Mata Angelou Interview Questions

1.) Put more ideas into your words. Ideas that make the reader think, that turn the story into something real.

2.)She says she writes for herself, but also for the reader who is willing to look back and truly understand the depth of what she writes. All I can say about the African proverb she quotes is that its a normal good quote but the underlying idea of it is phenominal and unexplainable like the definition of irony.

3.) Miss Angelou claims she attempts to create drama without creating melodrama. Meaning she wants to create tension in her stories without telling a tale of all out depression and hopelessness. She wants you to sympathize with the character, not pity them.

Sensory Writing: Smell and Taste

A vaporous wave of perspiring butter dissolving aerated puffs bombarded my nostrils. The air waned to the aroma that lingered in the air long after its source was taken from beneath my twitching nose. The sultry, warm scent seamed through the caverns of my nostrils and the strong scent went so deep I felt it on the back of my tongue.

Dry flakes turned to warm mush in my mouth as buttery flavors squeezed out and gushed against my tongue. The ruff pieces of un-popped kernels scraped against my tongue. They were resiliant and didn't crumble when they slid between my hinging jaws. With every gulp, the course mush still hot and fresh slithered down my throat and left me forgetting I had even eaten it, wanting more. And so more hot, butterly puffs found their way into my mouth. I kept going until it was no more and I was content. But not really

Sensory writing: Sight

The road smolders and waves with transparent fire licking up the air in the humid China afternoon. The earth trembles under the shimmering black treads of four kindred killing machines clad in skin of green steel and a red star, propaganda of a proud nation. These behemoths are opposed by that which they are built to destroy with ease. A slender men stands in the shadow of these tanks as they growl with displeasure from this defiance. A massive cannon juts from the hut atop the tank's treads accompanied by a 30-caliber machine gun. The man in his white shirt carries only his black bag. Standing with fear deep in his heart and courage even deeper, he holds his ground and his actions cry "NO MORE!"

Sensory writing: Hearing

http://margaretnoble.net/blog/choral_top/

With a hasty crank of a rusty lever, something began to spin. Another crank and from the faint twirl of the object vibrated the slow, solemn notes of an accordion. It sounded old and tuned low as each drawn out tune flowed into the next. On its narrow foundation, it revolved energetically as brisk air vibrated through the hollow shell. The sound began to dwindle in the air on every faltering note until finally, it faded away entirely. Now all that was to be heard was the clanking and racketing of the device spinning off kilter. Like a blender full of ice, it clacked wildly like something was loose inside its hollow tin shell. It continued on like this until it nearly became a somber form of music as well. Then the clatter slowed and rolled on, ceasing as well. Still the sounds echoed across the distant wall of the room as if a dismal accordion player harped out his final notes in a desolate cave then cast his instrument into the rocks. The echoes, finally exiting the mouth of the cave, ceased. Long after the reverberation and clattering had died away, the empty imitations of them faded into nothing.