Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creative writing. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Meeting Notes Sunday, February 11, 2018


The poster for our Open Mic Night at the library is out! We're looking for another fabulous turn-out this year. If anyone would like to post a post anywhere please advise or pick one up from the Orangeville Public Library stating you are with the HWG. I will also post this on a separate blog post.


Marilyn had copies for sale of her new book under a nom de plume. It can be purchased at Amazon.

Writing Prompts (from quotes):

1. Pull up your big girl panties and just deal with it.

2. What happens at Grandma's house stays at Grandma's house.

3. Some Friends: Some friends know all about us and like us just the same. They accept us as we are, not asking us to change. They never criticize us while listening to our views. They stay when other leave and speak when others refuse. There aren't many friends like that, and precious few I claim, but at the top of my list I've proudly written your name.


Next Meeting:
Sunday, February 25th, 1:30pm
Sonja is leading

Saturday, June 10, 2017

OPL & HWG Writing Workshops, June 10, 2017


June 10, 2017 – Workshops with Nora Zylstra-Savage

Nora Zylstra-Savage
Nora is the owner of Storylines which is an organization that promotes personal self-worth and community appreciation of individual life stories and experiences.

These writing programs and workshops assist individuals and groups in listening, sharing and documenting their personal life stories. Nora provides memoir and creative writing courses, recording and content editing services for the past 20 years.

Nora has created and currently facilitates intergenerational memoir writing programs with well, frail and seniors with dementia working with high school and middle schools for the past 14 years. The program is called Bridging the Gap, Intergenerational Memoirs. These programs encourage seniors and youth to discuss and compare their life stories and are captured in different media.

Nora brings enthusiasm, humour and sensitivity to all art forms.
(from Storylines website www.myhousememories.com)


Beginner Group 10am - Noon
·         Group members who attended:   Patricia, Diane, Don

Agenda:
Warm Up
Show – Don’t Tell
(break)
Writer’s Block
Closing

Patricia and Diane both chatted about the Writing group before we got into the workshop.

Warm up: 
We took 2 (or more) words from a box and did a rapid write for 8 minutes. Those words are triggers that bring out ideas, memories, or thoughts. We used them to write a piece either from a memory or made up.
When we were done, we went back and underlined lines from our piece that we liked to see what has come up in our writing. Underlining makes you focus on a word or phrase that could be a jumping off point for a new piece or even in a current piece.
Something else may come up while we wrote and we don’t recognize it until we go back and read over our words.

Show – Don’t Tell:
“Nice” is a label, but is it a nice look, that you treat someone well, that someone takes you out?
What does it MEAN? PROVE IT – give an example.
Write so your reader can FEEL it. Externalize emotion so your reader can see what your character is going through. Give emotion physicality.
If you can’t express it, ROLE PLAY the emotion. How do YOU react?
For example:
Excited:  arms in the air; hands clenched and arms clutched to chest; bright eyes; eyes closed tight or scrunched; skin red; jumping up and down; sweating under arms, lips, brow; squealing; kicking feet; licking lips.
Nervous: wringing hands; wipes hands on pants; toys with fingers, hair or jewelry; biting nails; holding stomach; heart racing; shaking hands, fingers, legs; breathing shallow; short breaths; voice uneven; stuttering; tapping fingers or toes; sweating at brow; eyes downcast; eyes darting; no focus; clearing throat.
Sad: head forward, chin to chest; gaze at floor or away; no eye contact; sighing; blinking away tears; cough to keep from crying; drifts away from others to be alone; hugs arms around body; slow moving; eyes red; face red; sniffling; moaning; holding breath; can’t speak; tears; head in hands; body hunched over; food tastes like soggy cardboard; licking lips; clearing throat; don’t see color; falling to knees; downturned mouth.

More specific wording gives readers stronger emotional responses.
Should be able to reach conclusion about character’s mood by descriptions.

BE SPECIFIC – adds to your writing. Add in the pet’s name, woman’s name, place (where are they?), date, time period, age, description, items.

Writer’s Block:
How to get past it:
·         Rapid write
·         Word box “words”
·         Tv shows or books “lines”
·         Write everyday
·         Headlines
·         Storylines or Dr. Phil issues/themes
·         Visualizations
·         Conversations
·         Music
·         Sounds effects (purpleplanet.com – royalty free music and sound effects)
·         Imagining – “what ifs”
·         “phrases”
·         Memorabilia – objects. What is the story behind them?
·         Passions; what Annoys you?
·         Photos

Always as “so what?” & “why?”
Slow the moment down. Flesh out the emotion. Ask questions. Write specifics. Show.




