Short story: August

                          It was like nothing he had ever seen before. His attention was grabbed like a mouse to cheese, and he wouldn’t let go like the mouse trap. With her long brown hair, wait was that red? His colorblindness caused her to be a blur as she jumped into the back seat of the taxi she has spent a solid 3 minutes getting the attention of. He spent that whole 3 minutes studying her flawlessness. From her perfectly plump pink lips, to her abnormally tiny feet she had protected by floral flats that, if he remembers correctly, is the same pattern on his grandmothers couch. First she was there, in her tight black dress, wait was that blue? Holding her bag, that she might as well be stealing a baby with the size of it. Then she was gone, into the piss color taxi that had the most unoriginal driver of all time, wearing a tope turban and had a mole the size of a quarter on his chin. What he would give to be the driver of that dirty old taxi, to spend time with this woman, to talk to her, to hear her voice. That’s it, he had to meet her. Know her name, know her story. If this was to happen, he knew what had to be done. SNAP. Back to reality, he was out of this love struck daze and now on a mission. He rushed to the street, pushing over some strangers who ever so kindly called him the names 12 year olds call their ex-boyfriends. Waving like a mental patient, he got the attention of a taxi, that unlike the women’s, had an American looking driver. Blond hair, blue eyes, could beat the shit out of him. He jumped in the back and learns the man’s name is Simon, and is has arms as big as the mans head. He was going to order the driver to follow the women’s taxi, but considering the man could use his face as a punching bag, he asked kindly if he could please follow that taxi with the dirt brown tint about a block ahead of them. And once the idea of double the pay was put on the table, the blond blue eyed man went well over the speed limit to catch up to it. Once caught up, it was a waiting game. Waiting for her to exit her taxi, and for him to met her. He could hardly contain his excitement for that moment. Then, suddenly, red and blue lights flashing, the cab slowing down. Simon is calling the police things 20 year old call their ex boyfriends. He couldn’t believe it. This is the worst timing in the history of timing. “I’m charging triple the pay now buddy. ‘Speed up to catch them’ my ass.” Moans the buff taxi driver from the front seat. How is he worried about money at a time like this? This man was about to lose the love of his life, and Simon’s groaning on about triple the pay. That’s it. The man pulls out a handful of singles and throws them in Simons lap. “Hope that’s enough. Wish me luck” he says as he whips out of the taxi, and continues his journey on foot. Now sprinting down the busy street, keeping an eye on her taxi thats now a good 2 blocks ahead. His long lanky legs could get him places fast, but competing with that taxi was a lose lose situation. After a few minutes of this train wreck idea, he can see that he is going to lose sight of the taxi, so he quickly regrouped in his mind. No available taxi’s in sight. “shit”. Doing a quick 360 he spots his next option. This idea is a straight shot to hell, but well worth the risk. Stepping 5 steps to his right, he nonchalantly grabs the bike resting on a fire hydrant. The bike was pink, with purple streamer on the handles, and the word ‘Barbie’ in sparkles. He gets on the pink death trap and try’s to adjust his overly long legs to the short pedals. As he’s just getting the hang of this awkward movement he hears the worst word he’s been called today coming from the mother of the 10 year old girl who’s a bigger fan of Barbie than he is obviously. He starts making good time on the bike, getting closer and closer to the taxi. When his phone rings. For some reason he answers it, regretting it instantly when he hears the voice of his mother screaming “FINLY OAKS!” She always started out sentences using his full name, and also still thought that yelling was the only way he could hear her over the phone. “I HAVE CALLED YOU 3 TIMES TODAY AND YOU IGNORED THEM ALL. DO YOU NOT LOVE ME ANYMORE FINNY?” She pretty much just made his right ear permanently damaged. “mom, I do love you, but I’m busy at the moment, let me call you back later.” Words are hard for him to get out at the moment considering he’s been pedaling like a maniac for 3 blocks. “FINLY IM WORRIED ABOUT YOU LOVE BUG. HOW ABOUT YOU COME OVER FOR DINNER TONIGHT? IM MAKING PASTA!” He was mid thought about joining his mother for pasta tonight because he’s had take out the past 3, when he spots the piss yellow dirt stained taxi at a stop, and he girl getting out. This is his chance, she’s only a block away, he could catch up to her for sure. “Mom, I really have to go now. Talk to you later”. “OH NO FINLY, DON’T IGNORE ME AGAIN!” of course she picks now to throw a fit, he had not time for this, he was about to meet the girl of his dreams. “MOM I HAVE TO GO, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BUT IF I DON’T HANG UP ON YOU RIGHT NOW YOU WILL NEVER HAVE A CHANCE OF HAVING GRAND KIDS.” Not the ideal way to end a phone call with your mother, but it had to be done. Now at the point where she had exited the taxi, he notices her about half a block ahead, turning the corner. The streets are getting busier, so he finds it a better idea to ditch the Barbie mobile, and take off on foot again. He reaches the corner and takes a sharp right, only to be face to face with a taco stand, and at the speed he was going, there was no time to slow down. Down he goes, and he takes the tacos with him. Just as he stands up, prepared to go in a full out sprint again, there she was. Standing right in front of him, eating a taco, giving him a confused look. He stands up, looks into her deep brown eyes, and can’t help but smile. Probably the biggest smile he has ever had. Noticing the smile, she can’t help but giggle like she used to when she was little. He sticks out his hand and introduces himself, “Hello, I’m Fin.” He says, “Hello, I’m August.” She replies.

