Lauryn's Blog

At the beginning of this course, we were asked to develop our skills as writers. The course started off with teaching us a basic understanding of the simple elements that go into writing, and the principles we should follow in order to compose a proper piece. These elements started off with the debate of whether or not writing was an art or a craft. Writing as an art is something that can be practiced and refined in order to reach perfection. Writing as a craft is something that can be taught, and replicated throughout generations. I believe that I have learned many new things from this course that I was able to incorporate into my own writing, to further my pieces to their fullest potential.

This course challenged me to compose pieces of writing that I was not normally comfortable with writing. I have written short stories before during my free time, however, nothing like what the writing prompts in this course have challenged me to do. The writing prompts in this course have challenged me to push my imagination to its limits.

 

The patters I have used as I had approached my work as a writer and learner in this course, was mainly caution and determination. I had used caution with relevance to the new assignments we obtained throughout the course. Due to everything being new, and I myself having next to no clue how to write pieces properly, I was cautious yet curious at the same time. I had also used determination however, to push myself to complete these new challenges, and help myself further my own path as a writer.  Some unsuccessful patterns of behaviour for me were definitely waiting until the last minute to think of ideas and themes for my writing pieces. This resulted in not-so-great results in [said] pieces. Some successful patterns of behaviour however, was that once I was working on a prompt, I set my mind to it until it was finished. In my experience, this helps sometimes because you are then set on one idea and do not get distracted from your work. I may wait until the last minute to complete tasks, but at least I still complete those tasks with pride.

I believe that I could change my work habits a bit, in order to be more successful. I believe that if I prioritize my time properly in the future, my writing work and other daily tasks would come out next-to flawless. Since I am hopefully going into a field of writing (Graphic Design), these techniques and new skills could help me with future ‘projects’ on the job.

 

I believe that my participation in the class was limited, but however, still productive and meaningful when I put forth the effort. I admit that I am not a professional writer; along with many other of my fellow classmates in this course – none of us are professionals until we learn and develop all of the basic knowledge and understandings it takes to be a good writer. Due to this, many of my writing pieces in this course aren’t ‘up-to-par’, but I am still very proud of my creations. I have learned that there are many areas in my development as a writer that defiantly need improvement. The topics in this course have shown me that. The topics that I have grown a new interest for, yet still need a bit of practice in, would most likely be poetry. This topic in the writing industry had always seemed cheesy and a little far-fetched for my liking. However, when we touched on this topic in the course, I have learned to grow a new appreciation for this subject, and now thoroughly enjoy it.  By doing so, I believe that through my new appreciations for the subjects of writing in this course, it has furthered my skill as a writer.

 

I think that by practicing and pushing my skills as a writer, the learning I have grasped from this course will defiantly pay off. My goals are to continue writing and developing my skills in this field, even though it may not be an everyday sort of thing. The areas I plan on improving on are in the poetry and storytelling aspect of writing. This course has taught me many new things about writing that I had no prior knowledge to, and even when I did, it still showed me new aspects of the trade. I now enjoy writing even more now, and hope to continue doing so. I do not believe that there are many suggestions I can make that would be directed towards improving the learning of this course. The only suggestions I would have towards my teacher, is to keep on with the amazing learning techniques you have brought to us. This course has defiantly been a fun adventure for me during my last semester of high school. This course has helped me in bringing out my creative side a little more confidently, and showed me what new elements I can bring to the things I create. Thank you for teaching my peers and I, such a fun and interesting course. I sure will miss it!

During this learning cycle, I have learned many new things that go in to becoming a writer. The main things I’ve truly learned however, is determination and patience. When you are writing because you thoroughly enjoy it, that is when it is the easiest. THAT is when it is the most relaxing, and that is when your imagination reaches its fullest potential. I learned that not all great works of writing come fast, and that they take time.

Writing short stories takes effort. You need to push yourself so that the outcome will be the best it can be. However, you also need to control yourself on how much you do. When you push yourself too much and too quickly whilst your writing, your final piece may come out sloppy and disoriented. This is because you haven’t had time to revise and think about where that story was headed, and how it should flow. At the same time, if you don’t put enough effort into the story to begin with, you may become bored of the piece, and not care for the final piece as much as when you started writing. Good storytelling is composed of key elements that can only be obtained through patience and determination.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this learning cycle. It has pushed me to create many new pieces of writing that I am fairly proud to call my own. This cycle has shown me what the different aspects and elements are that go into good storytelling, that I never realized existed beforehand. This learning cycle has helped me develop my creative field in writing, and I will use these lessons to help develop my future pieces of writing.

