Reflection #3

   I find in my surroundings many interesting topics to write about. On my headboard one may find a half empty cub, a memo pad and underneath some books you will find a hidden compartment to a new world. This world is my notebook. I look to my left and I see a Target dog that my uncle got me. His name is Milky White and I previously gave away his Glasses to my friend Kayla Price. My surrounding can bring any story to life. I usually get around 80% of my ideas from my room. I can have any topic in the world and find a way that an item will come to life in my writing.
   A great story has a lot of creative ideas but fragments of your life sowed into it and that ties the whole story together. An idea of a dog who was very loved can only be believable when you love have loved a dog before. A good writer has to make their writing believable and so they must make sure there life is in their writing.A story is not about what you are saying but what you mean by what you are saying. You can say the dog was pitch black but what you are showing is that the dog is mysterious, or evil, or even misunderstood. What you say is very important but what your meaning behind what you're saying is.
   While making a fictional life for a person I saw I learned more about myself as a person. I tend to see kindness in people before jumping to evil and I also tend to notice people who want to blend into the background. These themes of loneliness and being shy always pop into my head whenever I look at someone and what this really means is that I want to get to know them better.

Journal #8

Character Profile Worksheet

Basic Statistics

Name: Tommy Smith
Age: 16
Nationality: American
Socioeconomic Level as a child: Middle Class
Socioeconomic Level as an adult: N/A
Hometown: N/A (adopted)
Current Residence: Queens New York
Occupation: Works at Starbucks
Income: 45,000/Year
Talents/Skills: Plays the flute, Can sing.
Salary: $10
Birth order: Only Child
Siblings (describe relationship): None
Spouse (describe relationship): None
Children (describe relationship): None
Grandparents (describe relationship): Only one grandmother alive.
Grandchildren (describe relationship): None.
Significant Others (describe relationship): Has none.
Relationship skills: Has one close friend. Sophia Lovegood.


Physical Characteristics:

Height: 5’5
Weight: 100lbs
Race: White
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Brown
Glasses or contact lenses? Glasses
Skin color: Tan
Shape of Face: Slim
Distinguishing features: Has lots of little moles
How does he/she dress?: Doesn’t use bright colors and wears clothes that look too simple
Mannerisms: Tends to look down a lot and is always scrubbing something
Habits: (smoking, drinking etc.) Cleaning
Health: Has trouble breathing
Hobbies: Plays the flute, and video games.
Favorite Sayings: Music is my life.
Speech patterns: None
Disabilities: Minor OCD.
Style (Elegant, shabby etc.): Casual. Super casual.
Greatest flaw: OCD.
Best quality: Smile.


Intellectual/Mental/Personality Attributes and Attitudes

Educational Background: He is in HS
Intelligence Level: Very Smart
Any Mental Illnesses? OCD
Learning Experiences:
Character's short-term goals in life: Blocking his enemies.
Character's long-term goals in life: To be accepted.
How does Character see himself/herself? -As unwanted.
How does Character believe he/she is perceived by others? –A loser
How self-confident is the character?- Not at all
Does the character seem ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof?- ruled by emotion.
What would most embarrass this character?- People finding out he is adopted.


Emotional Characteristics


Strengths/Weaknesses: Musical Abilities. Has a low self-esteem.
Introvert or Extrovert? Introvert.
How does the character deal with anger? Plays music.
With sadness? Plays music.
With conflict? Runs away
With change? Avoids it.
With loss? He stops talking to people.
What does the character want out of life? To be accepted.
What would the character like to change in his/her life? He wants to know his real parents.
What motivates this character? His two moms.
What frightens this character? Untidiness.
What makes this character happy? His best friend, food, music, being liked.
Is the character judgmental of others? No.
Is the character generous or stingy? Generous.
Is the character generally polite or rude? Polite but is keeps to himself so he might be portrayed as rude.


Spiritual Characteristics

Does the character believe in God? Yes.
What are the character's spiritual beliefs?  Christian.
Is religion or spirituality a part of this character's life? Not really.
If so, what role does it play?

What does this character want?? Need?  Wish?  Hope?

Wants to be accepted.

Needs tidiness.

Wishes to meet his real parents.

Hopes to fall in love.

This is the type of person who….

Can’t feel safe without a sweater or hood.

This is the type of person who blends into the background.

Who makes sure to clean every inch of his ID card.

Who walks to school because the subway is dirty.

Who can’t eat their salad if the different colors are touching.

Journal #7

They stopped for a soda and they shared it as they smiled into each other's eyes. They walked past a crowed head turning to look at them, you could see mixed emotions in the crowd. They seemed so happy laughing together and smiling at each other. People stared as they walked passed the church. They reached the park and placed a blanket down, the they laid back and looked at the clouds. He then smiled and looked over to the blue eyes he loved so much and said " I love you Max."

