My Letter

At the beginning of the course I thought my writing ability wasn’t great, but I thought that it was at least good enough to write a short story or poem. I was wrong. I expected this class to let me think of an idea, write it down, turn it in, and get a grade. Again, I was wrong. I had to push myself to think outside of the box and not just narrow myself to few options.
Looking back at my background I now realize that it wasn’t very strong. My creative thinking has blossomed in several ways because of this class, especially with the help of revised papers. I would write something, then it in and would almost instantly get it back with kind criticism. This kind of criticism is extremely helpful. The fact that it wasn’t insulting was enough to give me the push I needed to think of something more creative and to tighten up my work.

I had a decent idea of what was expected with short stories, even though writing them wasn’t exactly my strong point, but poems were a lot different. I didn’t think that writing a poem would be so difficult. I thought that poems were basically thoughts written down in any form and that they didn’t have any guidelines. To me they felt like random thoughts that were thrown together in any way, but I was off.
I learned that it takes more than just an idea or feeling to make a decent poem. Once I wrote one it looked like there wasn’t anything wrong with it, but im sure if anyone else had read it they would have been completely lost. It felt right to me because that’s how I thought it should look and sound. Now after weeks of practice I think I am at least capable of writing a decent poem or story. I can’t say that I am a perfect writer and that the work that I do is flawless, but I at least now know what it takes. I know what is expected from a decent story or poem and this class showed me that.

Postcard Front: Warm Ice

Postcard Back: Warm Ice

Poem One Draft: Pencil

Title??
This item that I am looking at
Derek, again, review my comments for direction. --GaryIt can do damage with one hit.
It can be man's best friend if used in the right way.
It's sharpe<spelling, straight and slim,
depending on how you sharpen it.
The yellow brings the sun of day,
without it I wont get an A. <avoid playful end rhymes<if you want your poems to rhyme, then use internal rhyme<I never thought that a pencil had so much such value!

Poem One Final: Pencil

It can do damage with one hit.
It can be man's best friend if used right
with it's sharp, straight and slim point
just depending on how you sharpen it.
The yellow brings the sun of day,
without it the world of writing diminish.
I never thought a pencil had such value!

Poem Two Draft: Dreams

title?
Falling asleep may or may not end well <strong / interesting openingI might just wake up with a smile
I might just wake up in sweat
A sleeping hell can be found in a nightmare <"a sleeping hell" is a nightmare so I don't understand your line<clarify<
Dreams never fail to send one thinking
Hearing the screams of the living dead
People run with death inches behind
Hide behind the strongest door
They almost get you then it stops
Thank god the dream is over <try rewriting this stanza using full sentences< I believe it will bring clarity and purpose
A new night with a new place
Snow covers the ground with stars so brightI find byself flying down a field
The speed is so great I don't want it to end
My eyes open then and realize i'm awake

Dreams mix up good and bad
Regardless the reason I'm always on the run
Something new to see and do
Fly or fall all free <try rewriting this stanza using full sentences< I believe it will bring clarity and purposeDreams are beyond anything great
Review my comments for direction, Derek. All those left margin caps: why?? --Gary

Poem Two Final: Dreams

Falling asleep may or may not end well.
I might just wake up with a smile
or I might just wake up in sweat.
A sleeping hell can be found in a with eyes closed
with dreams never failing to send one thinking.
While hearing the screams of the living dead
people run with death inches behind.
Hide behind the strongest door
as they almost get you then it stops.
Thank god the dream is over.

A new night with a new place.
Snow covers the ground with stars as
I find myself flying down a field
with speed is so great I don't want it to end.
My eyes open then and realize I'm awake.

Dreams mix up good and bad
regardless the reason I'm always on the run
for something new to see and do.
As I sleep I Fly or fall all free.
Dreams are beyond anything great.

