Anthology post 2 (Creative piece 1)

I can hear them. They’re coming for you and they’re coming for me. The rumbling is in the ground. I can feel their presence from miles away. The winds shift to the north and the air stands still. They’re on the move when it’s light outside and I can breathe. It makes me nervous. I talk to my friends about it. It’s like our version of news.

    Bill thinks it’s a phase and that they’ll disappear like the last time. He says they’ll never reach us. I don’t share the sentiment. Last time they came so close that I could smell their pungent odor. They smelled like rubber and the souls of my ancestors.

 When I was four years old, I watched my mother’s brutal murder. I wasn’t allowed to turn away. I watched as they killed her and as they chopped up her still-living parts. I don't really want to think about it now. I would try to forget it, but I still live in the place where she died. I just can’t seem to leave.

    They came to our homes in Amani when I was little. I was too young; I wasn’t ready. I’m old enough now and I can only hope that They don’t return. They left a few of us alone destined to be orphaned forever. I wish I started off as an orphan like my buddy, Bill.

    The ground is still a wasteland. Desolate.

Anthology Blog Post 1

     Writing centers are WAC. Writing across the curriculum, that is. Writing Across the Curriculum (WAC) is a growing movement that encourages writing in a variety of subjects, not just literature or composition English courses. Writing is now being acknowledged as important in science classes, history classes, and even math classes. A scientist needs to share his or her ideas with others to be acknowledged and a math whiz needs to be able to communicate what she's doing with the numbers to reach conclusions. Writing isn’t just essential to an English course, but essential to life.

     WAC stems from the 1980's when the movement began to make more waves and generate more publicity (Purdue OWL). It began with the importance of writing. Purdue OWL wrote, "When students write reactions to information received in class or in reading, they often comprehend and retain the information better." Writing is not only useful for communication, but it teaches and helps with memory. A student can learn and retain more information about the Crusades, for instance, but that retainment of the information can be solidified by writing notes. A student can further prove his understanding by analyzing and writing more about that.

Anthology Ideas

Ideas

Creative writing

Tell a story of deforestation from a tree's perspective

Rewrite my idea for my nanowrimo: Josh is in New york and finds his father - the end

Xs vs Os

Fanfiction idea

A story told through love letters

A story told through dating profiles

Tutoring

How we can effect our clients: Exploring the repurcussions of our work
How can we measure out effectiveness? 
What can we do to improve ourselves 
Expanding ourselves across different subjects like history/science and how that differs in a college and high school 
Where should writing centers be and how can they be started?

Nanowrimo Blog Post 4

That’s when I stopped listening.

Brain processing.

Light bulb. Melissa should go with me. I had never thought of it, she’s just my lame neighbor who always has her face in a book, but she’s the responsible one my mom wants me to go to New York with. It’s only a few train rides anyway and her and my mom are close. Sometimes I think my mom would have wanted her instead of me because she relates to her so well. Stupid neighborhood. I’ll talk about it with her in the morning.

Next day

“Mom, I've made a decision. The next weekend that Melissa goes to NYU, I’ll just accompany her and start finding him.”

“I was thinking the same thing. So it looks like you’re going after all.”

Yes. I will finally be going to New York. The city where my dreams will come true.

NaNoWriMo Blog Post 3 (trois)

Lori

Today my son talked to me about the one thing that I’ve tried to avoid for twelve years. His father. His no good, asshole of a father.  I knew that would want to know all about him sometime, but I didn’t think today would be the day or any day, I guess. I just wasn’t expecting it but i don’t think I was prepared to ever expect it. He asked what he was like and what he looked like and I gave him the only picture that I had saved. It was of Frank when we met. Handsome, young. He had brown shaggy hair that was sort of long but not circular shaped like Josh’s. He was tall and skinny. He had on that cream dark colored coat over his gray hoodie with jeans and work boots. It was an old picture, but I had saved it just for the kids if they ever wanted to see him.

I also gave him the various letters that his father had sent him over the course of his absence. He had sent a total of like five letters to dwell in my closet never to be opened by me. I thought they might be birthday cards or something but I wasn’t sure.

That was all I could do. I don’t know if he’s opened them yet. He says he wants to find him after he graduates. I don’t know if I should let him. It can’t be safe. This can’t be normal. But he says he can’t live without knowing.

