It was with great pride that I can now utter the words, I am published. In fact, when asked what was new with me the other day I may have squealed out those same three words. I can't help it, I don't mean to brag but I just cannot contain my excitement. In the span of two weeks I received news that I had a poem printed in my District's "The Write Stuff" magazine and then, that an essay of mine won fourth overall in New Brunswick and was being published in a "Turning Points" magazine that is printed all over Canada.
It feels so weird to write bios of myself to be printed but most of all it seems weird that I have the possibility to do so! I am still on a high and am so excited to attend the launch next Monday. It feels as if numerous doors have opened up before me and I am still staring at them, dumbfounded. Everything that I am striving towards seems so much closer. The opportunities I have been given in the form of writing workshops has given me the possibility to interact and communicate with published authors and has improved my writing.
When school is getting harder and I am getting frustrated, just taking a step back puts everything into perspective. In a few more weeks I will be done with Chemistry, the equations will go away and I will have gained another aspect of knowledge. And in the mean-time, I am being bloody published, I can't stay frustrated when I think of that.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
My Home Town
I will be the first of my friends to admit that I cannot wait to move away. Unlike my friends however, it has nothing to do with my home town, because I love my home town. Sure, it may not have the coolest stores to shop--I would flip for a Yankee Candle or BBW-- but it I love it. I love our uptown area, you can walk around and see all of the characters in the book; from the homeless to the snobby. I love the second-hand bookshops we have uptown and the awesome space that is our City Market.
I was walking from my Dad's to my Mum's today (relatively pissed off) and couldn't help but fall in love with my city all over again. It certainly is no Rome, or New York, or Quebec, but it's home, I can't help but fall in love every time I go for a walk uptown. I love the old architecture that it has to offer, brick buildings with beautiful awnings and old stone churches litter uptown. Whenever I walk around I can't help but stare with a silly smile dancing on my face. I think about who lived in this buildings before, who walked this streets. For a history junkie, living in a city that has visible historical features still present is a drug.
Like I said earlier, there are many characters uptown. You never know who you are going to meet. From the old bum who always asks for three quarters to the the kind gentlemen who would never has a lady for change, we have them all. Certainly, a few of them are crazy, a few are off no worse than you or I, and a few are kind souls.
Here where I live, you never know what you are going to run into on these streets. But even while touring the streets in a bad mood, the buildings will still put pretty thoughts in my head. And when you met a kind stranger who tells you that you are a beautiful young lady when your hair is falling out of its haphazard bun and sweat is glistening on your face, I can't help but love all of the surprises my home town has to offer.
I was walking from my Dad's to my Mum's today (relatively pissed off) and couldn't help but fall in love with my city all over again. It certainly is no Rome, or New York, or Quebec, but it's home, I can't help but fall in love every time I go for a walk uptown. I love the old architecture that it has to offer, brick buildings with beautiful awnings and old stone churches litter uptown. Whenever I walk around I can't help but stare with a silly smile dancing on my face. I think about who lived in this buildings before, who walked this streets. For a history junkie, living in a city that has visible historical features still present is a drug.
Like I said earlier, there are many characters uptown. You never know who you are going to meet. From the old bum who always asks for three quarters to the the kind gentlemen who would never has a lady for change, we have them all. Certainly, a few of them are crazy, a few are off no worse than you or I, and a few are kind souls.
Here where I live, you never know what you are going to run into on these streets. But even while touring the streets in a bad mood, the buildings will still put pretty thoughts in my head. And when you met a kind stranger who tells you that you are a beautiful young lady when your hair is falling out of its haphazard bun and sweat is glistening on your face, I can't help but love all of the surprises my home town has to offer.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Books!
For the first time in a long while I have decided to do another inspiration for a rainy day post! On Friday night I visited a church book sale in my town and I must say I was in my element completely. I did restrain myself however and only cam away with five books. I regret it a little, not buying more that is, but I am very happy with my purchases.- An old Mrs. Browning poetry book that I picked up for the cover and age alone.
- Translation:Aistreann-Tammy Armstrong, a book set in my home province about a girl who moves to Ireland and back, I couldn't refuse!
- The Best of Times-Penny Vincenzi,that HUGE book about how one day affects four different strangers on the same path.
- Letter Writing, a book from the 20's on the importance of writing letters and how to do so.
- A Cup of Comfort for Writers, I saw this book and just couldn't help myself, the stories are heart-warming and I think that a writer on any scale can understand writer's block and feeling inadequate.
