How to Become a Writer
You will hate writing from the beginning. Absolutely hate it. Your eyes will nearly overflow with tears when you hear the word "essay" slip from the mouth of your high school English teacher. You will whine and moan and throw a fit and write it at midnight, but pull out an A as usual. Your classmates may resent you for it. But you still hate writing. You'll hate it so much that you major in Nutrition once you get to college. You'll soon realize you'd write a thousand and one essays for your high school English teacher if it meant you didn't have to write another lab report. Sometimes you have to go to the dark side to realize you were in the light all along.
Suck it up and accept your destiny. In a whim of spontaneity, switch your major to English. At least you have time to finally take French classes again. Just don't major in French or suddenly you'll find yourself trying to pay your own tuition. Start wearing more scarves and skinny jeans. Don't be afraid to carry coffee to class, either. It can only help. But be prepared to regret everything when you find yourself trapped in a room by the professor with the tight plaid pants and swoopy hair. Take a deep breath...you were never here for the British Lit anyway. Leave that for the thick rimmed glasses and frizzy hair. You just want to write. Get a gig writing for the school newspaper so you can convince your parents you have some kind of future in writing. Damage control like this will frequently come in handy when people give you the "ick" and "have fun being poor" looks after you tell them what you're studying.
Whenever your writing is shared in class, always remind everyone that you wrote it late at night when you were exhausted so everyone knows you can write even better. Whenever you receive compliments, shrug them off like you think your awesome alliteration is no biggie when you really you're squealing with delight on the inside. Always stay calm, cool, and collected.
Most importantly, stick with creative nonfiction. Now no one has to know that you still have no idea what Shakespeare was talking about. Don't let the professor in the plaid pants fool you...thoroughly understanding Chaucer's deep down love of misogyny will get you nowhere but tenured in approximately 7-10 years. No thanks. Someday they'll be reading your works.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Creative Writing Post #5
Question #4
Cars
Quickly weaving between the other cars,
Turn on the stereo and let the tunes fly.
Warm sunshine cascades through the sunroof.
The cars in front suddenly slam on their brakes,
Crash.
Cars
Quickly weaving between the other cars,
Turn on the stereo and let the tunes fly.
Warm sunshine cascades through the sunroof.
The cars in front suddenly slam on their brakes,
Crash.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Creative Writing Post #4
Question #6 (Write a piece of creative nonfiction in the form of "My Mother in Two Photographs"....)
She's the one sitting on my lap in the high school band room. No one else would've dared to sit on the lap of the girl with the frizzy french braids and railroad tracks for teeth. She's the one with the long blonde hair who played the flute, which was only a smidge cooler than my whiny clarinet. She even dragged me on dates with her boyfriend. The three of us would giggle over heaping bowls of ice cream and stay up late watching movies.
We were involved in every aspect of each others lives. My creamy mac n cheese would never taste as good as it does if we had not had that late night craving seven years ago in her ivy wallpaper covered kitchen. But no matter what we did, the party would always move to the little upright piano in the living room where we would play and sing the songs our grandparents would have danced to.
But it's the summer of 2006, and she's leaving me. Leaving me for the ominous brick buildings and cobblestone walkways of Otterbein College. We stood in the high school gymnasium, she in her red cap and gown and me in my blue and pink strapless dress. We're both grinning ear to ear, but I was crying on the inside. She had a new future to look forward to while I only had the weekends to escape our high school in the cornfields and visit her in the booming city.
It had been a long, bumpy road. I dated her ex-boyfriend which left me without a best friend for three months, and we had taught half our high school how to knit during South Pacific rehearsals. She stayed at Otterbein. I tearfully, yet joyfully, left rural Ohio for the humid beaches of North Carolina. She traveled to New Zealand and Fiji while I walked the dusty streets Mexico and explored Scotland. Our friendship lived on through postcards and Skype calls.
