journal FOR A-plus Writer

Analysis of Audience Targeting in House Contest Below is a series of attempts by one writer to try to win an essay contest. The prize for the contest is a house in

Manhattan Beach, California. The rules for the contest are that all entrants must begin their essays with “I’ve

always dreamed of living in a beautiful beach community, like Manhattan Beach, California.” Essays must be no

more than 400 words in length. Judges are asked to rate each essay based on: 1) technical skill, 2) creativity, and 3)

persuasiveness. The writers have no idea who the judges may be and, therefore, must guess how best to target the

audience for maximum persuasion.

Your task is to analyze in a 300-word response how the same writer of the below essays altered her style in each

essay based on the audience she may have imagined as comprising the panel of judges. Remember, in order to

effectively reach an audience, writers must imagine who the readers are and what interests, emotions, and/or values

they may share. In your analysis of the below essays, guess as to the type of people the writer is trying to target in

each essay. Then, choose the best essay, based on the writer’s ability to target the audience’s interests. State

specifically how your favorite essay is most persuasive. Submit response to DropBox.

ESSAY #1

I’ve always dreamed of living in a beautiful beach community like Manhattan Beach, California—because

William Shakespeare had London, England, wherein, inspired by England’s expansion, the Renaissance’s mania for

history, and the pun-making fad, the great playwright became immortal.

I’ve always dreamed…because Emily Dickinson had Amherst, Rhode Island, wherein, inspired by the

land’s Puritanical foundation, the solitude of prolonged winters, and the turbulence of post-Civil War America, the

passionate poetess became a muse.

I’ve always dreamed…because James Joyce had Dublin, Ireland, wherein, inspired by clashing Protestant

and Catholic faiths, lush Celtic legends, and the rise of the deconstructionist modern age, the rebellious novelist

became revolutionary.

I’ve always dreamed…because my goal’s to become a writer, and I believe that a decent writer, placed in a

suitable setting, can become a great artist. Shakespeare had London, Dickinson had Amherst, and Joyce had

Dublin; I want Manhattan Beach. It may seem pretentious to aspire to such heights of literary greatness, but writers

must seek excellence in order to be, at least, good. In my own Manhattan Beach home, I know I can climb to

literary pinnacles.

I’ve been visiting Manhattan Beach lately and have been charmed by the calming elegance of the city.

Most importantly, the artist in me, long denied by the high costs of life and duty, now stirs restlessly, anxious to

write of that which now inspires me.

I’ve been inspired by Manhattan Beach—the scent of salty morning breeze, the warmth of sunlight tingling

across my skin, the silkiness of wet sand between my toes; and, when the ocean pulls the ground from under my

feet, every speck of negativity in my spirit slowly retreats with the waves back into the vastness of tranquil blue.

Hence, I’m always ready to write in Manhattan Beach, and not only because of its natural beauty, but, also, because

it’s a city.

This city offers an escape from stress—but not from the world. This is, ultimately, the reason Manhattan

Beach is essential for me. Attracting people of various cultures, ages, and lifestyles, Manhattan Beach emphasizes

my obligations to write for the celebration and improvement of society. I can ask for nothing more than an

inspirational setting in which I can create literary artwork of social significance.

I’ve always dreamed of living in a beautiful beach community like Manhattan Beach, California—because

it’s my spiritual and artistic home.

ESSAY #2

I’ve always dreamed of living in a beautiful beach community like Manhattan Beach, California;

but I’m young and expected to dream. My parents, however, shouldn’t have to dream. Sadly, they do.

I once visited my parents during a college break. We went to the beach. I swam in the blue-silver

sea with Dad as Mom lounged, absorbing the sun, the breeze bouncing her brunette curls. It was a family

day, one of the last where I was the child and they were the adults. And, on this day I first realized that

my parents dreamed.

The sun had just finished dripping down the sky, leaving above the horizon a pool of color, what

seemed to be all the world’s fire, vibrant oranges and blazing reds.

“You’re breathing in time with the waves,” Dad told Mom.

She grinned. Dad took hold of her hand and whispered in the voice people use when they pray

aloud: “Someday.” Mom nodded, envisioning a life they could never afford.

I’m chiefly responsible for this. All rational expectations for buying their own home faded when

they sent me to college. Mom recently told me that, while I was at school, every Sunday she’d cook a

large batch of, usually, spaghetti, and she and my father would eat only that for the entire week. I guess

she didn’t think this information would hurt me since I was about to graduate; but it did.

All my life I’ve taken advantage of my parents. I never even understood we were poor until I was

in college where I met students who drove cars that cost the whole of my parents’ combined annual

income. Dad still drives his battered 1960s Volkswagen! I’m ashamed it took me so long to realize my

parents’ sacrifices; but throughout my childhood, they had given me a solid illusion of financial stability.

And because they smiled whenever I made requests, they instilled in me the belief that everything is

achievable.

I’ve always dreamed of living in a beautiful beach community like Manhattan Beach, California;

but I’m still young and can work for my dreams. My parents gave me the confidence and schooling to do

that. Now, I’m using that education to attempt to win a home for my parents because they shouldn’t have

to dream anymore.

And, in their own Manhattan Beach home, they wouldn’t have to dream, but just live the day.

ESSAY #3

I’ve always dreamed of living in a beautiful beach community like Manhattan Beach, California;

and, because of Winnie-the-Pooh, I’m entering this contest.

Winnie-the-Pooh? What does that— ♫chubby, little cubby, all-stuffed-with-fluff♫ —storybook

character have to do with this contest?

Well, I sometimes believe in signs; and when I took the bathroom virtual tour at the contest

website, I noticed the bottom portion of a Winnie-the-Pooh throw rug that I, also, own! I recognized the

rug instantly because I practice yoga on it everyday. And because I identified a bit of my life in the

contest house, I knew I could win.

Now, I’m not one who reads horoscopes or jumps over cracks in the pavement. I’ve even been

known to open umbrellas in the house. But this time, this one hopeful time, I’m trusting a sign.

You see, I believe in the power of visualization—meaning, if I can visualize being somewhere,

doing something, I’m more capable of altering my reality. The Winnie-the-Pooh rug was just the first step

in being able to see my dreams come true. Since my website virtual tour, I’ve been visualizing even more.

I’ve visited Manhattan Beach and pictured myself dining at the fragrant restaurants along

Highland Avenue. I’ve envisioned shopping with my sister in the unique boutiques on Manhattan Beach

Boulevard. While walking along the shore, I’ve imagined the giggling of my younger cousins as waves

foam around their feet. I’ve even awakened in my own stuffy bedroom, pretending to smell the scent of

salty morning breeze, rather than dirty smog. In short, I’ve visualized living in Manhattan Beach with

such intensity that I can see, hear, and smell a new way of life. And as I now write, I can’t help smiling

because that life, that happy life, is so close in my mind and heart.

♫A dream is a wish your heart makes♫—That’s from another Disney classic: Cinderella. And

just like Cinderella, I’m wishing for a life-altering gift. I’m wishing for a life where I can feel at home in

my house, where I can experience both nature’s magnificence and society’s refinement, where my visiting

family can stay the night rather than have to go to a lonely, cheap motel.

And in this new life that I’ve envisioned so intensely that it almost feels real, I will set down my

Winnie-the-Pooh rug, kneel on it, and feel completely whole.