Project 1- based off of “This is How I Remember it” by Betsy Kemper

Conga Line on the Black Slope

So there I was, standing at the top of Mt. Crested Butte staring at my choices. Skiing down the black slope would expose my amateur skiing skills to my friends; skiing down the green slope would require that I leave the group and go off to ski by myself. The latter choice was antithetical to the idea of staying together in groups as we had been instructed by the church leaders. Determined not to seem scared of a mere mountain, I reluctantly stayed with my group and risked skiing down the black slope. I adjusted my ski goggles, praying that I would have a safe descent. I stared down the black slope, trying to hold the fear in my stomach at bay. I’d chosen to ski with all guys, all of them much more experienced than I was. I wanted to prove that I could keep up, but I knew deep down in my gut that it was probably a mistake because of my limited skiing experience. In short, I chose the risk of failure over isolation. When it was my turn to push off and start down the slope, I immediately regretted my decision. My first fall happened less than ten seconds into the descent. Fall number two came immediately after I’d righted myself from fall number one. I crashed into the snow, rolling down the steep slope, collecting snow like a rolling pin. Despite the pain from the new angles my body had conformed to, I got back up and tried again. I tumbled into the snow once more. With mutton chops of snow, a twisted knee, and a long way to the bottom, I knew I couldn’t keep going this way. My brilliant idea of sliding down the mountainside on my rear end was quickly shut down by Ski Patrol. He skidded to a professional stop beside me, spitting snow into the angelic imprint of my last landing, and told me it was too icy to slide down gluteus-maximusly. It’s not allowed,” he said peremptorily. “You’ll hit the trees at the bottom.” He left as professionally as he’d arrived. My only option now was to swallow something much less tasty than mountain snow… my pride. I had to ask the boys for help, hoping I wouldn’t become the laughing stock of my friend group. Fortunately for me (and my twisted knee), the boys were kinder than I ever could’ve imagined. They helped me up, formed a human conga line, with me in the middle, and we slowly snaked our way down the slope without falling again. The conga line came to a stop at the bottom of the mountain, and I felt like I was on top of the world. Everyone gave me a hug of congratulations as though I had just won the Olympic Slalom.

Artist Statement

• I chose to emulate “This is How I Remember It” by Betsy Kemper because I like the way she set up her story. I like that it is in one continuous paragraph, because I never know when to start a new paragraph. I thought this would be the best for me because I like to just write it out with no breaks in between. My story “Conga Line on the Black Slope” follows this format. I also tried to match the ending of Kemper’s story, by ending mine with a semi-happy statement.
• One challenge I encountered while working was trying to make it simple like Betsy Kemper did. Her word choice is very basic, because it is a story from her point of view as a child. It was hard for me to emulate her word choice.
• What I did first was write out my story. I then went back over it and made it flow better and tried to make it sound more simple. I edited the original copy to make it more like Kemper’s.
• I think mimesis is valuable because it shows that writing pieces can be so similar in structure and form, but the storyline can be completely different. You can take a format that is well known and readers like, and turn it into your own by just replacing it with your own story.