Showing posts with label jkc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jkc. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Update
Just got a call from my mom and my grandpa passed away early this morning. He had told us he was ready and wanted to be with grandma, so there's comfort in that. I won't be able to do any admin. stuff for the blog until next Monday. So, if you have any issues/problems, hang tight and I'll get with you then.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Quick Update
Hi all! I'm so sorry for the long absence. Had some family medical issues after my grandma's death, so real life was pretty busy. I was all ready to come here and let everyone know how well my family was doing and then I got word that my grandpa fell and broke his hip. Plus, I've just received word of a new, huge project at work that's going to take up a lot of time. Goodness!!
Anyway, even if I'm not here much, please know I'm thinking about all of you and keeping up with your entries. I am still available as admin. if you have any problems posting or for new authors to be added. Just send me an email.
To keep this writing related, I've been taking the "Write Fiction Like a Pro" class (of course, I got a bit behind this week but will catch up. Hi Stan's Student!). Great class in terms of learning how to truly structure a story idea. Anyway, I thought this link would be of interest to all:
Developing Memorable Characters http://character-development.suite101.com/article.cfm/developing_memorable_characters
The more you know about your characters, the better you'll create believable characters who live and breathe on the page and in their own fictional world. Here are 45 questions to help you create your characters.
Hope everyone is doing well. Let us know how you're doing (and latest writing classes/projects) in the comments or with posts!
Anyway, even if I'm not here much, please know I'm thinking about all of you and keeping up with your entries. I am still available as admin. if you have any problems posting or for new authors to be added. Just send me an email.
To keep this writing related, I've been taking the "Write Fiction Like a Pro" class (of course, I got a bit behind this week but will catch up. Hi Stan's Student!). Great class in terms of learning how to truly structure a story idea. Anyway, I thought this link would be of interest to all:
Developing Memorable Characters http://character-development.suite101.com/article.cfm/developing_memorable_characters
The more you know about your characters, the better you'll create believable characters who live and breathe on the page and in their own fictional world. Here are 45 questions to help you create your characters.
Hope everyone is doing well. Let us know how you're doing (and latest writing classes/projects) in the comments or with posts!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Question about writing classes
I know a few of you mentioned on the class discussion boards that you were going to take more writing classes. I thought it might be interesting to hear which classes people are taking and why. Or what about classes you've taken in the past...is there any class out there you've taken that you would recommend (or not recommend)?
Starting September 17th, I'll be in "Writeriffic: Creativity Training for Writers." I decided on another, more beginning-type class because I feel I still have a lot more work to do regarding discipline in writing and also editing. I'm taking baby steps here in hopes that I'm building a strong foundation for good writing in the future.
Starting September 17th, I'll be in "Writeriffic: Creativity Training for Writers." I decided on another, more beginning-type class because I feel I still have a lot more work to do regarding discipline in writing and also editing. I'm taking baby steps here in hopes that I'm building a strong foundation for good writing in the future.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
The Least Influential Teacher
A random writing prompt from the WritingFix website (no editing):
"Who taught you close to nothing? Write about the teacher who had the least impact on you."
In 8th grade, I was the ultimate nerd. I loved school and, since I was inept at sports, my competitive nature was fueled by grades. How well I did on quizzes, was I the highest scorer on the test, and did I get straight A’s were my benchmarks in the world as I knew it. I wasn’t that great in technical subjects, like math, but ones which demanded my own thoughts and opinions were the classes where I excelled.
History was my favorite because it was the closest to meeting that criteria. Yes, I had to memorize dates and places, but the wonderful thing about history was the fact that you had to analyze why certain events happened. And then, you could wonder if certain events, which seemed small at the time, hadn’t happened, what would the world be like today? And were bad events almost necessary to get us to where we are now? Wonderful, philosophical questions came from the study of history and I was an ardent student.
So, imagine my disgust when, on my first day of 8th grade, in walked Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith was the new wrestling coach and was “made” to also teach. And he got history as his subject. I spent the year horrified as he put the Battle of Normandy in Britain, insisted FDR served two terms, and only wanted the basics of dates and places. There were no philosophical discussions in Mr. Smith’s class, except in his discussion of the previous night’s wrestling meet.
