Tuesday, September 29, 2015
watching Bleak House
Elisabeth and I started watching the BBC version of Bleak House yesterday. I think that if you're struggling at all with this book, you should go ahead and watch the mini-series. The Davis County Library has multiple copies, so don't pay to watch...unless you want to, in which case you can purchase it on Amazon to stream. Being able to put a face with each character is super helpful with this book.
Monday, September 28, 2015
Week ending October 2
For this week:
Catch up with Bleak House. Many are behind, so if you're caught up, you get a break. If you're not caught up, read through chapter 36 for this Friday's discussion. This will necessitate an extra discussion time outside of our regularly scheduled classes because we'll now be behind and not finish by October 16. I would like to hold a writing marathon and final discussion on the book in the first half of November, so start looking at your calendars to see what will work for you. This will be a great chance for you to have fun getting that rough draft of your writing project going, so if we can get everyone there, that will be awesome!
From our people watching exercise, choose one person you saw and create a back story to explain the things you observed about them. For example, if they looked a little cocky as they walked, is that because they're stuck up or because they're trying to give themselves confidence when they're feeling insecure or is it just they way they look when they're in a hurry? If you missed the people watching exercise, just use someone you notice when you're out and about--maybe at the store or the library or whatever. Post this on the blog for feedback.
Read this article and use the character traits listed to begin creating the characters for your writing project. You may not need to decide on everything on the list for every character, so just use it as a starting point. http://www.writerswrite.com/journal/jun98/how-to-create-a-character-profile-6986 Remember that secondary characters need to be interesting as well as main characters, so be thinking about how to flesh them out. If your characters are well developed, your story will flow much easier. Try to make the characters live off the page--not everything about them will get included in your story, but they will feel more real if the reader can tell that there's more to the character than what is on the page. I will have you show me your three character sheets, make sure you do them!
Catch up with Bleak House. Many are behind, so if you're caught up, you get a break. If you're not caught up, read through chapter 36 for this Friday's discussion. This will necessitate an extra discussion time outside of our regularly scheduled classes because we'll now be behind and not finish by October 16. I would like to hold a writing marathon and final discussion on the book in the first half of November, so start looking at your calendars to see what will work for you. This will be a great chance for you to have fun getting that rough draft of your writing project going, so if we can get everyone there, that will be awesome!
From our people watching exercise, choose one person you saw and create a back story to explain the things you observed about them. For example, if they looked a little cocky as they walked, is that because they're stuck up or because they're trying to give themselves confidence when they're feeling insecure or is it just they way they look when they're in a hurry? If you missed the people watching exercise, just use someone you notice when you're out and about--maybe at the store or the library or whatever. Post this on the blog for feedback.
Read this article and use the character traits listed to begin creating the characters for your writing project. You may not need to decide on everything on the list for every character, so just use it as a starting point. http://www.writerswrite.com/journal/jun98/how-to-create-a-character-profile-6986 Remember that secondary characters need to be interesting as well as main characters, so be thinking about how to flesh them out. If your characters are well developed, your story will flow much easier. Try to make the characters live off the page--not everything about them will get included in your story, but they will feel more real if the reader can tell that there's more to the character than what is on the page. I will have you show me your three character sheets, make sure you do them!
Thursday, September 24, 2015
Monday, September 21, 2015
This week:
- Read through chapter 37 of Bleak House.
- Read the POV posts on the blog. Choose three and leave a positive and a "could be better" comment on all three. Remember to be tactful. :)
- Brainstorm ideas for the plot of your novella. Remember that you'll want a beginning, middle, and end. Do this on paper. Make it messy. Put down everything you think you might want to use, even if you don't use it later.
Friday, September 18, 2015
Fire!
From my point of view at 9 years old:
My parents are leaving me to babysit AGAIN. I swear they're never here at all. What's the point of having parents anyway if they're never around? And Mom expects me to fit all this bread in the oven when it's done rising. It's never going to fit...
There, I knew these loaves of bread wouldn't all fit. Half the time she can't get them to fit with the oven door closed. Well, that's the best I can do. The oven door is just not going to quite close, and they'll just have to bake that way. I'm done messing around with this, and I need to use the bathroom anyway. Where's my book?
Okay, now that I've had a little break, what are the kids up to. THERE'S A FIRE IN THE OVEN! What should I do? I know we're supposed to leave the house, but it's not a very big fire, and I think I can put it out. It would be so embarrassing to call the fire department over this, and I can get it out before they even get here. "Quick, Bekah and Benji, go wait outside. Reece, grab that bucket and help me put this fire out. If we can't get it out in just a minute, we'll go out and call the fire department."
Good news--I saved the house. It turns out that one of those stinking kids (none of them will confess who) decided to try to rearrange the bread so that it would all fit in the oven properly. They were successful, but left the hot pad in there. I save the bread, but the hot pad is a dead loss.
My parents are so unfair. First, they leave me to babysit all.the.time. Then, just because I had to use the bathroom, so I didn't stop the hot pad incident, now I am in trouble. Since no one admits to leaving the hot pad in the oven, we're all being punished, but me most of all because I was "in charge and should have known better." What the heck? I can't use the bathroom while I'm babysitting? They seem more upset about Mom's best hot pad being destroyed than about the fact that the house almost burned down. And I saved it! With just a little help from Reece.
