* Multi-skill example of developing important moments with plenty of detail
* Example of how to control time in naratives.
* A bit more commentary....
MORE COMING SOON.

********** No Class Friday

Instead, read these examples and work on your papers.

********** Multi-Skill Example with Revision and Commentary

     Controlling Time/Pace: while the following story makes several good points before it gets to the most important part, notice how starting at that point and doing little flashbacks to pick up any important information would make it all shorter, more direct, more focused, more interesting and stronger.

     "Shorter?!" you object, "but we want it long enough!"

     "Quality," I counter, "always go for quality over quantity." 

     To create a flashback, just refer to an earlier time period as you begin it ("Half an hour ago I arrived..." "Coach had sat us down for a pep talk during halftime...").

     Then you can either build the story until you reach the original moment or just refer back to the present time to jump out of the flashback ("Now I wished I had just stayed in bed as..." "Now coach's words seemed more prophetic than ever as...").

     Read this version and then the revised version afterward. As you read, try to pick out the most important moment where the story should begin.

   Development:  identify the important parts of your paper and develop them fully. Give plenty of details so the reader can really see and understand what you're talking about. Notice the additional development in the revised version as well...

   When growing up as a child, there were many things my father taught me. But out of all the things he taught me, I have come to realize this one thing applies to everything in general. And that is the value of hard work. Although Webster’s Dictionary cannot define hard work, the dictionary that lies in our own brains can define it. And in our brain we know that hard work is defined as someone that works hard, that puts everything they have into the object they are doing, or puts in a good portion of what they have. This is exactly what my story is about. I’m going to tell you how the teachings of my father on how to work hard, played an amazing role in my life on a warm September night during my senior year in High School.

So there I was, sitting in the warm, sweat smelling locker room of Grantsville High School. The locker room was piled with memories that could easily be brought up like a program! on a computer. Putting on my football pads to play in what would be the last home coming game I would ever play in, I was in- tuned to my own memories of this warm sweat smelling locker room and the many joys I had "suiting" up in it. Now in case you didn’t know, football in Grantsville is a way of life. Like Indiana with basketball, Grantsville is with High School Football. And for those of you who have played football, or have had relatives that have played, you too can testify what home coming your senior year is all about.

   As I got ready to tie up my cleats, our head football coach Kevin Butler called us seniors in for a meeting. All the seniors would come to coach Butler and listen to what he would say to get us pumped up before the game. Home coming on the other hand, was a little more special. He stared us all down, like a hunter watching his prey. He looked us all in the eyes and talked about the big game. One thing he said in particular that I’d never forget was! this: 

   "Guys, take a good look at your uniforms. Take a good look at your cleats, and most important, take a good look at each other. You guys are playing in the last home coming game that you will ever play in. As you look at your uniforms, remember how hard you worked to earn that uniform. As you look at your cleats, remember how hard you ran in them to make a play and how worn out the studs are. And as you look at each other, remember how hard all of you have worked together over the last four years to get where you are today. Remember the feeling, the enthusiasm, and the hard work you have all done with one another, and carry it out on that field not only for the final games of the season, but your last home coming game. Guys, hard work, pays off".

   All I could remember feeling was the hair standing up on my arms and on my back as if I was cold, listening to this man talk to us. Notice all the times coach Butler m! entioned the word "hard", and go back to remembering what the word "hard" in relation to hard work is all about. All I could think about, is just how much this game meant to me, and how sad it was to realize that after this, it was all over and that I would just have to finish out the rest of the season and hope to get a chance to play in the State Championship game.

   As I ran out onto the field, the excitement and the intensity soon grabbed a hold and took over me. I was "fired up" and ready to play. But that excitement went down somewhat as the national anthem was played. As I stood there, with my right hand over my heart, and my left hand holding my helmet, I again was brought back to the memories of dressing in the locker room, and playing in the legendary "Cowboy Stadium". Images of myself playing began flashing before my eyes as if I was watching a movie. Images of my dad teaching and telling me to never give up, and showing me how to work as hard as I could, to give! it everything I had. The memories were breathtaking.