  

Intermediate Group 1pm – 3pm
            HWG Members who attended:  Clare, Judy, Don, Sonja, Patricia, Diane, and Nancy

Agenda:
Intros
Warm Up
Clustering
(break)
Dialogue
Closing

We had a brief introduction to everyone and talked a little about the writing group.

Warm Up:
We took 5 words from the box and used them to rapid write for 8 minutes. We could use the words individually or as one overall concept or central idea.
Rapid writes – short bursts of writing (8-10 minutes in length) that help to see what’s inside you.
Can be from prompts /music/words.
Don’t get too attached to it, you can toss or keep it, or keep some of it.
Underline words or phrases as spring boards to deeper work. What came up for you?
Memoir writing – easiest to do 10 minute memories.
Read our pieces to our neighbour.

Clustering:
A great way to get out of the box. Starts with a single word. From there, draw a connecting line from it to connect to a new word. For example:
Blue—sad—tears—wet—pain—umbrella
Blue—sky—clouds—looming—foreboding

From there, you can choose the longest thread and use all the words in once piece. You can also select random words to use for rapid writing or the last words in all the lines for different effects and possibilities. Or just close your eyes and pick words at random.

Dialogue:
Purpose:
·         Move the story forward. Can set the scene by having characters comment on surroundings and time period. Provides additional information about events, characters, location, etc.
·         Characterization. Gives depth and understanding to characters through their speech and inner thoughts. Insight into relationships – what is and is not said.

Rules:
Prune away dull bits, repetitions, everyday talk. Keep only the essence.
·         Create interesting, informative exchange between characters
·         Try not to use dialogue too often – it loses effectiveness
Dialogue modifiers – “she/he said”
·         Between two people, only one takes the modifier and only every so often
·         She/he said should be used ¾ of time
Descriptive modifier – she shouted, exclaimed, moaned, etc
·         ONLY use descriptive modifier when it is needed to show how it is said.
·         What is said is usually more important than how it is said.
Gesturing and action – physical action to create a mood, look or tone of voice
·         Use to portray a character, to develop mood in the story, emphasize a dramatic moment, or a pause between dialogue
·         Gestures and dialogue should match, avoid too many, they should have a purpose
Narrative – intersperse short narrative to create a more realistic conversation versus a question and response scenario.

Exercises:
1.      Create a scene/ dialogue in a restaurant between a couple about a recent trip that one of them has taken.
a.      Use dialogue modifiers and gestures and action as needed to create a tense or angry mood.
b.      Use the columned paper – ONLY write in the centre column with “External Dialogue”
c.       SHARE

2.      NOW… use the other two columns for “Inner Dialogue”
a.       Label column on the right for your first person
b.      Label column on the left for your second person

c.       Write “inner” thoughts and feelings for each person as the “outer” dialogue takes place.

Monday, May 2, 2016

Meeting Schedule for 2016


As a reminder, and because there have been a few changes, I am posting the meeting schedule with leaders for the remainder of 2016. Meetings take place at 1:30pm at 6 John Street in Orangeville.

The Headwaters Writers' Guild meeting schedule for the remainder of the year:
May 15 - Leader Diane
May 29 - Leader Clare
June 12 - Leader Judy

June 26 - Leader Clare
July 17 - Leader S.J.
August 21 - Leader Marilyn
September 11 - Leader Diane
September 25 - Leader Jayne
October 2 - Leader Judy
October 16 - Leader Clare
October 30 - Leader S.J.
November 13 - Leader Jayne

Saturday, November 26 - Christmas Luncheon

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Writing Prompt, April 24, 2016 - Perspective


Prompt #4 - Describe an event or scene as an adult might see it, and then re-write it as a child might see it.

I hadn't seen some members of my family for a few years. It's unfortunate that it takes a death of a parent to bring us all together. I think the last time we were all together was Mom and Dad's 50th wedding anniversary. Tommy was an infant then, and Riley didn't even exist.

After the funeral service we all gathered together in the church hall. My siblings had changed quite a bit; as had their children. Everyone was growing up.

I spotted my brother James. With both children in tow I ran over to greet him. I released both their hands as I threw my arms around him.

