Today I sat and reflected on how different my program is from other grad programs. For instance, in my plot workshop today I presented a plot chart and two writing prompts on Feed by M.T. Anderson. I did this lovely presentation with Monica, a friend of mine who is in her third semester here at VCFA. During this workshop I was incredibly inspired by my surroundings. I sat and looked out the window and wrote everything I saw: the quaint houses, the old buildings, the chipping paint on the window frame. I felt the sun through the glass. I heard the window unit kick on and off as it blasted cool air into the stuffy room. I was more connected to that than to the writing prompt that I helped create, and it was okay. I just went with what I felt, and I ended up with an interesting idea inspired by Feed. I found myself unable to let go of the connection to the place that I sat in. |
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If anyone has ever seen my notebook I use at school they'll know how bad my writing is. It's not even that I have sloppy handwriting, it's just that I get so carried away sometimes when I write that I start to write outside the lines. A note here, a sentence there. It all culminates into a scribbled mess on the page. From a distance it looks sloppy and unintelligent, but if you take the time to sit and read it it all comes together to make a bigger picture. Just like that painting by Georges whoever in Liar & Spy. Stipple art. Nothing more than a huge mess of dots up close but the bigger picture is a work of art. I haven't had the time to blog since I've been here really but here I am, in my plot workshop of my second semester at VCFA, thinking about my terrible handwriting in my notebook. Ridiculous, right? Maybe slightly, but it makes perfect sense to me. I'm rambling. I've been working on the same story for almost a year now. That's the longest commitment to any piece of writing I've ever had. I have eight rough chapters and a basic skeleton of where the rest of the story will go from here. Sometimes, though, it feels like the only real thing I have are these little scraps of thoughts written outside the lines and in the margins of this notebook. This notebook that contains more information and more work and more knowledge of craft than anything I've ever owned. Hidden gems mixed in with notes from fantastic lectures that I wish you all got to read and experience. Sometimes it feels like real magic, like I got whisked away to Hogwarts in a flying car after missing my train. Tomorrow I'll learn to fly on the Nimbus 2015, the latest and greatest model in the line of brooms. Okay maybe that was a bit too far into my fandom. Sorry. It is weird being back though. Only six months and I feel like so much has changed. I'm no longer afraid of everyone who looks at me. I feel more comfortable speaking up and offering my opinion. I feel that sense of belonging I was afraid would never come. I guess I feel like a writer among writers. The best thing about being here is feeling like I'm on a working vacation. Some people escape through reading, some escape through work. I'm lucky enough to do both. It's been stressful back home (and I'm sure it'll be stressful again, both personally and professionally,) but being here makes it seem like everything is going to be okay, like maybe I can find a way to become a real grown up after this. It's like being filled with hope, and peace, and the feeling that maybe, actually, life really is about to begin. It's the weight of possibility. It's the weight of living. Does this even make sense anymore? Goodnight. Sometimes I hate YA novels. Okay, maybe an overstatement, but still. It's like there's an obligation to include some kind of stereotypical romance scene or love triangle in the book. Think about it, what books have you read recently where the main focus of the novel is for the main character to find "love" of some kind. Can't characters have desires other than romance? For example: I just finished reading Obsidian by Jennifer Armentrout. It was a decent book in some regards. I just couldn't get past the boring and kind of disgusting "romance" between the main characters. They HATED each other for most of the duration of the book, all the while tormenting each other like Kindergartners. Is this the basis of "love" for young adults? Is this what they have to look forward to? Men with bi-polar tendencies and immaturity levels rivaling my eleven year old nephew aren't exactly the highlight of love. I was practically tearing my hair out every time Kat made an immature comment to Daemon. Who am I to judge though? What do I know about romance? Nothing, that's what. Okay so maybe not 1,000 books exactly.... I got my "suggested reading" for VCFA today. Good LORD there are a lot of books. I've read quite a bit of them, but still. With a little over a month to go until I have to leave for residency I'm not sure how many of them I can actually accomplish. I'll do my best though. It's interesting to read through the lists and see how many of these books I've already read. It was like seeing a list of my childhood class assignments. Admittedly, I read most of the picture books while I was shelving in the children's section at work. I was merely becoming acquainted with our materials.
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AlexisMaster of Fine Arts from Vermont College of Fine Arts, Rowan University alumna, sister of Theta Phi Alpha, and future YA author extraordinaire. Archives
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