Short Draft: Something New

questions b/f I start reading your story: title? only one paragraph? why doesn't your story have any sense of format? review how to handle / format dialogue
There once was a young man named Peter. He had always longed for something new in his life, but never knew where to look for it. He felt left out and afraid of the world. Everyone<who? <put people in Peter's life for readers seemed to live their lives with the help of everyone else. They either needed the drama or sympathy from someone else. <being too broad and general <get to the details < He felt alone and needed an escape. He looked out his window from his little house and saw the heavy snow flakes fall to the ground. The brightness of the snow lit the darkness and he could see little drifts begin to form. He thought to himself, "While the world sleeps ill <proofread enjoy what they are missing." Still longing for something new, he grabbed his shovel and ran outside. He didn't know what he wanted or what he was looking for, but he just started digging. He dug and he dug until he was in over his head. He started to dig a tunnel. <dug hole in the ground or the snow? He was began to get a little nervous. He thought about the snow caving in behind him and he would be trapped forever, but because he was this far in he might as well dig a little more. All of a sudden he heard an odd noise. At first he began to panic and tried to back out of his tunnel, but before he could turn a round he saw a hand poke through the end of his tunnel. He was to afraid to moved. First a hand, then an arm.<cool twist! He thought that maybe someone was buried and was still alive, but couldn't get out. Peter stared to help dig the figure out, when the arm went back through. "Hello?" Peter called. "Who's There?" a voice yelled out. It was a girl. "I'm Peter," he said. They kept digging until their two tunnels became one. He didn't know what to say, and she didn't either. Finally he got up the courage and said, "What are you doing?" She looked up at him and said, "Im looking for something new." <perfect ending!I like your story, Derek. Your character, Peter,who triumphs over an obstacle by means of a magical or supernatural element, is clearly on a quest for something important and specific. Again, review my comments for direction, and once we get to the revision section, you’ll have a few different opportunities to re-see this piece. --Gary

Short Final: Something New

There once was a young man named Peter. He had always longed for something new in his life, but never knew where to look for it. He felt left out and afraid of the world. Peter would seem, celebrities on magazines with their tabloids, his friends comments online, and lazy people getting support from their parents. Everyone seemed to live their lives with the help of everyone else. They either needed the drama or sympathy from someone else. He felt alone and needed an escape.
One evening Peter looked out his window from his little house and saw the heavy snow flakes fall to the ground. The brightness of the snow lit the darkness and he could see little drifts begin to form. He thought to himself, "While the world sleeps I’ll enjoy what they are missing." Still longing for something new, he grabbed his shovel and ran outside. He didn't know what he wanted or what he was looking for, but he just started digging into the snow. He dug and he dug until he was in over his head. He started to dig a tunnel. He was beginning to get a little nervous. He thought about the snow caving in behind him and he would be trapped forever, but because he was this far in he might as well dig a little more.
Peter reached the point where he felt so claustrophobic that he had to turn around, but all of a sudden he heard an odd noise. At first he began to panic and tried to back out of his tunnel, but before he could turn a round he saw a hand poke through the end of his tunnel. He was to afraid to moved. First a hand, then an arm. He thought that maybe someone was buried and was still alive, but couldn't get out. Peter stared to help dig the figure out, when the arm went back through. "Hello?" Peter called. "Who's There?" a voice yelled out. It was a girl. "I'm Peter," he said. They kept digging until their two tunnels became one. He didn't know what to say, and she didn't either. Finally he got up the courage and said, "What are you doing?" She looked up at him and said, "I’m looking for something new."

Tornado

It was nearly one in the afternoon and the sky was black as night. The thunder sounded as if God were bowling in heaven the man thought to himself as he was sitting on his front porch. He could see that his family was quite fearful of the storm as they watched it roll in from the window. Just as he was about to tell his family the storm would soon pass, he turned to see a giant tornado heading right for them. Without hesitation he flew through the door, grabbed his flashlight and motioned to his family to follow him into the cellar. Just before closing the cellar door he turned to see the tornado less than one hundred yards away from his window!
Luckily for the family, the wood storage room was strategically placed in a safe, tight corner; or so they thought. Before long they could hear trees snapping, cabinets shaking, and dishes crashing! They then knew their world was literally crashing down. Just when the noise was starting to come to an end the top of the house was ripped off and they could hear it being blown away. Then the ceiling, walls, floor and everything in between followed. They knew they would soon be next.
All huddled up together they knew it would be the last time they would see each other. The man hugged his wife and his two daughters and they all said I love you. With eyes closed they held hands and waited and prayed. Something soon urged the man to open his eyes. To his surprise it was daylight, and the storm had passed! Everything was ruined, but not his family they were there and not a hair on their heads were touched. As frightened as they all were they couldn’t help but to smile. One by one they all climbed up and out of the cellar using pieces of debris as a ladder.