From my younger sister's point of view:
Hmmm...Lauralyn left this bread all weird in the oven. I bet I can make it better. Turn this one. Put this one over here. I'm being so careful; I won't get burned. Mommy always says that I'll burn myself if I get too close to the oven, but I won't. Look, I did it! I can put the bread in the oven better than Lauralyn...
Lauralyn is screaming and making me take Ben outside. I think she's mad about the bread cause I did it better than her...
Mom and Dad are really mad because somebody left the hot pad in the oven, and it started on fire. No one knows who did it, except me. I left it in there when I fixed the bread, but I'm not telling. I'm not getting in trouble for this.
(Rebekah finally confessed twenty years after the event, so now we all know who is responsible for the great hot pad fire of 1983.)
My parents are leaving me to babysit AGAIN. I swear they're never here at all. What's the point of having parents anyway if they're never around? And Mom expects me to fit all this bread in the oven when it's done rising. It's never going to fit...
There, I knew these loaves of bread wouldn't all fit. Half the time she can't get them to fit with the oven door closed. Well, that's the best I can do. The oven door is just not going to quite close, and they'll just have to bake that way. I'm done messing around with this, and I need to use the bathroom anyway. Where's my book?
Okay, now that I've had a little break, what are the kids up to. THERE'S A FIRE IN THE OVEN! What should I do? I know we're supposed to leave the house, but it's not a very big fire, and I think I can put it out. It would be so embarrassing to call the fire department over this, and I can get it out before they even get here. "Quick, Bekah and Benji, go wait outside. Reece, grab that bucket and help me put this fire out. If we can't get it out in just a minute, we'll go out and call the fire department."
Good news--I saved the house. It turns out that one of those stinking kids (none of them will confess who) decided to try to rearrange the bread so that it would all fit in the oven properly. They were successful, but left the hot pad in there. I save the bread, but the hot pad is a dead loss.
My parents are so unfair. First, they leave me to babysit all.the.time. Then, just because I had to use the bathroom, so I didn't stop the hot pad incident, now I am in trouble. Since no one admits to leaving the hot pad in the oven, we're all being punished, but me most of all because I was "in charge and should have known better." What the heck? I can't use the bathroom while I'm babysitting? They seem more upset about Mom's best hot pad being destroyed than about the fact that the house almost burned down. And I saved it! With just a little help from Reece.
From my younger sister's point of view:
Hmmm...Lauralyn left this bread all weird in the oven. I bet I can make it better. Turn this one. Put this one over here. I'm being so careful; I won't get burned. Mommy always says that I'll burn myself if I get too close to the oven, but I won't. Look, I did it! I can put the bread in the oven better than Lauralyn...
Lauralyn is screaming and making me take Ben outside. I think she's mad about the bread cause I did it better than her...
Mom and Dad are really mad because somebody left the hot pad in the oven, and it started on fire. No one knows who did it, except me. I left it in there when I fixed the bread, but I'm not telling. I'm not getting in trouble for this.
(Rebekah finally confessed twenty years after the event, so now we all know who is responsible for the great hot pad fire of 1983.)
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Football (The following events are not real I hope that's ok...) (The following story has a lot of football terms)
Running Back's point of view.
I am the Running Back. lined up behind my Quarter Back. I look at the play clock, 1;00 to go. We are down 24 to 28 and on the 50 yard line. Focus on the play. I will run to the left side of the Quarter Back he will pitch it to me and I will just run just out side the pocket and book it as far as I can towards the end-zone.
Wait the ball has been snapped! I run to the left side of the Quarter Back. He pitches I catch it! Thats a start. Ok run to the outside of the pocket. Wait! Theirs a defender there! I cut to the left quickly, That seemed to throw him off. Good. I sprint towards green field. A Corner sprints at me from the right. I fake I cut to the right than sprint left. He jumps at me and try's to trip me up but I stay on my feet. I am right against the sideline now, nothing but open field ahead of me. I dash towered the end-zone. Right from the corner of my right eye I see the safety headed right towered me. I cant cut to the right he'd crush me. He's going to try to push me out of bounds. There's only one option. I lower my shoulder and hit him as hard as I can with it. The impact forces me backwards a little so I spare a glance at my feet. I'm still in bounds! The Safety is on the ground. I sprint with all I have left toward the end-zone. I don't see anybody a head of me. I make it! Yes!
Safety's point of view.
Is everybody In position? Look's like it. We just have to stop these guy's for one minute. He snapped the ball! The play is on. He pitches it to the running back. Look's like he's headed for the left side of the pocket. Yes! We have a guy there! No! He just cut to the out side. Micky our corner is chasing him down. The runner try's to juke him and halfway succeed's. Micky jumps at his legs will he trip him? The runner shakes him of. It's up to me now! I dash towered him! I just have to push him out. BAM! Ouch. What just happened... I look towered the end-zone. No! Touchdown. Crud!
I am the Running Back. lined up behind my Quarter Back. I look at the play clock, 1;00 to go. We are down 24 to 28 and on the 50 yard line. Focus on the play. I will run to the left side of the Quarter Back he will pitch it to me and I will just run just out side the pocket and book it as far as I can towards the end-zone.
