Seminar Handout

Seminar Handout
Author: Jeannette Walls
Novel: The Glass Castle

Biography
     Jeannette Walls was born on April 21st 1960 in Phoenix, Arizona and currently lives in Virginia with her family. A world known journalist, author and blogger best known for her gossip columns and novels The Glass Castle and Half Broke Horses. Walls grew up with unconventional parents that let their children raise themselves; as expected violence and desperation ensured. The second child of four, Walls struggled to keep her family together and her perseverance shows in her work, she is up front and real. While her parents self taught her when they felt the need, Walls latched onto certain academic figures in her life, Miss Jeanette Bivens is an example of the few adults that saw how hard working and real Walls was and that encouraged her to pick up the pen and start working for the wave, to give the people what they want without hiding from the truth.

     For two decades Walls hid her past with many reasons of her own and with the release of this novel came the release of her secrets; at least those written. Walls was born in Arizona and moved around to more places than she could count until the names of the cities and towns became one long blur. "The Glass Castle is a remarkable memoir of resilience and redemption, and a revelatory look into a family at once deeply dysfunctional and uniquely vibrant" and has emotionally educated individuals for years now. This novel illustrates the different sides of humankind, and exactly what kind of strength is required to accept and love them all.

Jeannette Walls Biography | List of Works, Study Guides & Essays (Jeannette Walls Biography)

Walls, Jeannette. The Glass Castle. Simon and Schuster, 2006. 288. Print.

The Glass Castle Paperback – Jan 17 2006 (The Glass Castle: Jeannette Walls: 9780743247542: Books)

Inside Me (extra poem but done)

I know you can’t believe

I want the part of you that you refuse to See

Of the things unknown

But longed for still,

The caged bird sings

With fearful trill,

Love is just a word

And his tune is heard

The world’s a stage

Won’t you come out to play?

Kayne West – Heartless

Ellen Hopkins – Crank

Maya Angelou – Caged Bird

Anonymous – April 02,2015 (found on tumblr)

Shakespeare – The World’s a Stage

The Beatles – Dear Prudence

Independent Study Part B

A Walk Among Broken Glass

An Independent Study into The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls

Part B

Courtney Cutts

Mr. Pierce

EWC 4U1

2. Describe two or three incidents, scenes or moments in the novel that you remember most vividly. Use exact words from the text and explain how they are striking.

This novel has many striking parts in it because Walls has a story to tell and doesn't shy away from displaying humanity in its entirety. When illustrating the downfalls of humans authors walk a very fine line between making the reader understand and connect with the situation without the reader feeling as vile about themselves as they do towards certain characters; that's what makes certain situations that Jeannette faces circle around in my head. One of the instances that I remember the most vivdly is what happens after Jeannette's uncle begins to grope her while pleasuring himself and Jeannette tells her mother about it. Jeannette was consoled with a lowly, "Sexual assault was a crime of perception, if you don't think you're hurt, then you aren't. So many women make such a big deal out of these things" (Page 184). Those words to me were like a whip, I can't imagine someone that I was supposed to look up to and depend on saying these types of things to someone in Jeannette's situation. It made me furious and also extremely depressed; how long did Jeannette have to live and depend on people like this? How many situations like this happened to her siblings or herself that she chose not to write about? How can you say that you love someone and have that same mentality regarding their safety and well being? I suppose that it is the thought process of her parents that really stuck with me throughout this novel; how they treated Jeannette and the ways that she was blind to the truth of what they are. What her mother told her was disgusting within itself but her words pale in comparison of Rex's actions and blackmail. After blackmailing and intimidating Jeannette to give him the majority of their grocery money for beer and the like, he drags her into another money making scheme. Most of Rex's money making theories didn't hurt the family directly but he dragged Jeannette into one unlike any other; she was to be the payout for Rex besting a drunk in several gambling pool games. His intentions were clear the entire time, as he wins more and more money from the drunk Rex allows him to take Jeannette upstairs, only pausing to say, "Just don't do anything I wouldn't do" (Page 212). with a wink. When Jeannette escapes the drunk and confides in her father about what the man had tried to do, he dismisses it with a quick "I'm sure he just pawed you some, I knew you could handle yourself" (Page 213). The entire novel Rex has been telling his daughter that if anyone laid a hand on her he would kill them but that was a false persona. It is in these moments that Jeannette experiences the truth behind her parents

 4. Did you learn anything from the story that you did not know before? Explain. (This question could relate to the facts or even to seeing something in a different way)

The story that this novel portrays is one of despair, delight, disappointment and enlightenment. As you turn the pages you are taken from the view of interacting with a charismatic father that is eager to teach about the desert and survival to one that is intimating you for your family's money. The main thing that I learned while reading this novel is that someone can come out of that and hopefully be a half decent human being. While reading this novel there were countless times that I just wanted Jeannette's to realize what her parents were doing to her and stand up for herself; but that wasn't the right thing to do in that situation. After certain events I can't believe she ever went back to them, that she could continue to love to the extent she did however it wasn't really like she had much of a choice. Barely a teenager and already she's been molested by family and strangers, hit, starved and abused; all with her parents blind eye upon her. How many nights can you hear "You ungrateful little shit. I'll be damned if you're eating my food tonight" (Page 143). before you begin to hate those that provide for you at that age?  I learned that Jeannette is the one of the very few good things that happened in this novel, even when I didn't agree with her submissions at the time. This novel took an edge of hatred off the idea of parents doing these types of things to their children; because some of us can live through it an prosper. More than any of the astrology or geology classes that Jeannette speaks of in the novel, the most overlooked lesson is the one best learnt.