Lamott

This reading tells the story of how to write a story. Giving helpful tips and hits on how to easily write, or improve, your fiction writings. Starting off with how you first start your story or writing. Sometimes you need to let a story come to you, in a matter of pieces. Starting with one piece of the puzzle to help you start the idea and then slowly adding more and more to make the full story. Lamott describes it as a Polaroid. While developing, you can't tell what it is exactly, but once fully developed you see everything, even things you may have missed in the beginning when taking the picture. Lamott talks about going to the special Olympics and seeing the girl who had her crutches and slowly, but surely, finished the race she started. How he waited so patiently for her to finish even though he was starving. Then when going to find food, he ran into the cool guy. Who was obviously special, and showed him a picture of him and his two friends. Then later seeing that that cool guy was the star of the basket ball game. This cool guy was the start of Lamott starting his writing. Then the girl with the crutches was what followed. He used them as pieces in the puzzle of writing an article on the special Olympics.
Next was talked about characters. How to develop a character in a story. How to really focus on how a character feels, thinks, talks, walks, eats, writes, understands. To make a character up and give them a full personality is hard. And of course they are all going to hold a part of you in their personality. Some will get your good, and some will get your bad. Lamott gives you great ideas on how to pick what your character will be. Who they will be. What kind of person they are. Also, how a narrator is a key role in any story. If you have a good narrator who can connect with the reader and the reader feels they have a connection with them, then the reader is going to enjoy your book. Lamott said they could watch their favorite narrators wash dishes and still enjoy it. Because they connect and enjoy their work. Having a likable narrator is key. I thought of 'To Kill a Mockingbird' when I read this. Scout is the narrator of the whole book, and shes is a small child. She has a whole different perspective on life than most of the other characters in the book. Like when they go to court, Scout gives her intake on what is going on, and because she is young, she doesn't have as good of an idea of what is going on compared to an adult. But I still love this book. I just love the way she tells the story, and how innocent but very smart she is. I feel like I really connect with her whenever I read the story, and I think she as narrator is what makes the books so wonderful.
Plot was talked about next, and there isnt much to do with plot. Pretty much just dont focus on it. focus on characters and let the plot go from there. The characters are what matters. If you base your story on plot, your characters will not be as developed as you want them to be. But Lamott tells you how to write your plot once you have the characters down, and how to help the characters help develop your plot even more.
Dialogue was next, and how important it is to a story. If your story doesnt have good dialogue and flow well, then the reader isnt going to enjoy it no matter how good of a plot or characters it has. It has to flow smooth and just role of the readers tongue. Thinking about this remindes me of 'The Hunger Games.'. don't get me wrong, I love the books, but there were some parts of them that seemed to be very plain and just really boring. I found myself day dreaming while reading a page. I was really into the book and where it was going, but then suddenly I could care less about the exact details on something that did not matter. Writing a story should have you try and keep the reader entertained, and happy. when writing dialogue, you want it to flow nicely and easy to follow along.