Wait the ball has been snapped! I run to the left side of the Quarter Back. He pitches I catch it! Thats a start. Ok run to the outside of the pocket. Wait! Theirs a defender there! I cut to the left quickly, That seemed to throw him off. Good. I sprint towards green field. A Corner sprints at me from the right. I fake I cut to the right than sprint left. He jumps at me and try's to trip me up but I stay on my feet. I am right against the sideline now, nothing but open field ahead of me. I dash towered the end-zone. Right from the corner of my right eye I see the safety headed right towered me. I cant cut to the right he'd crush me. He's going to try to push me out of bounds. There's only one option. I lower my shoulder and hit him as hard as I can with it. The impact forces me backwards a little so I spare a glance at my feet. I'm still in bounds! The Safety is on the ground. I sprint with all I have left toward the end-zone. I don't see anybody a head of me. I make it! Yes!
Safety's point of view.
Is everybody In position? Look's like it. We just have to stop these guy's for one minute. He snapped the ball! The play is on. He pitches it to the running back. Look's like he's headed for the left side of the pocket. Yes! We have a guy there! No! He just cut to the out side. Micky our corner is chasing him down. The runner try's to juke him and halfway succeed's. Micky jumps at his legs will he trip him? The runner shakes him of. It's up to me now! I dash towered him! I just have to push him out. BAM! Ouch. What just happened... I look towered the end-zone. No! Touchdown. Crud!
Baptism Day :)
My point of view:
It is time. I am so excited to finally be baptized and become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints. I have been waiting for this day for a long time and preparing for it for almost a year. As the 1st counselor in the bishopric starts the meeting I start to feel a little nervous. I'm sitting next to my uncle Timothy, we are both dressed in white jumpsuits. My uncle is the one I asked to baptize me. I want my baptism to be special and memorable so we arranged for me to be baptized on the very day of my 8th birthday. It is Sunday, June 17, 2007. Along with it being Sunday and my birthday and my baptism it is also fathers day. All the cousins in my family before me were baptized by my uncle Tim, and so I am continuing the tradition. My dad will be confirming me after the baptism.
Now it is time for the baptism I smile excitedly at my uncle who is standing in the font holding his arm towards me. I take his hand and I walk into the warm water and my uncle proceeds the baptism, just the way we practiced. I come out of the water and I am all smiles. I step out of the water into the freezing cold air as my mom helps me change into a beautiful white dress-my birthday present. She also got me necklace and matching hair-piece. I feel so beautiful and clean. I walk outside where my dad is waiting. He smiles and offers me a chair. I sit down as priesthood holders surround me and place their hands on my head. The spirit is so strong and I never want to stop feeling this way.
Moms point of view:
It is time. I am so excited for her, she is turning 8 and she has made the decision to be baptized. My oldest daughter seems to have grown-up over night, it seems like yesterday when she was a little baby girl learning how to walk. She has grown a great deal this past year as we have prepared her for baptism. We tried to make this a very memorable day for her. We asked the bishop for special permission to baptize her on her birthday which happened to be a Sunday as well as fathers day. Is it a special day for everyone.
I walk with her over to the font, she is very excited. I help her into the water with my brother Timothy. When she comes out of the water she is smiling brightly. I help her out of the water and into the white dress I bought her. I quickly smooth her hair down and get her ready. I'm trying to work fast because I always hate waiting when I am at baptisms. She comes out of the room, shining brilliantly. She is now a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints, I cannot wait to she what she will do.
It is time. I am so excited to finally be baptized and become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints. I have been waiting for this day for a long time and preparing for it for almost a year. As the 1st counselor in the bishopric starts the meeting I start to feel a little nervous. I'm sitting next to my uncle Timothy, we are both dressed in white jumpsuits. My uncle is the one I asked to baptize me. I want my baptism to be special and memorable so we arranged for me to be baptized on the very day of my 8th birthday. It is Sunday, June 17, 2007. Along with it being Sunday and my birthday and my baptism it is also fathers day. All the cousins in my family before me were baptized by my uncle Tim, and so I am continuing the tradition. My dad will be confirming me after the baptism.
Now it is time for the baptism I smile excitedly at my uncle who is standing in the font holding his arm towards me. I take his hand and I walk into the warm water and my uncle proceeds the baptism, just the way we practiced. I come out of the water and I am all smiles. I step out of the water into the freezing cold air as my mom helps me change into a beautiful white dress-my birthday present. She also got me necklace and matching hair-piece. I feel so beautiful and clean. I walk outside where my dad is waiting. He smiles and offers me a chair. I sit down as priesthood holders surround me and place their hands on my head. The spirit is so strong and I never want to stop feeling this way.
Moms point of view:
It is time. I am so excited for her, she is turning 8 and she has made the decision to be baptized. My oldest daughter seems to have grown-up over night, it seems like yesterday when she was a little baby girl learning how to walk. She has grown a great deal this past year as we have prepared her for baptism. We tried to make this a very memorable day for her. We asked the bishop for special permission to baptize her on her birthday which happened to be a Sunday as well as fathers day. Is it a special day for everyone.
I walk with her over to the font, she is very excited. I help her into the water with my brother Timothy. When she comes out of the water she is smiling brightly. I help her out of the water and into the white dress I bought her. I quickly smooth her hair down and get her ready. I'm trying to work fast because I always hate waiting when I am at baptisms. She comes out of the room, shining brilliantly. She is now a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Later Day Saints, I cannot wait to she what she will do.
A not fun morning.
I wake up. I can hear a buzzing and loud noises. Stupid clock. I get up, resisting the urge as best as I can to get back into bed. Switch off the alarm clock. My head feels a little light, so I lean on the chair next to my desk.
