So for the last couple of months, I've been going through my essays, re-reading them, tweaking them where necessary, and started posting them on Hubpages. (It will probably take a few more months to post all the existing ones.) Well, in the past few weeks, some of those essays have been deemed sparkly and magnificent enough to be featured on LetterPile. So, here they are...
If you're feeling up to checking them out, just click on the
links. If you are a member of Hubpages, feel free to leave a comment. If you
are not a member, you may comment here, as an open post for the essays.
On Commenting on Essays:
I do ask that you are respectful in doing so, whether you
agree with me or not. I am very much a supporter of free speech. I like to hear
both sides and love a true debate of ideas.
Having said that, comments that are just there solely for
the purpose of trolling will be, in the wise words of Jim Wright, sent out the
airlock. Yes, I do moderate. Why, two reasons.
When I said respectful debate, I meant it. "You
suck." and it's ilk are not helpful nor promoting a meaningful discussion
by any means. All my essays have been researched with sources sited. I did the
work, I expect you to do so as well.
It's my blog. I know the argument is totally weak and right
up there with "Because I said so," but it is also true.
Yes, I confess that I have fallen behind in my own self appointed progress on this blog as well as my other sites on the web. Even my Facebook page, which I was keeping updated fairly well, has not gotten a lot of love since the holiday season. (The stories why will have to wait for another time.) But I have been slowly getting back on track. So, as I stated in my last entry, here are some updates on my presence in cyberspace. I posted an article on the Allied Properties blog. You can read it here. And I have taken some of the posts off my blog here and put them up elsewhere, as they are more appropriate in those venues. As they go live, I will be adding the links to them.
There is a really good answer for that...getting my BA in English-Creative Writing from UCF. As much as I wanted to keep up with my blogging, it was just not time feasible. Between working full time and attending classes full time, I barely had time to devote to eating & sleeping. I learned to consolidate certain tasks, like doing my reading assignments while I ate my meals. Two birds, one stone. Hell, when the study came out last year that stated people only needed 7 hours of sleep as opposed to 8, I was ecstatic because I gained 7 hours a week to devote to homework. It was crazy time, but it was worth it for the degree, the experience and all the academic honors that come with a 3.5 (3.8 UCF) GPA.
So, there will be some much needed housekeeping on the ol' blogfront. The first you can see, the new site design. It was time for an update, and this is so me. I will be spreading my writing across my website (http://themightyaquarian.webs.com/), my Hubpages (http://hubpages.com/@kwillms211) and here. As some of the pieces are duplicated across the sites, I will deciding on where they best fit and that will be their home. This means that some of the posts here may disappear (two already have). But do not fear, as I will be letting everyone know where they are in a post when the deed is done.
I am also currently writing for a real estate blog. So, if you really want to check that out (I understand if you don't because your think it's not your thing. We cool.) you can check it out at www.allied.properties.
This was a writing exercise we did in my Creative Writing 2 course. We were to write in the style of Chekhov. Hope you enjoy.
sat across from the grandfather clock. The room was silent, save for the sure
steady rhythmic clicks of the second hand.She stared at its face, unblinking and entranced.
parents, Feodor and Nonna recently died in a worker’s protest in Red
Square.This was a bit ironic, as they
were well off and never had to perform hard labor a day in their lives.She had always admired, and even tried to
emulate their independent spirit.They
bred in her a powerful sense of wrong and right, to stand up and defend your
beliefs.What she could not accept or
imitate was their willingness to take it to the point of martyrdom.
today, the will was read, and as expected she inherited all they had. In their
living room, now her living room, she
sat in a staring contest she could not, nor did not intend to win.It was not the point. She wondered what would
become of her, a young woman of 20, now parentless.
received the news of their demise while she was at university in St.
Petersburg.She had heard news of the
protest over the radio and the ramblings of her fellow scholars.There was no doubt in her mind that they were
in attendance.Her Aunt Bepa, who she
was staying with while there, was the one who gave her the unhappy report.
knew from the moment she arrived at the house that something was not
right.Bepa was normally busy in the
kitchen or singing some old tune around the house.Today, she was sitting quite in the parlor.She did not greet Anya, which was
typical.Instead, she motioned her to
the sofa beside her and delivered the news in a voice that was both admiring
was two weeks ago.Since that day she
had traveled back with Aunt Bepa accompanying her to make the funeral arrangements.Three days ago it was held.Anya was surprised at the massive turnout of
the people who’d come out to honor her parents’ sacrifice.They only knew them as revolutionaries, as
symbols and not as the people they were she thought bitterly.
she sat in her home, amongst her possessions.The future is always an uncertain place.You can plan it, direct it, guide it; but those who think they have total
control over how it will turn out are delusional.Yet, she now faced an even more uncertain
future than before.
return to school?Though she did not
share her parents’ way of bringing change, she still knew change was necessary.Education was her way to bring it, to change
the system from the inside.Could she
still do it?Was her heart still in it?
For now, she
faced the constant, steady tick, tick, tick of the grandfather clock that stood
stoically before her.