Port Columbus International Airport. It's Spring Break of 2010, and she's waiting with my parents, jumping in her black heels and holding a welcome home sign. I don't have braces anymore. Not only is she now going on dates with me and my boyfriend, but she's also my Maid of Honor. Soon she will be moving back to Columbus, and so will I. Back to the little upright piano in the living room.
She's the one sitting on my lap in the high school band room. No one else would've dared to sit on the lap of the girl with the frizzy french braids and railroad tracks for teeth. She's the one with the long blonde hair who played the flute, which was only a smidge cooler than my whiny clarinet. She even dragged me on dates with her boyfriend. The three of us would giggle over heaping bowls of ice cream and stay up late watching movies.
We were involved in every aspect of each others lives. My creamy mac n cheese would never taste as good as it does if we had not had that late night craving seven years ago in her ivy wallpaper covered kitchen. But no matter what we did, the party would always move to the little upright piano in the living room where we would play and sing the songs our grandparents would have danced to.
But it's the summer of 2006, and she's leaving me. Leaving me for the ominous brick buildings and cobblestone walkways of Otterbein College. We stood in the high school gymnasium, she in her red cap and gown and me in my blue and pink strapless dress. We're both grinning ear to ear, but I was crying on the inside. She had a new future to look forward to while I only had the weekends to escape our high school in the cornfields and visit her in the booming city.
It had been a long, bumpy road. I dated her ex-boyfriend which left me without a best friend for three months, and we had taught half our high school how to knit during South Pacific rehearsals. She stayed at Otterbein. I tearfully, yet joyfully, left rural Ohio for the humid beaches of North Carolina. She traveled to New Zealand and Fiji while I walked the dusty streets Mexico and explored Scotland. Our friendship lived on through postcards and Skype calls.
Port Columbus International Airport. It's Spring Break of 2010, and she's waiting with my parents, jumping in her black heels and holding a welcome home sign. I don't have braces anymore. Not only is she now going on dates with me and my boyfriend, but she's also my Maid of Honor. Soon she will be moving back to Columbus, and so will I. Back to the little upright piano in the living room.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Creative Writing Post #3
#5-(using the list of topics we made in class) write a story/poem/memoir in short sections leaving out information.
August 1, 2000
The flash of lighting and crack of thunder beckoned me outside.
Black, fluffy ash rained in the streets,
The smell of smoke overtook the dry desert air.
The family ran to the car and peeled out of the garage.
The flames were already climbing the hill.
Spectators clogged the streets.
Helicopters dumped water from the nearby lake.
Fire retardant turned the houses orange.
News crews ran through the yards.
Family members loaded the car,
I snatched the photo albums.
Garden hoses were the only weapons.
The orange glow creeped closer.
"It's too late, it leaped the road."
One more quick trip up the stairs.
The orange glow grew smaller in the rear view mirror,
But the fear grew larger.
The night stood still until finally
The sunrise became the only orange glow.
August 1, 2000
The flash of lighting and crack of thunder beckoned me outside.
Black, fluffy ash rained in the streets,
The smell of smoke overtook the dry desert air.
The family ran to the car and peeled out of the garage.
The flames were already climbing the hill.
Spectators clogged the streets.
Helicopters dumped water from the nearby lake.
Fire retardant turned the houses orange.
News crews ran through the yards.
Family members loaded the car,
I snatched the photo albums.
Garden hoses were the only weapons.
The orange glow creeped closer.
"It's too late, it leaped the road."
One more quick trip up the stairs.
The orange glow grew smaller in the rear view mirror,
But the fear grew larger.