   After the National Anthem was played, the starting lineups were announced. As they were being announced, the feeling of "I’ve been waiting for this my whole life" came into my mind, and I was ready. The lights were on, the fans were screaming, and the kickoff was underway. My memorable home coming game was about to begin. 

   As the game started, it was obvious that this wasn’t going to be a game of easy domination; this was going to be a game of who wanted it more. From the opening kickoff, both teams known for their brand of power running football pounded the ball at each other with the run. And as expected, with the offenses known for their running, both defenses were also known for hard hitting and run stopping ability. So as you can guess, the making of a classical game was in order. The score remained tied at 0 through out the entire game, each team moving the ball well down field, but failing to cross the goal line. As I played in this game, I realized my intensity was at its peak, but I still had a feeling I wasn’t giving it my all. I was running the ball very well indeed. But the matter of crossing the goal line in the 5 times I visited was a different story.

With the 4th quarter winding down, and the score still tied at 0, it became evident that no one would know the result of this game until the clock ran out. Both teams were tired, but still running and hitting hard. With about 13 seconds left in the game, our opponent was in field goal range, and could win the game. With these thoughts in our minds, we knew what we had to do. We knew we had a job to do, and that was to block the field goal. As we sat down in the huddle before going out onto the field, coach Butler came to us again and talked to us, and said: 

   "Remember what I told you in that locker room. Hard work guys, pays off. Now go out there, work hard, and win this damn game! Seniors!! This is all up to you… go out there and do it!!" After the talk of motivation, we all got up and started cheering and we were all fired up. With seconds left, o! ur opponent went for the field goal. The crowd was silent. So silent, that the drop of a pin could have been heard. As the ball left their kickers foot, one of our very own seniors jumped out of nowhere and blocked the kick. Our memorable game was going to overtime. And if you don’t know the rules of football, let me tell you. To make long story short, the first team to score in overtime, wins.

   As we won the coin toss in overtime, we elected to receive so that we would have the first chance on winning the game. On the opening overtime kickoff, it didn’t take us long to show our determination of getting downfield as we took the kick off 55 yards down to half field. From there we took control of the game running the ball to perfection like Michael Jordan dunking a basketball. As we got to the 10-yard line, our opponent was still strong, and showed their value of hard work. But the night was ours, and nothing or no one would stop us. We worked hard for this, and now, it was our turn. With less then 15 seconds left, I was given the opportunity of running the ball to the goal line. This time, I would not be denied; this time thoughts of working hard and knowing what I did to get where I was on that field took control. As I got the ball I raced to the outside of the goal line before cutting into the midd! le like a hot knife through butter. The next thing I remember, I was being pulled down to the ground by three defenders. But it was too late; I was across the goal line. Grantsville had just won the game. After words, fans were celebrating, and our team was jumping for joy. Afterward, Coach Butler told us all to get down on a knee so he could give us his after game speech. Like the first speeches he gave, this one was just as memorable:

"You guys have proven the value of hard work, and teamwork. Both of these are like water and air, you can’t live without both of them. You seniors should pat yourself on your backs, your hard work, has paid off."

   That night will forever be remembered in my heart. Because I knew that whether we won or not, we worked our hardest and that’s what mattered. Now life isn’t always going to give you a win when you work as hard as you can. But wouldn’t it be safe to say when you work hard whether you win or not, you feel better about yourself? 

   The moral of this story is to work hard no matter what happens in life. It’s a safe bet that when you work hard in life, life itself has more meaning, and you feel better about yourself. Even if you make it to the goal line 6 times but fail to reach the end zone, don’t ever give up. Work hard, stay strong, and eventually, that goal line no longer becomes a desire to reach; it becomes a reality. 

   Whether it’s school, work, sports, or a troubled relationship, hard work is bound to help you in all of these categories. It’s a simple fact that the harder you work, the better you feel about yourself. 

