Final Draft

What does true love mean? Lately, it’s been the question replaying in my head. I know I am in love or was, I am not sure anymore. Up until few days ago, I believed that David was “the one” and I was his. The way he would encourage me to talk to my distant sister, nobody would argue that he is not a keeper. Heck, I was even expecting him to pop the question in the near future. But by then I felt that my dream of marrying him was at the verge of vanishing. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t even breath without thinking about him. Whenever I tried to focus on eating my cereal, I somehow became lost in my teenage dream. I mean is it fair to automatically accuse him of such a big crime with just one text? Seeing that one text from Padma on David’s phone was more torturing than actually being tortured. My curiosity was slowing eating me up like parasite.

“If you think he is cheating then, he is cheating,” my roommate, Jenna, stated.

“But he is not the cheating type, you know, he is not like that and all of our friends know that. Ugh it’s just so confusing,” I mumbled.

“I know, it’s hard, but just leave him, besides, what does that rat eating asshole think he is. All men are cheating bastards, period.” Jenna would know, as she is the one with lists of exes.

“I just want to talk to him. My heart tells me that there is something I am misunderstanding. But at the same time, I want to rip that girl’s head off, I want to talk to her first though,” I said feeling mixed emotion.

After few hours of asking around, I finally got a number.

“Hello, is this Padma?” I hesitated.

“Yeah, who is this?” Padma replied.

“You’re David’s girlfriend right?” I questioned in a demanding manner.

“What?! No, I have a boyfriend and David and I are just friends, besides David has a girlfriend named Ruby,” Padma exclaimed.

“Well that’s not what your text says,” I exclaimed now in an angry tone.

“Oh… that text...” She replied in a sudden realization. After a brief pause she continued, “Well, before you go on any further pointing fingers, did you see my following texts about how it was sent to him by accident and did you see how many times I apologized?” Padma wasn’t about to take any blame.

I, in fact, didn’t see the following texts; I had only seen the first one. In shame, I quickly hung up the phone. I knew I was right about David; he wouldn’t do such a thing. All of a sudden, I remembered that I left a drunken voicemail on David’s phone last night. I jumped up in a hurry and put on whatever was closest to me and busted out of the door in lightening speed. All I could care to think about was how nasty that voicemail was. I wish I could take back all of it, especially the part where I hoped for him to get hit by a car. As I got close to his apartment, there he was, all dressed up for something very important, it seemed. Upon spotting me, his first instinct was to run to me. It was as if Hilary Duff was narrating the ending of my perfect Cinderella story. With one blink, he was flying in the air and within the next, he was plummeted to the street. As he lost conscience, a beautiful sparkling ruby ring rolled out of his valiant hand.

Reflection Paper

My philosophy on writing is that writers can’t be generalized; every writer is different in what they write and how they write. They have different thought process, different ways of jotting down their big idea, different critique, and different audience. There are writers whom can finish their first draft within few hours at some café. Meanwhile there are writers whom can take days or even months to piece together their first draft. Some even go to extreme measurements to write their stories as mentioned in Kent Haruf’s,  “To See Your Story Clearly, Start by Pulling the Wool Over Your Own Eyes.” Some writers are just good at writing romance novel like Nicholas Sparks and some writers are just good at breaking the rules of writing, for example, Tim O’Brien. O’Brien in his short story, “Things They Carried,” breaks the rule of writing by just basically listing what soldiers carried in his story. Personally, I work better under pressure and I write better when my story is about teenage dreams as suppose to something with actions.