He was even worse in classroom management. He seemed like he wanted to be our peer instead of teacher. So dealing with him was exactly like dealing with a friend you would have in junior high. One day, you were his best friend and could do no wrong. The next, you had committed some unknown grievance and were made to sit in the hallway.
The final straw for me was the class trip we were supposed to take. I was told one day before I wouldn’t be able to go because my name was on the board. Earlier in the year, Mr. Smith had decided a “Lord of the Flies” approach to teaching was needed and told students that if anyone bothered them, they could write that student’s name on the board and said student would be punished. I pointed out that the date my name was written on the board was on a day I wasn’t even in class but was at a band competition. He thought for a minute and then said, “Well, that doesn’t matter. Your name was on the board and you can’t go.”
I wished horrible things for Mr. Smith on that day, or at least as horrible as a twelve-year old’s mind can go. Mainly, I just wished he wasn’t my teacher anymore, or anyone else’s teacher for that matter. He was young, athletic, loved wrestling, and obviously didn’t want to be in the classroom. Why couldn’t he just go away?
Fast forward fifteen years and I was an assistant administrator of a nursing home. Our facility had been advertising for a housekeeper and we hadn’t received any good applicants. I had gotten back from a short vacation and went to the administrator’s office. She told me she had finally found a new housekeeper and he was in my office filling out paperwork and would be ready for me to give him an orientation to the facility policies and rules. I walked into my office and my stomach hit the floor. There, sitting in one of the chairs and obviously struggling with the paperwork, was Mr. Smith. The years had not been kind. When he looked up at me, I didn’t see any kind of recognition in his eyes and thought maybe I got it wrong. We started talking and it was obvious that drug use had taken most his faculties and even simple sentences were difficult. I kept glancing at his paperwork and there was his name all over it. It had to be him. Finally, I looked at his resume; there it was, the schooling and degree needed for him to have the past I remembered.
We both ignored the elephant in the room and I took care of his paperwork and orientation. It was strange to tell Mr. Smith, now called by his first name, to clean up the various messes of a nursing home. My twelve-year old heart would have loved to be in the position to order Mr. Smith around, but my twenty-seven year old heart wondered how did he become like this?
Finally, one day, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I saw Mr. Smith in the hallway and started to say, “You probably don’t remember me, but I was a student of yours…” He interrupted me and stated that he did remember. He realized it on the first day. He didn’t give a lot of details of his life since then. But, at one point, he did put his head down and quietly said, “Well, I wasn’t that good of a teacher anyway.”
There was a long silence. I didn’t know what to say. I know a part of him needed to hear that, yes, you were good back then; at one point in your life, you were good at something, Mr. Smith. But, I couldn’t do it. He wasn’t a good teacher because he didn’t have any interest in it. I just mumbled something about needing to get back to my office and the paperwork.
I still wonder what I should have said.
"Who taught you close to nothing? Write about the teacher who had the least impact on you."
In 8th grade, I was the ultimate nerd. I loved school and, since I was inept at sports, my competitive nature was fueled by grades. How well I did on quizzes, was I the highest scorer on the test, and did I get straight A’s were my benchmarks in the world as I knew it. I wasn’t that great in technical subjects, like math, but ones which demanded my own thoughts and opinions were the classes where I excelled.
History was my favorite because it was the closest to meeting that criteria. Yes, I had to memorize dates and places, but the wonderful thing about history was the fact that you had to analyze why certain events happened. And then, you could wonder if certain events, which seemed small at the time, hadn’t happened, what would the world be like today? And were bad events almost necessary to get us to where we are now? Wonderful, philosophical questions came from the study of history and I was an ardent student.
So, imagine my disgust when, on my first day of 8th grade, in walked Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith was the new wrestling coach and was “made” to also teach. And he got history as his subject. I spent the year horrified as he put the Battle of Normandy in Britain, insisted FDR served two terms, and only wanted the basics of dates and places. There were no philosophical discussions in Mr. Smith’s class, except in his discussion of the previous night’s wrestling meet.
He was even worse in classroom management. He seemed like he wanted to be our peer instead of teacher. So dealing with him was exactly like dealing with a friend you would have in junior high. One day, you were his best friend and could do no wrong. The next, you had committed some unknown grievance and were made to sit in the hallway.