For this learning cycle, I decided to re-do writing prompt #4. This prompt wanted us to write a scene of dialogue with the character we created through other activities in the unit. For this writing prompt, I initially developed the character James instead of Sarah. I created Sarah because I wasn’t confident enough in James’s personality and composition. However, as I progressed through the rest of the lessons on developing character, I decided to give James another chance, and wrote a scene comprised of him, his mother, and his sister. It is safe to say that I am proud of how this scene turned out with James. This  scene is a little darker than the one composed of Sarah and her friends at a café, however, it is still a unique piece of writing I am proud to call my own.

 

HOOOONNKK.

It was raining, but that never stopped the lifestyle of local Londoners before. Mini coopers and double-decker buses flew through the crowded and old-fashioned streets of Brighton, as though it was a bright and beautiful day. Passing by small businesses and houses that always held something unique. Each building had a story, each person held a secret.

Turning left onto one of the few deserted streets in the busy city, the house was a decent size; enough for a family of three that is. On the outside, red bricks covered the long row of fifteen houses. Each door a different colour. Most of the porches were only kept clean because of the rainy weather outside. After all, the weather was never a problem.

On the inside, three bedrooms, a bathroom, and an open dining area for the kitchen and family room combined. On the inside, stained carpets and cracked ceilings that the carpenter was supposed to fix months ago. On the inside, a porcelain sink worn of its glamour, and a corduroy recliner that needed replacing.

 

“So.” Teresa sighed, sitting slanted in the family room’s lazy boy. Her blank expression transfixed to the broadcasting of an event happening in London.
“I got ‘nother call from the school last night.”
Across the room, James, rolls his eyes while inhaling the last spoonful of his breakfast.
“M-Not again mum, I don’t need this lecture every damn day.”
“I wouldn’t have ta give yoo the damn lecture every day if ya just went to school!” Adjusting her position, Teresa sits little more proper in her seat, her vision now transfixed to a show from the Vintage^TV Network. Her right hand held the clicker, and in her left, ice cubes in her glass rattled, waiting to be refilled.
“Christ mum. It’s not even 9 o’clock yet and yer glass is already empty!” James yells, aggressively placing his bowl into the porcelain sink.
“Don’t yoo dare belittle mai on what I can and can’t do in ma own house!” Teresa, yells back.
“Well I wouldn’t have ta if you just had some respect for yourself!”

                    Silence, except for the pitter-patter of rain drops beating against the kitchen window.
Soon to be interrupted by the sound of footsteps growing louder.

“What’s all this shouting about?” Casey asks, walking into the kitchen from her room upstairs, and over to the rotten bowl of fruit sitting on the island in the kitchen.
“Ugh. Why aren’t there any damn apples that aren’t already 2 months sour?” Bzzt Bzzt. She checks her cellphone.          “And where the hell is Tommy? He’s supposed to text me when he’s ‘ere. The bastard’s nearly half n’ hour late.”
“Oh, my beloved sister,” James says sarcastically, “You’ve walked into the room of our lovely dwellin’ at the wrong time.” Chuckling towards his sister.
“Respect?” Teresa turns completely around in her seat, her attention now thoroughly focused on James. His attention thoroughly focused on her. “Y-Yoo’re tellin’ me ta have respect for ma-self? Don’t ya dare talk ta your mother like that! You’re livin’ in ma house! What in the world would give yoo the right ta disrespect mai like that?!” She shouts.
“Mum! Look at you! You’re pathetic!” James shouts back, standing his ground.
“Shut yur mouth right now!”
“No! I will not!” James stomps around the kitchen island, and into the family room. Before he gets within three feet of his mother, he can already smell the aroma of alcohol. “Look at what you’re doin’ to this family! You’re turning into dad more and more every minute.” Picking up some of the empty bottles scattered throughout the room.
“I’m tha only reason we’re even still in this shithole! Ever since you quit your job, I’m tha one who has been bringing in the cash to keep us alive. You know how hard that is for me? School, work, and payin’ the bills just for your lazy ass to sit around and drink yourself cold every day? I’m surprised me and Casey still have the stomach to stick around with you for this long.”
“Yoo know, I’ve never asked ya ta take o’r tha role of been tha parent James.” Teresa says quietly, watching droplets of condensation slide down the outside of her glass, and fall onto the stained carpet beneath their feet.
“I’m sorry I can’t be there for tha two of ya more. I juhst-”
“Mum,” James interrupts. He’s heard this slurred excuse too many times before.
“you think you’d figure out a new phrase by now.”      Exhausted. Yet, he felt one hundred pounds lighter.
“It’s just, I can’t do this anymore, and I can’t hold it in. I can’t listen to this bloody excuse again and again and again. I can’t fail yet ‘nother year of ma school cause I’ve skipped class, only to work for this stupid house. Have you ever thought of that mum? Huh? That I’m done with supportin’ your lazy habits.”
“James-“
“No mum, stop interrupting me-”

HOOOOOONNKK. The horn of an old station wagon screamed from outside.