I agree with Walter Mosley’s essay, “For Authors, Fragile ideas Need Loving Every Day.” Like Mosley I believe everybody has a story to tell but they just don’t know how to start writing. Mosley’s solution to getting our story out is by writing everyday. He writes, “It doesn’t matter what time of day you work, but you have to work everyday because creation, like life, is always slipping away form you” (Pg. 163). It’s inevitable that we as human beings are going to forget out our thoughts from the past.  But the only way to prevent that is by doing what Mosley suggests, writing in your journal everyday. By doing so everyday, we are going back to those thoughts, dreams, or events from the past everyday. Everyday we are reviving our memories and save it from vanishing forever. Additionally, if we need ideas for stories, we can always look back in our journals as a source of ideas with details. I think the concept of writing in a journal everyday is very beneficial and awesome because it can serve as a source of ideas while saving our memories outside of our brains.

I agree with Alice Hoffman’s Sustained by Fiction While Facing Life’s Facts,” because I also believe that writing is a way of escaping our crazy everyday life. She was a writer before she was diagnosed with cancer and she continued to write because what she was looking for, “…during ten months of chemotherapy and radiation was a way to make sense of sorrow and loss” (Pg. 98). It’s understandable why people would want to write for multiple reasons. Andy from the short story, “Big Me,” created his own imaginary world because he wanted to escape the tightly knitted suburban life. I like the idea of writing to escape the real world because my writing is where I can pour out my heart. In my imaginary world I have the power to do whatever I please. I can be whatever I want, change anything I want, be anywhere I want, eat whatever I want, possess any talent I want, there is no limit to I can do.

I agree with two of Hilma Wolitzer’s, “Embarking Together on Solidarity Journeys,” because I also believe that you are not alone when writing a story and that constructive criticism is the best part of writing. I started believing that writing is a solidarity work when she wrote, “The writer’s head is mobbed with characters, images and language…” (Pg. 263). It’s true, if you think about it, you have these characters in you head acting their role, which contributes to how your story is structured. We have our conscience and the conscience of the characters guiding us, telling us what doesn’t make sense and how we should fix our mistakes. Similarly with constructive criticisms, we get feedback on how we should better our stories. The reason why constructive criticism is important to her is because, “Everyone must be aware of a fellow human being behind the work being discussed, and criticism has to be useful, not just derogatory or laudatory.” We can’t be offended when someone doesn’t like our story, because we have to be open-minded when writing otherwise we might as well just end up being something regular, like doctors and lawyers. I believe being dogmatic doesn’t get us far in life especially in writing, because if we are too suborn to accept anybody’s opinion than our writing piece is not good enough to be published or deserve A.

However, I strongly disagree with her last paragraph in which she states that, “…talent is a prerequisite for the future professional,” (Pg. 268). I don’t think talent is necessary for future writers anymore because in the twenty-first century, anyone can make the New York’s best selling author’s list. Apparently as all the Disney channel show’s protagonists can sing, similarly anyone can sell books. Lately, celebrities have been publishing their memoirs and it’s not by chance that they get a book deal because they have so much talent to show the world, but because they are famous. Therefore, I conclude that talent is not a prerequisite for future writers because the world we live in today is very different from the world it used to be fifty years ago.

My goal for next semester is to find my writing position. I want to see how and where I can work to my best ability. I want to experiment writing in different places such as B2, under my staircase, in my backyard, in the train, etc. I think once I find my writing my position, I can work much more efficient because usually for me piecing together my first draft has always been a big traffic jammer. But if I find my writing position, I know I can work much faster and that would allow me to better edit my work and get my work done in shorter amount of time than before.

3rd Draft

Misfortune

What does true love mean? Lately, it’s been the question replaying in my head. I know I am in love or was, I am not sure anymore. Up until few days ago, I believed that David was “the one” and I was his. The way he would encourage me to talk to my distant sister, nobody would argue that he is not a keeper. Heck, I was even expecting him to pop the question in the near future. But by then I felt that my dream of marrying him was at the verge of vanishing. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t even breath without thinking about him. Whenever I tried to focus on eating my cereal, I somehow became lost in my teenage dream. I mean is it fair to automatically accuse him of such a big crime with just one text? Seeing that one text from Padma on David’s phone was more torturing than actually being tortured. My curiosity was slowing eating me up like parasite.

