Tag Archives: epistolaryfiction

Weekly Writing #12

FYS183, Weekly Writing, ,

The Day the Crayons Quit

Things have been starting to really pick up these past few weeks. Final projects, papers, and presentations are all beginning to pile up. Because of that, I very much appreciated this week’s focus on relaxation. I appreciated the chance to simply enjoy epistolary works. I most enjoyed collectively reading the children’s book The Day the Crayons Quit. Anything that has to do with feeding my inner child, I love. It reminded me of why I enjoy my current Elementary Italian I class. Because it’s at the elementary level, we often repeat back simple words our professor teaches just like a kindergarten class. Everyone, including the professor, finds it hilarious yet it’s still very engaging and effective in teaching. The children’s book itself is really special because it gives each crayon its own personality that wasn’t labeled as either a “girl” or “boy” color is also so important. As well, it’s an adorable way to introduce children to colors, imagination, and even examples of expressing your emotions and healthily communicating such emotions with others.

Creative Writing Using the Epistolary Format

FYS183,

There Was Nothing There

My therapist says writing before bed is the best way to wind down in order to direct my restless brain, to mitigate my racing thoughts. It gets a little tedious sometimes, though. 

“Dear Midnight, Things feel like a lot sometimes. Actually, maybe all the time. But sometimes it’s okay. Like, it’s a manageable ‘a lot,’ you know?” 

Most of the time there’s an endless amount of thinking happening in my head, so then I write too much and my hand starts to cramp. The skin around my nails goes numb and turns a sickly pink.

“I had to do a presentation for class today. I really did know my topic. I was so sure I didn’t need notecards. But I couldn’t stop focusing on the 23 pairs of eyes seeing my unwashed hair, noticing every fidget and shiver. I couldn’t help but obsess over the minds realizing that I had worn the same pair of pants last class, too. I could feel their ears twitch with every stutter I spoke.” 

There’s a faint tapping sound coming from the corner of my ceiling. Maybe it’s mice. It’s quiet, should be easy to ignore. Still, it’s piercing the inside of my head. Ignore it. Just write. Keep writing. 

“Today, I ate a granola bar, a cup of ramen, and two bags of Lays potato chips. I didn’t finish the cup of ramen. I thought it’d be a good idea to try new things and eat the spicier kind this time. It was not a good idea.” 

Tap, tap. 

“These days I’m not craving food as much. Before, at night especially, I’d eat everything I could. But then I’d think about the alphabet soup I’ve made in my stomach then throw it all up. Then the next night again: eat, eat, eat, barf.” 

No stopping. 

“That routine got to be too gross. Now I try to limit myself to a granola bar everyday. But some days I break that rule, like today. This way, though, there’s less mess. 

The tapping stopped. Maybe it wasn’t actually there at all. 

“I had to walk back home alone today. There was a meeting so it was closer to dark by the time I headed out.” 

Scratch, scratch. 

“While walking, I could feel these eyes burning through me.”

Tap.

“I was so sure there was someone or something watching, following.” 

Tap.

“Without turning back, my ears listened for extra footsteps. My eyes watched for shadows that weren’t my own.” 

The tapping definitely had not stopped. 

“I held my keys tight.” 

Scratch… Tap. 

“My feet sped up their pace.” 

Tap, tap. 

“Were they following faster now?” 

Tap, tap, tap. 

They’re coming from the window now. 

“If I ran, would they still follow?” 

Or is it still the ceiling? 

“Quicker.”

If I ran, would it all go away? If I hid, would it all stop? 

“The wind got louder, the air got colder.” 

Tap, tap, tap. Scratch, scratch, scratch. 

“I couldn’t look behind me. I was afraid of what might be there, that I might’ve been right all along.”

 It’s just your imagination, just ignore it. 

“What if it’s not my imagination?” 

Bang. It’s the door now. Or maybe the window again? 

“Is it safe to run home?” 

Bang. Scratch. Bang, bang, bang. 

“I can’t.” 

BANG. 

“I can’t” ignore it. 

I can’t. 

“I can’t.”

I CAN’T. 

“I CAN’T” STOP. 

STOP. 

“DON’T STOP” TAPPING… TAP… TAP… Tap… Tap.….. “I stopped.” I checked. There was nothing there. “There was nothing there…” 

Nothing.

“Nothing…”

…

I guess I can go to sleep now.

Weekly Writing #6

FYS183, Weekly Writing, , ,

Epistolary Fiction

In preparation for our upcoming creative writing assignment, this week’s focus was on fiction written in the epistolary format. Whether written through diaries or correspondence, the epistolary format can provide a more personal level of character development, experience, personality, and more. Readers may feel a strong connection to said characters when reading these kinds of pieces of fiction. Additionally, epistolary fiction can more clearly show relationships or dynamics between different characters. Through this week’s focus, I learned just how many different ways a story can be written using the epistolary format. When reading Counting the Days, where rather than the whole story being told through letters, quotes are dispersed in order to support the story rather than be its entirety, I realized there is no one true way to write these kinds of stories. This week has made me feel much more prepared for our creative writing assignment. I feel as though I’ve been given many different pieces of inspiration.