Why I Write

Today a bunch of us writers are trying out a little experiment; each writer, listed below with their names and blogs, will post why they write, and how they grew into a writer.

     I grew up in East Los Angeles with my grandparents and younger brother. My parents, living in Chino where I reside now, were always busy with work, and had no time to take care of us. My father was a trucker, and Mom was, and still is, a supervisor for the Southern California Gas Company. We would visit them on the weekends, but during the week it was just me and my twin-brother with the grandparents.
     We didn't have much to do there, and the internet wasn't out. My brother was very much into scary stories, and I was into the discovery and study of Paranormal activity (great kids, right?). The house had its own weird happenings, so on occasion we would stay up, in pitch darkness, and just watch for anything. Of course, we would get too scared to stay up past twelve, and School was something we did, so we would never go past ten at the latest. But it was exciting.
     I grew up with a bunch of kids who, like me, had a huge imagination. They weren't into the Paranormal like I was, but we enjoyed the same television shows. Eventually we got tired of playing these stories on the School's yard, and we moved onto our next big adventure: comics and stories. I wrote the dialogue, stories, descriptions, and dabbled a bit in drawing, but I was never as good as the others in art. These were the kids who spent hours drawing, and could turn out a new masterpiece within minutes (masterpieces, however, were restricted to the use of crayons and markers). We moved throughout our years continuing to create stories together. Eventually we passed on out of Middle School and had to move on.
     After the loss of my Grandfather, and missing the nights we would tell each other stories, my brother and I was asked to move to my parent's home in Chino by the state. We followed, and ended up going to the High School just around the block, but we were horrified. The years of scary stories and Ghost-hunting led to us dressing up as punks, and we were forced to attend a School where we had no friends to compare with. Of course we were the outsiders, but it didn't stay like that for long.
     My brother was known for his crazy ways and long, feminine hair. I gained friends thanks to my imagination and creativity. I joined the Japanese Animation and Art club, and hours after school, for four years, were devoted to Marching Band. I wanted to do theatre, having done acting as a child growing up, but our parents grid-locked us into making music. The years went by so quickly, and I had lost my spark in creating stories.
     After a few years I went into a medical scare--Cancer. I had gained an odd lump in my throat, and the mole on my chest was seen as an oddity to the doctors. They removed both things for testing, but I was traumatized; days were spent in bed, crying, and I was eventually forced onto anxiety medication. I fell out of an abusive relationship at the time as well, the person not helping me in the slightest, so things were grim.
     I started to attend therapy on campus for free. My mother was against it, saying my anxiety and trauma was nothing at all, but I was tired of the nightmares, crying fits, and general sulking that went on. The therapy didn't help much asides giving me someone to talk to, which was good, but I needed answers, solutions, and for my problems to just "fuck off." Then I found a book.
     The Tools, by Phil Stutz and Barry Michels, is what I'd like to think saved me. There I found techniques, tools, as they called it, to help combat my fears. I was amazed that books could do this for me, and while I grew up reading stories, novellas and novels, this was something incomparable. Immediately I talked with my friends, and told them what was inside. I was a missionary trying to tell of the Lord's graces. Then I began to write.
     And I wrote more.
     And I wrote more.
     Things were pouring out, and my grades in English were soaring high. Immediately I wanted to do this; immediately I wanted to write something that could change someone's life, or show them that they're not alone--no one has to go through this alone. I started writing dramas, romances, and even realistic, horrifying thrillers. I was hooked.
     I moved on to the next level of college, where thanks to my professor at the time I met my now mentor, John Brantingham. I awkwardly called him one day and told him I just wanted to writer--to know how to do the things these people did. We met up in his office and I showed him a trio of stories I threw together. He talked with me on what I was doing well, and not-so-well, but encouraged me to continue whether it be through our School's writing club, or the class. Again, I was hooked.
     I now tutor English and Writing at my School's Writing-center. My writing schedule takes over my entire day, as I make sure to write no less than 500 words (my goal, however, is to keep at 1000 words a day). I write and read every day, and make sure not to drop off the ball. If I can't write anything up to that amount, I keep it to a 500 word essay, or journal.
     Literature is a great thing, and in some way has influenced me throughout life. While it also might have saved my life, it's pushed me forward into a new, positive direction, where I can actually see a future for myself (majoring in acting or Italian were some of the silly things I thought of during my first years in College). Moving forward, I want to become an Editor as of this point, but continue to write encouraging, thrilling, or just plain horrifying stories that show the wonders, troubles, and accomplishments of real, every day life.


Below are the links to the other authors who are writing about their appreciation of this wonderful craft. Feel free to visit, and give writing a chance yourself!

John Brantingham 

http://johnbrantingham.blogspot.com/

Kyle Van Sant http://pkvansant.blogspot.com/

Charlotte San Juan charlottesanjuan.wordpress.com

Marta Chausee http://martachausee.blogspot.com/

John Daniel http://johnmdaniel.blogspot.com/.

