First Poem in Years–Still Corny

When I was in middle school, I used to write poetry like no other.  I was a tortured artist, a literary genius, a tween in puberty… and my poems sucked.  They were corny.  They were imitations.  But, growing up, they were some of my best friends.

I look back on them fondly.

In my literature class, we were assigned to read a couple of poems from William Blake’s Songs of Innocence.  This reminded me of my past poetry attempts and of the untitled poem I wrote this past December.  I pulled it up from my documents folder.  It’s not that great, only a small step above of previous poems.

But, I thought I’d share it with you:

you’re my air,
my very breath.
you’re the little drops of water–
a cloud–a fog–
in the cold air.
hot
~Written 12/30/09

I find it a bit corny still.  I wrote this as a spur-in-the-moment love poem.  I wonder if it looks like that…

What’s your first poem of the new year (and new decade)?

School + Writing. Not School Writing.

Today was my first day of classes this semester.  Based on what I registered for, I knew this would be a hard five months.  But I felt the true weight of it today–fat textbooks, skinny notebooks, plus other little books just about broke my back.

The pain warned me about constant headaches in the future, and the headaches reminded me about all the writing I will be doing and the writing I won’t do at all.  (How I tied all this together will be reflected on another day.)

Considering that some of my classes include Advance Fiction, Professional Writing, and Later English Literature, I’m not worried about not reading and not writing.  I’ll spend a lot of time doing those.  Club meetings, a staff writer position, and a social life–there really isn’t a time I won’t.

But will I spend any time writing?  Just writing?

You can argue that my Advance Fiction class will provide time and exercises to write original work.  I agree on that point.  But that class seems to be focused on short stories.  (All aspects of it, however, will help in all sorts of writing I think.)  The State of Will, for example, is more than 15 pages long–the maximum limit for my course.  No excerpts are accepted.  So how can I continue more on it?

Why not write a part of The State of Will as a stand-alone piece?

I’ll certainly try.  But I want to complete the story; it’s been 4-5 years already since I first started it.

Other authors write both novels and short stories.  Why can’t you?

That’s what I’m wondering.  How do they do it?  How can they juggle multiple responsibilities?

Time management has always been one of my problems; I don’t do it well.  I have a tendency to overwhelm myself.  It doesn’t matter if I barely reach 4′11 or if I’m not even a 100 pounds soaking wet,  I will carry a backpack half my weight and almost my height on my back while running from class to meeting to a still-made bed.  It’s a bad habit that has and will burn me out.

Stressed–both self-inflicted and now–how can I hope to write for fun?  When can I even do so?

I’ve read in multiple sources that I should carve out a time.  Wake up early, one suggests.  Stay up late if you can.  Seclude yourself for 15 minutes.  A short period of time is better than no time.

I have tried making a schedule.  But, honestly, if I’m not carrying work time over to writing time, I just want to spend those couple of minutes sleeping.  When I wake up and by the time I go to bed, I just want to stop thinking.

I will try it again though.  There’s one thing greater than my desire to rest: My need to finish The State of Will.  …And start on my new project.  (Okay, that’s two.)

For all the amazing writers out there who are students, how do you juggle school and writing?  What stress relieving methods work for you?

The above image was photographed by Carmi.  Based the other photos I’ve seen by her, I think she’s great.  You can find her on DeviantArt and Flickr.

Article of the Day: “Voice 101″

Writer Unboxed is one of my favorite blogs.  Multiple writers run this, talking about many aspects of the craft.  They kicked off this year with “Voice.” What’s the voice of a story?

This article is one of the entries about Voice. Enjoy! =)

P.S.
I’m sorry I wasn’t able to post a Sunday Drabble today. I cleaned, packed, and moved into my apartment this weekend.  I am now unpacking and getting ready for the new classes this semester.

Prompt of the Day: Through the Picture

I found an amazing photographer on DeviantArt: Elena Kalis aka Sugarock99.

Today’s prompt involves heading over to her DeviantArt or her photography website.

Now, pick a picture and write a scene inspired about it.  Have at least two characters go through a power struggle.  The struggle could be physical or subtle; but the reader must understand there is one happening.  If you’re typing it, try for more than one double-spaced page.

Personally, I’m probably going try out her Alice in Waterland project. I really like this picture. Let me know what picture you want.

Tip: The second character doesn’t have to be human. =)

Happy Writing!

Flashback Friday: “Girl in the Woods”

Judging from the cute little circles above the “i”s and the loopy writing, I’m going to guess this piece was written when I was in middle school or early high school (2004 maybe).  It’s hard to tell since I frequently disguised my handwriting for fun (or for secretive purposes).