"James, it's been so long!"

"Hey, Sis." He hugged me tight. "It is so good to see you. It's been far too long."

Tommy, 5, and Riley, 2, squirmed in between us. Tommy pushed at James. "No!" he yelled. "Don't touch Mommy."

Both James and I laughed.

"Tommy," I crouched down beside him, "this is mommy's brother James, your uncle. Say hello to Uncle James."

Tommy put his arms around my neck and clung to me. Riley began smacking at my arm. "Mama, mama, mama..."

I laughed again. "And this is Riley," I said to my brother as I lifted both children into my arms. "Say hello to Uncle James."

James, always the sweetheart, reached out to pat each child on the back. "Hello, Tommy. Hello, Riley. It's good to meet you. It's been a long time since I've seen your mommy - and you. I've missed you all so much. You've grown into two beautiful children.

"Thank you," I smiled.

Tommy clung to me, both arms around my neck, looking the other way. Riley buried her face in my shoulder.

"Tommy is five," I said to James. "And he's mighty heavy." To Tommy, "Can Mommy put you down now?" His arms tightened around my neck. "I guess not," I laughed. "So, James," I twisted my head around despite the grip on my neck, "where is that beautiful family of your's?"
~~~~~
There were so many people in the big room with all the tables and chairs. I held tightly to Mommy's hand; Riley held her other one. It was noisy.

Suddenly Mommy started moving. Riley and me had to run to keep up. Mommy let go of our hands and hugged a strange man. I didn't like that. No one hugs my mommy except Daddy. I pushed my way between their legs; Riley did too.

"No!" I yelled. "Don't touch my mommy."

Mommy came down to our level and looked at me and Riley. I looked at Riley as Mommy said something about Uncle James. I put my arms around Mommy's neck and held her tight still looking at Riley. She got what I was trying to tell her and she began hitting at Mommy.

Mommy lifted us both up and Riley and I smiled at each other.

"Say hello to Uncle James," Mommy said.

The man put his hand on my back. I held Mommy tighter trying to get away from this strange man with no hair.

I just stared at Riley and she stared at me. Neither one of us knew what the heck was going on.

~~~




HWG Meeting April 24, 2016.

S.J. was leading this week. The writing exercise was an exploration in how perspective can change a story. She was inspired by a book she read, "Mooreeffoc" by Tetiana Aleksina (foul language warning), where the story was told from different perspectives, characters you wouldn't expect.




Patricia suggested a movie called "Sympathy Said the Shark", a psychological thriller filmed from different character perspectives.

The book can be purchased at Amazon on E-Kindle. The movie can be rented or purchased through various streaming methods (ie iTunes, Amazon, Google Play, Vudu, XBox, etc.)

Prompts:

1. Envision a scene or event at which more than one character is present. Write the scene from one character's perspective and then re-write it from another character's perspective.

2. Ever seen the film "A Bug's Life"? Describe a scene as a human would see it and then re-write it from the perspective of something extremely tiny, such as an ant or a fly on the wall.

3. Write a short scene or event from the perspective of how you imagine a tree or plant might see it. When you read it to the group, note their reactions to this perspective. What challenges do writers face when they have to get readers to invest in characters that have perspectives that are very unfamiliar to most people?

4. Describe an event or scene as an adult might see it and then re-write it as a child might see it.

Miscellaneous Prompts (for those who are uninspired by perspective today):

5. Write about the best vacation never had.

6. If you won 2 million dollars in a lottery, what would you do with it?

7. Aliens are landing in your backyard.

8. A mysterious stranger hands you a sealed envelope at a local cafe...

9. The light in your shed keeps turning on at night, apparently all by itself...

10. The phone rings. You answer it, only to discover it's your oldest friend who suddenly went missing a few years ago.

11. Pick a current event in your community and write a newspaper column about it.

12. Write a review of a restaurant you have visited.


All HWG members are encouraged to share their writing on this blog.

The next meeting is Sunday, May 15th. Diane is leading.

Monday, March 7, 2016

HWG Meeting, Sunday, March 7, 2016

HWG WRITING PROMPTS – March 6, 2016


The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.” —Philip Roth

“We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.” —Ernest Hemingway

“Let the world burn through you. Throw the prism light, white hot, on paper.” —Ray Bradbury, WD


PROMPTS

1. 2 Gold coins, an old pressed four-leaf clover, a book on magic.