Journal #5

 From the second my ball rolled  onto Joy's lawn I knew I was not welcomed. I watched as she go up from her patio chair and walked over to me. She had a big fork the kind you would use to hold roasted chicken as you sliced it. I stood there paralyzed and confused why was she so mad at me? what did I do? And then she asked "is this your ball?"
"yes mam" I whispered looking down at her shoes they were pretty shinny and all clean light blue with white poka dots they were real pretty alright." I got it for Christmas since my moma said the dolls were too expensive.
Joy's face since to relax and something came over her face that I've never seen a white lady have, she had pity on her face. Then  just before she turned away her neighbor came out to see her on her lawn he seemed to not like me talking to Ms. Joy but then she turned around and said "Scurry out'a here girl, he ain't like me he wont let you get away. With a swift move I picked my ball up and ran as the light of the sun disappeared casting a big black shadow behind me.

Journal #6

a)The empty crib haunted me every night. It screamed to me, bad mother! Murderer! I stared at the pile of gifts people had given me for Daisy. I never knew how much something that was never born could affect me, but every night I lay on my bed swimming in a sea of sorrow. This is the most important thing for a woman in my time in the 1950s. A woman who could not give birth was not a woman. I picked up the little black shoes that shined against the light of the moon peeking through the curtain. So now I had nothing to do but sell what was given to me. I picked up a brush and wrote "Baby shoes for sale never worn".

b) Never smile back to a stranger.

c)"Sit like a man!" "Yes sir."

Reflection #2

 Fictionalizing my work was both difficult and easy. The reason why it was difficult was because I had to chose the right moment that would appeal to the public but also not be too emotional that every time I read it I can't stop weeping. So I decided to go with the feeling of losing someone since many people have experienced that feeling. After I choose the event It became easier and easier to write about it since I was finally letting emotions out. The easy part was past the personal experience. Once I began to fictionalize my piece I became obsessed with expressing that "alone" feeling or even better the feeling of losing your comfort. As I added more detail fictionalization came swiftly and naturally. As I went on my lies became truths and my new truth became a person which the reader has feeling for and can go through what the character did.
  Distancing my work from my emotions was very hard at some points due to the fact that I had to relive that moment of sorrow in my head just like my protagonist in the short story. I felt that lost, I felt myself once again losing comfort in the world. As I went further on in my writing I realized it became easier to set aside my feeling from the writing while still utilizing it in my piece. As I kept writing there were times when I had to stop but not because of my personal incidence but I had become obsessed with showing the world how my character felt. Author Sue Miller once said "The fact is, you can make a story of anything, anything at all. What's hard - and what's interesting about a story is not so much the thing that's in it, but what's made of,"(Virtual Reality: The peril of seeking a novelist's facts in her fiction, page 158). I found myself mixing events and descriptions to make sure what my story pie was made of was exiting and fresh instead of the same old apples everyone puts in their stories.
   Part of our work must always be in our writing because we must tap into our senses to write great pieces. We must seek what fascinates us what captivates us. If we do not focus our emotions in our writing we are just reporting on events and not guiding our readers to one side of the argument whether is your side or the enemy's. When we put our emotions in our writing readers can relate and will continue to read on because they now care for this fictional character which no longer feels fake. The emotion of a piece is what sets the tone which is what sets the mood of the piece. Sue Miller also said "Surely the writer's job is to make relevant the world she wishes to write about." (Page 159). If the writers don't grab the reader the reader will simply not read because you have not given them reason to do otherwise.

Journal #3

 I sat up. Chest pounding ,sweat rolling down my forehead. It happened again. I look at the digital clock 2:13 a.m. I look at the calendar, it was February 13th, my heart sank. I tried to catch my breath as my hands shook frantically I stood up fast almost falling over.  I look to my left and my window was open. The cold air chiseled my body and the cold floor made it painful to walk. The room smelled like him, I inhaled deeply making it last as long as it could taking in every single particle of the smell. I struggled towards the window and sat on the fire escape. This was our favorite place, our happy place. Every Tuesday we would have pasta on the fire escape followed by a small tub of Pinkberry just the way he like it, an original with blueberries. We would sit and look at the stars and imagine what it was like to go to space, to travel, to be one with nature. Then I realized that I didn't open the window. I turned around and climbed back through my window the closed it tightly. The darkness of the room made me feel even lonelier. The grey walls made me feel trapped and fixated but to him it made him feel warm and cozy. He was always optimistic about things like that. His thoughts were always a mystery to me but I loved him. I walked out my room and through the narrow hallway, I began to look at the pictures on the wall. There was one of us smiling together wearing 3D glasses, and one of us sharing a tub of Pinkberry on the fire escape. His bluish green eyes still stared into my soul even in the darkness of my home and he made me feel sorrow yet happiness because of all the joy we shared. As I reached the living room I noticed that the door wasn't locked it was always Scott's job to make sure the door was locked without him I was a mess. Nothing was the same. Tears began to roll down my eyes when I began to relive what happened 1 year ago. I could hear him scream my name as the two dark figures took me into the alley and punched me. They kicked me and leaving Scott to bleed on the floor, Scott tried to reason with them but they didn't want our money they just wanted violence. I still remember Scott getting up and trying to pull them off me and then with a loud bang. He fell. His cold lifeless body dropped and they ran away leaving behind broken lives. I remember crawling towards his body and holding on to him wishing it was all a bad dream but it wasn't. He lay there lifeless and grief just infested my heart leaving me alone. We ran away together and now nothing could bring him back. That night I feel a sleep with a picture of him next to my face while wearing one of his sweaters. The next day the window was opened, soon I will be with him.