   So with that in mind, go out, work hard in your life, and never give up. And always remember, hard work, whether you win or loose, pays off.

   "Ready?" Brian shouted.

   "Break!" ten of us answered in unison.

   I stood up from the huddle and strode forward across the green turf to the line of scrimmage. I couldn't tell whether I felt more excited or nervous. The clock had run down to the final fifteen seconds of the game and Brian had called for the post-wing-center play, which meant that in about five seconds, the center would snap the football and Brian would jam it into my rib cage as I sprinted past him as fast as my legs could run. I glanced over at my blockers and wondered if they would clear me a path through the defense and on to victory. I wondered if I would follow them all the way in or have to break away, dodge defenders, and break tackles on my own. I wondered if they would knock me down before I reached...no, no time for such thoughts. One way or another, I had to reach the end zone. I had worked too hard to fail now.

   This was no ordinary game, after all. This was homecoming and my senior year. The entire school had come out to cheer us on and now everything came down to a win or loss in the next few seconds. So far, our defenses had held, but so had Grantsville's, and the game remained scoreless. Four times already I had been given the ball and sent sprinting into the hordes of green jerseys. Four times I had been knocked down, slammed against the grass with no gains. This time, though, this time would be different. This time, I would break through.

   I reached the line of scrimmage and kicked my cletes into the grass for traction. I bent my knees, leaned forward, and places one knuckle against the ground.   My legs were flexed and ready to bolt. I sucked in one deep breath of cool, September air and waited for Brian to call the [numbers thing, whatever you call that].

   For a split second, my mind wandered away from the game. For a split second, I felt like I was watching myself from the outside. Observing and judging. I noticed how even after four failed attempts, I never once thought of failure, but only of continuing to try, of never giving up. For that, I gave credit to two people.

   The first was my father. Ever since I was young, he had drilled the value of hard work into my head. I remembered the chores around the house and the long hours spent hiking together or tossing the football back and forth in the front yard. And whenever I got tired and wanted to quit anything before I finished, he was there to remind me that hard work pays off. At the same time, he never left me to finish up on my own, but worked by my side patiently. From observing my father's willingness to work even when it wasn't comfortable or convenient, I came to understand to never let discomfort stand in the way of reaching a goal.

   And so when our head football coach Kevin Butler called us seniors in for a meeting before the game, I was prepared for what he would tell us. Coach Butler stared us all down, like a hunter watching his prey. He looked us all in the eyes and talked about the big game. One thing he said in particular was this:

   "Guys, take a good look at your uniforms."  We glanced around the room at each other, at our bright yellow jerseys with large red numbers ironed on the front and back.  "Take a good look at your cleats," he continued.   We glanced down at the floor and kicked our feet against the tile.  "And most important, take a good look at each other. You guys are playing in the last home coming game that you will ever play in. As you look at your uniforms, remember how hard you worked to earn that uniform. As you look at your cleats, remember how hard you ran in them to make a play and how worn out the studs are. And as you look at each other, remember how hard all of you have worked together over the last four years to get where you are today."  It was working. I could feel the adrenaline pumping easily into my veins. All I wanted to do was run onto the field and feel that ball tucked up underneath my arm. All I wanted to do was break tackles left and right, spin, dodge, and sprint all the way down the field. "Remember the feeling, the enthusiasm, and the hard work you have all done with one another, and carry it out on that field not only for the final games of the season, but your last home coming game." Finally, Coach Butler finished off with the words we had all learned by heart over the four seasons we had played our way up to the varsity team: "Guys, hard work, pays off".

   At that moment, alll I remember feeling was the hair standing up on my arms and on my back as if I had caught a sudden chill. I noticed all the times Coach Butler mentioned the word "hard" and realized that I had learned to love a word I once hated. Now, instead of hearing "difficult," I heard "challenge." Instead of hearing the word "uncomfortable," I heard the word "rewarding." That is what life is all about if you're willing to face challenges head on and not give way.