2. I know I've lived before.

3. I will never leave you or forsake you.

4. Only two weeks into the New Year had passed and Tim had already broken his first resolution: Don't kill anyone. (Writer’s Digest)

5. Start with I hadn’t had a drink in nearly 10 years” and end it with “If only I could remember where I left my pants.

6. My grandmother's name was…

7. The windshield wipers squeaked against the window of the abandoned car”

8. In 100 years in the future --- the last shuttle leaves Earth.

POETRY

1. Create a poem using Emily Dickinson's "Bring me the sunset in a cup" as a starting point. http://www.creative-writing-now.com/creative-writing-prompts.html

2. Write a poem about the color red or another color. (Some ideas for brainstorming: How does the color make you feel? What things do you associate with that color?)


Next Meeting Sunday, March 20, 2016

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Richard Scarsbrook returns to Orangeville


Get Writing with Richard - Writing, Revising & Editing

March 31, 2016, 6:30pm - 8:30pm | Orangeville Public Library | Library
Join Canadian award-winning author, teacher and entertainer Richard Scarsbrook for the first in a series of creative writing workshops for adults. This two hour workshop focuses on writing, revising & editing – the three stages of the writing process.

Richard Scarsbrook is the author of seven books: Cheeseburger Subversive, Featherless Bipeds, Destiny’s Telescope, The Monkeyface Chronicles, Nothing Man and The Purple Zero, Six Weeks and The Indifference League. Richard's forthcoming novel Rockets versus Gravity will be published in 2016 with a special book launch at the Orangeville Public Library on September 29.

Richard won the 2011 White Pine Award, and his books have been finalists for the CLA Book of the Year Award, the Stellar Book Prize, and the ReLit Award. Richard teaches Creative Writing at George Brown College and The Humber School for Writers.

This free workshop requires no registration. Workshop dates: March 31April 28May 26, and June 30


Sunday, February 28, 2016

           
The following is an extract from Clare McCarthy’s novel, “Tales From Porcupine Junction” (intended publication date: mid 2016).



Porcupine Junction Extract

As soon as Bert heard that Charles wanted to raise a young Osprey that he’d rescued, Bert immediately suggested, “Gary,  you need to talk to Billy Williams.”
            “Who?”
            “William Williams, that old fellow who moved into town last summer. He lives in that little white cottage over near the fire hall.”
            “Why him?”
            “Well he recently emigrated here from Wales, and I understand that he knows a lot about birds. I heard that he usta work with folks in Wales who raised raptors, and I think that he even spent a while workin’ with a vet who specialized in an Avian Veterinarian practice. He’s a bit of a strange  old duck, but I think he’s just the person that you need to talk to.”
            When Gary returned home, he explained to his son about what he’d learned at the shop. I think you’d better head over and talk to Mr. Williams as soon as you can. You probably know where his little white house is, next to Chief Joe Snell’s place, over by the fire hall.” Since it was still early afternoon, Charles set out immediately and was soon knocking on Mr. Williams' front door.
            The age of short and pudgy William Williams had pushed well past three score and ten at least half a dozen years ago. Bill usually wore a Deerstalker Sherlock Holmes style hat whenever he went ambling around Porcupine Junction. He was pretty much bald except for the odd salt and pepper sprout of hair which poked out erratically from under his cap. Billy’s peanut- size snout was offset  by  a pointy chin which stuck out between chubby cheeks and over a wobbly double chin.
            Billy usually wore a woolen walking jacket over a matching vest and baggy woolen trousers circled his ample middle while knee-high woolen stockings kept each pant-leg firmly in check. A pair of clumpy chestnut brown walking shoes set off the rest, of  Bill’s sartorial splendor.
            When Charles arrived at the Williams residence, Billy was sitting perched on a relic of a church pew on his front porch. The elderly gent was puffing profusely on his old briar, its bowl blackened from eons of use. Since Bill had no teeth, he had cut off the stem of his pipe and wound the remainder of the stem with black electrician’s tape so he could clamp the pipe firmly in his gums.  No one knew what brand Bill smoked in his briar, but whatever it was, it was always wise to always stand well up-wind whenever he had her fired up.
            “Good afternoon Mr. Williams, my name is Charles Caboose, but you can call me Chuckie if you want. I’ve got a problem that I hoped that you could help me with. I found what I think is a baby Osprey that fell out of its nest. I’m tryin’ to keep it from dyin’ and I wondered if you could help me out since folks say you know all about birds.”
            “Well, lad  I don’t know ALL about birds but I’d be glad to help you out if I can. Where is this wee creature right now?”
            It’s at my house inside in a box with a screen on the front. It’s tucked in on the bottom of the cage sittin’ on a towel to keep warm.”
            “You live at the Big Canoe Marina don’t you?”
            “That’s right.”
            “I’ll drop by tomorrow morning at about nine to see what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
            “Great! I’ll be waitin’” Charlie Caboose slept well that night as he anticipated a visit from Mr. Williams the following morning.
            Chuckie was outside early in the morning just as Mr. Williams turned the corner up the street.
             Billy was wearing his traditional Deerstalker, clumpy walking shoes, woolen jacket and he was puffing as usual on his ever-present briar. With lowered head and peering out from under the peak of his hat, the clouds of smoke billowing forth from Mr. Williams’ pipe made Charles think of a determined steam locomotive chugging up a grade. Arriving at the marina doorway, Billy knocked the glowing dottle from his briar on the heel of his shoe then tucked the pipe into his jacket pocket.  With a greeting of, “Good morning,” Billy followed Charles through the doorway into the marina.  When they reached the bird box, Billy opened the lid, reached inside and gently plucked  out the wee bird which was just beginning to sprout a few fluffy feathers. Billy held the little creature in his thick calloused hand, tilted his head slightly, squinted through both eyes  then declared, “You were right lad, what you’ve got here is a healthy male Pandion haliaetus. I see that you must have been taking good care of him.”
            “What did you say he was?”
            “He’s a Pandion haliaetus! That’s just a five dollar word for what folks around here would usually call an Osprey.”
            “That’s great to hear, I thought that you said he had some sort of disease.”
            “Nope, he looks to be in good shape. Has he got a name yet?”
            “No, I didn’t know if it was a he or she. Since it’s a him, I think that I’ll call him Jester.  Do you think I’d ever be able to train him the way they do with eagles an’ hawks?”