5. Does this story interest you, irritate you, or both? Explain.

While reading this novel I was enthralled, it was a great view into the human mind which has always interested me; it's part of the reason I love reading fiction so much. Human nature, when presented correctly can evoke a whole spectrum of emotions and I found that Walls did this very well in her novel. I enjoy how the book was written, I'm not normally one to enjoy a bibliography, Walls was able to present it in a way that readers can connect with the characters, even at their worst; which is an extremely fine line when it comes to writing. On the one hand, you want your readers to feel an emotional connection to the characters but when you expose your readers to the true darkness of humankind they sometimes do not like how that makes them feel. Jeannette's personality was definitely a point of conflict for me, her character interested me and I could feel connections to her; however her weakness and submission would infuriate me. She loved her family in a way that interested me greatly but that also irritated and disgusted me. Jeannette loved each of them in a different way that accommodated their dualities, she took the good with the bad. Jeannette loved her mother, respected her spirit but "it was hard for me to believe this woman with her head under the blankets, feeling sorry for herself and boohooing like a five year old, was my mother" (Page 208). This novel illustrates the different sides of human nature that I have always been interested in but as it may seem, the truth is at times hard to swallow.

6. If you could be any character in the novel, who would you most like to be and who would you least like to be? Why?
This novel is definitely filled with a number of extremely diverse and violitale characters and they all make me have different emotional reactions depending on the situation and growth of the character. Desiring to be someone else is infeasable, how would I ever know a fictional character enough to ever make that type of decision and for that matter, why would you want to? Who would you be, you or the character?  That being said however, with the mindsets displayed in this novel, I do connect the most with Jeannette and that's whom I would choose to embody if required, she has a strength that I respect and the moral conflictions that I can relate to. Jeannette is also the character that I would most detest being, she lives in a way that I could never imagine myself; I could never be a part of her family. Jeannette got her first serious job when she was thirteen at a jewelry store because her father was taking the money needed to feed her siblings and her. I could never live like that, I would never be able to swallow that much hurt and still have some love left for Rex. I wouldn't have been able to ever speak with him on a realistic level after telling him that a man tried to basically rape me, with my father's permission and the only response given was a distracted "I'm sure he just pawed you some, I knew you could handle yourself" (Page 213). What kind of person do you have to be? Amazingly strong or incomprehensibly weak? What really defines Jeannette's character? Is it her weak and submissive years as a child, or an independent rising journalist? I picked Jeannette because she is the one character that changes the most throughout this novel, but she is the one to experience the majority of the darkness and to smile when she sees it in her father.

8. Arguably, good novels are ones that make their readers feel something. What emotions did this novel raise in you? How emotionally involved did you feel throughout your reading?

By that definition of a "good novel" I feel as though The Glass Castle does indeed fall into that category, it made me feel a rather wide range of emotions as I read through it. The sheer number of emotions and their depth are a consequence of the novel bringing me in and involving me emotionally almost the entire story. The story that Walls tells is one both told artfully and abrasively, she is able to portray the disgrace of humanity without her readers feeling the weight of the world on their shoulders. Those are the parts of the story that struck me the most, that evoked the most feeling; scattered throughout the novel like my thoughts while reading them. I became more involved during the second chapter, when Jeannette almost gets burnt alive. What struck me most about that set of passages while reading it was that her family didn't really seem to be that concerned about her safety, not only that but her mother scolds her because a nurse gave her gum. Those couple lines were where I begun to become more fixiated on the interaction on Jeannette and her mother because my morals were insulted. Reading back on that passage now, there is one line that strikes me more than most, " After all, I am your mother, and I should have a say in how you're raised" (Page 12) I couldn't help but almost laugh. Almost as soon as they leave Arizona where Jeannette was in the hospital, her mother negates any type of responsibility and berates her children for it. As the years go by Jeannette begins to see the weakness in her mother, she can no longer ignore it when "Mom layed wrapped up in blankets on the sofa bed, sobbing about how much she hated her life" (Page 207). I could draw parallels with both Jeannette and her mother but I am glad that Jeannette listened to herself when she said, "I swore to myself that my life would never be like Mom's," (Page 208). The different relationships portrayed in this novel really got to me emotionally and evoked a wide range of emotions including anger, sadness, irritation, interest, disgust, insulted and confused.