From what I remember, this unfinished story was supposed to be a literary, genius work filled with symbolism and references to the Bible.  It would be a classic, a work that students would analyze and be amazed at.  It would be awesome.

Of course, that never happened. But I dreamed it would.  I dreamed people would understand my Eve-like character and would relate to themes like “Alienation” and the “Dark Side of Mankind” and “Discrimation” and “Fear.”  …I bet I really thought all those in Capital Letters too.  Hahaha.

Anyway, here’s excerpt from Girl in the Woods.  My thoughts will be in red italics.

She wanted me to write this.  My sister, that is.

“Like a book,” she said. It seems I was too focused on creating mystery and wonder to, you know, actually let the readers in on who’s talking. “Like those real good published books in the stores and the libraries.”

“I’m not a writer.” I told her.  I missed a comma after “writer.”

“Can you write?” she replied.

“Of course I can.”

“Then you’re a writer,” she smiled. You can’t smile a sentence… New paragraph should be here. I wanted to ask her why she couldn’t write it.  But I didn’t.  I didn’t because underneath the feeling that I couldn’t bear to write about her–the girl from the woods–I felt that I wanted it.  Oh boy, I still don’t know who these characters are and I have another mystery on my hands.  I should have started a paragraph here, too. “Besides,” she continued, “it’s more like putting it together.  Editing, I guess you can call it.  Your journal entries with my diary entries, together it’s a book.”  And thought I felt the need To what? even more, I tried to fight it.

“I don’t have time.” She laughed at my excuse and I had to smile.  Her laughter were once few and far between but ever since she Who!? appeared, my sister’s laughs can be heard multiple times.

“I know you don’t have time! I don’t have time.  No one has time, because time can never be owned.”  This is obviously ripped off from Jerry Spinelli’s Stargirl.  On that note, we’ll end this excerpt.

Well. That wasn’t too bad.  I actually might have wanted to read this if this was written by someone else and, you know, well.  Huh.

What was your earlier writing like?

Inkpop: Harper Collins YA Writing Community

When I was a little girl, I imagined writing as a lonely profession.  Sitting alone in a room full of books or under a tree on a spring day–the lone writer created beauty.

Nowadays, I don’t hold such a romantic notion in my head.  I know the truth.  Writers have editors, literary agents, publishers, conferences, and communities.  They have families and day-jobs to juggle. They have readers.  Writing, in this day and age, are nothing but a lonely profession.

But I used to feel like that.  I used to feel lonely when I wrote.

I love my friends and family. They encourage me; they take the time to read my work and stroke my ego.   But they don’t get the “writing thing.” Those that do are not as passionate about it as I am.

So I looked for a writing community.  I tried Writing.com, the forums at various writing magazine, and even fictionpress.com.  But I didn’t quite fit in.  I didn’t quite feel comfortable.

I didn’t find what I was looking for–whatever that was.

In early December, I received my regular YA-focused newsletter from HarperCollins.  Inkpop! An ad read, “Make your mark.”  It was another online writing community.  I shrugged when I saw it, however, and ignored it.  Finals weeks was approaching, and, let’s face it, I probably won’t fit in.

It was a week before I decided to really check it out.  It sounded pretty cool, rankings were interesting, Inkpop Amy looked to be really helpful.  But was I tempted to join?

I was.  And it was for this reason:

At the end of every month, the five most popular over all time are delivered to the desks of an editorial board made up of international HarperCollins editors. The board members read at least 10,000 words of book projects (and the entirety of essays, short stories, and poems) and deliver feedback to the top-ranked authors’ inkpop profile.
–from Inkpop FAQs

…Editors will look over my work? Seriously? They’ll give me in-depth reviews?

I joined.  And I’m so glad I did.

I haven’t made it to the Top 5 (yet), but I have enjoyed great feedback from other passionate and helpful writers.  They’re amazing people – young teenager to adults with family – who welcome new members.  You can even find published writers like Diane Peterfreund talking in the forums.  I feel connected.  The fact that we all share the common audience (YA) helps a lot.

Inkpop not only provides a community and possible feedback (and a possible publishing contract) from HarperCollins, it teaches us quite a few things.  For example, Inkpop teaches us to promote.  Like published authors, it’s up to readers to get to the top.  So we need to connect and promote and, most of all, be patient.

I hope you check Inkpop out.

If you do, look me up! I go by Sambgood.  You’ll be able to read some of my work there. =)

Now, fellow writers, make your mark.