I wake up. I’m on the ground. My head feels foggier than the High Court of Chancery in November.* My face is pressed against something hard. What in the world? What just happened? My back is hurting like someone took a hammer and landed a good one on my ribs. I get up. I fell next the desk in my room. I realized that I’d passed out. Odd, I thought to myself, you’ve never passed out before. What would make this morning different? I stood up, my side burning, and walked carefully over to the shelf next to my bed to get ready for the rest of the day. As I pick up my wallet to slip into my back pocket, I pass out again.
This time I fell onto my bed, luckily. Not forward onto the book shelf. My side is aching still, andI can’t seem to think very well. I don’t move, trying to think what could be making me feel like a drunk duck. I end up staggering to the bathroom to drink some water from the sink, then rushing back to my room and lying down on the ground before I get unconscious. When I wake up again, I manage to walk to the stairs leading up to the kitchen. My head feels clearer. I’m able to start the morning routine of breakfast and getting ready for class.
My side still hurts though.
I need some aspirin.
*That's right. I put a bleak house reference in my story.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
"North and South" by Elizabeth Gaskell (a piece of chapter three)
(This book is written in third person, but sort of on the side of Margaret's mind. You occasionally also get pieces of others' minds, but, I'm writing it in first person on Margaret's side)
'I could almost wish Margaret-' he stopped and hesitated. I looked up, confused. He was such a fluent man, and hardly ever stuttered. I almost wished I hadn't. He looked at me in such a strange way, I only wished I could have been back where mother and father were! There I could be safe. With him? I thought I knew him! This was so unlike him! And that look...
'Margaret,' he said. He took my hand, taking me by surprise. My heart was fluttering. Why was it fluttering? Why couldn't I move? 'Margaret, I wish you didn't like Helstone so much - did not seem so perfectly calm and happy here. I have been hoping for these three months past to find you regretting London - and London friends, a little - enough to make you listen more kindly,' What was he doing? I thought I knew him, what is he doing? I tried to extricate my hand. No. His grasp was firm.
'To one who has not much to offer, it is true - nothing but prospects in the future - but who does love you, Margaret, almost in spite of himself. Margaret, have I startled you too much? Speak!' My lips started to quiver, I felt as if I were soon to cry. Startled me too much? Yes he's startled me! We are only friends! What is he trying to do? How can I speak? I tried to calm myself as much as I could before I answered.
'I was startled. I did not know that you cared for me in that way. I have always thought of you as a friend; and, please, I would rather go on thinking of you so.' Oh why did he look at me in that way, as if his heart would break? We're just friends - we were just friends! Oh why? But I had to be firm. I could not marry him. No, I could never marry him. 'I don't like to be spoken to as you have been doing. I cannot answer you as you want me to do, and yet I,' Oh his eyes! 'I should feel so sorry if I vexed you.'
He loosened his grasp on my hand. Was that a good sign? Could we still be friends? Oh why couldn't we just go on being so. And then he looked into my eyes - oh why do his eyes look so mournful?
' Margaret,' he said. I looked him back in the eye, with the firmest and benignant look I could manage at that time. 'Do you-' he stopped again. This was so unlike him! He seemed almost sorry...
'Forgive me! I have been too abrupt. I am punished. Only let me hope. Give me the poor comfort of telling me you have never seen anyone whom you could-' again a pause. It seemed he could not end his sentence. Did he think I loved anyone else? And why would he care?
Why are you causing him so much distress? Can you not just say yes? But I couldn't! No. I could never love him, not as anything more than a friend. I hesitated, not wanting to cause him any more pain. But it had to be done. 'Ah! if you had but never got this fancy into your head! It was such a pleasure to think of you as a friend.' His eyes fell. Those eyes!
'But I may hope, may I not, Margaret, that some time you will think of me as a lover? Not yet, I see - there is no hurry - but some time -' No. I was sure I could not. Henry had been a good friend. Why could he not just stay as a dear friend? But would it be so bad to marry him? To say yes? No. No, I could never think of him as more than a friend.
'I have never thought of - you, but as a friend. I like to think of you so; but I am sure I could never think of you as anything else. Pray, let us both forget that all this-' I almost said 'disagreeable'. For it was disagreeable indeed! But I could not cause him more pain than necessary. He is still a friend. '-conversation has taken place.'
A silence. We looked at one another in the cool evening air. The light from the setting sun shone on the left side of his face. Those eyes could not get any more upset. Why couldn't I just marry him? I would be happy, living with a good friend. I would be well provided for, and I'm sure I could visit Edith in her travels - perhaps even travel along with her! Why couldn't I just say yes?
But how can you marry someone you do not love? I did not understand those stories I heard about royalty - having to marry someone they don't even know. How could they do that? And though I knew Henry, I knew I could never do that. I could never think of him as dearly as he thinks of me. And that would be an injustice to him as well as I. No, I could not marry him. When you marry someone without love in your heart, it will only make matters worse. I could never live my life out with him. My life would be a lie. And that is why I had to say no. Even to those pitiful eyes.
But then the eyes turned hard and cold. He looked me straight in the eye, with a strong gaze. Oh, those eyes!
'Of course, as your feelings are so decided, and as this conversation has been so evidently unpleasant for you, it had better not be remembered. That is all very fine in theory, that plan of forgetting whatever is painful, but it will be somewhat difficult for me, at least to carry it into execution.'