Independent Study Part A

Bio
Jeannette Walls, the author of The Glass Castle was born on April 21st 1960 in Phoenix, Arizona. As the third child of Rex and Rose Mary Walls her first memory is of being burned making hot dogs as a child. Her family live consisted of constant movement, unconventional parents and the violence found in desperation. This novel outlines the basis of her experiences growing up, from a toddler to a teenager to a thriving adult. Jeannette currently lives in Virginia with her second husband and fellow writer John Taylor.  I would give you a much more lengthy ideal on the life that Jeannette has had, however I believe that would negate the entire point of The Glass Castle.

Sources:
http://www.gradesaver.com/author/jeannette-walls
 Walls, Jeannette. The Glass Castle. Simon and Schuster, 2006. 288. Print.

Setting
The beginning of this novel takes place in a little desert town in Southern Arizona in 1963, three years after Jeannette was born. The landscape of this novel is forever changing from small town to small town until Jeanette follows her sister to New York City after graduating from high school. The entire family follows Lori to New York one by one and that is where they live for a time until Maureen moves to Califorina and Jeannette settles down with her second family in a little country cottage.

Characters
Jeannette: 
The main character in this story and the second child, Jeannette grew up tall, pale and with the characteristic shock of red hair of the Walls family. Jeannette grows up strong but thin and more like a boy than the majority of children she grew up with. Forever adventuring with her little brother Brian and trying the very hardest to help her family survive. The term daddy's little girl could never have been more true than with Jeannette and Rex, she was forever his dearest supporter, even when he wronged her grotesquely. As you read this novel you get to see Jeannette grow into a strong young woman, learning the ins and outs of keeping house when she wasn't even a teenager yet; her morals and loyalty to her family stayed solid, even when she learned enough was enough and to start protecting herself. As she ages, she begins to see that although she may love her father with her entirety, he is not always right and should not always be followed.

Lori:
The eldest Walls child, she immediately took to her mothers writing and paintings. The meek and shy one out of the lot, Lori was never one for adventuring for reasons unbeknownst to her family until later in life; her eyesight was terrible. As the novel progresses you are able to watch as Lori truly finds herself as an artist and finally steps out from the shadow of her mother. Terrified of her fathers wrath Lori grows to find the inner strength she needs to speak up for herself without the blind love of Jeannette in her childhood. Lori may have been blind in sight but she had always witness the darkness in her father and how they lived; she loved him, but she didn't believe him.

Grandma Smith:
Grandma Smith was Mary's mother, she may not be one of the most focused on characters in the novel but I believe her importance in Jeannette's childhood makes her a superior selection to most. She lived in Phoenix and had helped her husband rear a ranch  until he passed away. Grandma Smith never turned Mary and her family away, even though she despised Rex and would constantly get into shouting matches, being called a "castrating banshee bitch" by a "flea-bitten drunk" (Page 20). She would never turn down her daughter and was always lending the family money but always pushed Mary to come and stay with her, to not let that drunk bastard take her grandchildren from her. She was a teacher after she had children, she didn't trust their educations to anyone else and pushed her daughter to get a degree to fall back on if her artistic capability didn't pan out. Mary grew to dislike her mother, but Jeannette loved her rules and order, her sense of purpose and stability. I believe that Grandma Smith was the strongest character in young Jeannette's life and her biggest inspiration to want more than the disorder, the disgusting conditions and the hunger.

Mary Rose:
The mother of the family, or at least the one that officially carried that title. Mary was forever a free spirit, never to be tethered to the responsibilities of having children; she believed that the best thing for them is to raise themselves. The very beginning of the novel is evidence enough of this; Jeannette at the age of three cooking herself hot dogs until she caught on fire. Her baby was lucky to be alive, and the night after coming home from the hospital she was making hot dogs herself once more. A self appointed "excitement addict" she never looked at the bad part of things, even when that was the only part to see. A devote catholic with extremely questionable morals, she allowed for perverts, drunks and the homeless to come in and out of her mothers house because it was so hot and they couldn't afford air conditioning. An ill fit mother with a mountain of mental issues, she never surrendered to fear apart from her husband and throughout her ages never faltered from her beliefs.

Rex Walls:
The man of the house who never really earned the title of a father, brilliant and charismatic when sober he always inspired his children with his far fetched tales of the night. He did his best to educate his children when they were on his good side and always had the dream of creating a castle made completely of glass and self sufficient. He cares deeply about his family, but more about the inability to think as the years pass. He always seems to get the family out of the stickiest situations and uses his intelligence to outsmart the "man". He prided himself on the ability to care for his children, was blind to when he hurt them and broke promise after promise. He tried to be the savior of his family, but often became very violent and dishonest with alcohol, he would allow for his daughter to be raped in order to make a bit of cash. No matter how dire things got however, he would never leave his family and even when they were afraid of him.

6. Is the central problem resolved or unresolved?
The central problem in this novel in not resolved, in my mind the central problem in this story is people who think they should be parents and why they probably shouldn't be. Mary and Rex Walls were young and in love, but the most unstable pair up I've come across in a while. I feel like neither of them even wanted children, and Lori, Jeannette, Brian and Maureen felt that more times I'm sure than she wrote. Mary was a free spirit that yearned more to paint and write than look after her children, Rex cared more about drowning in booze than putting food on the table. As the story progresses and their children grow older, none of that changes to the very day they die. They wouldn't accept help and preferred to be homeless than feel obligated to their children, that they owed them anything. Even as Rex is dying, he asks Jeannette, "Have I ever let you down?' (page 279) and the only response she has is to smile.

