by Liz Bureman |
One of the first things I remember from ninth grade English is discussing the origin of comedy and tragedy from the classical Greek plays. We read both Oedipus Rex and Antigone over the course of the next several years of English classes, and Shakespeare’s plays, both comic and tragic, made their way into the curriculum, as they have the tendency to in most high school English classes. I was in a production of As You Like It, one of Shakespeare’s most well-known comedies. Even in those earliest forms of literature and theater, writers played with blending the elements of tragedy and comedy together. We call these blended works tragicomedies or dramedies.
by Liz Bureman |
This weekend, I finally got around to seeing Into the Woods. Years ago, I saw the play the film is based on with my high school drama club on Broadway. Of course, because Into the Woods is a Disney film, there were a few things from the original musical that didn’t make it to the big screen (the fate of Rapunzel, the Baker’s Wife’s encounter with Cinderella’s Prince, etc.). Despite those changes, the overall theme of the musical remained intact.
by Liz Bureman |
So much of what most of us consider to be good writing requires the writer to create a believable scene and realistic characters—or if not believable and realistic, close enough so that the reader willingly suspends their disbelief. Today’s article and corresponding writing practice is all about throwing those rules out the window by writing about weirdos.
by Liz Bureman |
With the start of 2015, everyone is in the midst of making and (hopefully) following through on their New Year’s resolutions. One of mine, in addition to going to the gym (which I’ve already hurt myself doing), is to resume journaling on a semi-regular basis. I used to be a religious journaler about five years ago, but I’ve moved away from the practice, mostly because I keep forgetting/watching episodes of the West Wing on Netflix. Since then, I’ve received two more blank journals as gifts, so I take this as a sign that the universe wants me to pick up the pen again.
by Liz Bureman |
It’s kind of fun when words that refer to literary techniques have their origin in other disciplines. Take kinesiology, for example. I had several friends in college who were kinesiology majors, which means that they studied the science of human movement. That general idea of movement is also reflected in today’s new literary word: kinesthesia.