Cora Ramos http://coraramos-cora.blogspot.com/

Melodie Campbell http://funnygirlmelodie.blogspot.com/

Lesley Diehl http://anotherdraught.blogspot.com

Jim Callan www.jamesrcallan.com/blog

Chris Swinney http://clswinney.com

Stephen Brayton www.stephenbrayton.wordpress.com

Carole Avila  http://caroleavilablog.wordpress.com/

Augie Hicks http://augiecorner.blogspot.com

The Turkey And The Shopping Cart

Before I get started with the main subject, I would like to wish you all a happy Thanksgiving; not only be thankful for what you have, but give thanks to the negative prospects of life on how they shaped you as a person. Be happy to be alive today.

     Thanksgiving has been a well cherished holiday in American history--has been. Throughout the years, the warming message behind such a holiday has changed into a simple meal, preparing the family for a battle of wits: Black-Friday. We all know what it is; we all know that it's a night, that one special night that only comes once a year, where like Halloween, we're given the opportunity to be something we're completely not--barbarians. Shopping carts become bulldozers, hands become talons, reaching for that limited-edition My Little Pony, and our vocabulary reduces to simple grunts, screeches, and profane words of someone's mother. What makes things worse is that Black-Friday is not only a whole day, but has become a part of Thanksgiving, literally assimilating its hours into a night known as Grey-Thursday.
     Black-Friday wasn't just about the shopping; Nancy Koehn states on Marketplace.org, "In the 1950s, some factory managers referred to the day after Thanksgiving as 'black Friday' because so many workers called in sick." She goes on, describing this imaginary sickness as a "bubonic plague," which took over the workplace's population. The police also were involved, as they had to deal with the massive crowds of shoppers: "watching a cop trying to deal with a group of jaywalkers" led to massive headaches (Koehn). Times moved on, and the goliath crowds only grew. The term Black-Friday, however, changed; merchants began to title the day after all the "black-ink" that showed up in their paperwork. The day has become, as Koehn titles it, a national holiday where retail finally comes out of the red-zone and into the black; instead of losing money, retail chains and other businesses began to make money at a fast pace. Black-Friday today is still seen as a holiday to some people, and as our years progress, we begin to see that Thanksgiving is reducing to nothing more than a simple day devoted to a cooked Big-bird.
     Being a part of society, I plan to go tonight to Target and Kohl's (I won't agree to saying "I am going to Grey-Thursday"). This year, no one in my family is interested in video-games or electronics, so I'll be fencing my way through the clothing departments with an unopened umbrella. Referring to tonight as Grey-Thursday stabs me in the heart; while I might have never had an actual, white-picket fence Thanksgiving--we eat our food where we want, and if we're thankful for something, we better darn well know it--it's a sad idea that a National Holiday, something that our country has grown with year after year, is reducing to nothing more than a large meal to fuel us through a shopping-bag massacre. Who knows, rather than get a week off for Thanksgiving, in a few years the days of vacation leading up to Black-Friday will be known as the calm before the storm.

The Sulking, Working, Studying, Preparing, Walking Dead

 Working as a tutor in the writing center, it's very common to get started on a discussion completely unrelated towards the student's assignments. I find myself going on about my own personal writing issues, current events relating to argumentative essays, and even the occasional discussion of entertainment. Last night I talked with someone about "Assassin's Creed 3," which already has a strong following, but a few days ago I brought up "The Walking Dead"--big mistake. I love the television show. AMC has pulled out such a great piece of illustrated literature, and created something that really dives into the human mind once put under horrible pressure. As they say in the show, "kill the dead, fear the living," which completely personifies the series in one clear, concise statement. Because of the drama it presents, "The Walking Dead," and the idea of a zombie apocalypse, is seen everywhere.
     One of my supervisors was walking by me and another student while I was trying to give an understanding of paragraph transitions. I modeled it after T.W.D. (The Walking Dead), saying how each episode ends, and begins, on a strong note that melds together easily. My supervisor turned, her eyes wide, hands in the air above her head, and almost screamed. "Oh god, how could they do that to her?!" She shouted, referring to the death of one of the main characters. The student was startled, and I couldn't help myself but laugh. The supervisor goes to the waiting area, where other students exclaim a mutual understanding. That wasn't the end of it.
     After all my appointments were done for the night, I was put onto Walk-In List duty; I tutor the students who weren't able to schedule an appointment, but wait for an open slot. Tuesday nights are always relaxed, and not many students are in by eight at night, an hour before closing. My supervisor comes out from her office and towards me with that same look of anger on her face: "How could they do it, John?!" She covered her face. I laughed. For the next thirty minutes, we go into a discussion on the literature, ideals, and acting within the show. It's always a blast when your co-workers have mutual interest, no?
     In a society that lives in the new frontier, the internet, there are many ways students, co-workers, or even family can relate to one another. With the belief of the oncoming end of the world (which, I've learned, has already passed on the Mayan Calendar..), so many  people spend their time preparing for the worst: not earthquakes, tornadoes, or floods--but zombies. Television has shows focused on bunker/safety preparation ("Dooms Day Preppers"), weaponry ("Future weapons", or any show that features exploding stuff on the Military and National Geographic Channel), and obtaining large amounts of food for storage ("Extreme Couponing"). To say that our population is a little obsessed is a complete understatement.
     Looking at the obsession, it feels to me that it stems from a primal fear: fear of the unknown. When the apocalypse comes, we won't really know what to do. As humans, we have so many things in our homes and possession that to begin thinking on what to save, and what to trash, would be mind numbing. We wouldn't be able to begin to understand the depression of losing a loved one right in front of us, let alone if it crawled back up and sprinted at you, screaming. As a society, we're not ready for such a devastation--but you can be sure as hell we have some ideas.