All for $2.50...I am a very happy camper who is overjoyed with her pile of books, but first I have to finish The Game of Kings; set it Scotland 1457! I must saw when I do tackle this stack of books, I am looking forward to reading Translation:Aistreann the most.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Aminata Diallo: The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill
Question: If you were placed in the main character's shoes, what would you do differently?
Answer: If I was placed in Aminata's shoes it is hard to say what I would, or could, have done differently. Laying here on my soft, double bed with electronics nearby, my skin seems startlingly white and it is hard to even imagine myself in her shoes, or the shoes of any slave. I can only hope and dream that I would have been half as strong and brave as Aminata Diallo, then pray that that is a theory that never gets tested. But, the question is what I would have done differently and I doubt that what I would have done would have benefited me any grand amount. I can speculate that I would not have the same determination to live as `Meena` did. I do not think that after having everything I know, own and love ripped away from me again and again, that I could have found the will to live. Thinking of the horrible treatment and brutal conditions that she, and so many others endured, I know that I would have crippled under the strain of it, unable to bear this wretched, inhumane way of life. Everyone likes to think that when placed in a dangerous situation that they would be able to conquer and to survive, even myself. In this situation I fear that I would have met the same fate as many others, my lifeless body would be added to a shallow grave; the deep, ruthless sea; or left to rot. I can only imagine the lives of those in the slave trade through the eyes of Aminata Diallo and know, if I was placed in her shoes, I would never survive.
Answer: If I was placed in Aminata's shoes it is hard to say what I would, or could, have done differently. Laying here on my soft, double bed with electronics nearby, my skin seems startlingly white and it is hard to even imagine myself in her shoes, or the shoes of any slave. I can only hope and dream that I would have been half as strong and brave as Aminata Diallo, then pray that that is a theory that never gets tested. But, the question is what I would have done differently and I doubt that what I would have done would have benefited me any grand amount. I can speculate that I would not have the same determination to live as `Meena` did. I do not think that after having everything I know, own and love ripped away from me again and again, that I could have found the will to live. Thinking of the horrible treatment and brutal conditions that she, and so many others endured, I know that I would have crippled under the strain of it, unable to bear this wretched, inhumane way of life. Everyone likes to think that when placed in a dangerous situation that they would be able to conquer and to survive, even myself. In this situation I fear that I would have met the same fate as many others, my lifeless body would be added to a shallow grave; the deep, ruthless sea; or left to rot. I can only imagine the lives of those in the slave trade through the eyes of Aminata Diallo and know, if I was placed in her shoes, I would never survive.
Monday, April 23, 2012
An Amazing Last Week
I remember a few weeks ago I had signed onto Edline and saw that I was practically failing English, after having a really rough week with my teacher I was quite upset about this and after seeing my less than stellar note in French I promptly broke into tears. Following which I ran to the bathroom and cried my little heart out. After I got myself together I went back out and checked my e-mail, I had received an e-mail from someone telling me that my poem was accepted into a magazine. Of course, this made my burst into tears yet again and give my mother a great, big hug. It was a big hurrah and I felt like shoving it in my English teacher's face, but that would be entirely inappropriate and immature, so I did a victory dance with my mum instead.
The poem I am talking about is a poem I wrote back in the fall of 2009 about my, then sick, friend. Unfortunately, he passed away in February of 2010. I think that because he is no longer with us, this poem has brought on a new meaning to me, personally. Reading the poem over again a few years later of course I am critical and the writing isn't really the best, there are lines that I could go back and word differently to give a bigger impact but I almost don't want to, scratch that, I don't want to. This poem comes from a very different part of my life. While it was written only a few years ago, it feels like decades. I was a completely different person back then and because of this the poem has a special place in my heart they way it is. It was before "my turning point". Back when I was younger and a lot more naive.
With everything that has been happening these last few weeks it just feels incredible. I got the invitation today inviting me to the launch of this magazine and I felt like crying. Holding this invitation in my hands it makes it so real, I don't even know how I will feel when I see my name in print. I also received another invitation to another writing seminar, this one with a small fee and transportation. I know that I should take it, especially with the enticing prospect of one-on-one with an author but I just don't know. Maybe because next week is another short week and I don't want to miss more school but I just don't know if I want to go. Of course, I said that at first about the last one didn't I? I know that it would be a great opportunity...the more I think of it, they more it sounds interesting, I could edit a piece of work of mine and bring it in to see what they say...