The night stood still until finally
The sunrise became the only orange glow.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Creative Writing Question # 9
Imitation of "Girl"
Work
Make sure you scan everyone's insurance card and paperclip the copies to the chart; check the sign-in sheet constantly; don't let that call go to voicemail; file the doctor's mail and arrange it just so; when calling next week's patients, make sure they're on the correct schedule so we don't have anymore problems; initial and date everything you touch; do you realize how lucky you are to have this job? Always ask the nurse about fitting a patient in so the doctors don't get angry; on Fridays you can wear jeans, but they need to be nice; don't file that paper until you've stamped it; don't say that to a patient on the phone; but they were yelling at me about their prescription, and I'm not a nurse; this is how you make a new patient's chart; this is how you schedule the appointment; this is how you document a copay correctly so you're not fired; this is where you put the charge sheets so the insurance department isn't searching for them again; this is what you make a patient sign if they haven't paid us recently; this is what you charge a patient who doesn't show up so they don't do it again; this is who you talk to in order to request time off; you can't take that much time off, you know; you need to be here at 8:00 every morning; this is the drawer where you put patients with bad insurance; don't put anything there until you're sure; stop filing those papers, we do it all electronically now; you need to tell me who's calling if you want me to talk to them; but what if I need a day off, I haven't seen my family in months; make sure you're here at 8 am.
Work
Make sure you scan everyone's insurance card and paperclip the copies to the chart; check the sign-in sheet constantly; don't let that call go to voicemail; file the doctor's mail and arrange it just so; when calling next week's patients, make sure they're on the correct schedule so we don't have anymore problems; initial and date everything you touch; do you realize how lucky you are to have this job? Always ask the nurse about fitting a patient in so the doctors don't get angry; on Fridays you can wear jeans, but they need to be nice; don't file that paper until you've stamped it; don't say that to a patient on the phone; but they were yelling at me about their prescription, and I'm not a nurse; this is how you make a new patient's chart; this is how you schedule the appointment; this is how you document a copay correctly so you're not fired; this is where you put the charge sheets so the insurance department isn't searching for them again; this is what you make a patient sign if they haven't paid us recently; this is what you charge a patient who doesn't show up so they don't do it again; this is who you talk to in order to request time off; you can't take that much time off, you know; you need to be here at 8:00 every morning; this is the drawer where you put patients with bad insurance; don't put anything there until you're sure; stop filing those papers, we do it all electronically now; you need to tell me who's calling if you want me to talk to them; but what if I need a day off, I haven't seen my family in months; make sure you're here at 8 am.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Creative Writing question #2
The thick red velvet curtain couldn't hide the sound of shuffling shoes and the smell of buttery popcorn. It couldn't calm my nerves either. I constantly pulled at my tights and retied my jazz shoes in an effort to lose some nervous energy. I resorted to hopping on the old wooden floor. The floor that held memories of some of the greatest performers of all time.
Outside the theater, people were lined up and down the street grasping their tickets and chatting with friends under the flashing lights. One by one the usher led the audience members to their seats with his dimming flashlight. Jingling boxes of M&Ms and seat change requests threatened to outdo the piccolo section as they filled the air of the historic Palace Theater. After a long couple minutes, the last audience member found his seat. The house lights began to dim, casting only a faint glow on the statues lining the walls.
It was pitch black backstage. Too late to run the dressing room for another swipe of the hideously red lipstick. I could hear the low, expectant murmur of the first few rows. Like a sudden gunshot, the orchestra struck their first chord. The stage filled with light as the curtain opened. I counted my three sets of eight. And just loud enough for the few of us to hear, the director stood behind us and whispered, "It's showtime."
Outside the theater, people were lined up and down the street grasping their tickets and chatting with friends under the flashing lights. One by one the usher led the audience members to their seats with his dimming flashlight. Jingling boxes of M&Ms and seat change requests threatened to outdo the piccolo section as they filled the air of the historic Palace Theater. After a long couple minutes, the last audience member found his seat. The house lights began to dim, casting only a faint glow on the statues lining the walls.
It was pitch black backstage. Too late to run the dressing room for another swipe of the hideously red lipstick. I could hear the low, expectant murmur of the first few rows. Like a sudden gunshot, the orchestra struck their first chord. The stage filled with light as the curtain opened. I counted my three sets of eight. And just loud enough for the few of us to hear, the director stood behind us and whispered, "It's showtime."
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Clinging to the cross.
Something is wrong.