7. Can you imagine yourself reading the book again in 10 years? Would you suggest that a friend read it? Explain.
   I find that I can definitely picture myself reading this novel again in a number of years, I found that it really refreshed some of my morals about the value of life and family. I would suggest this to a friend, it really makes you look at your life subjectively, it shows just how unique certain relationship can be. The main character in this novel walks a very thin line with her family, she's definitely Daddy's little girl but that's not always in her best interest; Daddy gets quite interesting when he's been drinking. However to me it really illustrates the strength and willpower that is needed to separate yourself from all the harshness from one owns past. It truly shows that you can love someone with all of your heart, however you still need to look out for yourself; you can love something that's not in your best interest but you need to be able to draw a line to protect yourself.

Possibl Lyric Quotes

Your brain disabled by the constant pain
Erratic actions lead my thoughts to the blade
I've lost control, I've lost control

Beg for your life, you won't escape the knife
Your fate was sealed today
Disease has spread, you pray for death
Evisceration plague

Stabbing compulsion overwhelms my mind
Terrorized screaming follows the thrust of my knife
I wrench the blade from the chest to the crotch
Organs and entrails fall to the ground

Read more: Cannibal Corpse - Evisceration Plague Lyrics | MetroLyrics

I'm ghost and you know this

Childish Gambino-Heartbeat

I know you can't believe
I could just leave it wrong
And you can't make it right
I'm goin' take off tonight

Read more: Kanye West - Heartless Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

The End (Seminar Note, Wasn't really sure how else to format it BUT DONE I THINK)

What a journey, another novel read word by word. A book on writing, called On Writing by one of the largest known authors in this generation. Stephen King knows what he's talking about but has to make simple decisions just like the rest of us, a choice that often starts with a name. I believe that a good name depends on the object or idea being named; it wouldn't make sense to give a long complicated Latin name to an organism that is very common and talked about frequently. When naming novels and stories I've always tried to find a balance between capturing the audiences attention first thing, giving hints to the plot line while not giving away the entire purpose of reading it, but there is always room for interpretation. My editing process has always been choppy, depending on the target audience and how my mood has shifted. I have always found when I wrote a first draft that I was writing for myself; the words flowed easily and I never really needed to think about who would be reading my words. But as the editing process rolls around I have to take a step back, to take out all the overly detailed words that garble and confuse the reader about something simple and the connections that you may think the reader may make but need to ensure that they do. It's so simple to get lost in one's writing, to see connections among words that others never would. I feel as though you should be able to comfortably read your story out loud without getting tired of specific words, phrases or character traits. The words shouldn't feel clumsy in your mind or mouth, if they are there is probably lots of description and useless words. But how does one deem a word or idea useless? doesn't that depend on the main character or from the perspective that you are writing in? If I'm walking down the street compared to another individual my eye can and will be caught be entirely different things depending on what I'm thinking, feeling, who I'm with and what time period I find my mindset in. All in all I feel as though I've learned a great deal about the writing do's and don'ts while reading this book and it is another Stephen King novel added to my list of those read.

Fiction Writing Unit (still working on but any advice?)

Overview:
Annabelle has been living a very carefully constructed life with as much control over as many variables as possible; but you can't control other people. One phone call, five words is all it takes for her world to unwind. Your brother's dead, come home. Her baby brother, always smiling and pleasant was now gone from the world; and she had to go to her old home town to say her goodbyes to a shell once so filled with life. A car accident they had told her, but Annabelle's life had been plagued by nothing but them; this was a coincidence, hammered home before her plane even leaves the ground. She needs to say goodbye to her brother but her past won't let her go as easily.

Character Descriptions:
Annabelle: A slender woman in her early twenties with long black hair and blue eyes. Her pale complexion makes her eyes stand out, making them appear large in her slim set face. Annabelle is very shy and introspective, she doesn't trust anyone to make her happy but doesn't know how to make herself content. Years of being constricted and severely punished for wrongdoings has left her indecisive and fearful. Annabelle is afraid of herself because she sees other's monsters through herself like a mirror but sometimes the mirror reflects the landscape more than the object.

Daniel: He is a sleek and polished man in his late twenties, with piercing green eyes he's always had his options when it came to the opposite sex. His intelligence makes mundane existence misery, Daniel hopes only for a mere distraction from the petty dealings of the regular people around him. His childhood has left him cold and calculating, but not completely lacking warmth.

Father: A middle aged man with a slightly haggard appearance but sharp wit. Most write him off due to his unshaven features and unpressed clothes; less care has been taken to match the amount of respect received. His lack of compassion and empathy takes slight notice in public, especially around animals and children. When his wife died whatever compassion he had dissipated and he sought the company of a woman in a child's body.