I felt tears starting to sting my eyes. I fought to hold them back. Why did this conversation take such an unpleasant turn? It was so pleasant to think of him just as a friend! But now I fear he could never be that again. I calmed my voice down as much as I could before I spoke.
'You are vexed,' my voice caught; 'yet how can I help it?'
I fought to hold back the tears that pushed to the front of my eyes. I could not cry in front of him.
(I'd LOVE feedback! I felt like I kept jumping back and forth with tenses. What did you think? Was it understandable enough?)
'I could almost wish Margaret-' he stopped and hesitated. I looked up, confused. He was such a fluent man, and hardly ever stuttered. I almost wished I hadn't. He looked at me in such a strange way, I only wished I could have been back where mother and father were! There I could be safe. With him? I thought I knew him! This was so unlike him! And that look...
'Margaret,' he said. He took my hand, taking me by surprise. My heart was fluttering. Why was it fluttering? Why couldn't I move? 'Margaret, I wish you didn't like Helstone so much - did not seem so perfectly calm and happy here. I have been hoping for these three months past to find you regretting London - and London friends, a little - enough to make you listen more kindly,' What was he doing? I thought I knew him, what is he doing? I tried to extricate my hand. No. His grasp was firm.
'To one who has not much to offer, it is true - nothing but prospects in the future - but who does love you, Margaret, almost in spite of himself. Margaret, have I startled you too much? Speak!' My lips started to quiver, I felt as if I were soon to cry. Startled me too much? Yes he's startled me! We are only friends! What is he trying to do? How can I speak? I tried to calm myself as much as I could before I answered.
'I was startled. I did not know that you cared for me in that way. I have always thought of you as a friend; and, please, I would rather go on thinking of you so.' Oh why did he look at me in that way, as if his heart would break? We're just friends - we were just friends! Oh why? But I had to be firm. I could not marry him. No, I could never marry him. 'I don't like to be spoken to as you have been doing. I cannot answer you as you want me to do, and yet I,' Oh his eyes! 'I should feel so sorry if I vexed you.'
He loosened his grasp on my hand. Was that a good sign? Could we still be friends? Oh why couldn't we just go on being so. And then he looked into my eyes - oh why do his eyes look so mournful?
' Margaret,' he said. I looked him back in the eye, with the firmest and benignant look I could manage at that time. 'Do you-' he stopped again. This was so unlike him! He seemed almost sorry...
'Forgive me! I have been too abrupt. I am punished. Only let me hope. Give me the poor comfort of telling me you have never seen anyone whom you could-' again a pause. It seemed he could not end his sentence. Did he think I loved anyone else? And why would he care?
Why are you causing him so much distress? Can you not just say yes? But I couldn't! No. I could never love him, not as anything more than a friend. I hesitated, not wanting to cause him any more pain. But it had to be done. 'Ah! if you had but never got this fancy into your head! It was such a pleasure to think of you as a friend.' His eyes fell. Those eyes!
'But I may hope, may I not, Margaret, that some time you will think of me as a lover? Not yet, I see - there is no hurry - but some time -' No. I was sure I could not. Henry had been a good friend. Why could he not just stay as a dear friend? But would it be so bad to marry him? To say yes? No. No, I could never think of him as more than a friend.
'I have never thought of - you, but as a friend. I like to think of you so; but I am sure I could never think of you as anything else. Pray, let us both forget that all this-' I almost said 'disagreeable'. For it was disagreeable indeed! But I could not cause him more pain than necessary. He is still a friend. '-conversation has taken place.'
A silence. We looked at one another in the cool evening air. The light from the setting sun shone on the left side of his face. Those eyes could not get any more upset. Why couldn't I just marry him? I would be happy, living with a good friend. I would be well provided for, and I'm sure I could visit Edith in her travels - perhaps even travel along with her! Why couldn't I just say yes?
But how can you marry someone you do not love? I did not understand those stories I heard about royalty - having to marry someone they don't even know. How could they do that? And though I knew Henry, I knew I could never do that. I could never think of him as dearly as he thinks of me. And that would be an injustice to him as well as I. No, I could not marry him. When you marry someone without love in your heart, it will only make matters worse. I could never live my life out with him. My life would be a lie. And that is why I had to say no. Even to those pitiful eyes.
But then the eyes turned hard and cold. He looked me straight in the eye, with a strong gaze. Oh, those eyes!
'Of course, as your feelings are so decided, and as this conversation has been so evidently unpleasant for you, it had better not be remembered. That is all very fine in theory, that plan of forgetting whatever is painful, but it will be somewhat difficult for me, at least to carry it into execution.'
I felt tears starting to sting my eyes. I fought to hold them back. Why did this conversation take such an unpleasant turn? It was so pleasant to think of him just as a friend! But now I fear he could never be that again. I calmed my voice down as much as I could before I spoke.
'You are vexed,' my voice caught; 'yet how can I help it?'
I fought to hold back the tears that pushed to the front of my eyes. I could not cry in front of him.
(I'd LOVE feedback! I felt like I kept jumping back and forth with tenses. What did you think? Was it understandable enough?)
"Charly" (Chapter Three) from Charly's Point of View
I don’t know what was up with that old stick-in-the-mud. I wanted to marry him, but Sam seemed to take his sweet time making his mind up. One day we went to the department store together. We passed the maternity section and I modeled one of the dresses.