                    “Finally!” Casey shouted, relived. “James, you need a ride?” James, still staring down at his mother in a fit of rage, acknowledges his unfazed sister.
“Nah, I think I’m gonna run this one this morning. Thanks anyway Case.”
“No worries, just watch out for tha stupid drivers. Ugh- the weather isn’t the best out there ya know.” She replies as she picks up her rucksack of textbooks.
“It’s nothing this city hasn’t dealt with before.”
“Alrighty then, see ya.” Casey takes a final glimpse of her brother’s back, before shutting the front door with a slam, leaving behind the tension occurring in the family room.

“You know,” James says, rubbing the back of his neck from the cool breeze outside, “it’s getting really hard to look at you without pity. Hell, it’s even hard to feel pity for ya anymore.”
“Jamess-“ Teresa persisted, desperate for her son’s attention. Still, he wouldn’t give it to her. He was done with what she had to offer, especially the small formation of words she had to say to him.
“I have ta go, I’m gonna be late again.”
“Listen ta me! Jamie please!”
Forcefully, he grabbed a black hoodie that was hanging on the entrance’s coat hooks, knocking over the endless number of random keys also taking up space along the wall. Taking one last look at his decaying mother, James turned the worn-out knob and slammed the same door that his sister had shut just minutes before.

Inside, mountains of bottles held up a corduroy recliner like it was a thrown to its alcoholic’s kingdom. Outside, rainfall made it hard to see what was 6 feet in front of you.

HOOOOOOOOOONNNNNKKKKK

Outside, the street was littered with pages from some old high school textbooks.

On this morning in June at 8:47am, three bodies were found-

Outside, a totalled station wagon held up the flow of traffic along the city’s coast, but that never stopped the lifestyle of local Londoners before.

Inside, a mother who had changed the channel a moment too quickly.

During this learning cycle, I learned there are many important elements that go into writing poetry. I also learned that poetry is a pretty difficult art form to get the grasp of. Poems seem simple to write and understand, however, there is a lot of thought that needs to go into a poem in order for the author’s story to be properly told. Poems can also come in a variety of different forms and art styles.

For this learning cycle’s final summative, I decided to redo writing prompt #2. I chose to redo this one because of the lesson behind it. The assignment was to either compose a prose piece or a poem about a topic listed in the lesson. I had composed poems for every assignment in this unit, and I wanted to challenge myself with writing a prose piece instead.

I’ve always had a slight interest for poetry. My interest being the aspect of how writers can move such a large number of people with just a few sentences. To me, this is really empowering. Having a unit primarily focused around different versions of poetry, taught me many new things about the art form, and how authors actually achieve this task. I am excited to see what the next unit has to offer in my ever-growing education of writing.

Final Summative
For my final summative, I decided to develop my poem from Writing Prompt #2, and recreate into a prose piece. Since I’ve written a poem for every prompt in this course so far, I decided to challenge myself.

 

The Girl

             Streetlamps flickering above chain-link fences cast shadows across her bony figure. The rain pouring over her filled the buckets on her shoulders with an unnecessary weight. She prayed that they would tip over, so that they could wash away some of the scars he had etched onto her limbs.  The alley in which she found herself at 2:37am, was dark and dreary; yet it was more comforting than the worn-out mattress she had been forced to use for months. She felt alone, but for once, that was perfectly fine for her. Out of the pounding from her chest, the twisters in her mind, and the unsteady balance in her walk, she still couldn’t believe it; she’d managed to escape. Escape with a little bit of her sanity still at her fingertips.

Looking at her, she was beautiful. At least, she used to be. Now, all you could see was the hurt and pain that she had been living through. Her eyes bloodshot from crying, with one centered around a sea of blues and purples. Her lips cut, red, and swollen. The only thing untouched was her small button-like nose, reconstructed for his approval of course. Her hair, jet black as the night sky was ragged and greasy, as if she had not showered for a week. Her clothes oversized, old, and torn. This shirt wasn’t hers. The only shoes on her feet were socks with stretched elastic, barely gripping onto her slender ankles. The only thing keeping her warm were the soft lights of dying lightbulbs, and the determination to find home.

This whole time, she clutched tightly onto the only inanimate object she was able to snatch as she ran out of the building’s doors; an old necklace. The thing that brought back so many memories. Every bit of hope, love, and trust that she had. He had taken that away from her. Yet, she could not let go of this thin golden chain she was gifted from him. She did not know why, but somehow, this necklace brought her peace and comfort. Almost like a child’s teddy bear, it acted as a safe-haven. A safe place for her to inhale sharp breaths of the crisp air she had been so longingly confined from. A safe place for her addled head to stop spinning, and look forward onto her new path of freedom.