Eastmont University

     I've been busy for the past few weeks working on a collection of short stories. My goal every day, when writing in general, is to hit 1000 words or more. Some days this comes easy, while others it can be a constant struggle. Tired of just writing random stories, I e-mailed the editor of Sofawolf Press, a publishing company focused towards fans of anthropomorphic animals.
     Looking into it, I did find the interests of Sofawolf's literature focused on more relationship topics, but as well as a number of drama stories. I was given notice they would be interested in a collection of short stories, if provided with one, so I've taken the helm to write one.
     It's still in the first process currently, and has four main stories, and one vignette so far, but I plan to include more. The word count is up to 19,765. I wasn't given a specific range (though I should probably ask!), so I'm hoping to get it close to 25k-30k words. Once that's done, I'll focus on the editing process, then move on to beta-readers once I'm proud of it.
     The stories take place around Eastmont University, a large campus with no prejudice towards specific breeds and species. It contains stories on love, cheating, revenge, suspense, mystery, and the general lives of students; however, there are strong topics such as prejudice, rape, loss, and plagiarism in school, showing all the dramatic things that happen throughout life. With branching out towards other genres/fandoms, I'm hoping this will only build me as a writer.
     It's no where near complete, but this project is giving me room to grow as I push forward, and even if it's a little different, discussing normal issues with walking, talking animals, it's helping me break my boundaries and experiment a bit. I do wonder, though: could a relationship end over the loss of a thrown tennis-ball?

PS: The title's a work-in-progress, too. Titles would have to be my Achilles' heel.

Beta-Readers And The Art of Tutoring

     Hey everyone! First off, I’m posting tonight in need of a few people. I’m working hard towards getting published, amongst my time tutoring and teaching, and I’m getting nothing but positive comments from my professor. While that’s nice to hear, and is a very good thing for a writer to know, I still need a few folks I can rely on to give me constructive opinions on my writing. 

      I’m pretty divided when it comes to what I write; some days I write more human stories while the rest I focus my hand at anthropomorphic creatures. Furthermore, a majority of my stories fall under horror, suspense, sociology of every day life, and some other genres. You don’t need to be into these genres, but it can help me if you are.
      Obviously I won’t be able to pay you, but I can acknowledge you with gratitude, and I only hope you find joy in helping someone further their career and passion. If you’re interested please note me here with a cover letter explaining any experience, education, or creative background you feel might help. Again, I’m not looking for you to be interested in my genres, or be a fellow tutor of the English language, but it would certainly help. Thank you!

     Moving on now, I'm interested in discussing a bit about my current experiences in tutoring English, a job I've had for just around a month. It's a fun job that forces me to be social in situations I can't control, which to say is very good for me as a person. Most of my days are spent behind this dusty, music screaming laptop without any interaction outside my home beyond the internet. If lucky, I get to hang with friends, and if not--time for writing.

     But tutoring allows me to meet new people, learn their stories, and show my compassionate, creative side to others. I joke with our director, Dr. David Charbonneau, that I care too much some times. He laughs at me and says that's fine, but don't help too much or skip appointments. If only it was as easy to do the former as he says. 

     Furthermore, tutoring strengthens my knowledge more than students I'm working with (genius, as I say!). My professor and some-what of a mentor in creative-writing, John Brantingham(1), brought this up during one of our class sessions. He mentioned that our knowledge is built stronger by teaching someone because we hear it for the second time, an enforce it into our minds. I like to joke that that's a double-edged blade, but sadly it's not a joke, and forces me to make sure my understanding is concise and correct.

     Tutoring is a great way to improve not only as a writer, but as a respectable person in society. You hear so many stories of growth from students, and learn how people deal with society now in its tragic, strenuous occurrences. I've learned so much about people, and feel I will only learn more about society and the human heart as time goes on. My stories will improve; my understanding of life will improve. Not only does this push me further into a career I can enjoy, but I get payed too. That's kind of a plus, I guess.

1.  John Brantingham can be found here, on blogger, at http://www.johnbrantingham.blogspot.com .