   That's what ran through my head as I crouched at the line of scrimmage. Not all the words, but the impressions. The feelings. The excitement, anticipation, and determination to succeed this time.

   This time was like a second chance. We had played out an entire game scoreless, but so had Grantsville. We won the coin toss in overtime and chose to receive the kick. This would give us the easiest chance to score first and win the victory. On the kickoff, Sammy had caught the ball on our 30 yard line and run 55 yards until finally being tackled on the 15.  The clock still showed nearly five minutes for overtime play, but I was anxious to get it over with as quickly as possible.

   "Blue 42!" Brian shouted to the far wing. "Blue 42!" he repeated in my direction, his voice loud and clear above the frantic roar coming from the bleachers. I knew what came next, and I was ready. "Hike!"

   With that sound, I lunged to my right and behind the wall of clashing linebackers, centers, and the others. I met Brian running in the opposite direction and as we passed, he held out the ball. I clutched it tightly and tucked it against my chest, held securely beneath my right arm. My legs pumped as I sprinted toward the sidelines, hoping that the defense hadn't read the play. Hoping my blockers had dug a hole for me to run through. Hoping that this time I would make it closer to the goal line.

   I looked up as I ran and saw several defenders running to intercept me. If I continued on my current vector, I would run straight into their waiting arms. I remembered the crushing hugs those arms delivered and decided not to meet them after all. Instead, I slashed left and dodged behind my blockers. A few defenders filled the empty space before me, but loosely and unprepared for me.  I took several strides before the first hand found me. Someone had grabbed hold of my jersey from behind. The next few steps came more slowly, and another set of hands wrapped around my left knee, then slid down to my ankle. I couldn't shake them loose. The third hit slammed me from the right and knocked me off my feet. A fourth defender was busy wrapping his arms around me from the left, though, and kept me from going down. Even so, the crash was inevitable. I stood surrounded in a sea of green jerseys with nowhere to go but down.

   As I dropped, I caught a glimpse of the sea of red in the bleachers. The fans had leapt to their feet, hands in the air, voices raised in shouts of support. With both feet still on the ground, I gave one final push toward the goal and fell foward as more hands and arms wrapped around me and at the last moment before impact, reached the ball out ahead of me, hoping to gain as much yardage as possible and perhaps to make it in on the next play.

   I don't know how long I lay on the grass, buried under hundreds of pounds of muscle and bone, with my eyes closed, before I heard it. The cheers. The shouts. The roar that told me something important had just occurred. I opened my eyes and found myself facing the white chalk mark of the endzone. I had made it in! I had pushed the ball over the line before I fell! The game was over and we had come out on top.

   When we finally made it back to the locker room, Coach Butler greeted us silently, in stark contrast to the jubilation going on outside.  We quieted down quickly, wondering what was wrong. When the last of the team had wandered inside and fallen silent, he finally spoke. "Everyone to take a knee," he directed quietly. We complied. "I want you to remember the way you feel right now. I want you to remember these feelings not just for the rest of the weekend.. Not just for the rest of the season or year. I want you to remember it for the rest of your lives." Players began nodding their heads even though many probably had no idea what he was gtting at. "You guys have proven the value of hard work and teamwork. Both of these are like water and air, you can’t live without both of them. You seniors should pat yourself on your backs, your hard work, has paid off."

   With that, he broke into a broad grin. The players stood and shoved their fists in the air and cheered all over again.

COMMENTARY

* Okay, so maybe in this case it wasn't shorter by doing the flashback, but all the details added were more central to the story, right? 

* Some parts *could* have been left out...that's for the author to decide - do you want more detail and more ideas developed on the side, or more focus. Either way is fine.

* Other skills you may have noticed in there are repetition, parallel constructs, concrete and sensory details, and a tiny bit of dialogue (with description and ideas added). And oops, sorry for getting the teams backward.

* Your papers don't have to have *that* much detail, but do shoot for a lot where you can. More examples to come...