Not polished or finished at all, just more of my writing to work with for my story.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The weather was beginning to get ruthlessly bitter. In Chicago, the fall months were unpredictable; extremely warm, or extremely crippling cold weather. My short walk to the grocery store felt like it took hours rather than minutes; dragging on forever, forcing me to focus on my body temperature more than anything else. That walk changed my life for a lot of reasons. Some reasons, I didn’t know yet, but some I did. And one reason was that it reminded me that I really need to invest in a new winter coat. But the others; they put things into a whole new perspective for me - a perspective I didn’t even see until it was sitting at my feet.
I was approaching the last block before the market until I had to wait for the crosswalk signal. I waited, and waited, and waited. I waited for what felt like forever, which realistically only amounted to about a minute. I guess you could call me impatient. Finally, I began to cross to the next block and disobeyed the ‘law’, or what I like to call a ‘suggested signal’, which obviously was just suggesting that I should not cross when it told me not to cross. But I did, and I was already anticipating the shock my body would feel as it escaped the frigid air, and suddenly met warmth. There I was: standing on the dirty city concrete, facing the green and red apartment-style store. I read the white cloth sign that hung just above the windows that read Millen Kane Family Grocery.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Nate Carter - Interview
Interview : Nate Carter
To read Nate's rhyming children's story, click here!
What inspired you to write about your topic?
- Got the idea from Sydney and our calculus class.
Is there a message that you are trying to get across?
- If you take the easy way out, it'll only hurt you in the end.
Who is your story geared towards? Children? Adults?
- Young children
Have you incorporated your main character’s “voice” into your story?
- Very briefly but yes.
Is your story narrated?
- Yes my story is narrated.
If your story is narrated, who is the narrator? You? Your character?
- I am the narrator.
Did you use foreshadowing to help the reader understand the past and the future?
- No way, too much work for a children’s book.
Have your mentor texts helped you to write?
- Not so much. I read articles on Barry Bonds and Marc McGwire and their steroid allegations, but did not find much success in using them in my story.
If they have, how have they helped and what did they help you with?
- ^Question number 8
Why did you choose your title?
- I don’t have a title..? Ooops.
Does your title have a meaning? Does the meaning relate to something outside of your story, or does it relate to the story?
- I'm sure it will relate to the story once I get one.
Is there a reason for how long or how short your story is?
- I have yet to complete my story, so the length is undetermined. It will probably be a somewhat short story because it does not take long to get the point across.
What challenges does your character face?
- The pressure to cheat in order to get a passing grade on his test. Also, when he gets caught and has to deal with the consequences of cheating.
How does your character overcome these challenges?
- He learns his lesson and his teacher lets him retake the test.
How are these challenges created in order to help or shape your character?
- These challenges make Cody realize that no matter how desperate he is for a grade, cheating is never the answer because it will come back to hurt you.
Is there a pattern with the way you wrote your story/chapters?
- None at all.
What is the climax of your story?
- Don’t really have one. I guess when he first considers cheating as an option.
What is the conflict in your story?
- Cody gets caught cheating by his teacher.
Where does your story take place? Why?
- In a school, duhh.
If you could be one character in your story, who would it be? Why?
- I only have about 3 or 4 characters, but I guess Cody because he learns his lesson from the mistakes he has made and in the end it will work out for him eventually.
Which character do you relate to the most?
- Definitely Cody, no particular reason ;)
To read Nate's rhyming children's story, click here!
What inspired you to write about your topic?
- Got the idea from Sydney and our calculus class.
Is there a message that you are trying to get across?
- If you take the easy way out, it'll only hurt you in the end.
Who is your story geared towards? Children? Adults?
- Young children
Have you incorporated your main character’s “voice” into your story?
- Very briefly but yes.
Is your story narrated?
- Yes my story is narrated.
If your story is narrated, who is the narrator? You? Your character?
- I am the narrator.
Did you use foreshadowing to help the reader understand the past and the future?
- No way, too much work for a children’s book.
Have your mentor texts helped you to write?
- Not so much. I read articles on Barry Bonds and Marc McGwire and their steroid allegations, but did not find much success in using them in my story.
If they have, how have they helped and what did they help you with?
- ^Question number 8
Why did you choose your title?
- I don’t have a title..? Ooops.
Does your title have a meaning? Does the meaning relate to something outside of your story, or does it relate to the story?
- I'm sure it will relate to the story once I get one.
Is there a reason for how long or how short your story is?
- I have yet to complete my story, so the length is undetermined. It will probably be a somewhat short story because it does not take long to get the point across.
What challenges does your character face?
- The pressure to cheat in order to get a passing grade on his test. Also, when he gets caught and has to deal with the consequences of cheating.