The final straw for me was the class trip we were supposed to take. I was told one day before I wouldn’t be able to go because my name was on the board. Earlier in the year, Mr. Smith had decided a “Lord of the Flies” approach to teaching was needed and told students that if anyone bothered them, they could write that student’s name on the board and said student would be punished. I pointed out that the date my name was written on the board was on a day I wasn’t even in class but was at a band competition. He thought for a minute and then said, “Well, that doesn’t matter. Your name was on the board and you can’t go.”
I wished horrible things for Mr. Smith on that day, or at least as horrible as a twelve-year old’s mind can go. Mainly, I just wished he wasn’t my teacher anymore, or anyone else’s teacher for that matter. He was young, athletic, loved wrestling, and obviously didn’t want to be in the classroom. Why couldn’t he just go away?
Fast forward fifteen years and I was an assistant administrator of a nursing home. Our facility had been advertising for a housekeeper and we hadn’t received any good applicants. I had gotten back from a short vacation and went to the administrator’s office. She told me she had finally found a new housekeeper and he was in my office filling out paperwork and would be ready for me to give him an orientation to the facility policies and rules. I walked into my office and my stomach hit the floor. There, sitting in one of the chairs and obviously struggling with the paperwork, was Mr. Smith. The years had not been kind. When he looked up at me, I didn’t see any kind of recognition in his eyes and thought maybe I got it wrong. We started talking and it was obvious that drug use had taken most his faculties and even simple sentences were difficult. I kept glancing at his paperwork and there was his name all over it. It had to be him. Finally, I looked at his resume; there it was, the schooling and degree needed for him to have the past I remembered.
We both ignored the elephant in the room and I took care of his paperwork and orientation. It was strange to tell Mr. Smith, now called by his first name, to clean up the various messes of a nursing home. My twelve-year old heart would have loved to be in the position to order Mr. Smith around, but my twenty-seven year old heart wondered how did he become like this?
Finally, one day, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I saw Mr. Smith in the hallway and started to say, “You probably don’t remember me, but I was a student of yours…” He interrupted me and stated that he did remember. He realized it on the first day. He didn’t give a lot of details of his life since then. But, at one point, he did put his head down and quietly said, “Well, I wasn’t that good of a teacher anyway.”
There was a long silence. I didn’t know what to say. I know a part of him needed to hear that, yes, you were good back then; at one point in your life, you were good at something, Mr. Smith. But, I couldn’t do it. He wasn’t a good teacher because he didn’t have any interest in it. I just mumbled something about needing to get back to my office and the paperwork.
I still wonder what I should have said.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Personal Ad
I went to the Writing Fix website and got the following prompt: "What would be an interesting personal ad to read in the newspaper? Imagine who might send it, then write the ad." Here's my story based on that prompt:
As she sat on the couch eating Ben and Jerry’s Americone Dream straight out of the carton, she thought to herself maybe she should make some changes in her life.
It had been awhile since she had been in the dating scene. She smirked as she realized saying “awhile” was the same as saying the Atlantic Ocean was “wet.” When she was young, she concentrated on other things; her career and education. There would always be time for romance later. But later came sooner than she expected and now she realized there had to be more.
She was always the person everyone came to for answers. She had always been a methodical thinker and could analyze a problem from its big picture down the details needed to solve it. But she honestly had no idea how to approach this.
The modern world seemed so different than the love stories she heard growing up. In the past, meetings at structured social functions had led to true love while dancing to big bands. But, the world today wasn’t accommodating enough to provide structure to its social functions and seem to actually enjoy letting its inhabitants randomly crash into each other without a thought of everlasting love.
She had heard about personal ads and had taken a look many times. But the ads seemed almost like comedy writings. If that many people were interested in soul mates, walks along the beach, and sunsets, where had all the romance in the real world gone? She decided she would buck the trend and write a completely honest personal ad. An ad that described the “real” her. Surely, the masses would appreciate someone finally presenting an honest evaluation of self.
“Single, 41 year-old female. Has absolutely no idea how romance works. Has really let herself go over the years. Tends to be cranky, especially in the mornings. Grew up an only child and has always had a problem with sharing. Thinks sarcasm is an appropriate response for most anything, including deeply personal stories. Isn’t really much into doing things outside the comfort of her own home except for eating out. Doesn’t really like people around “hovering” all the time. Very picky about everything.”