For the first time in my 21 years of traveling I packed more than 48 hours in advance of my departure. I have NEVER done that. I'm so last minute that you'd think I had a paper due the next morning. Totally freaked myself out. I think it was the only thing I could do to calm my anxious thoughts.
I'm so nervous about flying to Scotland. I don't really know why. The trip is paid for (but not the plane tickets...ha), I found some traveling buddies, I have new music on my ipod, 3 books I've been meaning to read since Christmas, and after tomorrow I'll have my skittles and chex mix. Everything I could need for an 8 hour flight (yuuuuuuck), except for a bed.
BUT...I have no idea what will be waiting for me once I get off the plane. We're landing at 2:45 am Eastern time (7:45...scottish? time). And then we're off on an all day tour of the city and highlands. I'm totally looking forward to it, but I'll be so tired I probably won't remember it. Monday-Friday will be outreach events, but I have no idea what we'll be doing. I don't really know much about this trip. I do know that I'm staying in a hostel, and we'll be talking about Jesus. That's about it. Fear of the unknown. There's a small part of me that wants to just fast foward through this trip and come home. Back to my comfort zone. But that's no way to live. This is truly learning to cling to Jesus. If you had told me I would be flying to Scotland, meeting with a group I'd never met, and helping with a church's outreach, I would've laughed. The fear has been so intense at times that I've been writing Psalms on index cards to carry with me throughout the whole trip. It's been so comforting. I know this is something God is having me walk through, and I know I will be so glad I did it. Letting go of my comfort zone and clinging to Jesus is not easy.
On the other hand, I get to go home in August! Being in North Carolina and working all summer has been difficult. I've had issues with my duplex, my landlord, my professor, support raising...pretty much everything. It has been difficult and so many times I've wanted to run home to lay everything aside and just rest. Plus I get to be a bridesmaid in my friend's wedding....and then I get to finish planning MINE! I'M GETTING MARRIED!!!!!
I have a lot to live for. All I have to do is let go of the fear and cling to the cross.
For the first time in my 21 years of traveling I packed more than 48 hours in advance of my departure. I have NEVER done that. I'm so last minute that you'd think I had a paper due the next morning. Totally freaked myself out. I think it was the only thing I could do to calm my anxious thoughts.
I'm so nervous about flying to Scotland. I don't really know why. The trip is paid for (but not the plane tickets...ha), I found some traveling buddies, I have new music on my ipod, 3 books I've been meaning to read since Christmas, and after tomorrow I'll have my skittles and chex mix. Everything I could need for an 8 hour flight (yuuuuuuck), except for a bed.
BUT...I have no idea what will be waiting for me once I get off the plane. We're landing at 2:45 am Eastern time (7:45...scottish? time). And then we're off on an all day tour of the city and highlands. I'm totally looking forward to it, but I'll be so tired I probably won't remember it. Monday-Friday will be outreach events, but I have no idea what we'll be doing. I don't really know much about this trip. I do know that I'm staying in a hostel, and we'll be talking about Jesus. That's about it. Fear of the unknown. There's a small part of me that wants to just fast foward through this trip and come home. Back to my comfort zone. But that's no way to live. This is truly learning to cling to Jesus. If you had told me I would be flying to Scotland, meeting with a group I'd never met, and helping with a church's outreach, I would've laughed. The fear has been so intense at times that I've been writing Psalms on index cards to carry with me throughout the whole trip. It's been so comforting. I know this is something God is having me walk through, and I know I will be so glad I did it. Letting go of my comfort zone and clinging to Jesus is not easy.
On the other hand, I get to go home in August! Being in North Carolina and working all summer has been difficult. I've had issues with my duplex, my landlord, my professor, support raising...pretty much everything. It has been difficult and so many times I've wanted to run home to lay everything aside and just rest. Plus I get to be a bridesmaid in my friend's wedding....and then I get to finish planning MINE! I'M GETTING MARRIED!!!!!
I have a lot to live for. All I have to do is let go of the fear and cling to the cross.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
