Journal #11: "A Piece of Fiction - Courtney"

I am a huge fan of fiction writing. It's the only kind of writing I am truly interested in crafting on my own time. For me, fiction is much easier to write than any non-fiction or autobiography. I've always had an active imagination, and I adore how my stories just flow out of my mind naturally and onto any given paper (or computer program). I don't believe there are any limitations to fiction writing, and that's what makes it so fun and inspiring. I've never been interested in writing journalism, or essays, or an autobiography, or whatever else comes with non-fiction writing. Those are the stories that are told a thousand times. Those are the stories that are forever ingrained in your brain. When I'm faced with fiction, I feel a certain freedom; you never know how your story is going to end, you never know where it will take you. It's a journey, and yes, it is a struggle at times. I haven't heard of any talented writer that doesn't experience writer's block now and then. Personally, I find the process of fiction writing to be very indecisive for myself. I am such a perfectionist when it comes to my passions that it takes me a very long time to become satisfied with the finished product, and it is only when I consider myself satisfied that it is considered a finished product.

Looking back on my past endeavours into writing, I find it quite funny that I used to groan at the simple thought of writing my own stories. It used to be such a stress and hassle for me; I could never come up with anything "good." I realize now that the only problem with writing stories back then was that I wasn't focusing on the topics I was interested in. When all the other kids wanted to read about bunnies and talking mice, I was always more interested in serial killers or the supernatural. I've always had more of an "adult taste" in books, and if I knew then what I know now, I would have started reading "older" books a long time ago. Nowadays, my interest in writing my own stories is at an all-time high. I have so many ideas for plot lines and characters that I would love to one day have completed and shared with others. I have so many of these brilliant concoctions, in fact, that I have to save them on my computer just to make sure that I remember them all. Long novels are my favourite to read, although I'm sure the process is one hell of a ride. But when the time comes, I know I will be up for it.

It's easy to gather information on the Internet and slop together a few sentences that include facts, and dates, and names, and places, and blah, and blah, and blah. Personally, I like to go over my own essays and opinion pieces just to take in my own writing style. I try to always keep my writing polished and make sure grammar and punctuation are evident. I always love finding interesting words that hardly anybody uses to explain my reports; not only will it be unique and stick in your head, but at least it won't be that boring to mark. That is my biggest problem with non-fiction writing; it gets very boring very fast. It is more of challenge for me to write about something that I'm not particularly interested in than it is to write about something that I am interested in, already having stated that there are no limitations to the world of fiction. All in all, I simply enjoy being able to stretch my writing abilities from different types and styles of writing, and to try different things. Every journal, essay, or short answer question I complete for school is helping my writing a little bit more every time. And because of that, I am inspired to keep on writing.

Journal #10: "The Most Memorable Moments in High School"

I love this high school. When I was in grade 9, I never thought in a million years that I would be saying that. When I arrived at this school, I had no mind to get involved with any school things, or even make any new friends. I sat at the back in every class I could manage, and kept my head down constantly. See, I had hit a truly rebellious stage in my life at that point. "School is pointless," I insisted. When I look back now, I see the bitterness and the hatred I had towards the life alteration that was high school. I know that sounds dramatic, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who felt that way. All of my classes were friendless, and I didn't exhibit the confidence to make new friends. Of course, I spoke to people, but I still remained dissatisfied and unhappy with life. Not to mention, I had a lot of family and home problems happening at the same time. Home; that's not even a good description, as I ended up moving about 3 times in the same year. This is why I don't have fond memories of grade 9, at least not the first semester. Well, especially not the first semester.

The best of my high school experiences all revolve around music and performing. Being able to share my talents with people who appreciate it and support my aspirations for a musical career. I would have never gotten to know these people, or experience the support of others if I had stayed in one spot. When I reached grade 11, I was placed in Mrs. Barette's grade 11/12 Vocal Music class, meaning I was going to have to sing in front of people whether I wanted to or not. And believe me, I wanted to. But there was still a lot of nerves and fear that I had towards sharing my talent. Talent and passion is personal, and although it definitely creates the best kind of unity I've ever known, to show that talent and passion to others is a lot like being naked in public. Scary stuff. Grade 11 was the year I started getting involved and coming out of my shell, joining the choir on top of taking the Vocal Music class, and singing for school events. Grade 12 was even better, with me being one of the lead tribe members in the school production of "Hair," being a member of choir for the second time around, and singing for school events once again, but times the amount of grade 11. I'm hoping to make grade 12b even better; I'm trying to record and finish all of my music tracks that I have on my computer and start networking them on the Internet this summer. Hopefully, I will be recognized for my own music by or during next year.