            “Well, the short answer is probably  yes, but you’ve got a long way to go yet before you even reach that stage. I’ll drop by and take a look at him every couple of days and in case of emergency, feel free to drop by my place and between the two of us we’ll do our best to see that Jester has a long and healthy contented life. Your main job right now is to make sure that he’s well looked after.
Drawing by Clare McCarthy


Posted on behalf of Clare McCarthy.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

No Man's Land - A Short Story by Judy Zarowny


NO MAN’S LAND                                                                            by Judy Zarowny

Beads of perspiration ooze from my hairline, trace their way under the arms of my glasses, roll over my flushed cheeks, and drip off my chin.  I’m next. The border guard is young, stern, and pumped with importance, ready to launch his inquisition, looking to ferret me out as an “undesirable alien”, and punt me the 5,800 feet back across the Peace Bridge to Canada.

I remove my sunglasses, roll down the window and smile, bland middle-aged woman that I am. Why is it, I muse, I always feel like a convicted felon, a mental incompetent, a drug dealer, or someone ill with Ebola virus every time I come to cross the border?

The guard scrutinizes my passport and knits his brow. “Where do you live?”

“Orangeville, Ontario—you know, just over the br . . .”

“Where were you born?”

“Edmonton, Alberta.” He fixes me with a penetrating stare. “one of our prairie provinces, ha, ha, . . . lots of oil there . . . way north in the tar s . . . ‘

“What are you bringing in to the country?”

“Oh, just my clothes and shoes, and you know, ha ha, undies, toiletries.”

“Toiletries?”

“Well, that would be shampoo and face cream, sun tan lotion, tooth . . .”

“Any cigarettes or alcohol?”
 
“Oh, no.” I clear my throat, trying to suppress the warble in my voice.

“Where are you going?”

“Lake Cassadaga.”

“Why?”

 “Holiday, just a little getaway . . . three days.”

“Which means you’ll be returning on . . .”

“The seventeenth.”

He enters something on the computer then, unfolds out of his booth like a preying mantis, his right hand resting on his holster. Crouching, he slowly scans with trained eyes, the interior of my car then turns his scrutinizing gaze on me.  “Why are you alone?”

“What?”

“Why are you alone?”