Setting:
The setting varies over the course of the novel and is set in the present day, the characters first meet in an airport elevator and are in proximity until their flight takes off. Throughout the flight the characters interact and are forced into the cockpit of a thrashing airline. The novel continues to follow these individuals as they struggle to survive in the hostile environment they find themselves in.

Narrative POV:
I will be writing my novel in the past tense from a first person perspective, this will allow for me to focus less on what is happening in the moment and more about the characters thoughts and actions. With past tense you are able to slow down or speed up your story with the ability to fill in gaps along the way. I have also found that when I write in the present tense I tend to get mixed up and incorrectly refer to something in the past tense. Writing in the first person will allow for me to show the reader what my character is actually thinking not just doing in a way that I have strict control over.

Chapter Outlines:
Chapters 1-2: Within these chapters the readers will be introduced to the main characters and getting a small glimpse of the life Annabelle has built for herself before her carefully constructed walls come crashing down, her baby brother was in a fatal car accident.

Chapters 3-7: Experience the preparation and gut wrenching waiting as Annabelle begins the journey back to her home town and the monsters that still haunt it.

Chapters 8-10: With a mind full of memories Annabelle hides her distress within the normalcy of the crowd, expression barely changing as crowds stream by until she comes face to face with a man with unorthodox eyes and earns a thought provoking nickname.

Chapters 11-13: As the hours before her flight disappear before her eyes, Annabelle can feel there's something wrong with the building pressure in her chest, crowds have never been in her comfort level but she could feel that she was being watched.

Chapters 14-18: She still scanned the crowds while waiting in line to board her flight, almost giving up until her eyes fall upon a man too intently watching the line. She watched as this man finally found the one he was looking for; he smiles, staring directly back at her. She scans to find the nearest security but when she turns back, the man is gone. She can do nothing, set on a path with no control over anything but herself. Annabelle smooths her ruffled feathers just in time to have all thoughts uprooted; her seat buddy was none other than the man that calls her by color.

Chapters 19-25: Nothing to do no but sit back and enjoy your own mind. Travel back in time with Annabelle and the mysterious figure that creeps throughout her mind, bringing back nights at home long since banished from thought.

Chapters 26-30: Half an hour into the flight (or was it only thirty seconds?) there's a notable conflict in the cockpit. Flight attendants scurry around talking amongst themselves in panic, trying to stabilize the carry-ons and calm the guests on board. Flecks finds his sense of humor, teasing Annabelle about her reaction to the turbulence, gently goading her into conversation.

Chapters 31-34: The plane has finally leveled out; Daniel and Annabelle now begin to converse deeply and quietly. As they slowly begin to learn more and more about each other Annabelle begins to see that the past has a tendency to follow you in different forms.

Chapters 35-40: Panic strikes the cockpit once more, but this time it's different. Instead of the slightly organized panic of earlier, the flight attendants were in an all out blind panic; smashing into each other and service carts, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. As all of the guests strap on their seat-belts, Annabelle watched as they all held onto something or someone, alone she scans the seats until a hand on hers grounds her mind.

Chapters 41-45: As the plane descends faster and faster Annabelle clings to Daniel; terrified and her mind scattered, the last thing she feels is his fingers wrapped around hers. When Annabelle loses her cool Daniel brings their faces close; as the plane makes impact the only thing she can see are Flecks. They awake tangled in each other and debris, neither were mortally wounded and they support each other as they search the rubble in hopes of survivors.

Chapters 45-48: As they separate the living from the dead Annabelle searches for one in particular; the man that watched her. With growing despair they desperately search through grotesque scattering of remains for anything to help the small band of survivors live another day, but with the plane scattered across the island and half in the sea many people turn to the animalistic depths of their soul. As alliances form and weapons raised, Daniel and Annabelle must fight side by side in order to survive; but where was the man?

Chapters 49-52: Days pass as the survivors dwindle in numbers; with the women vastly outnumbered they become the new currency among the broken people, stolen or traded just like any type of food found. As a group of ragged males rise to power they begin to gather all the females they can for the man in power and those he looks well upon.

 Chapters 53-59: The number of free women become scarce as those that protect them are slaughtered and scavenged. Soon Annabelle is the last women not apprehended, all thanks to the teamwork and desperation between her and Daniel; but Daniel is just one man, hunted by many. They keep on the move and stumble upon the group's hideaway scavenged from the main body of the plane, they separate to cover more ground and locate the exact boundaries of their camp. All seems to be going well until Daniel realizes that it must cover at least half of the island they crashed on and that it was now a race; the first man to find Annabelle would keep her until death.

Chapters 60-65: Daniel frantically searches for Annabelle, but as the moon hangs ever lower in the sky he begins to loose hope. As Annabelle begins to winde her way back to where she last saw Daniel, she stumbles upon one of the women from the camp; Annabelle tries to console the women and journey back to Daniel together. All seems to be going well until the women suggests a shortcut that she has seen the men take, they come upon the path only to be ambushed and taken. Outraged at the women's betrayal, Annabelle can do nothing but try to fight her way free; the last thing before the darkness takes her are her own screams. Hours after her last scream echoed across the island she awakes, only to be face to face with the man; he had found her.