High school as a whole has been a long, weird, road of twists and turns. No doubt I've grown and learned a hell of a lot from everything that I experienced, but there are a lot of things I've always disliked about it; the chaotic crowds, the ignorance, the cruelty, being different. This year, especially this very second semester, I've met some new people that I will be connected with forever and will stay important to me my whole life. I've learned from them, and had more fun with these people than probably with anyone else I've ever spent an extended amount of time with. I've also become closer to friends that I've known longer, and tightened my bond with them. I can say now that I truly value all of these people, and having them in my life. They alone are some of my best high school memories.

Journal #9: "On Poetry"

I've always had a fondness for poetry. To me, it is an entire art form all on it's own. It is sometimes a challenge to write. Especially for a person like me, because I can be a perfectionist when it comes to my passions. I do believe that poetry is important in the big scheme of things. All art is. Poems can express deep feelings, or silly ideas, or perhaps some of them weren't even given meanings. Maybe they were just written for the sake of loving poetry. I'll admit, I didn't think I would be able to write as many poems that had personal meanings. Once I realized that I had so many ideas for expressive poems, writing the poems became a better, more important experience for me. With that in mind, I didn't really mind how many poems there was assigned. Each poem can be made special and unique all on it's own; or, if wanted, can be a complete imitation, like our "Imitation Poem" assignment. I think getting us to write our own versions of all of the chosen poem types, those individual art forms, was a great idea, and an even better experience, even if you don't like poetry.

Song lyrics come out of poetry. Clearly, song lyrics are important and mean a lot to me in my life. I think that's why I preferred writing the "lyrical" poem more than any other during this course; as I was writing them, I could imagine myself singing them and adding melodies to the sentences. It inspired me to keep writing them, and even finish a lyrical poem that I had written a long time ago, before being in Writer's Craft. Some people find writing poetry difficult, boring, and exhausting, but I think that those people just haven't found their muse when writing poetry. Sometimes it is hard to write poems; whether it be a creative block or lack of direction. I found that, also, when attempting to write certain poems during the course. I'm glad that I gave them all a chance, so that one day, I can look back on them and enjoy them. Even better, someone else can look back on them and enjoy them.

Free Poem (Lyric)

Eat Lava if We Want, written by Courtney Olmstead

I slept under a waterfall last night, and yearned for you
Vacating reality, an overflowing gust of stars and dust occurred
We'll steal mossy violins from graveyards
And challange the Mighty Jesus Christ to a game of cards
My rose speaks to me of the sun,
And winter breezes beyond a crisp coat of snow and ice
We can dance on rocks and nails and passionate things alike
And pray to the Greek Gods and Godesses from another time
I traded my moms Bible for a Crown
My thunder rolled and raged
Upon the Islands of doubt, warning the weak warriors
We can make life ours, eat lava if we want
And the waterfall churned my memories and such
As I waited for that delicate clutch of arms around mine
The mist wet them instead

The Narrative Poem

Away for a While, written by Courtney Olmstead

She sat upon the wet rocks
Hugging her thighs tight to her chest
And resting her chin atop her knees
She felt a splash of water while gazing past the Oceania
And nipples grew hard from the chilling breeze

A minute passed, then three, then six
The sky was blank, a literal Queen Snow White
A seagull landed on the rock beside to rest it's tired wings
She poked Mr. Seagull's beak curiously with one red-nail-polished finger
The seagulls mouth snapped around that finger, and flew away mad
There now sit a girl crying on a rock, beneath Miss Snow White

She walked along the Oceanside
Her toes in the sand, which was cooled without the sun above
"But the sun is my friend," she sang
And she sang, and she sang, and she sang, and she sang
The night fell quick, but no stars came out to play

The tide was thick, swallowing the rock she once sit atop
She danced and waved her arms in the air, an act of freedom
There was two lights disguised as eyes, directed partly at this girl, partly at that sand
A car rolled beside her Seagull bitten hand
A face appeared, a handsome man, and a voice all too familiar
"I want you to come home now, Persephone"