Jb Knows

A Teen Writer’s Trip to the Top

Goals of 2009 January 11, 2009

I hope to get past some of my biggest fears and problems this year.   But to just SAY that is one thing, especially when what  I am saying is so vague.  Here are some of my goals for this year.

1. National Novel Writing Month- Reach 50,000 words in one month.  I know someone who has done this and they were quite proud of the accomplishment.  I have been saying I would do this for the last 2 years, but have yet to reach this goal.

2. April is Poetry Month- Write at least 2 poems a day in the month of April.  Last year I wrote 1 a day, while most days I wrote a lot more.  I hope to write 300 new poems this year, putting me that much closer to my goal of beating out Emily Dickinson by sheer volume.  If only I could get the prestige as well.

3. Be top debater in both the state AND the league.  These events are judged separately.  I managed to be the top debater in the league this year.  To my bitter disappointment, I barely even made it in to the final session at the state tournament.  I would also like a gavel for being a PO, since I have yet to receive one.  Not to mention a Best Bill Award.

4.  Get at least a 30 on the ACT, with a math subscore of at least 28.  I took a practice one and I got a 27, but I would like to do better.  Get a 4 on the U.S. Government AP exam.

5. Read 500 books.  I have a list of book, about 510 books long, that I would like to read.  I do not expect all of the ones I actually read this year to be from this list, but it would be nice.

6. Finish ‘Unsent Letters’, ‘Unconscious’ and ‘If you were me’ , the current books I am writing.

7. Be accepted to Eastern Michigan University.  I want to go there so bad it is ridiculous. Also be accepted to U of M, just so I can turn them down.

8. I have perfect attendance at school.  I haven’t missed a day of school in the last two years, and I would like to keep it that way.

9. Blog more.  I really need to get in more posts this year.  I’ll just make sure to write down my posts on scrap sheets of paper.

 

Unconscious December 9, 2008

Filed under: Unfinished Work — samke23 @ 11:21 pm
Tags: ,

Here is the beginning of the story I have been writing, since, let’s see now… the sixth grade.  It has gone through so many revisions it is ridiculous.

There is no such thing as innocent. No one is pure or without fault, including and especially me. Noel, my best friend since five minutes ago, tries to deny this basic fact. I say since five minutes ago because this is when she proved her impurities for the first time.

You see, this was when I was accused of attempting to start a food fight. I hardly see how whipping an open carton of chocolate milk at Jake Osmond qualifies as starting a food fight. Particularly when he just accidentally-on-purpose dropped his mashed potatoes all over my new top. This is just how we show our affection for each other. He pulls my pigtail, I kick him in the shin. Classic boy meets girl, boy acts immature, girl delivers manicured hand of justice scenario.

With my luck, the cafeteria overseers only witness the second half of this ritual. They give me five minutes to march myself down to the office. In an unexpected burst of anti-regulation enthusiasm, Noel agreed to let me borrow a shirt. But not just any shirt. I’m talking about the dangerously pink, low-cut, revealing t-shirt. The one that says ‘Do Not Touch…Wet paint’, strategically placed to distract the reader. The exact kind Noel’s heavily Christian mother forbids her from even looking at. I’m surprised I don’t have a backup shirt of my own.

This is the sort of shirt I rely on to get out of detention. I look older than the pathetic freshmen I am. (I could’ve pulled this of in fifth grade.) I get along, er, well with our principal, Mr. Stone. I came out of the bathroom stall wearing the shirt. I look in the mirror, putting on a fresh coat of lip gloss. I strut over to Mr. Stone’s office and take a seat.

“Elizabeth Martin. What a pleasant surprise, despite the circumstances that brought you here. How is that boyfriend of yours?” At this question he raises an eyebrow, as if to hope we broke up.

Even if we did, he totally wouldn’t be next in line. It’s not that he is overly ugly. Or excessively old. He’s just weak. He’s an easily manipulated, little man. When he says we see eye to eye, it is literal. And his slight bald spot is completely adorable. But sometimes it reflects the dangerously low lighting in his office that blinds me.

“Jeff? Oh, he’s…adequate.” That’s right, make him think he stands a chance. He gets up and closes the door, so that the two of us can have a conversation alone. He sits on the edge of the desk. I’m sure it’s an excuse to have the tips of our shoes touch.

“Liz, you need to learn to control yourself,” he suggests. Right back at Mr. Stone. “Besides, anger can easily be channeled into more…constructive outlets.”