How does your character overcome these challenges?
- He learns his lesson and his teacher lets him retake the test.
How are these challenges created in order to help or shape your character?
- These challenges make Cody realize that no matter how desperate he is for a grade, cheating is never the answer because it will come back to hurt you.
Is there a pattern with the way you wrote your story/chapters?
- None at all.
What is the climax of your story?
- Don’t really have one. I guess when he first considers cheating as an option.
What is the conflict in your story?
- Cody gets caught cheating by his teacher.
Where does your story take place? Why?
- In a school, duhh.
If you could be one character in your story, who would it be? Why?
- I only have about 3 or 4 characters, but I guess Cody because he learns his lesson from the mistakes he has made and in the end it will work out for him eventually.
Which character do you relate to the most?
- Definitely Cody, no particular reason ;)
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Rough Draft - Paper or Plastic?
I watched a crisp brown and red leaf fall just beneath my path and I stepped forward and onto it, crushing every dead and dry cell of the leaf. I was walking home from school. It was a Friday, and the only thing I was supposed to get done was my laundry before I could do whatever I’d wanted. All day I had dreamt of myself doing everything but my school work. Vivid images of my weekend to come, played a montage through my thoughts when my teacher interrupted about halfway through, catching what was left of my attention span.
I never really paid any attention in school. It wasn’t that I didn’t respect my teachers, or thought it was cool. It wasn’t that I didn’t want good grades, or even that I hated school. Because I didn’t. And I don’t. I never paid attention for the sole purpose of dreading the concept of learning. Something about the idea of sitting there being told how to do something then actually applying it to a fictional scenario, then being expected to insert that lesson into our life someway didn’t set with me. I guess what I really meant is that I much would have rather to just physically do it. Somehow project myself into the perspective of the “boy who ate 12 chocolate bars but paid $2.50 for all of them” or into “George’s” dilemma with finding out however many people bought tickets to the dance. I just didn’t care. I. Just. Didn’t. Care. That’s where she stopped me.
“Maxwell?” She approached my desk and suddenly stole my mind back. Even as much as I wanted to pretend I didn’t hear, I acknowledged her.
“Yes, Ms. Hunter?” I pretended she never lost my non-existent desire to learn.
“Can you answer me this problem?” She pointed to the board. I fired back with a wise comment, making the entire classroom explode in calorie-burning laughter.
“I don’t know…Can I?” Or are you going to correct me and tell me I’m wrong?” She was fuming. Her frustration generated negative vibes that bounced off the walls of the classroom. My sinister smirk only took her pool of hateful emotions to the next level. She had the cliché cartoon expression on her face, resembling a character releasing steam out of their ears. On her forehead, there was a vein that ran downstream towards her right eye and it swelled every time my wise remarks sent her blood pressure off the charts. I didn’t try to make her blood pressure sky-rocket; it wasn’t that I didn’t like her or her class. I wasn’t trying to be the class clown or just be a nuisance, I once again didn’t care. I had rather get back to my day dreaming. So I did.
I thought about everything but Math for the next fifteen minutes. I gazed out the foggy window at the handprints that were imprinted in the condensation last week. Out the window, I saw the October skies. The clouds were painted a strong orange and soft purple, then faded off into a milky pink color as it hugged the edge of the atmosphere. For an early morning, the sky made it feel as if it were evening with their warm colors. Through the clouds, the sun’s rays illuminated streaks of the air. My mother calls them Heaven - those rays. She tells me that the rays are Heaven, inducting a person into their world. I guess a lot of people died that day.
The rest of that day, I watched rays shine down from Heaven, too many to count. I observed the kid next to me sleeping in class, who was, by the way, sleeping peacefully without one comment from Ms. Hunter. I listened to the latest drama from the girls behind me who gossiped every time there was a pause in the learning process. And let me tell you, about all I learned in that class was which girls in our school were “mean backstabbers”.
Finally, it was five minutes before the school bell was supposed to ring and I was no longer day dreaming. Ms. Hunter opened the previously dew-covered windows, and I could feel the chilled autumn air rush its way into the room, giving me goose-bumps through my jacket.
The bell sounded, and before you could even think to hold the door for me, I was gone. Not that anyone would ever hold the door for me, I wasn’t very well-liked by my peers. Sure, they laughed at my jokes, but it was my humor they liked, not me. It wasn’t that I was one of those kids who remained lonesome in the back of the class, one who only talked when trying to suck up to the teacher. No one ever picked on me, or had mean things to say to or about me. I just really had no direction, and this wasn’t something that bothered me. I carried on with my day, each and every day, not caring what people thought (as I should), and not caring what people had to say to me (even when I should have).
