The Writing Workshop 3-23-18

Writing Workshop

Welcome to The Writing Workshop! =D It's a special corner of the Navigator set aside for NorthStar Academy's lovely writers! Here, you can find prompts, writing tips, and a story/poem each month written by our own Creative Writing Club members! Start reading! Be inspired! :D

If you have any suggestions or comments, be sure to leave them in the comments below so I can see them! You can also email me via FirstClass and tell me what you want to see in the next article!

Annoucements

Permanently Tacked Up:

• If you want a Creative Writing folder of your own to post your stories in, just email me (Morgan Raines) and I'll make one for you. =D I hope to see a lot of new stories this school year!

• If you and some of your friends would like to start a storyline, email me and I'll set one up for you. Remember, it can be about anything!

• Make sure that you check out your friends' CrWr folders! They'd really appreciate your encouragement and feedback :)

• Tell the newbies about our Creative Writing community! I know a lot of them are writers, and can't wait to get out there and share their stories with us!

New Creative Writing Folders/Storylines!

• Out with the old, in with the new. Check out the new CrWr conferences, and if you want to you can re-live the old stories too. =D Our newest members are Caleb M, Alexis, Gabriella, and Caleb R! Go check their folders out ^_^

Other Announcements/Reminders:

• A Picture's Worth 1000 Words is OFFICIALLY RELEASED. Go check it out!!

Quote:

"Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can't remember who we are or why we're here."

-Sue Monk Kidd

Prompt 1:

"We're about to die! Aren't you scared?"

"I'm used to it by now."

Prompt 2:

"I wished on a star and it came true. I've spent the rest of my life being careful to never wish again."

Prompt 3:

"You'll never love me if you see who I truly am."

Prompt 4:

"She's Number Nine; one of the few who survived the initial treatment."

Prompt 5:

"I'm not a thief. I'm just really good at acquiring things that aren't mine."

Prompt 6:

[image missing]

Prompt 7:

Start your story with a sentence that is genuinely happy and upbeat, no double meanings. End it with the same sentence, but this time it's chilling and dark.

Prompt 8:

The frozen lake has cracked open after all these years. That didn't freak me out. What freaked me out was the single trail of footprints leading out of it.

Prompt 9:

You just moved to a new neighborhood and you hear the ice cream truck coming down the street. You and your family walk outside, but you see all your neighbors running inside and locking their doors.

Prompt 10:

A girl in tatters shivered for a penny, so I forgot my jacket at her feet and wore my heart on my sleeve instead.

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How Procrastination Can Help Writers

Procrastination is considered a dirty word in most writing circles. Putting off doing work leads to stressful situations for both you and your client and can leave any good writer feeling panicked and unable to produce high quality work. For some writers, however, that little bit of fear and panic gives them just the edge needed to create something unique.

Can Procrastinating Help Writers Succeed?

We were all taught the same basic methods for writing in high school and college and applied those for years to our work. If you pulled a stack of English papers, many would appear to be very similarly structured and solidly written, but perhaps not particularly inspired work. Many of these were carefully crafted the deadline period with meticulous thought and care put into each line. Then there are the papers that seem to defy the boundaries of the assignment. In most cases the “last minute” paper is a train wreck, pulling at threads of different ideas with no sense of purpose or clarity of thought.

Yet there are always some that bring a sense of freshness and spontaneity to the assignment, finding that the pressure of last minute bestowed a train of thought that flowed freely, rather than being constructed through constant revisions and edits over the course of time. This same concept applies in the professional world as well; we all have a friend or co-worker who constantly is up against deadline but able to produce exquisite copy on a tight moments notice.

This approach to writing can, in certain circumstances, be fun! Instead of working piecemeal on a project you can just sit down and let your ideas flow to the page and see where the assignment takes you. It might force you to be creative in ways that would surprise you.

For many writers, procrastination doesn’t always equate to forgetfulness. In the lead up to their deadline, they may work out several concepts either actively or in the background of their mind without ever putting anything down on paper, especially when they think of the project and realize that they are either deliberately or inadvertently putting it off. Those mental processes running in the background can often lead to “eureka!” moments when coming up with copy or concepts for a project. For some, procrastination is a conscious strategy, but others find themselves constantly falling victim to it through the subconscious machinations of their mind as a coping mechanism to deal with stress or a desire for delayed gratification.