Chapters 66-70: Groggy and beaten Annabelle barely catches a glimpse of the man's true features before he commands her to be escorted his quarters. She's shoved inside the biggest makeshift hut in the surrounding camp and left to wait until the man comes back for her. Hands on her body bring her back to consciousness, trying to get inside her before she even has her eyes open. Her elbow contacts bone and her teeth find flesh only for the hands to be suddenly ripped away from her. She watches as two other throw him to the floor and start to beat him; her attention divided between the potential danger and the man just waiting for the others to finish at the entrance.


Epilogue:


Literary Elements:
In this novel I intend to use various literary elements such as anthropomorphism. Using anthropomorphism I will be able to give objects a human-like quality so I can make even the most mundane and overlooked things into a powerful emotional symbol. Some of the other literary elements I plan to use are alliterations, analogies, denotation, flashbacks, foreshadowing, imagery and to include an epilogue.

Lyric Poem (done)

• (1) What if everything around you isn't quite as it seems?

• (2) by  the way I tried to say

• (3) words meant to dwell in darkness shall never see the light of day

• (4) holding on im lost in a haze, fighting life to the end of my days

• (5) silence, the only promise every kept
• (6) while heaven wept
• (7) erratic actions lead my thoughts to the blade
• (4) holding on im lost in a haze
• (1) What if the world you think you know is an elaborate dream?

(1) Nine Inch Nails- Right Where It Belongs

(2) Red Hot Chili Peppers- By The Way

(3) Lamb of God- Omerta

(4) Korn - Narcisstic Canniable

(5) Lamb of God - The Faded Line

(6) While Heaven Wept [Band]

(7) Cannibal Corpose- Evisceration Plague

Dramatic Monologue (done)

Thats it, thats all
I hope you kids have had a ball
How ungrateful
and how hateful

When you scheme
you make me want to scream
you act like little hogs
that need a good flog

What a disrespectful choice
as awful as your high pitched voice
I honestly love to teach
but you suck the fun out of it like a leech
I'm not here to preach
but your education is a reach

No control or consideration
Should I even ask the question?
What do you see when you look at me?
Am I someone you want to be?

Another voice lost in the wind
words barely skimmed
Am I your babysitter
or a lottery winner?

I honestly love to teach
I'm not here to preach
your education is in your hand
I'm just part of the damned

Journal #5 Earliest Memory (done)

Memories are always something I've had issues with; how odd it is to be ill at ease with your own mind. It's like a book read long ago, the words are lost but you can recall the plot line with time, maybe even some of your favorite parts. Now imagine your whole life is like that, a faded story written in ink long since legible. Scattered pieces of information, a faded face or a blurred image; how do you piece together a puzzle with no pieces? Bits and pieces; an emptiness that could be explained by the right stranger. My memory gets a bit more consistent when my family and I were living in Windsor, I must have been in the first or second grade. We lived on a very long road and were sandwiched between two ranches that had horses. Our backyard went on for acres, mystery shrouded by grass and trees for as long as the eye could see. It was my favorite place, especially when it rained; I used to watch the water pool and stream down our sloping yard. I would sit next to the water and build dams and imagine myself being as free and happy as this little rain river. While we lived in Windsor my family had around eleven pets, an assortment of dogs, cats, guinea pigs, gerbils, hamsters, rabbits and birds. Such detail trapped in memories that don't last longer than seconds, and yet there's so many holes. I remember the one birthday I spent there, I had woken up and had begun to do my daily routine, general cleaning and looking after our hearty amount of pets; to find the only pet I singularly owned dead. The tears were almost instant, oh what a terrible pet own I was, not only had I killed my gerbil; it was my birthday! From what I remember most of the day didn't get much better, out of all the guests I invited only one boy showed up; he was so upset by it that he sat with my mom and cried for most of my party. My memory seems to jump around this time period the most, never really able to remember before it and only accessible because of the words of others. So what is it that makes you you? Is it the story like past that you remember? The voices in your head or the ones you used to hear?

As an adult I can reflect on my past and see that it did have certain influences, but is that because of my past or because of me as a person? When does the fact that I grew up a tomboy with two rough brothers equal that I'm a tomboy now? When does the past get renamed the present? I believe that you are not based on anything but time; it's the only real measurement we have. One comment omitted or said a split second later could have changed unimaginable variables. The only reference we have to our thoughts is time, how our minds grew and changed, such radical different thinking with age. So are the actions taken in time more important than the feelings you had? Can't you argue that every action you've taken or refused to has been a direct effect of what you were feeling at the time? How do you measure something like a feeling? Is it based on the environment, the physicality or the effect it has? When does a starving child in Africa experience worse childhood memories than that of a rich single child left on a shelf?

Journal #4 Behind You (done)

How long do you have to repeat something for it to become true to you? People always try to infringe upon each other, always butting into each other business and personal lives, but why does it matter to them? Why can't people just leave each other alone? How long can you fake your way through your life? "You're not even paying attention to me!" Whined the most important person in my life, Bianca.