I stare up at him, confused. What kind of question is this? My feverish mind serves up the following: Well, I was married, you know, back in 1995, and it lasted for 16 years but the jerk cheated on me with the cute little fitness freak in his office he called his executive assistant, and after that, with the Skip on his curling team, a woman with lips full of Botox, and breasts full of silicone, and then with his massage therapist, a man, after which he decided he was gay. I wasn’t the one who broke up the marriage. Not me. He’s the reason I’m alone. I’ve tried, mind you, to find another man.  Nobody likes me.  I’m a sad broken down old discarded woman.  I’m depressed and seeing a therapist, but we haven’t succeeded in routing out my loser complex.  God, the agony of it all. But I can’t tell you how much better I feel after sharing this, with you.

“Well?” he demands.

“Do you mean, why am I travelling alone?”

“I haven’t got all day lady.” He stands up again, hands on hips.

“I—I don’t have a partner.” I blush and wheeze and stumble over my words.

“You don’t have friends either, I suppose?” he barks.

“I’m, I’m visiting friends.” I stutter, and grin stupidly.

“Where do they live?”

“They live on, ah, Lake Avenue. Can’t remember the number—wait a minute.” I dump my purse on to the conspicuously empty passenger seat, to find the note on which I’ve written the information. “Here it is, 765 Lake Avenue. Ha, ha. It’s right on the lake there—lovely spot.”

“Name?”

“Judy.”

“Their name!” His saliva strafes the side of my car.

“Oh, ha, ha, Hobson, Damien and Ethel Hobson.”

He goes back into the booth and enters something on his computer. More sweat courses down the sides of my face, and back.

“Where did you meet them?”

“In Chautauqua, last time I was here.”

“When was that?”

“August um, last year, I think…”

He’s busy on the computer again. My heart is pumping double time.
“Where do you work?” He steps out of the booth.

“Peel District School board.  I’m a teacher.”

“Huh!” he grunts, pulling himself up to his full height.
 
I shrink down into my seat. Oh God, he hates teachers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he proclaims, one hand on his hip, the other poking the air with the index finger.  “Why aren’t you in school?”

I pause. My mouth drops open. Is he serious? “It’s July,” I say struggling to keep a straight face.

He retracts the darting hand, and clamps his arms across his chest, clenching his teeth and squeezing his lips together into a thin white line. I hold my breath. He stands there, probing me with his accusatory eyes for what seems like an eternity, waiting, I think, for one glimmer of mirth to escape from me, which miraculously never comes. Finally, he simply nods, and waves me through.

As I drive up onto 90 South, my tightly corked laughter erupts in waves of hysterical giggles. I’ve survived the ordeal of guilty till proven innocent and even though I almost fumbled the ball, I’m free now, suspicious-lonely-single-alleged-hooky playing-teacher notwithstanding, to enjoy the company of my friends in the great United States of America.



This story won third prize in the adult short story division in the Caledon Public Library’s contest “Click, Create, Celebrate” in 2015

Posted on behalf of Judy Zarowny

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Photo Prompt - February 7, 2016 - Mary Patricia Bird


This was the photo I chose for our prompt this week. We were to write a letter to or from one of the people in the photo.

Hi Ash,

How are you? I miss you so much. I'm still totally pissed at my parents for moving across the country and enrolling me in the stupid private school. I hate it. I haven't made any friends there. When I wait at the bus stop every morning I am the only kid wearing this damn uniform. No one else in our neighbourhood goes to St. Bart's. So I haven't made friends there either.

Remember when we used to walk to school together? We'd always be following those boys from the higher grades, ogling over them. Especially that Terry Watsworth guy. Do you still see him? I know he was supposed to graduate, but did he? Did he stay in town? You know, I keep looking around hoping I'll see him here. The university here is a good one. He could be here. I know, wishful thinking on my part.

The boys here are stupid, and ugly and don't talk to me, don't even look at me.

Dang, Ash. I had so much fun with you and the old gang back home. But moving here? A new life, my mom said. A new start, new friends. Well that's bullshit. I want to be back in Redwood. I'm saving my allowance and as soon as I have enough money I'll come out to see you. Maybe I'll even stay. Would your parents mind if I moved in?

Private school is okay in that we're all wearing the same damn thing, the teachers are nice but it's kinda hard to stand out in a crowd, know what I mean? It's like I'm invisible. I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!

We'll work something out. Give Adam a hug for me.

Write back soon.

Your BFF Sienna.