Workshop5

Today’s workshop began with 20 minutes of writing on the prompt, Write about an experience that changed you. Jay worked with Karen while Eddie and I worked together. Christopher worked independently. Before we wrote, I explained the difference between a story’s protagonist and its narrator. The protagonist is the character involved in the story’s drama or conflict whereas the narrator is the older, wiser person looking back and giving the reader the big picture. “It’s like the movie Stand By Me,” I explained. “There’s the little boy on his way to see the dead body. And then there’s the adult voice over, who’s telling the story.” Everyone shared their work, starting with Olen (Karen read his piece). It was about how he got involved with gangs. Christopher said the story was relatable. We talked about the narrative reflection, and the meaning the adult narrator is able to make of the situation that the nine year old protagonist could not. Christopher read a story about his dealings with HRA and Medicaid. He described the bureaucracy and showed how frustrating it is to deal with the system. In the end, he reflected on “the big picture” and what he is able to do in situations like this, which are frustrating. Eddie wrote a story about wanting respect as a child, getting caught up in the street and playing the game. “The game doesn't end until you end it,” he concluded. We talked about how every story is a journey towards a conclusion. “Every story has a protagonist. That’s you. The protagonist is on a journey. You have goals, you encounter conflict.” We talked about how conflicts are external and internal. Explaining how the protagonist accomplishes his or her goals given the conflict is what we call the major dramatic question. It’s the narrator’s job to answer this question, to make meaning and find resolution. Participants applied these concepts to the stories they had written, and others journeys they’d experienced in their lifetimes.

Growing up in a gang
By Olen

I was a member of the [REDACTED] in Chicago. I was 9 when I was jumped in. My cousins Unique, Byron and Nathan were members, and they were older. My parents had sent me out to Chicago to spend the summer with my great aunt, and I would stay with her. They lived with her too. She was raising them. I stayed out there until I was 15. I didn't know about their ways.

My great aunt, Eula Mae, sent me to the store by myself for the first time. She told me, “It's time you learn your way around here, being that you're going to be living out here for a while.” She wanted me to get milk, flour and vegetables. She gave me a note to take to the store with the money. On my way to the store, I ran into my cousins. They were sitting in a car, and they called me over. They were smoking cigarettes and weed.
“How you like it out here?” Byron said.
“It's alright,” I said. It was hard for me to understand what they said, because they talked different. They had an accent.

“Since you're gonna be out here for a while, do you want to be a part of what we're doing?” Byron said.

I said yes, not knowing what I was getting myself into. So he put a gun in my hand, a .22, and told me to go to a car parked across the street. There was a man sitting in there with his son, and his son got out to go to the store. Byron told me to go over there and shoot the man in his head. Being that I was young, and I didn't know about street life, Unique told me that if I didn't do it, they would kill my aunt. I was naïve and scared, so I went over there and I did it. I didn't know if they would or wouldn't hurt my aunt.

The man didn't see me. He didn't pay me no mind. He was looking toward the store. He was a big, heavyset man. I shot him in the back of the head. I didn't look. I ran back to the car, and we drove off. When I jumped in the car, they gave me five, patted me on the back.

“You did good,” Unique said.

I felt like a big guy. I felt grown up. I was shaken up, and I hid out for a couple of days. I didn't go outside. There was word on the street that it had happened. When things had cooled down a little bit, they took me to the clubhouse where everybody else was. I met the head leaders, the army, from the captain to the soldiers. They initiated me. They beat me up. Everyone took turns hitting me, and then they all jumped me.

I felt like a little punk, afraid for my life. I wanted out, but there was no way out.

From then on, I ran with them for a couple of years. As time went on, I realized that they were using me because I didn't have a clue as to what was going on. They took advantage of me. I hurt people through stickups. I did a lot of things that I wouldn't normally do.

If I would have known what I knew as time went by and I got older, I would have never been a part of it. I wouldn't have gone through the things I went through. I'm lucky to be alive, and I think that's through God. I still have nightmares, but I know that a lot of that was out of my control.Olen: Growing up in a gang.