Procrastination can also help some people break writers block. The pressure of the deadline coupled with the pressure of the block can lead to a sudden release of ideas and energy on the page. It is important to note that any use of procrastination as a strategy for better writing be very carefully monitored. Wait too long and you may not have enough time to complete the assignment, no matter how brilliant the idea you dream up at the last minute is! Worse still, by waiting too long you run the risk of then coming down on yourself emotionally and harming your self-esteem. For the right people, and at the right time, procrastination is definitely a secret weapon for good writing.

Taken from http://mharriseditor.com/procrastination-helps-writers/

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This is a short story by Brianna with a disclaimer for deep content xD

Go to Creative Writers of NSA > Brianna > Stories > Short Stories > Before My Eyes to find this in her folder!

Before My Eyes By Brianna

February 16th, 2018

Maybe she survived. Maybe she died. But right now, she’s standing in front of my very eyes… and her fire is gone.

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I’d never seen her without it: the bright smile that lit up her face and shone in her deep brown eyes that seemed to dance with defiant- yet caring- sparkles. The light that glowed through any trouble on her face as she laughed and her curly red-brown hair would bounce around her shoulders; what could have possibly happened to take that joy away? I hadn’t seen her in years, but I’d never doubted once that she’d lose her hope… her fire… her joy of life. Maybe she’d survived… but she certainly wasn’t alive. I looked into her bloodshot eyes as she stared back at me, now there was a different fire…. One that was like evil clawing on the horizon, like the wailing of sorrow next to a burning coffin… This… this wasn’t a fire I wanted to see.

I looked away for a moment then back at her as she set herself upon the seat across from me allowing her shoulders to slump into a defeated position. A rejected position… one that’s seen more pain and not know the love and strength it should have. My heart broke and I reached out and touched her hand which she jerked away. I brought my hand back to my own lap.

“Ronia… what… what happened to you?” I whispered.

“I survived… but I should have died…” she replied in a breath nearly inaudible, hoarse, and broken- nothing like the confident, melodic voice it use to be. She looked at me with tears running down her pale face; her hands shook. She appeared tormented. “I’ve been places I never should have been. Seen things that everyone… but no one should know exist. And watched people who were more equipped than me to bear my message die tortured, forgotten… betrayed.”

I wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how; her countenance was closed off. What was it she could possibly know that could be so terrible that it could break the very soul of the girl I once knew?

“Ronia, what message?”

She held her palms up weakly on her lap and gave me the most utterly empty look I’d ever seen.

“One that doesn’t matter anymore…”

“Why not?”

“Because… I’ve seen the pain it causes. I’m unable to bear it as truth anymore… not... not like the others could…” She hid her face in her hands and wept as I moved nearer and placed my hand on her knee.

“Ronia, please, what is the message? What is this truth you think is no longer valid?”

She shoved me away and stood looking down on me with her hands clenched around her arms hugging her arms to her body. Tears continued to rain from her eyes as she clenched her teeth. Anger sparked in her eyes. “That there’s joy. That there’s hope. That there’s still light in the darkness and beauty in suffering. That there’s freedom even when you’re bound in chains and stripped of everything you hold dear. That there’s purpose. That love and victory has come into this world. But, Taahir, how can I bear that message when I can’t believe it myself?”

She began to raise her voice and wave a hand before her emphasizing her emotion, “How can I say there is joy when everyone I hold dear was torn from my arms. When I watched people abused, beaten, and murdered before my very eyes- how can I say there is hope? How can I say there is light in the darkness? I’ve watched the blind stumble down empty roads searching for help that none will provide. I’ve seen children starve greedy for even the most repulsive morsel. I’ve seen mothers beg for mercy and the rich ignore their pleas, shoving them away like garbage. How can I say there is freedom when I’ve seen girls sold and children dying before they could even draw breath? How can I say there is a purpose for that? That good can come of any circumstance? Tell me, Taahir! How can I say that love has come? There is no victory, Taahir,” she sobbed and fell to her knees. “There is no hope…. Taahir, how can I bear a message I do not believe? How can I say this is true when I’ve known it not to be…” I slipped off the bench and knelt before her, wrapping my arms around her and letting her sob into my shoulder. I felt her shake and I cried with her. I cried that evil could be so deceptive, that darkness could blind even the once brightest of fires, and that hatred could seem to destroy even the greatest of loves. I waited in silence crying out in my heart to the One and only who could heal this broken girl- who could show her there was indeed Victory lighting the dark with love and hope. I longed with all my being to see once again that joy on her face. “Ronia,” I whispered gently as her sobbing began to fade. I slowly let my hold loosen and she leaned away to look me in the eyes. I could see in their deep darkness a longing, a need to know the truth again, the questions searching, fainting for truth- desperate to see light again. I prayed fervently in my soul that I could show her that light once more.