I also finished up the Jewish Holocaust Memorial Study Group I was a part of since back in January, it is great to be able to go back to going to school everyday and not worrying about missing work but I am really going to miss this group. It was hard work at times but I sincerely enjoyed everything that we learned and all of the people we were given a chance to meet.
Last week was amazing in many different ways and I hope that it goes up from here.
The poem I am talking about is a poem I wrote back in the fall of 2009 about my, then sick, friend. Unfortunately, he passed away in February of 2010. I think that because he is no longer with us, this poem has brought on a new meaning to me, personally. Reading the poem over again a few years later of course I am critical and the writing isn't really the best, there are lines that I could go back and word differently to give a bigger impact but I almost don't want to, scratch that, I don't want to. This poem comes from a very different part of my life. While it was written only a few years ago, it feels like decades. I was a completely different person back then and because of this the poem has a special place in my heart they way it is. It was before "my turning point". Back when I was younger and a lot more naive.
With everything that has been happening these last few weeks it just feels incredible. I got the invitation today inviting me to the launch of this magazine and I felt like crying. Holding this invitation in my hands it makes it so real, I don't even know how I will feel when I see my name in print. I also received another invitation to another writing seminar, this one with a small fee and transportation. I know that I should take it, especially with the enticing prospect of one-on-one with an author but I just don't know. Maybe because next week is another short week and I don't want to miss more school but I just don't know if I want to go. Of course, I said that at first about the last one didn't I? I know that it would be a great opportunity...the more I think of it, they more it sounds interesting, I could edit a piece of work of mine and bring it in to see what they say...
I also finished up the Jewish Holocaust Memorial Study Group I was a part of since back in January, it is great to be able to go back to going to school everyday and not worrying about missing work but I am really going to miss this group. It was hard work at times but I sincerely enjoyed everything that we learned and all of the people we were given a chance to meet.
Last week was amazing in many different ways and I hope that it goes up from here.
Murder Mystery Workshop
It was unbelievably awesome. I loved it. I enjoyed every minute.
I can't believe that I almost didn't go.
On the first day, we started by being separated into groups and had to write and act out how we thought Ms. Priscilla Stone was murdered. But honestly, I think I could have sat there and listened to Alistair and Valerie just talk. They were so informative and just listening to their advice on writing was amazing. They offered great advice, on how to write and how to draw your readers in. We also talked about how important the senses are when writing. So, as an exercise to work on that they handing out a different item out to everyone that had to do with the a certain sense and you had to write about it. I got a little bottle of Rum Extract and had to write only on the smell, although I did slip a cheeky little blurb about its colour in there. I found it really hard to write purely on the scent but I managed to get a paragraph down, it was great to challenge myself and it really helped for the next bit of writing we did. We were given three words: she came in... And we had to write a paragraph starting with those three words. I ended up writing a page and a half but I really liked what I wrote, and so did he!! I was so unbelievably pumped that he liked it, and he mentioned that he liked it more than once! We finished up the day by talking and listening to one of Valerie's stories on the war which was read on CBC and on the radio for a few years, it was a great piece and I might have shed a tear or two, it was non-fiction, which made it impact even harder.
On day two we started by writing our very own detective to solve the murder of Ms. Priscilla. I created a roly-poly, bald gentleman who was quite vain but knew how to solve a case. It was great writing about him and I kept it a little comical because my piece on day two was a little sad. We did a few activities and talked for awhile before starting to write our very own ending to the mystery. It was crazy how diverse we all we and while I wish I had more time to delve into the topic more I think I did okay considering. It wasn't my best but I was happy with it. Afterwards though, the more amazing thing EVER happened. Every time we wrote we would have to get up in front of everyone, around twenty people, and write our work. Now, usually just the thought of letting people hear my work makes me start to hyperventilate! But Alistair said something that I think will stick with me, he said, "If you don't want to read your work or have your work read than you might as well go write a diary and go sit in your bedroom and read it all alone on your bed." It hit me then, he was totally right! It is really scary reading my work out loud for an audience or allowing someone to read it but it's something I have to get over, and I think that, maybe, that fear will always be there but I can't let it hinder me any more. If I met someone who can possibly help me any way, giving advice or giving feedback, I have to take it!
Anyway, as I was saying, I got up and read my ending to the story and Valerie told me to audition for CBC.... In complete seriousness, and more than once, she was quite consistent. She gave compliments and feedback to everyone but I was the only one she said anything like that to! She just told me that I was a really good writer and that I had a lovely voice, that I knew how to express my words quite well and that I spoke with the emotion. I was absolutely floored. It was unbelievable. I walked out of that room thinking that I can actually do this, I can write. I was walking on a high for days, I felt as if I could have done anything! This was such an incredible experience, worth every extra minute I had to spend doing homework and I feel that it really has helped my writing.