“How many children do you want, Sam?”
“At least six.” Holy moly! And here I was thinking two would be a lot.
“How come? Religious reasons?”
“That’s right.” My parents had warned me that Mormons had a million kids, but I hadn’t believed it till now.
“Six kids. Nearly a baseball team,” I tried to lighten the mood a little.
“They come one at a time. That way you can make all your mistakes on the first one.”
“Easy, fella, I was the first one.”
I tried again later when we passed the toy department. I tried to carry six dolls, but one fell to the ground. “I can’t get six, Sam,” I said. “I’ll be good mother, Sam. As good as if I’d grown up in Utah.” I was earnest. Well, maybe I wouldn’t be the perfect Mormon mom, but I would try. He didn’t respond.
We had gotten everything we needed when Sam remembered some hose piece he’d forgotten. We decided to separate and—I suggested—meet up at, say, the jewelry counter.
I wandered over to the CD section, idly browsing the music selection. I finally picked out a Bach CD to give Sam. I went to the jewelry counter, browsed the rings, and waited. And waited. Seriously, how hard is it to find a coupling or whatever he was looking for anyway. Where on earth did that knucklehead go? I got some popcorn and checked out without him.
That was when a brilliant idea popped into my head.
I went up to customer service.
“Excuse me,” I said, “But could you help me? I’ve lost my son. He won’t know where I am.” I smiled a shaky smile at the large man behind the desk and blinked false tears out of my
eyes.
“Of course, ma’am,” He said in a sympathetic tone. “Just use our P.A. system.”
“Thank you so much!” He offered me a tissue and helped me use the P.A. system.
“Sam, Sammy, do you hear me? This is Mommy. The nice men in the store let me use their big radio. Sammy, wherever you are in the store, stop and listen to Mommy. Sammy, darling, if you can hear me, listen carefully. Remember when Mommy bought you a big bag of popcorn last week? Sam, go to the popcorn machine and Mommy will be there. Do you understand? The popcorn place. Mommy has a big bag of popcorn for you. Mommy loves you, dear.”
I thought it was a clever idea. It would certainly get his hiney over there. I went to the popcorn machine and waited for—sure enough—only a minute before he came over, eyes blazing, with that stupid coupling in his hand. I smiled my sweetest smile at him.
“I got a Passion for you,” I presented the CD. His only reply was to forcefully take my arm to rush me out of the store. Talk about taking things too seriously.
“Did you find your boy?” a security guard asked as we rushed past.
“Big for his age, isn’t he?”
Sam was obviously not amused.
“Why don’t you grow up?” He said after we’d gotten in the car. “You think the world is made for your amusement?”
“Is that a rhetorical question or do you want a real answer?”
“What if there had been an emergency? You think you can tie up their P.A. system for your own amusement?”
“‘Attention, shoppers,’” I imitated the computer-like female store announcement voice, “‘there’s a blue-light special this hour on shredded muslin at two dollars a yard.’ You call that an emergency?”
“There’s such a thing as responsibility.”
“I’m sure there is, and there’s also such a thing as being a stuffed shirt.”
He was angry. You could tell by the insane way he drove—almost resulting in several accidents. He slammed on the brakes as soon as we reached my house.
“You talk about marriage,” he said. “Well, I’m not ready to get married to someone who hasn’t grown up yet.”
“Why do you have to be such a self-righteous bore?” I stomped out of the car and started up the porch. Maybe I really shouldn’t have been so hard on him. I turned back. “Sam, I really should apologize.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t do it. Not with him looking so... well, so self-satisfied.
“I didn’t offer you any popcorn, did I?”
I dumped the bag of popcorn onto his head and ran into the house.
I thought that when he called to apologize I would forgive him and all would be well. But he didn’t call. So I decided to let him go.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Assignments for September 18
To be prepared for class on September 18, please do the following:
I have been really impressed so far with your insights into a really difficult book and your writing. Keep up the good work!
- Vote for our 2nd semester book if you haven't already.
- Read chapters 19-27 of Bleak House.
- Read all the descriptions of bedrooms and leave positive comments on three of them.
- Write from one of the following prompts and post your writing on the blog:
- Choose an even from your life and tell about it from your own point of view and from the another person's point of view or in third person.
- OR Pick a part of one of your favorite books and retell the story from a different point of view than the one the author used.
I have been really impressed so far with your insights into a really difficult book and your writing. Keep up the good work!
Friday, September 11, 2015
My Room
My room is different from what it might be if I didn't share it. If I had my own room, it would constantly be messy, the walls covered with photos, drawings, charts, galore. Fortunately, I share a room with my tidiest sister, Avonlea. As a result, we have the biggest and (usually) cleanest bedroom in the house--barring my parents'. When our basement was being finished, it was our choice whether to make our bedroom one or two rooms. Since we chose to make it one room, it is very large with two closets and two windows. We each have our side of the room with our respective beds, windows, and closets. My closet is my messy place: A place that I make my own since Avonlea doesn't have to live with it.
The best part of our room is the bookshelves. The first thing we set up in our room was a bookshelf, calling dibs on all of our favorite books to put on it; and this past weekend we received an addition: A second bookshelf! We're still trying to fill it up, but it won't take long before it's just as packed as the one shelf was before. I think that the books change the way our room feels. The books make our room feel more like home.