She reviewed the ad and plopped back down on the sofa, grabbing the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream before her behind hit the sofa cushions. Maybe the world isn’t ready for that kind of honesty, she thought. Maybe she could at least pretend to like the occasional sunset.
As she sat on the couch eating Ben and Jerry’s Americone Dream straight out of the carton, she thought to herself maybe she should make some changes in her life.
It had been awhile since she had been in the dating scene. She smirked as she realized saying “awhile” was the same as saying the Atlantic Ocean was “wet.” When she was young, she concentrated on other things; her career and education. There would always be time for romance later. But later came sooner than she expected and now she realized there had to be more.
She was always the person everyone came to for answers. She had always been a methodical thinker and could analyze a problem from its big picture down the details needed to solve it. But she honestly had no idea how to approach this.
The modern world seemed so different than the love stories she heard growing up. In the past, meetings at structured social functions had led to true love while dancing to big bands. But, the world today wasn’t accommodating enough to provide structure to its social functions and seem to actually enjoy letting its inhabitants randomly crash into each other without a thought of everlasting love.
She had heard about personal ads and had taken a look many times. But the ads seemed almost like comedy writings. If that many people were interested in soul mates, walks along the beach, and sunsets, where had all the romance in the real world gone? She decided she would buck the trend and write a completely honest personal ad. An ad that described the “real” her. Surely, the masses would appreciate someone finally presenting an honest evaluation of self.
“Single, 41 year-old female. Has absolutely no idea how romance works. Has really let herself go over the years. Tends to be cranky, especially in the mornings. Grew up an only child and has always had a problem with sharing. Thinks sarcasm is an appropriate response for most anything, including deeply personal stories. Isn’t really much into doing things outside the comfort of her own home except for eating out. Doesn’t really like people around “hovering” all the time. Very picky about everything.”
She reviewed the ad and plopped back down on the sofa, grabbing the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream before her behind hit the sofa cushions. Maybe the world isn’t ready for that kind of honesty, she thought. Maybe she could at least pretend to like the occasional sunset.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Olympics essay from 2004
In honor of the Summer Olympics (I'm watching the amazing Opening Ceremony right now), I'm posting a personal essay I wrote for an online blog for the last summer games in 2004.
*****************************************************************
Forget about the upcoming presidential election, I'm all about the Olympics right now.
I can't even wrap my brain around what these people are able to do. I could never be a high-level athlete. From puking every minute to stopping competition every two minutes so I could go to the bathroom from nerves, I don't think I would be in medal contention.
Never mind the fact I can't seem to tell my left from my right ("go to your left, JKC. Okay, now go to your other left.") and my gross motor skills are sadly lacking. People used to argue over who's team had to take me. Plus, just now one of my coworkers brought me my purse, which she found on the roof of my car, so apparently I don't have that "focus thing" in my favor either.
The ages of the athletes always blow me away. Michael Phelps, the swimmer going for eight medals, is nineteen. NINETEEN! Look, I partied so much I don't even remember nineteen. Those little girl gymnasts...fifteen, y'all. At fifteen, I figured out that if I took drama and band, I wouldn't have to be in gym anymore.
I don't watch a lot of sports, but for these next couple of weeks I become an expert on all things from tae kwon do to badminton. I start rating everything from entrances into the water to dismounts from the pommel horse. A perfect example is synchronized diving. My first reaction was, "What?" But, after only a minute of watching, I was like "oh, the girl on the right entered the water WAY before the girl on the left. The judges are SO gonna deduct for that."
The sacrifices these kids make for those few seconds are incredible. There was an interview with an American gymnast who described how expensive training is and went for a full week eating only Power Bars because she couldn't afford food from the training costs. Understand, in my world, ANYTHING that keeps me away from complete meals plus snacks would be immediately cut out of my life.
So, hope everyone is enjoying the Olympics. Please be amazed and in awe of the sacrifices all of these kids have made to be there. Be as happy for a fifth place finish that was that athlete's personal best as you are for a gold medal performance. Plus, I think the men's team has a good shot at a medal in badminton.
*****************************************************************
Forget about the upcoming presidential election, I'm all about the Olympics right now.
I can't even wrap my brain around what these people are able to do. I could never be a high-level athlete. From puking every minute to stopping competition every two minutes so I could go to the bathroom from nerves, I don't think I would be in medal contention.