We had met when I moved into the neighborhood at 12 years old, my mother and I were both running from something, Bianca's mother was heavenly to us; she kept my mother sane through the years. At the mere sound of her voice I can feel my smile bloom, there was rarely a time that she didn't delight me. "Hun, you look amazing in both the blue and purple ones; you look tasty enough to eat." She huffs, sticking out her bottom lip and complaining, "You're still not helping me pick!" Her words lost their volume as my eyes automatically went to her lips; such a soft pink so full of moisture, they always looked so soft. "See and now I've lost you again!" I jerk my eyes to her impatiently waiting brown ones, "You haven't lost me darling, my thoughts seem to want to wander however. I'm sorry." A sadness clouds her eyes for the briefest moments; almost too fast to see if you didn't know what you were looking for. But I knew exactly what to look for, for years now it had been far simpler to imagine Bianca's face than my own. It was something she never tired of seeing; long brown hair swept to the side that reached her hips, the softest big brown eyes over a small nose speckled with freckles and the pink full lips with a slight intent along the bottom lip. "Come now, you look beautiful in both lovely." She twirls once more, analytically scanning the image in the mirror with a mix of hateful scorn and sadness. With a sign I go to her, "You will be the envy of the night, I can barely breathe just looking at you now!" Everything stands still as I wait for the self hatred to be washed from her eyes, as her thoughts move to my words and her eyes look like they have life in them again.

I watch as she twirls around, scrutinizing her matching peach dress and heels. I can barely take my eyes off her; I've always been one to appreciate beauty when I have the chance. Without raising her eyes she says, "You know we came here for both of us to shop, not for you to stare at me trying on dresses. If you don't have something to try on in the next fifteen minutes I'm picking something for you and you know you hate that." Her eyes meet mine and almost violently wanted to kiss the smirk off her lips; she always knew how to tease me without taking it too far. "You know I said I wasn't going to go, I don't have a date; I'd just be following you around like a puppy all night aha." Her heels clack as she comes to stand before me, still just barely reaching my eye level. I never could resist the puppy dog eyes I'm now faced with, "okay, okay. I'll try to find something, though you know its hopeless." She smiles at me triumphantly and goes into the change room to change back into her regular clothes. Bianca comes to my rescue two and a half racks later with three dresses already in hand, "this is my favorite and you need to try it on first!" she says as she hands me a long deep red silk dress. I slip into a change room and hold my breath as I slide the soft material over my head, staring at the deformity in the mirror. As I open the door I search Bianca's face as she spots me, "Oh my god you look amazing. That's the dress. That's it you have to come now you can't back out with something so beautiful!" I feel heat crawl up my neck at her compliment but her words don't soothe me. I watch as her eyes continue to rake down my form; I whisper, "you know I'm not going.." I stand before her, the entirety of my shame exposed and she just stares. "Why?" she asks. I barely heard her over the sound of my heart, like a bird begging for flight.
"Because I love you."

Narrative Poem (done)

In the summer sky
where the sun flies
in the crowds
among the clouds

Elegant and pose
so far yet so close
a beauty unseen
almost like a dream

A ball of flaming gas
When will your time come to pass?
Will it be a mighty show
or a cosmic blow?

What will be left in the dust?
Will you split the Earth's crust?
Like a giant eye
is your brightness a lie?

We're nothing more than speck of grass
as these clouds come to pass
So many things left for us to see
We're nothing to what we could be

In the summer sky
Where I'd like to fly
in the crowds
among the clouds

Journal #11 - Self Management

For years now I've been reading and writing; learning more and more about myself as the words flow. I have been creatively writing prior to ever coming to high school and as I have changed so has my writing. Writing has always come easiest to me when I find an inner voice that draws on an ever aging perception that seems very unorthodox to others. Most others don't see certain things in the way that I do and I believe that this is shown in my writing; particularly my subconscious desire to show every aspect of a story or character in the darkest light that I can paint them in. I put a lot of thought and detail into the plot of my stories and the background of my characters. Due to this my readers tend to connect almost half as much as I do to my characters, the oddest pride is writing something that moves someone to tears.

Writers have always been given the mental illness stigma, and probably rightly so. One of the most common things writers say is that they hear a mental voice and it helps with their writing; I'm not one to disagree. The majority of the time that I write productively it's due to a "voice" that I hear per say, it's almost like telling yourself a story without really needing to think of it as a story; just pictures and people that your subconscious gathers and you manipulate either consciously or unconsciously. An idea is fluid and forever changing and personally I find it easier to choose an ending among many than to bang my head off the desk and hope an idea is sparked. Already knowing the words that I want conveyed makes writing so much easier for me, I love being so taken by a story that I can't put the pen down until it's all out. However when I say that it doesn't mean that I enjoy any of my own writing, I'm ashamed of almost every word and have been for so long now; what do you do when you have no control over the things you hear in your head?