Writing exercise #1: concrete vs. abstract

#1
To be the Son
like the others
creating light.
helping me see at night.
but by its self
different.
a million miles away from a brother
longing to find another.
must be lonely
in the pitch black
being wished on but having no wish.
stuck alone in the abyss
who knew
someting so similar. so familiar.
flying right by.
something just like itself
but somehow faster. brighter.
then in an istant.
gone.

Blood Dazzler by Patricia Smith

More poems? oh, yayy. I swear I am just not deep enough to understand what the writer is trying to say, or express in the poems. When talking about the other poems in class, everyone seems to know, or have their own idea, of what the author was talking about in that poem. What every word really means, or the pain or joy that they felt. I honestly zone out when reading poems, and have to re read the poem about 3 times to fully understand it. You have no idea how long it took me to read this whole book. Forever and a day. And honestly, I still zoned out after reading the same poems over and over again. It may have been because I worked all weekend and tried to read the book between jobs and also after work, and I just wasnt focused on it and just wanted to sleep. As always. But anyways, I did find that I could understand the main event happening within the book, and what the main idea of all the poems together were. There were a few poems that I did really enjoy in this book.
"Katrina" on page 31 is one I thought I could understand pretty well. As soon as I read it I thought of Hurricane Kartina, and the damage it did. Also in other parts of the book hurricanes are mentioned and I feel that that is was is being talked about. It says at one point "gut dragging and bulging with ball lightning, slush, broke through with branches, steel" and to me that sounds exactly like a hurricane. Waking up scared to the sound of lightning, having watery slushy mud outside, or inside, your house, branches would be flying in the air, and all over the ground, and there would also be steel around from either destroyed cars, or household items, or other things. It also says "I loudly loved the slow bones of elders, fools, and willows" and that to me means that they lost someone, or multiple people to the hurricane. Someone elder to them, such as a grandparent or even a parent. A fool to them could maybe be someone they no longer talked to or liked, but was still effected by the death of them. And willows could be the lose of the land where the hurricane happened. They could of lost their home, and everything they had to call theirs.
"Tankas" on page 38 is also about a hurricane. Just the way the poem is set up reminded me of one. The sonnets are in a zig zag kind of order, and looks like they got tossed around a little, just like a hurricane would do so. Many times through out the poem you can tell they are talking about a hurricane or storm of some sort. Some lines such as:

• "never has there been a wind like this"
• "he falls and barely splashes"
• "to drown out the waters teeth"
• "here is what drowning feels like"
• "what in the water?"
• "before the mud smells your skin and begins its swirl"

Also about this poem is that I found it very sad. They talk about having 3 children, but only 2 arms, and one falls into the water but its very light so it is a younger child. Then they talk about finder her sister in the water, and her father under rocks, I assume they're dead. Then about drowning and what its like to drown. And then at the end, crossing over. Meaning that they died? Or are they describing how someone else has died and they are just reliving it?
This whole book was pretty deep and sad in most of the poems. But I did enjoy it a lot. Some poems I found very straight forward and others were a little more difficult to understand. But I could tell, even from the cover, that it was about a hurricane or storm and losing loved ones in it.