During this learning cycle, I discovered that there are many different skills, mindsets, and elements that go into (what is defined as) a good piece of writing. I’ve come to realize that writing is developed over a long period of time; that you cannot just write some random sentences on a lined piece of paper and call it a novel. Writing is an art and a craft that many authors devote their lives to, and are proud of the pieces they compose.

I chose to further develop writing prompt #3 for this learning cycle’s final summative. I was unable to complete writing prompt #3 in the learning cycle, so I wanted to try and develop this piece for my final. I was also unable to receive any feedback for this piece (which I understand is a large part of the marking scheme), however, I feel as though this is the most I have ever developed as a writer.

This course has shown me all that goes into writing, and it has helped me further develop my skills and understandings as a writer. I am very excited to see what is to come in this course’s next unit, and I am fully prepared to ‘step up my game’, stay on task, and put my all into each new writing piece.

Emma thought back to what it was like during her time in Italy. The water on her feet was cold, but soothing nonetheless. The sun on her back made her feel at peace with the beautiful nature around her. Everything was finally coming together. As she swam in the salty water, the laughs and screams of children playing on the beach reminded her of what it was like back home. The seabirds flying in the sky made her remember why she came to Italy in the first place. The hundreds of animals she helped while touring European shelters, now had a place to call home, and it was all from the help of the generous volunteers of her new Italian friends. Emma was finally content with where her career path was heading, and so she rewarded herself by laying back in the Mediterranean Sea.

After a few minutes, Emma realized she was a little further out into the water than she intended to be. That’s when the current of the sea started to pick up, getting stronger as she swam. Grey clouds began to form in the sky, causing many people get out of the water. Emma however, could not. The water was getting rougher, making it harder to stay afloat. The polyester airplane seat belt wrapped around her ankle was pulling Emma under, she would drown if she couldn’t get it untangled in time. It didn’t help, as she quickly noticed, that the seatbelt was still attached to her deployed seat, E31. She called to the children running along the beach, but they were no longer there. Instead, the remains of the European aircraft she boarded just hours before, littered the beach of an unknown island, as their replacement. Emma quickly realized she was no longer in Italy.

Of the short breaths she could grasp from the tropical air, Emma noticed small figures scattered across the beach, looking just as confused as their fellow survivors. “Help me!” she screamed “Please!”, to them. Emma however, realized that she was too far away from the beach for the figures to hear her calls. With the current picking up, she realized that the ocean waves would drag her out to sea if someone couldn’t see her struggling. Emma flung her arms up into the air to try and get herself noticed, however, the waves were too big for her arms to reach over, and it was impossible to stay above the water without constantly wading the current.

In her peripheral vision, Emma noticed something bright, something abnormal that stood out from the water. It was an unoccupied life jacket that floated effortlessly amongst the rough weather; her sign of hope, of surviving. To the best of her ability, she kicked with her free leg to get closer to the jacket. It seemed that the ocean water was working against her, but she fought on. With the last of her strength, might and adrenaline pumping through her veins, Emma took a deep, crisp breath of relief as she finally rest her arms over the neon life-preserver. Her breathing steadied, but her vision was deteriorating. “The waves are still too large for my arms to be noticed” she thought. “But wait, they might see this! They might see the jacket! They’re gonna see the jacket I know it!”. With that, Emma cautiously sank back off of the jacket, then shot it into the air and waved it vigorously towards the beach.

After a minute of frantically waving the jacket, Emma could see some of the figures on the beach gathering together, and quickly making their way to the shore. “I knew it! They saw me” she said to herself. Emma hesitated to climb back into the jacket, in fear that the survivors would lose sight of her, so she waved the jacket with all the strength that she had left. “We need to get her out of there or else she’ll drown!” She faintly heard one of the survivors shout the the others, and she felt hope. At the same time, Emma was becoming weak. Certain that the people on the beach knew where she was, she brought the jacket down and around her head.

After what was feeling like an eternity, Emma could feel her circulation cutting off. She was becoming colder and colder by the everlasting moments that she remained in the unidentified water. With her vision losing focus, Emma could still make out the figures on the beach trying to reach her. “It’s okay…I’m gonna make it… I’m gonna get out of here….. deep breaths Emma, deep breaths.” She closed her eyes and prayed that the people on the beach would be able to reach her, if they decided to come at all that is.Trying not to think selfishly was the difficult part in this situation. “How did I end up here? Why do I deserve this? I’ve helped so many animals and so many people. Now, I have no idea that if in the next 5 minutes, if I’ll still be alive or not.” Emma thought about her plans for the future. She was after all, only 22; too young to die. “Just remember it’s okay…I’m gonna make it… I’m gonna get out of here…deep breaths.” She heard splashing, and the voices of strangers calling out to her. “We’re coming! Hold on!” Trying to hold on, even though she felt herself losing consciousness, Emma thought one last thing, “My life is too short, Especially when everything was finally coming together.”

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