NaNoWriMo Blog Post 2 (double deluxe)

Excerpt in Chapter 2
Josh
Tomorrow I have a birthday party. I hate my family. We only have four people come to all of our events: my grandma, grandpa, and Aunt Jen. Aunt Jen just comes because she doesn't have a job or a husband and grandma and grandpa are just old and don’t have anything else to do, so of course they come to everything. I’m not trying to take them for granted, but it just doesn’t feel the same. My cousins and I all used to go to parties together and celebrate each others’ birthdays, but now nobody ever sees each other besides the occasional Facebook post here and there.  It’s like our lives got busy and everybody just drifted apart. I guess it makes sense that practically everyone else in my family went off to college before me and my sister, so of course they wouldn’t feel the need to talk to us, but it just disappoints me that they wouldn’t care to come to a swim meet of Jessica’s every once in a while or my birthday party. It’s whatever. I guess it was always inevitable. Okay, so I don’t hate my family. I just hate what’s happened to it. Same difference.

Frank

I came out here with the idea that I would start my own business. It’s always have a career or have a family, right? Well now I had a bunch of time for this stuff. But this place ain’t Disney and my dreams weren’t gonna come true anytime soon. I started up my own sandwich food truck, but apparently everybody loved the “Bacon Bacon Bacon Bacon” food truck way more and took away all of my business year after year. Stupid name, right? But they make a hell of a bacon wrapped sandwich. Well after that, I was left to find another job. I couldn’t open my own business after my last one went bankrupt and I obviously don’t have a college degree, so I started working for a temp agency. I hated it. But hey, money is money and I was paying the bills for myself with enough money left over for my fix everyday. It all worked out.

NaNoWriMo Blog Post 1

Prologue

Frank

“It was heck growing up. You don’t know what it was like coming home from school and being afraid because your mom is flying on drugs so you go and hide under your bed and listen to them scream and wonder whether your dad or your mom was going to kill the other one first. My parents were absolute pieces of ****. They fought all the time. My mom beat me a lot. She was always drunk and when she wasn't drunk she was drunk. I couldn't stand living with her and my father who had always yelled at her to be a better mom. Like that could ever happen. I looked at my friends at school and wondered what it would be like to live in a nice suburb with your nice family and nice house. I looked at them and wondered what it would be like to not have a dad who was always gone and a mom who was always drunk. What it would be like to not be beaten and come to school with some more unexplained bruises. One time my dad told my mom that he’d kill her if she hit me again. He came home that night and saw my face bruised up, so he dragged my mom out of her room by the legs, lifted her up by her throat and pinned her against the wall. Her face was turning more and more purple and I was pulling on her legs trying to get her feet back on the ground. Cause I didn't want to see my dad kill my mom. He let her go and her face was blue. She didn't hit me for a while after that. He had scared her so bad. She always beat me and called me a piece of **** and told me that I was going to heck, but that was my mom.

When it was time for me to take on that parenting role, I knew that I couldn't disappoint my kids like that. I had to leave.”

Chapter 1

Josh

I’ll be honest. I live in the lamest neighborhood ever. It's the most stereotypical place. You've got your white picket fences, neighbors who give you cookies when the new family moves in, and rusty swing sets in the back yard. Even our trees are normal. Stupid maples. Our house stands out as the only one with a red door, but other than that, we have just another cookie cutter house.