Anyway. On my way home, I noticed a white piece of shiny paperboard peeking from under the mud and leaves. I kicked it, triggering it to slide in a quickly-spinning motion further up the road. Covered in dirt, bits of leaves and whatever bugs lurked in the moist environment under it, I made out the words that were still visible on the piece of trash. It was a flattened milk carton; littered on the side of the road, creating a home for thousands of insects, while abusing Mother Nature at the same time. For some reason, though, I’d like to thank the person that tossed that milk carton. I was supposed to go food shopping that day on my way home, and I almost forgot. No, I didn’t want to go food shopping, but it was still something I had to do and if I didn’t do it on my way home, I’d have to go back out.
I never really paid any attention in school. It wasn’t that I didn’t respect my teachers, or thought it was cool. It wasn’t that I didn’t want good grades, or even that I hated school. Because I didn’t. And I don’t. I never paid attention for the sole purpose of dreading the concept of learning. Something about the idea of sitting there being told how to do something then actually applying it to a fictional scenario, then being expected to insert that lesson into our life someway didn’t set with me. I guess what I really meant is that I much would have rather to just physically do it. Somehow project myself into the perspective of the “boy who ate 12 chocolate bars but paid $2.50 for all of them” or into “George’s” dilemma with finding out however many people bought tickets to the dance. I just didn’t care. I. Just. Didn’t. Care. That’s where she stopped me.
“Maxwell?” She approached my desk and suddenly stole my mind back. Even as much as I wanted to pretend I didn’t hear, I acknowledged her.
“Yes, Ms. Hunter?” I pretended she never lost my non-existent desire to learn.
“Can you answer me this problem?” She pointed to the board. I fired back with a wise comment, making the entire classroom explode in calorie-burning laughter.
“I don’t know…Can I?” Or are you going to correct me and tell me I’m wrong?” She was fuming. Her frustration generated negative vibes that bounced off the walls of the classroom. My sinister smirk only took her pool of hateful emotions to the next level. She had the cliché cartoon expression on her face, resembling a character releasing steam out of their ears. On her forehead, there was a vein that ran downstream towards her right eye and it swelled every time my wise remarks sent her blood pressure off the charts. I didn’t try to make her blood pressure sky-rocket; it wasn’t that I didn’t like her or her class. I wasn’t trying to be the class clown or just be a nuisance, I once again didn’t care. I had rather get back to my day dreaming. So I did.
I thought about everything but Math for the next fifteen minutes. I gazed out the foggy window at the handprints that were imprinted in the condensation last week. Out the window, I saw the October skies. The clouds were painted a strong orange and soft purple, then faded off into a milky pink color as it hugged the edge of the atmosphere. For an early morning, the sky made it feel as if it were evening with their warm colors. Through the clouds, the sun’s rays illuminated streaks of the air. My mother calls them Heaven - those rays. She tells me that the rays are Heaven, inducting a person into their world. I guess a lot of people died that day.
The rest of that day, I watched rays shine down from Heaven, too many to count. I observed the kid next to me sleeping in class, who was, by the way, sleeping peacefully without one comment from Ms. Hunter. I listened to the latest drama from the girls behind me who gossiped every time there was a pause in the learning process. And let me tell you, about all I learned in that class was which girls in our school were “mean backstabbers”.
Finally, it was five minutes before the school bell was supposed to ring and I was no longer day dreaming. Ms. Hunter opened the previously dew-covered windows, and I could feel the chilled autumn air rush its way into the room, giving me goose-bumps through my jacket.
The bell sounded, and before you could even think to hold the door for me, I was gone. Not that anyone would ever hold the door for me, I wasn’t very well-liked by my peers. Sure, they laughed at my jokes, but it was my humor they liked, not me. It wasn’t that I was one of those kids who remained lonesome in the back of the class, one who only talked when trying to suck up to the teacher. No one ever picked on me, or had mean things to say to or about me. I just really had no direction, and this wasn’t something that bothered me. I carried on with my day, each and every day, not caring what people thought (as I should), and not caring what people had to say to me (even when I should have).
Anyway. On my way home, I noticed a white piece of shiny paperboard peeking from under the mud and leaves. I kicked it, triggering it to slide in a quickly-spinning motion further up the road. Covered in dirt, bits of leaves and whatever bugs lurked in the moist environment under it, I made out the words that were still visible on the piece of trash. It was a flattened milk carton; littered on the side of the road, creating a home for thousands of insects, while abusing Mother Nature at the same time. For some reason, though, I’d like to thank the person that tossed that milk carton. I was supposed to go food shopping that day on my way home, and I almost forgot. No, I didn’t want to go food shopping, but it was still something I had to do and if I didn’t do it on my way home, I’d have to go back out.
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