I spoke softly, at a volume just loud enough to be heard between the two of us, “I know, Ronia, you’ve seen things that are evil, that are enough to cripple any man; I can see it in your eyes, your broken spirit. Oh, Ronia, I never thought I’d see you this way. But that darkness you’ve witnessed, the pain and suffering you’ve endured and watched, that isn’t all there is and it never was. I can not say I understand, or ever will, the agony you must have endured to bring you here, but I know, I know without a shadow of a doubt that there is still a light breaking through the deepest, darkest, thickest clouds of evil in this world. I know, with complete certainty, that Victory is seated on His throne holding out His hand to be accepted. I know with every fiber of my soul that there is hope and there can be joy even in the most desperate of situations. And, Ronia, I know Love has indeed come into this world and His sacrifice is enduring and will endure forever.”

“How can you know this, Taahir? How?” she asked, her voice nearly pleading.

“Because, even in my own dark struggles, even as I’ve watched friends and family be broken, I have felt the ever present peace and love of the One who is Greater than all my pain.”

“But, why- why is there even pain? Why doesn’t the evil just go away? I once knew Him, I believed He was loving- why would He let there be pain?”

I struggled inside for a moment, silently wondering how to explain. “His will wasn’t ever for us to suffer, Ronia, He wanted us to live with Him in perfection forever. But we’re in a broken world where evil thrives in the core of our being. Suffering exists because of our sin… and to reveal to us the King in all His glory in ways we could never understand without it. He may not will our suffering, but He allows it to reveal Himself and gives us promises of strength and help, it's our choices when it comes that matter. He will use all things for good in the end and suffering- it strengthens us in ways we could never be strengthened if we didn’t endure. And Ronia, you are here right now and you can choose to endure. You can choose to still love even though there is anger at the pain you’ve witnessed. You can choose to see hope and light in the darkness. You can choose to have joy even when all you treasure has vanished because the greatest Love, the greatest Joy, the greatest Light already came down and won the battles you’ve faced and will face. And it’s only through those battles you get to see the unconditional love He offers, His constant mercy, forgiveness, and grace to a world you know to be so very fallen. It’s there in the hardships you get to understand true joy, that, Ronia, is why there is suffering. And one day, if you can learn to trust again to have that bold confidence I once saw in you, Victory will finally return and remove all suffering and bring us to eternal joy. Can you remember this, Ronia? You use to know it- will you believe it again?”

As I was speaking, she’d wrapped her arms around me and was sobbing into my shirt again, in between strained cries she breathed out, “I want to... I do… But… Is it still true? Forgiveness?”

“What do you mean?”

She pulled away and wrapped her arms around herself rocking back and forth as if terrified of the answer to what she was asking, “Could He… still love me? Forgive me? After… I abandoned Him… Stopped trusting… the others never did… they were much more worthy… why? Could He still…?”

“Oh, Ronia! Of course He does. He never stopped. Nothing here or wherever you’ve been, nothing you’ve done, had done to you, or will do, and no man nor any other thing in heaven or earth could separate you from His love. He bought you with His very life- He gave His all for you, not because you were worthy, or any of the others were, but because He wants with all His being to bring you into His presence. Oh, Ronia…” I was near crying again;

Oh Father, let your daughter understand.

“I don’t understand that type of love anymore…”

“You don’t need to understand it; you just have to accept it.”

“Will you show me, Taahir? How to accept it?” She gazed at me, just the tiniest shred of hope coming back to her gaze. The smallest spark of the girl I’d feared dead and lost in time returned. I smiled and nodded, strengthened by the knowledge that Victory was here in the full power of His presence and as I believed- evil would not win.

There was Light destroying the darkness and deceit, hatred, and malice would melt in its presence….

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Maybe she survived. Maybe she died. But right now, she’s kneeling in front of my very eyes… and I’m watching her fire rise to life.

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So long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, goodnight U_U