I can't believe that I almost didn't go.
On the first day, we started by being separated into groups and had to write and act out how we thought Ms. Priscilla Stone was murdered. But honestly, I think I could have sat there and listened to Alistair and Valerie just talk. They were so informative and just listening to their advice on writing was amazing. They offered great advice, on how to write and how to draw your readers in. We also talked about how important the senses are when writing. So, as an exercise to work on that they handing out a different item out to everyone that had to do with the a certain sense and you had to write about it. I got a little bottle of Rum Extract and had to write only on the smell, although I did slip a cheeky little blurb about its colour in there. I found it really hard to write purely on the scent but I managed to get a paragraph down, it was great to challenge myself and it really helped for the next bit of writing we did. We were given three words: she came in... And we had to write a paragraph starting with those three words. I ended up writing a page and a half but I really liked what I wrote, and so did he!! I was so unbelievably pumped that he liked it, and he mentioned that he liked it more than once! We finished up the day by talking and listening to one of Valerie's stories on the war which was read on CBC and on the radio for a few years, it was a great piece and I might have shed a tear or two, it was non-fiction, which made it impact even harder.
On day two we started by writing our very own detective to solve the murder of Ms. Priscilla. I created a roly-poly, bald gentleman who was quite vain but knew how to solve a case. It was great writing about him and I kept it a little comical because my piece on day two was a little sad. We did a few activities and talked for awhile before starting to write our very own ending to the mystery. It was crazy how diverse we all we and while I wish I had more time to delve into the topic more I think I did okay considering. It wasn't my best but I was happy with it. Afterwards though, the more amazing thing EVER happened. Every time we wrote we would have to get up in front of everyone, around twenty people, and write our work. Now, usually just the thought of letting people hear my work makes me start to hyperventilate! But Alistair said something that I think will stick with me, he said, "If you don't want to read your work or have your work read than you might as well go write a diary and go sit in your bedroom and read it all alone on your bed." It hit me then, he was totally right! It is really scary reading my work out loud for an audience or allowing someone to read it but it's something I have to get over, and I think that, maybe, that fear will always be there but I can't let it hinder me any more. If I met someone who can possibly help me any way, giving advice or giving feedback, I have to take it!
Anyway, as I was saying, I got up and read my ending to the story and Valerie told me to audition for CBC.... In complete seriousness, and more than once, she was quite consistent. She gave compliments and feedback to everyone but I was the only one she said anything like that to! She just told me that I was a really good writer and that I had a lovely voice, that I knew how to express my words quite well and that I spoke with the emotion. I was absolutely floored. It was unbelievable. I walked out of that room thinking that I can actually do this, I can write. I was walking on a high for days, I felt as if I could have done anything! This was such an incredible experience, worth every extra minute I had to spend doing homework and I feel that it really has helped my writing.
Monday, April 16, 2012
A Bundle of Nerves and Excitement
So, once again I have another wonderful opportunity to be thankful and grateful for. I was presented with the chance to go to a writing workshop for two days, during which we will each create our own little short "murder mystery" story and have authors there who will help us. I only found out today and the workshop starts tomorrow so it is completely last notice, for that reason I was really humming and hawing about the whole deal, especially with the prospect of missing two days of school. I am still nervous about missing school because I seem to be missing a lot lately for school activities but as a friend put it, Chemistry that you will never use again or your career. Because let's face it, she was right, this is what I want to do, not working out equations.
I am beyond happy to be going to this workshop and am over the moon that there will be two authors there who will help us. On the other hand, as usual, I am distraught at the thought that they will actually be reading my work. I mean, what if they don't like it? Does that mean I suck? Everyone has different tastes so even if they don't like it, that doesn't mean it is terrible, does it? I am pretty much a complete wreck, a bundle of nerves and excitement, waiting with baited breath for tomorrow...
I am beyond happy to be going to this workshop and am over the moon that there will be two authors there who will help us. On the other hand, as usual, I am distraught at the thought that they will actually be reading my work. I mean, what if they don't like it? Does that mean I suck? Everyone has different tastes so even if they don't like it, that doesn't mean it is terrible, does it? I am pretty much a complete wreck, a bundle of nerves and excitement, waiting with baited breath for tomorrow...
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