The best part of our room is the bookshelves. The first thing we set up in our room was a bookshelf, calling dibs on all of our favorite books to put on it; and this past weekend we received an addition: A second bookshelf! We're still trying to fill it up, but it won't take long before it's just as packed as the one shelf was before. I think that the books change the way our room feels. The books make our room feel more like home.
Empty
((Ya'll's stories are awesome! And yes, I'm absolutely a procrastinator posting this at the last second :D ))
My room is certainly not empty. The mess, while not overwhelming the room, does permeat throughout, cluttering the surfaces, obscuring the ground. Makeup is strewn across my windowsill and floor, marking where I get ready for the day. A straightener and blowdryer sit in front of an outlet on the floor, all centered around the mirror I've temporarily leaned against the window.
Clothes spread out across the floor in small piles, waiting for me to finally throw them into a laundry basket. Random bric-a-brac are scattered around--notebooks, decor and sentimental items I've yet to find a place for. As always, my bed is unmade, my two quilts and comforter resting in an uneasy pile on top, just in case of a chilly night. Next to the bed is a charger in the outlet, and a basket full of books I've yet to make a home for. The books act as a make-shift bedside table that I rest my phone and other things on top of periodically, sometimes causing even more of a mess when they fall off. My closet is half-organized with color-sorted clothes hung neatly on hangers, but shoes, fallen clothes and accessories sprinkling the floor.
No, my room is certainly not empty, in that it is definitely not bereft of physical items. But it is empty in that it lacks memories and history. Everything feels temporary, displaced, nothing settled, nothing attached to the newness of my room. But memories will come, and one day I will be able to look into the room and feel more than a conveniant room with a bed to sleep in. And for now, I'll just have to keep cleaning my definitely-not-empty room.
-Lacey Smetzer/Felicity Aaron
My room is certainly not empty. The mess, while not overwhelming the room, does permeat throughout, cluttering the surfaces, obscuring the ground. Makeup is strewn across my windowsill and floor, marking where I get ready for the day. A straightener and blowdryer sit in front of an outlet on the floor, all centered around the mirror I've temporarily leaned against the window.
Clothes spread out across the floor in small piles, waiting for me to finally throw them into a laundry basket. Random bric-a-brac are scattered around--notebooks, decor and sentimental items I've yet to find a place for. As always, my bed is unmade, my two quilts and comforter resting in an uneasy pile on top, just in case of a chilly night. Next to the bed is a charger in the outlet, and a basket full of books I've yet to make a home for. The books act as a make-shift bedside table that I rest my phone and other things on top of periodically, sometimes causing even more of a mess when they fall off. My closet is half-organized with color-sorted clothes hung neatly on hangers, but shoes, fallen clothes and accessories sprinkling the floor.
No, my room is certainly not empty, in that it is definitely not bereft of physical items. But it is empty in that it lacks memories and history. Everything feels temporary, displaced, nothing settled, nothing attached to the newness of my room. But memories will come, and one day I will be able to look into the room and feel more than a conveniant room with a bed to sleep in. And for now, I'll just have to keep cleaning my definitely-not-empty room.
-Lacey Smetzer/Felicity Aaron
Thursday, September 10, 2015
My room.
My room is a dark, messy place, with only one window, and clutter everywhere. I have a small bed in a corner with a bookshelf next to it, a dresser in another, and a desk to one side of my room. The closet door leads to an even darker room with hung shirts and storage boxes. I have various books strewn about the room, and my desk constantly has different piles of different things on it, books, paper a hatchet. That kinda stuff. The vent in my room is almost constantly blowing cold air, so my room is essentially a cave. A man-cave.
Williams awesome room
My room is a zoo! We have four animals in there five if you count my little Bro :D. There's a snake, two gecko's and a turtle. They're all quiet. Except the turtles filter which can get quite annoying until you get used to it. Usually we'll have a praying mantis or two in there in the fall as well. I share a room with my brother I sleep on the top bunk and he sleeps on the bottom. And there is a cursed part of the ceiling in the middle that comes down. I occasionally smack my head against it on my bunk. The room is in the basement and has a window well with no blinds. It gets fairly bright in the day time, I really like the daylight it is very comfortable. If there wasn't a little wall right in front of our door, it would be a pretty sketchy business trying to get dressed since the window has no blinds. I have some awesome choir pictures of me and of my brother that I am confident in stuck to the wall making that wall awesome.
My Cozy Little Room
Due to its recently being organized it has a sweet sense of simplicity and order.
When
I enter my room I have feeling of delight and comfort and I sometimes
get an urge to fall back on the voluptuous covers of my bed and sink
into a relenting state of peaceful bliss.
Although
my room is nowhere near extravagant and is in no way elaborate or
embellished, I find the modesty and neat manner in which it is arrayed,
quite pleasing. :)
book poll
I apologize for taking so long to get the poll about our next book up. It will be available for the next week on the sidebar, so make sure you vote for the book you'd like to read next.
Sister A's bedroom
Blank.
My bedroom feels blank, and not just because the greige walls are empty. The clutter in the corner where my husband keeps his electronics, the pictures piled waiting to go on the walls, the stack of books on my nightstand, none of these make this room feel anything but bare. This is not the room where I nursed my babies; not the room where I brought my twins home from the hospital; not the room where my children slept in my bed. It's not the room where I've cried and prayed and begged for forgiveness. It's not the room where I've laughed and read and snuggled with my husband. The familiar patchwork quilt on the bed and the display of my favorite books on the dresser and the sunlight flowing through the beautiful windows are all that connects this room to that past room. When I hang the pictures, perhaps it will feel less blank, but I think only new memories will make it feel like home.