Article of the Day: Stats from a Lit Agent

I’m sure many of you have already seen this.

Janet Reid, a popular literary agent with a fantastic blog, posted a tally she kept about full-mss requests.  That is, starting from about summer of 2009 to Dec. 31, 2009, she kept a record of her notes about her responses  to queries.

Here’s a couple of examples:

Just plain not good enough: 21 (a novel needs to be in the 99th percentile-these were closer to 90%–not bad, but not good enough)

Good premise, but the rest of the novel didn’t hold up: 11

Not compelling or vivid, or focused; no plot/tension: 10

Slow start or the pace was too slow: 9

Although I’m not ready to query agents, I’m slight intimidated. Hahaha.

Jan 2010 Blog & Personal Updates

Blogging every day during the school year is hard, especially when both my majors and my minor requires a large amount of writing and reading.  Assigned essays, short stories, papers, and analyses burn the writer part of me out.  Add the responsibilities of work, volunteer staff writer, club officer, and other active duties, and I’ve got a recipe for the living death.

Maybe.

I’m hoping that this isn’t the case for the coming 2010 Spring Semester.  I want to be able to manage my time and responsibilities–to myself and to others.

I want to continue blogging.

But I can’t promise I’ll update with an in-depth post every day.  So I’ve decided on using, let’s say, “features” for those kind of days.  Below are some of the features I’ll be testing on my blog.  I hope to stay true to them than my previous blogging schedule.

New Features

Article of the Day: I have a pile of  writing- and publishing-related articles (blog posts, news articles, tidbits) that I’ve gathered over time.  Why not share it?  Some of them are enlightening, and some are entertaining.  Hopefully, you’ll enjoy all of them.

Prompt of the Day: Sometimes, I need something a little extra to jump start my muse.  Do you?

Writing Appreciation Day: Think of this as Saturday Lines 2.0.  I’ll be gushing over certain parts (a line, a paragraph, or maybe even a poem) of a written (and usually published) work.

Friday Flashback: I decided to keep this from my previous blogging schedule. I think it can be fun–and perhaps enlightening–to look over previous work.  Besides, writers had to start off somewhere, right? Might as well show my progression.

Sunday Drabble: Every Sunday, I’ll post a drabble (or an occasional flash fiction).  I’ve never really tried these forms before, so bear with me.  It’ll be a nice way to flex my creative muscles too.

Contests: Located on the sidebar, this is where I’ll post some of the contests I find.  There are so many out there!

That’s it for now. =)

Cheers to you, my fellow writers, and a beautiful, productive year!

Article of the Day: Author Reply to Fan-Mail

Letters of Note is a collection of “fascinating letters, postcards, telegrams, faxes, and memos.”  In early December, they posted this humorous letter: late author Robert Heinlein’s reply to fan-mail.

It’s quirky, and, though I’ve never read any of his work, I think I would have tremendously enjoyed his letter.

Popular authors like Stephen King, J.K Rowling, or Nicholas Sparks probably get a huge amount of fan-mail.  I wonder what their responses are like?

Enjoy. =)

Sunday Drabble: The Girl with the Phone

Sarah was one in a crowd–an ordinary girl with a phone and a smile.  But her smile made Jacob frown.

Note: This turned out much longer than a drabble.  It’s not my best piece–far from it actually–but I’m glad I’m writing again.  Baby steps, Sam.  Baby steps.

The Girl with the Phone

Sarah felt the phone vibrate in her pocket. But her concentration on the teacher’s lecture never wavered.  Without lifting her pen from the page, she slid her binder silently off her desk and leaned back into her chair, making a brick wall in the space between her legs and desk.  Swiftly, she slipped the phone out of her pocket and onto the page. Only when she flipped it open did she stop writing.

She smiled.

It was the smile that made Jacob frown. Every day, in the same class, during the same hour, she smiled that smile.  And it was always because of her phone.

He noticed it a few weeks ago; when he was jolted awake by a loud ringing reminiscent of the cinema’s “Silence Your Phone” ads.  Everyone, of course, began coughing to cover up the noise while looking for the fool who forgot to mute their cell.  When it became clear the sounds were coming from the back of the classroom, all eyes turned to him.

He patted his pockets, shook his head, and said, “It’s not me.”

The coughs transformed into scoffs and giggles.  The teacher narrowed his eyes but continued to lecture, and as the students shifted back into attention, no one bothered to check if someone else were the culprit.