Background
On the outskirt of the city, I can see the Capitol headquarters. Its bright lights illuminate the city's center. I want to get there. I need to get there. President Coin promised me that I would kill Snow. I intend to carry out that promise.
Chapter 20
The ringing in my ears blocks out any sound before I hear the blood curdling screams. It's as if the whole block shatters around me. The street crumbles, the street lamp shatters and Boggs is replaced by a pool of blood. He must have triggered a land bomb by stepping on it. There is no time for mourning. Someone has to take charge.
"I'll do it. We have to keep moving forward," I hear myself say. Everyone seems surprised. It's as if the Mockingjay replaced me and they think that I’m only here for the propaganda. It's true that our group was for the propo, but we aren't just going to sit back and let the other units do the grunt work. Especially not now. We are going to be in the action. We are going to fight.
Leeg 1 confirms, "Katniss is right, Plutarch put her second in command."
The holo. I must reach the holographic map of the block. I have to complete my mission. There's nobody else to do it. We move forward.
There is no communication between us and District 13. All radios were silenced during the explosion. All we have is the holo to guide us and some of its reliability is gone. We reach an apartment complex on the greater reaches of the Northwest side. Its alleyways are a perfect hideout.  They’re surrounded by darkness; we will never be noticed by a Capitol citizen. We fall asleep.
I dream of screams. The screams of Peeta while he's being tortured at the Capitol. The screams of Boggs when he realizes his fatal step. The screams of Prim in the games. The screams of Gale as he's whipped at the post by a peacekeeper. I wake up in a puddle of sweat. There is no escape until it's over.
Chapter 21
I awaken to find that we are four blocks away from the headquarters. We eat our breakfast as we run forward.  The rest of the troops have the building surrounded and are waiting for an order from District 13. The order is dispatched from another troop's radio, "Group Five-Four-One, proceed into the building." Our group was primarily for the propo, so they want us to be the ones into the building first. Helicopter spotlights shine as we march through the Capitol headquarters, heads held tall. Maybe because we know an end is finally about to come to this disgrace.
The other troops come in after we enter. Each official we capture knows that he is trapped. I love the agony in their faces as they turn around and let us capture them. Snow is at the top of the building.  I sneak in alone before anyone else reaches the top. It's my duty.
He is dressed in a sharp, black suit like he's attending a ball. His pinstripe suit contrasts his stark white hair and the faint sickening smell of roses fills the air. He half smiles and addresses me, "I knew you would find me. But I never thought it would be like this. Come on, Katniss, this isn’t how its supposed to end. We're one and the same, you and me. Both symbols. We both fought fiercely. We both made mistakes. This will never be over, you know." I know that he's right, but he knows that it's his time.  He sits down submissively.
He murdered District 13. He killed my father. He murdered every child in the games for the past seventy-five years. I reach for my arrows and don’t remember what happens between then and when I watch his body slump over on his wooden desk.
No more mutiny. No more lies. No more snow.
***
A clamor comes from the right side of the room.  I see a glimpse of white and it takes me two seconds to realize that a peacekeeper has wandered upstairs before being captured.  He utters the words, “Long live the Capitol,” as he raises his gun.
Before I can open my mouth, a figure tackles the peacekeeper to the ground.  It’s Peeta.  He must have followed me to the top of the building.  I can’t even think.  I run over to try to help, but the gun has already fired.  I shoot the peacekeeper through the heart and rush to Peeta.  The peacekeeper had shot him through the chest.
He has a moment of lucidity for the first time since the games and asks me, “You love me: real or not real?”
“Real,” I confess.
“I knew that part wasn’t shiny,” he struggles out with the best half-smile he can muster.
Three deaths occur in the room before the rest of the troops even reach the floor.
Chapter 22
I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and not real anymore. Everything feels like a dream. A wonderful yet terrible dream. I need to keep reminding myself of the facts. It’s like playing a game of real and not real with Peeta after his time at the Capitol.
My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am Seventeen years old. I am the Mockingjay. The Mockingjay killed Snow. Peeta is dead. We destroyed the Capitol. The war is over.
I am forever indebted to the boy with the bread.  We grew up together, went to school together.  We survived together.  Now it’s all gone.
I feel like I’ll never be whole again.  At least not fully.  Gale tells me that these things take time.  At least I know that he’ll be here for me.  “Always,” he tells me.  I’m not sure if he’s calmed down because Peeta is gone or because the war is over.  I like it either way.
***
After the war, the officials and all the peacekeepers left were charged for war crimes and most pleaded guilty. Gale murdered President coin. He found out that Coin had wanted to kill me after the war. I was an enemy to her because I had too much influence on the public.
Plutarch is now the next in command and the board is filled with familiar faces: myself, Gale, Finnick, Annie, and my sister. We need to forge a better future for Panem.  Our first goal is to unite the districts. Our next step?  Look forward.  We have heard of a government called democracy.
Epilogue
Panem’s tenth annual election is tomorrow.  We succeeded at uniting the districts just two years after the war.  Prim says that the cases of depression have dropped, but PTSD is still on the rise.  Life is only looking up for our country.  Gale and I are happy every day for the new prosperity because our children will be growing up in it.  I look at their untainted happiness and am reminded of how pure their generation will be in this world.  A world without the games.

Fanfic Section One

I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and not real anymore.  Everything feels like a dream.  A sick, psychopathic dream.  I need to keep reminding myself of the facts.  It’s like playing a game of real and not real with Peeta after his time at the Capitol.

My name is Katniss Everdeen.   I am Seventeen years old.  My home is district twelve.  There is no district twelve.  I am the Mockingjay.  Peeta is dead.  We destroyed the Capitol.  The war is over.