oklahoma City. I was tall and not very slim, in fact, I was obese. I had also gotten my braces put on and at the same time the doctor had realized I needed glasses. “Mom, I look like a freak!” I whined as she took me to school for my first day. My mother reassured me it would be fine, and I would soon like my new school. She said that I just had the “new kid” jitters. As the year went on, things never seemed to get better. My jitters had been replaced by a sad fear. To the kids the name calling and constant bullying was just a game, but for me it was torture, a living, breathing nightmare. The year slowly came to a close. That summer, my dad told me about how the same thing happened to him when he was young. We went on a diet together and I lost thirty pounds. When the new year came I got to transfer schools and things did start to change for the better. As I got older, I kept my good eating and exercise habits, and at the age of seventeen I weighed less than I did at nine. My teeth are straight and I have contacts instead of glasses. I’m a lot taller now, but suddenly people are saying it’s a good thing and I should try to be a model. When I hear the quote “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me,” all I can do is laugh because that is not true. Words are like a sharp sword that can pierce our hearts in an instant. To me, words hurt more than any rock we can throw. Just because we can’t see an injury, that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

10. Let’s look at another example of telling vs. showing -- Telling Sentence: I was unnerved by the assortment of students in the classroom and my social assumptions (which were arguably unfair) about them. • VS. • Showing Paragraph: Tucked away in my nearly invisible seat in the back corner of the classroom, I took a few moments to survey this collection of students at all ends of the social spectrum. To my immediate left, a towering beast of a kid, dressed as if he were on his way to Marilyn Manson’s funeral, sat staring menacingly at his desk, as if it had betrayed his trust and was about to experience severe punishment. Afraid he would catch a glimpse of me, as scrawny and timid as I was, I directed my eyes to the student directly in front of me. Chattering relentlessly about her brand new car to seemingly nobody in particular was a girl who had, as of yet, failed to acknowledge my existence. I’m not normally one to form these kinds of judgments so deliberately, but I concluded that if I was not first beaten to death by the recluse to my left, my mind would surely explode as a result of the excessively bubbly prep’s endless yarns.

11. Now, put a *(star) next to a place in your draft where you could “show, not tell”