My bedroom feels blank, and not just because the greige walls are empty. The clutter in the corner where my husband keeps his electronics, the pictures piled waiting to go on the walls, the stack of books on my nightstand, none of these make this room feel anything but bare. This is not the room where I nursed my babies; not the room where I brought my twins home from the hospital; not the room where my children slept in my bed. It's not the room where I've cried and prayed and begged for forgiveness. It's not the room where I've laughed and read and snuggled with my husband. The familiar patchwork quilt on the bed and the display of my favorite books on the dresser and the sunlight flowing through the beautiful windows are all that connects this room to that past room. When I hang the pictures, perhaps it will feel less blank, but I think only new memories will make it feel like home.
Gracious' Bedroom
(Sorry this is a little late... it's been a crazy week!)
My room is normally a bit of a mess, books strewn everywhere. You can tell it's been lived in for sure! The blinds, a little bit open add a cheery aspect to the room, as well as the light, when on. It is a small space, with a bunk bed on one side of the room, and a crib across from it, but it is very roomy and comfortable. Four dressers are carefully placed in expert places in order to fit them in. Right as you walk in, it's just color! The walls are a light yellow with one wall (partially covered with a bunk bed) with different squares of red, pink, and green. There is a large windowsill which is used as a bookshelf, so is sometimes organized, but most often piled with assorted books, binders, folders, and papers. There are many signs in the room that a Mormon lives there. A wall with handouts from church, posters, pictures in frames, quotes and more quotes! I love my disorganized bedroom, even if it is often that way! I feel at home there, surrounded by photos and pictures and light, I feel anyone could easily make it a cozy home.
(I love feedback!)
<3 ~ Gracious
My room is normally a bit of a mess, books strewn everywhere. You can tell it's been lived in for sure! The blinds, a little bit open add a cheery aspect to the room, as well as the light, when on. It is a small space, with a bunk bed on one side of the room, and a crib across from it, but it is very roomy and comfortable. Four dressers are carefully placed in expert places in order to fit them in. Right as you walk in, it's just color! The walls are a light yellow with one wall (partially covered with a bunk bed) with different squares of red, pink, and green. There is a large windowsill which is used as a bookshelf, so is sometimes organized, but most often piled with assorted books, binders, folders, and papers. There are many signs in the room that a Mormon lives there. A wall with handouts from church, posters, pictures in frames, quotes and more quotes! I love my disorganized bedroom, even if it is often that way! I feel at home there, surrounded by photos and pictures and light, I feel anyone could easily make it a cozy home.
(I love feedback!)
<3 ~ Gracious
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
My wonderful bedroom!
Here ya go! :D
When you walk into my room you see two beds with soft, fluffy, and teal blankets on the beds. The hard wood floor is cold and cherry brown. There is a black shelf with pictures of family trips and other memories. The room is filled with light coming in through the many windows. There is a bench filled with silky pillows under the bay window. There are many different vases full of flowers that give the room a beautiful, colorful look. The best thing about the room must be the beds. The two big beds are very comfortable and full of soft blankets and pillows. There are trundle beds under both the big beds that roll out easily and are just as comfortable. It is a beautiful, bedroom.
When you walk into my room you see two beds with soft, fluffy, and teal blankets on the beds. The hard wood floor is cold and cherry brown. There is a black shelf with pictures of family trips and other memories. The room is filled with light coming in through the many windows. There is a bench filled with silky pillows under the bay window. There are many different vases full of flowers that give the room a beautiful, colorful look. The best thing about the room must be the beds. The two big beds are very comfortable and full of soft blankets and pillows. There are trundle beds under both the big beds that roll out easily and are just as comfortable. It is a beautiful, bedroom.
Saturday, September 5, 2015
Here's what you need to do to prepare for class on September 11:
- If you haven't already, please leave me a comment with the email address where you'd like your blog author invite sent. Once everyone is on as an author, I will make the blog private so that only we see what's posted. That's just to make you feel more comfortable with posting your writing. If your parents want to see what we're doing, they can also give me an email address to send an invitation to read the blog. The intent of the private blog is not to hide from parents but to help those of you who might not want the whole internet world to be able to read your writing at this point. :)
- Read Bleak House chapters 10-18
- Write a description of your room. Try to convey both the appearance of the room and how you feel about your room. Post your description here on the blog.
- Vote on which book you'd like to study next. If you have a suggestion, you can comment it here or email me at lauralyna@gmail.com I will post the poll on Monday so that you can all vote, so if you have a suggestion, please send it soon.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
I would like to test out the idea of a blog just for Stories Can Change the World. This would allow me to give assignments here, but it will also allow you to post your writing here for the class to read. It will give us a format for feedback outside of class as well. This blog will be private, and I will be monitoring for positive comments and constructive feedback on stories as we work on peer review of our writing.
At this point, please leave a comment below with an email address to which I can send you an author invitation. This will help me know that everyone has seen this post and is ready to write!
At this point, please leave a comment below with an email address to which I can send you an author invitation. This will help me know that everyone has seen this post and is ready to write!
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