Creatively writing has definitely shown me my own flaws; I procrastinate to a disgusting extent and stress myself out due to it. I love writing and reading but if I don't set myself to it I never seem to find the time. I will always draw back on the voices as my main source of inspiration, they are my best resource but also my biggest flaw. With everything so loud in your head its hard to think that no one else can hear it, that people can look you in the eyes and have no idea the torrential downpour of ideas that is in your mind. Writing teaches you about yourself; the problem is liking what you put down on paper when you can't stand the very place that those ideas are coming from in the first place.

Stranger (done)

     As I wait for the elevator door to open, I glance at my watch; seeing the seconds slowly slide past the elegant hands. A mechanical shutter informs me that the elevator has finally arrived; I look up, only for me to be entrapped by the most amazing eyes I had ever seen. Golden flecks danced among emerald stone, the sheer intensity of them forced the air from my lungs. How odd it is, you're only aware of the importance of things like breathing when you don't have the ability to. I thought of how dangerous eyes like those could be as I reached forward to select the ground floor, hesitating as I see that the ground floor has already been selected. I look around the elevator, noting how oddly empty it is for an airport; just him and I. Normally stuffed to the brim with people, such a small space; it's closing in all around me. I begin to study him out of the corner of my eye, in a dark blue suit, styled brown hair that fell slightly to the side and a large black luggage bag sitting at his black dress shoes there was no question he was attractive, but why was I having such a reaction to him? Before I have time to study him in any detail (was that a tattoo on his neck?) I can feel that I've been seen, my skin starts to tingle,  I force myself back to those eyes, a deer looking into the headlights of an oncoming car. Those eyes, so similar to the ones that haunt me in my sleep; taking in everything and giving away nothing; stripping you until you're bear. He smiles at me, his eyes seemed lit from within, a source of fire that will not extinguish. Fire is as dangerous as the smile he gifts me with, sending the blood to my face and pumping me with fear, desire and memories.

Every night has seemed endless now that she's not here, it's been so long since that day. What would she say now? What would she say to her baby girl? Would she have any words for the husband she left behind? What would have happened if she hadn't of died? Tonight's going to be bad, he was half way through the latest bottle of bourbon when I got home hours ago; and now I wait. He never takes long to find me after he finishes a bottle. I hear him begin to stir in the living room below me; I battle with the familiar animistic urge to flee and wait for my father to take from me what my mother can no longer give him.
       
The thump of the elevator doors interrupted my silent pleas for help, I could look no where but down as I tried to straighten out the my tangle of thoughts.  You cannot have a mental breakdown in the middle of an elevator with a stranger standing right beside you. Those fleck in his eyes are amazing, maybe that's what I'll think of him as; Fleck. What flight was he getting on? He looks really good in a suit. Why do I care about that? He must think you're stupid, just gawking at him like that! How pathetic, an ill minded little girl lost in her own head. As the elevator doors begin to shut I reflectively stick a hand out to stop it, only to come face to face with Flecks as we both hold open the elevator door. I must have been standing there staring blankly until the doors timed out, why didn't he go first? Was he just watching me the entire time? An immediate flush swept through my body, in embarrassment I step back to hide my blushing face. My gaze is torn to him, "After you, Azure." my body reacts to his words before my mind has fully had time to process what he said; I turn mid stride, "What did you call me?" He pulls up short to avoid tripping over my luggage bag, he looks to me and smiles, "I called you Azure." Bravery overcomes me at this man giving me name as I had to him, I study him with no shame and ask, "Why Azure?" As he walks around my still form he says, "It was the only color I could think of to ever consider comparing your eyes to." I could feel my face flare with heat, I managed to stammer out a "Thank you." Before he could respond I turned away, only to be feet from him. I increased my pace, as the distance between us lessened I could see how anger he was with me, his face a shade of pink, his stride heavy and long with his hands clenched at his side. The instant he was in my proximity he grabbed my fore arm, pulling me close to him and aside from the main amount of people in the lobby. "Who was that? Did he say anything to you? I hate the way he was looking at you, I can see how much he wanted you. Were you a good little girl or did you give it up to him in an elevator like the piece of trash whore you really are?" I stare into his eyes, such an intelligence wasted on a creature so cold. He slams his elbow into my ribs, always being discrete but letting me know he had no patience for my silence. "I'm sorry Father."

   I spend the rest of my time with him, going through the routines of waiting for our flight to land. After having lunch with him I go to wash my hands, thanking my luck that there was no one present to see the new layer of bruising that he left. As I leave to return to him I notice a vending machine along the wall of the hallway, sandwiched between a bench and a set of telephone booths. I consider the options as I rummage for change: m&ms, smarties, twix, aero, 3 musketeers, oh henry, coffee crisp, an assortment of chips, water bottles and pepsi products. As I slide in my money and begin dialing the number for a 3 muskteers I feel a presence behind me, as I reach down to take my purchase I hear, "Hello again, Azure." I spin around, a smile already on my lips, "Hello Flecks." Oh how stupid it was of me to call him that out loud. I flinch, my eyes going anywhere but him as I hold my breath and wait for his response.