Never mind the fact I can't seem to tell my left from my right ("go to your left, JKC. Okay, now go to your other left.") and my gross motor skills are sadly lacking. People used to argue over who's team had to take me. Plus, just now one of my coworkers brought me my purse, which she found on the roof of my car, so apparently I don't have that "focus thing" in my favor either.
The ages of the athletes always blow me away. Michael Phelps, the swimmer going for eight medals, is nineteen. NINETEEN! Look, I partied so much I don't even remember nineteen. Those little girl gymnasts...fifteen, y'all. At fifteen, I figured out that if I took drama and band, I wouldn't have to be in gym anymore.
I don't watch a lot of sports, but for these next couple of weeks I become an expert on all things from tae kwon do to badminton. I start rating everything from entrances into the water to dismounts from the pommel horse. A perfect example is synchronized diving. My first reaction was, "What?" But, after only a minute of watching, I was like "oh, the girl on the right entered the water WAY before the girl on the left. The judges are SO gonna deduct for that."
The sacrifices these kids make for those few seconds are incredible. There was an interview with an American gymnast who described how expensive training is and went for a full week eating only Power Bars because she couldn't afford food from the training costs. Understand, in my world, ANYTHING that keeps me away from complete meals plus snacks would be immediately cut out of my life.
So, hope everyone is enjoying the Olympics. Please be amazed and in awe of the sacrifices all of these kids have made to be there. Be as happy for a fifth place finish that was that athlete's personal best as you are for a gold medal performance. Plus, I think the men's team has a good shot at a medal in badminton.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Here we go!
Hey all! As you can see in the upper right corner, we've got some great authors added and hopefully more on the way. So far: Sally, Ann Garci (Theresa...awesome pen name!), ShadowFlame, and Stan's Student (Vance). And Ann Garci, didn't you post a mention of the blog earlier in our class discussion site? I didn't see it and wondered if it had been deleted. I didn't know if we should do a separate post there to advertise this group or not...what do you guys think (or is it even allowed)?
Okay, so it's time to use this blog, so I'll take the leap and go first. In my paragraph (from my supposed 500 word creative piece...not sure how that's going to work out!) that I posted to the Revision Discussion group, I said I didn't have a title. I think I may call it "Indifference [in a time vacuum]" as the central themes that keep repeating are time and indifference. The brackets used also point to a repeated theme used in the story.
Anyway, as the story is panning out so far, the character of "she" will have a connection with another character named "the other she." Here is the opening paragraph which introduces the new character:
It had been 19 years, 270 days, 14 hours, and 37 minutes since the other she had left her apartment. Time seemed to drag and fly by simultaneously which seemed to negate the definition of time as finite. The other she couldn’t remember why she stopped going into the world outside of her apartment, although she knew it wasn’t really a conscious decision. It just started with one minute, which extended into two minutes and so on.
So, critique away! I like how the last line starts but hate how it ends, so I know I need to do some revision there. Any thoughts?
Okay, so it's time to use this blog, so I'll take the leap and go first. In my paragraph (from my supposed 500 word creative piece...not sure how that's going to work out!) that I posted to the Revision Discussion group, I said I didn't have a title. I think I may call it "Indifference [in a time vacuum]" as the central themes that keep repeating are time and indifference. The brackets used also point to a repeated theme used in the story.
Anyway, as the story is panning out so far, the character of "she" will have a connection with another character named "the other she." Here is the opening paragraph which introduces the new character:
It had been 19 years, 270 days, 14 hours, and 37 minutes since the other she had left her apartment. Time seemed to drag and fly by simultaneously which seemed to negate the definition of time as finite. The other she couldn’t remember why she stopped going into the world outside of her apartment, although she knew it wasn’t really a conscious decision. It just started with one minute, which extended into two minutes and so on.
So, critique away! I like how the last line starts but hate how it ends, so I know I need to do some revision there. Any thoughts?
Monday, August 4, 2008
Hello everyone!
I'm jkc in OKC (cute, huh?) and I started this blog in hopes that some of my fellow writers from our online beginning writing course would join me. We've had such wonderful camraderie and feedback from each other that I hope the process continues here. Looking forward to seeing all of you here!
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