City Eclogue by Ed Roberson

Personally, I'm not a big poem person. I feel that most of the poems that are meant to be deep and sentimental are just so confusing to me. They don't seem to make sense and talk about the most random things. When writing my poems and sonnets, I wrote them pretty straight forward and I'm pretty sure the reader can tell what they are about. I found myself thinking that they were way too straight forward and trying to think of things to compair my feelings to, to make the poems seem more deep and less straight forward. I'm not exactly sure if this is how it was, not supposed to be, but allowed to be written. Should the comparing to other things come natural or should I really be forced to think about it. I guess poems are just really confusing to me.
In the book 'City Eclogue' by Ed Roberson was a really deep and confusing book for me to read. I did enjoy some parts of it, but most of it I was just so confused and really had no idea what was going on. The very first poem 'stand-in invocation' was when I knew that this book was going to be a difficult read. but after a few more poems and pages in the book, I found myself liking the book so much more. the very first line from 'sit in what city were in' on page 26, was really great to me. It is 'Someone may want to know one day how many steps we took to cross one of our streets', and I feel like it means that it may not seem like whatever they are going through right now may not seem important or worth knowing, but one day someone will want to know what they went through, and what they felt, and this just really said something to me that I really liked.
One poem I did not understand at all was 'sequoia sempervirens' o page 18. Just the whole poem as one was beyond me. I felt odd and not smart when I read it because I just could not figure out what they were talking about. There were other poems in this book that did the same with me; not being able to understand it, but this one was just a general one that I couldnt understand. Just like the poem that spook to me, there were many others that did the same, its just that that one was a major one that I really loved.
I just hope that we can move on from theses poems. I do enjoy them at times, and writing them is pretty fun, but I just would rather understand what Im reading and writing about.

Goldberg

   I really enjoy the way this is writen. I enjoy the personal stroies and touches Goldberg adds into it. It makes me feel more connected to the writer and help be become more involved and focused on the story itself.
   I feel that this reading trys to help people understand that they are not only simply writing a story, but in fact putting part of them on paper. They use stories in their everday life to relate to the types of writing they do, or how they do it. They consider everything in writing something. What state of mind to be in, where to be, what tools you are using, ect. Some of these things I would have never thought of as being so deep into a writing.
   I am personaly not exactly a writer. I have in the past I could say, but I was young and they were odd stories I wrote when I felt bored or had nothing els to do. I can't say that I have ever tried to write a story for people to read and enjoy. This reading made me think about how to prepare or focus on writing. I can't just sit down and begin to write, it doesn't work like that. I have to think for awhile. Let the thoughts come to me first. As I did with the poem's we had to write this week. I could not just sit down and start writing them. I had to think about it for several days. What in my life is causing me pain? How can I express this? What can I say to show this, but not as direct? I found it was so much harder than I thought it was going to be. After days of thinking about it, I had a go at the poems, and I can't say they will ever be published, but I really do enjoy them. I think they cover the topics in a simple way. Not going to lie, I really love my poems, and happy with how they turned out.
   Back to the reading, I feel that it can help writers starting out to become better writers and how to become that better writer.

Introduction: about Kendall.

Hey! I'm Kendall. I am a freshman at EMU and creative writing is one of my 5 classes for my very first semester. I work at McDonald's and Hungry Howies and am a full time student, so I have no more social life. I have one 8, almost 9, year old brother named Preston. His favorite thing about me is that I work at McDonald's and can bring him home chicken nuggets. I also have two loving parents, who I will be living with during my college life, considering its too much money to live on campus, for now. I love reading, but don't do it as much as I would like to. I also love writing, but I honestly can't remember the last time I tried writing anything interesting. Besides this I guess. I am a math major, as of now. I'm considering changing it, but I still have no idea what to. I am taking this class to maybe give me help and a little push to becoming a good writer, if it be papers for school or a story I want to create. On a personal note, I am pretty shy at first,  but I swear once I get to know you I'll be non-stop talking. Anything else I should add? Well, I have two cats, Adolf and Obi, and I can for sure say I am a cat lady. Soon to be crazy cat lady. So, I will be showing up to class covered in cat hair. Ending on a school related note, I am very excited for this class, and what it has to teach me.