No one, after all, would suspect Sarah Winston.  Jacob wouldn’t have either— if her last name didn’t start with “W.” She was the only other student sitting in the back.  If she hadn’t blushed, clamped her hand over her mouth then her pocket, all in his periphery vision, then Jacob wouldn’t have suspected her.  No.  Jacob wouldn’t have given her a second glance.  She was not, after all, second-look worthy.

She was quiet, except when she laughed at lunch.  She was simple, except for the robin egg-blue earrings she wore now and then.  She was comfortable, except when she had to give a presentation. Sarah Winston was ordinary.

Sarah Winston was, as Jacob noticed when he rested his head back onto his arms, another girl in a crowd who used her phone during school—and that interested him.  He wondered if she received text messages often.  The next day, he opened his eyes slightly for the answer.

She did.

He continued to watch her with half-lidded eyes until, a week afterward, he stared at her openly.  He kept his eyes on her until she turned to him, phone in hand, and blushed.  A soft pink bloomed on her tan skin.

“Agent Winston,” Jacob said, trying to hide his chuckle.  “Are you being sent on a mission?”

A smile tugged at the right corner of Sarah’s lips.  “If they need someone to fail in the first five second then absolutely.”

Jacob grinned.  “I’ll keep that in mind.”  He saluted—to her and the beginning of their friendship.

***

With every talk, every whisper, and every note passed between them, Jacob would tell Sarah a new theory of his: a text message from her mom (her mother doesn’t know how to operate the phone that well); a reminder from her sister to pick her up after school (she doesn’t have a sister, just an older brother in college); a call from her agent for her next photo-shoot (she’s had stage fright since a third-grade incident involving fairies, paper trees, and water).

With every answer he came up with, she smiled.  She placed a hand on her chest to tame the exploding laughter or pulled a strand of brown hair back behind her ear.  Sometimes, she would cover her mouth with her hand to protect him from the brightness.

But Jacob knew that, even if he could bathe in her smile’s rays, it would be the moon compared to the sunny look Sarah shone every time she received a text.

The bell rang.  Jacob took his time grabbing his things together.  In the corner of his eye, he saw her waiting by the doorway, letting the other students pass with a mumbled sorry and biting her lip—always the left corner—as she peeked at the clock again and again.  He swung his bag onto his back.  He took a big breath.  He walked towards her.

Hands in pockets, grin on face, eyes large and hard, he placed himself before her.

“I have one last theory,” he said.

Sarah smiled though her hands were pulling each other tight.  “Hope it’s a quick one.”

“You’re talking to a gu—government secret agency about your next undercover assignment.”  Jacob had the urge to punch himself.

She laughed.  “Close but no cigar.”  Sarah bit the left corner of her lip again.  “Didn’t you say that one already?”  She shrugged and started moving, heading to the main hallway, where she’ll be miles away from him for 90 long minutes.

“Wait.”  He reached for her hand but caught her sleeve.  “That wasn’t it.  I have another one, the last.  I know—you’re—it’s a guy.  It’s this guy that you really like but doesn’t go to school here and you wish he did because you like him and he likes you and you’re ignoring all the other guys that are here even though he’s not here.  He can’t be here.”  Jacob’s dark eyes searched Sarah’s.  He hoped this wasn’t futile.

“So why do you like him?” he asked.

Sarah made a face he’s never seen before: her mouth was slightly open.  Her eyes were wide, were circles, were like the marbles he used to love as a little kid; and through the light tan color of her skin, waves of red and pink rose up.

She looked down and softly said, “Jacob, it’s personal.”

“We’re friends.” He winced.  It was a truth he didn’t want to say.

“I—”

The bell rang.

She pulled away.  “I’ll talk to you later.”  She left.

Jacob didn’t see her for the rest of the day.

***

He texted her— three months, two weeks, and six days after the incident.  They were both in class, and he saw her do her little trick with the binder, the desk, and the focused hands.  As she mouthed the words she read, he said them in his head:

I can make you smile too.

He didn’t take his eyes off her, even when her fingers slowly pressed the keys on her phone.  He didn’t look away until she looked up and smiled.  He felt a vibration in his palm.

Friends can always make me smile.

He looked back up.  Already, her cell was back in her pocket and her eyes, to the front.

He sighed, rested his head on his arms, and not two moments later, her phone vibrated.  Without lifting her pen from the page, she slid her binder silently off the desk and her phone onto the page.  Only when she flipped her phone open did she stop writing.  She smiled.

Not like that, Jacob thought.  Not like that. He closed his eyes.

Fin

Comic pic is by Aisha aka hot-choc on deviantart.