Goodbye

Ah rebels, *sigh*…you all are loved and missed!

Supreme Leader Shey

It is the end of our summer creative writing class, Rebels, so I’ve written a post in commemoration!

• • Anne Geisel – I love the different tones of your characters and you are so good at dialogue.  Remember, I expect you to become Dr. Seuss Jr. someday!
  • Emmalani de Guzman – Your voice is awesome.  I also really like your style of writing, especially your A10!
  • Isaak Jones – I greatly enjoyed your squirrel story, as well as your aura of mystique.
  • Megan Brown – Your stories reliably made me want to live in them!  Here’s to your imagination.
  • Ms. Gaines – Our benevolent leader, Ms. Gaines was not only an enthusiastic creative writing teacher, but also a knowledgeable WordPress authority!  Let us hope that someday we will perhaps be only half as wise as she is.
  • Megdalia Bromhal – Meg!  I love your name and appreciate your thorough comments after…

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In Memory of SCW 2018

Thanks, Mallorie, for a fitting tribute to the summer…*feeling loved and hugged* Go Rebels!

Mallorie with Potential

After hours of dramatic sobbing and wheezing over the finale of Summer Creative Writing, I have finally composed myself enough to write a short memoir of class without falling back into a blubbering mess.

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Congratulations, Anna!

Things like this just make my day! Well done and well deserved, Anna! #SummerCW2017

~MsG

A3 – Sailing Solo

Cool stuff!

Ka-zap!

An ordinary man takes a nap on an ordinary day… and wakes up in an extraordinary place.

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Yay Christmas!

Seeing Private Everyman

A great memoir piece that shows the importance and power of journaling and sharing life stories, preserving our own family legacy. Your life matters…tell it the way you want it to be remembered.

Longreads

Steve Edwards | Longreads | July 2017 | 16 minutes (4,482 words)

When my wife was first pregnant with our son, it startled me to think that the life we were living before his arrival would be a mystery to him, part of some dim and distant past. All he would have were our stories. And because we lived far from our respective families, stories would be almost all he would have of them, too. It may have been first-time father jitters, but it felt important that he know something of his people and what we were all about. Or maybe I just imagined him a captive audience to whom I could tell stories my wife had already heard a thousand times.

My family’s big story was my grandfather’s brush with fame in Life magazine. During World War II and beyond, he was Life’s Private Everyman — Charles E…

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Back to Oz

The Wicked Witch of the East loomed over him. A slow malicious smile twisted her green face. Her silver shoes glinted in the sun dangerously like a sword. But Toto knew those enchanted shoes could do more harm than any weapon. The witch always preyed on anyone near the munchkin village, seeking out her next victim. She especially detested little brown dogs.

“Never ever encounter the Wicked Witch of the East, for she does unspeakable things to people and animals.” Toto’s mother warned him. But did he listen? No! Toto forgot the warning and foolishly wandered too far from home. Now he would meet his demise.

“What shall I turn you into?” the Wicked Witch cackled, circling Toto in a vulture-like manner. “A flying monkey perhaps? You would make a fine addition to my sister’s army.”

“P-please have mercy!” stammered Toto, too frightened to utter another word.

The witch’s harsh voice turned sickeningly sweet. She mocked, “Poor little dog. Don’t worry, you’ll live. However, I shall banish you to a world without magic. You will live out the rest of your wretched life as a lonely, ordinary stray dog!”

 

Suddenly, a ferocious tornado scooped up the tiny dog and whisked him far, far away from Oz…

 

Two years passed since Toto had lived on the Gale family farm. A lovely girl named Dorothy rescued him from an alley. He remembered the horrible empty feeling he experienced as if all his memories of home had vanished. Toto didn’t even know how he became a stray. But, none of that mattered now because he was safe.

 

Something seemed wrong about the world today. The blue Kansas sky was a little too blue, the rooster stayed silent, and the clear, sweet air smelled musty. Toto rolled over and stretched, burying his wet, black nose into the crisp, fresh hay. Nose twitching, he padded out of the barn. Sizzling loudly, a heavenly scent wafted from the house.

Cool Video Ahead

This is a cool video! Check it out!

 

My Story

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

blah blah life is great

Dragons are awesome

 

Class is awesome

 

Writing is awesome

 

Hero’s Journey – this is for you Grace Anne!! ❤

 

Ballad of the Round Table

Thinking of all of you… ❤

Journey of a Storyteller

credit: Leanne Zuiderveen

This year was amazing.

And what better way to end it than with a class song?

Over the past couple months, Megan N and I have been putting together this small poem inspired by our class. Look out for classmate shoutouts and inside jokes. Enjoy this tuneless ballad!

Verse 1. 

Welcome one and all; come to Camelot tonight

Night is coming fast and the stars are shining pale

The candles have been lit and the fire is burning bright

We’ll gather ‘round the Table and together tell a tale.

Verse 2. 

Our tale tells of writers, spread across lands

Writing separately, hoping one day to

Travel together in a grand caravan

Until that day, they’ll remember who’s who

Chorus. 

We are the Writers of the Round Table

We’ll never take a sword when we can have a pen

We are the Writers of the Round Table

Take…

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