“If you think he is cheating then, he is cheating,” my roommate, Jenna, stated.

“But he is not the cheating type, you know, he is not like that and all of our friends know that. Ugh it’s just so confusing,” I mumbled.

“I know, it’s hard, but just leave him, besides, what does that rat eating asshole think he is. All men are cheating bastards, period.” Jenna would know, as she is the one with lists of exes.

“I just want to talk to him. My heart tells me that there is something I am misunderstanding. But at the same time, I want to rip that girl’s head off, I want to talk to her first though,” I said feeling mixed emotion.

After few hours of asking around, I finally got a number.

“Hello, is this Padma?” I hesitated.

“Yeah, who is this?” Padma replied.

“You’re David’s girlfriend right?” I questioned in a demanding manner.

“What?! No, I have a boyfriend and David and I are just friends, besides David has a girlfriend named Ruby,” Padma exclaimed.

“Well that’s not what your text says,” I exclaimed now in an angry tone.

“Oh… that text...” She replied in a sudden realization. After a brief pause she continued, “Well, before you go on any further pointing fingers, did you see my following texts about how it was sent to him by accident and did you see how many times I apologized?” Padma wasn’t about to take any blame.

I, in fact, didn’t see the following texts; I had only seen the first one. In shame, I quickly hung up the phone. I knew I was right about David; he wouldn’t do such a thing. All of a sudden, I remembered that I left a drunken voicemail on David’s phone last night. I jumped up in a hurry and put on whatever was closest to me and busted out of the door in lightening speed. All I could care to think about was how nasty that voicemail was. I wish I could take back all of it, especially the part where I hoped for him to get hit by a car. As I got close to his apartment, there he was, all dressed up for something very important, it seemed. Upon spotting me, his first instinct was to run to me. It was as if Hilary Duff was narrating the ending of my perfect Cinderella story. With one blink, he was flying in the air and within the next, he was plummeted to the street. As he lost conscience, a beautiful sparkling ruby ring rolled out of his valiant hand....

Reflection           

    This workshop is by far my favorite because I got very meaningful response and suggestions. I really like the idea of getting constructive criticism, in fact I think it's a very useful tool in writing. From this workshop, I realized that my first paragraph is not the problem, it was actually my ending. I got a lot of response suggesting me to make the end a little more clear but at the same time, not making it too obvious. I was also able to fix my grammar mistakes and I realized that my story is written in more than one tense. Overall, this workshop really helped me to see things that I couldn't see in my story before.

 

Journal #11: Draft 2

What does true love mean? Lately, it’s been the question replaying in my head. I know I am in love or was, I am not sure anymore. Up until few days ago, I believed that David was “the one” and I was his. Heck, I was even expecting him to pop the question in the near future. But now my dream of marrying him is now at the verge of vanishing. I blow my newly trimmed bangs from yellow face as I roll out of my bed to find something to eat. I mean is it fair to automatically accuse him of such a big crime with just one text? Seeing that one text form Padma on David’s phone is more torturing than actually being tortured. My curiosity is slowing eating me up like parasites.

“If you think he is cheating then, he is cheating,” my roommate, Jenna, stated.

“But he is not the cheating type, you know, he is not like that and all of our friends know that. Ugh it’s just so confusing,” I mumbled.

“I know it’s hard, but just leave him, besides, what does that rat eating asshole think he is. All men are cheating bastards, period.” Jenna would know, as she is the one with lists of exes.

“I just want to talk to him. My heart tells me that there is something I am misunderstanding. But at the same time, I want to rip that girl’s head off, I want to talk to her first though,” I said in mixed emotion.

After few hours of asking around, I finally got a number.

“Hello, is this Padma?” I hesitated.

“Yeah, who is this?” Padma replied.

“You’re David’s girlfriend right?” I questioned in a demanding manner.

“What?! No, I have a boyfriend and David and I are just friends, besides David has a girlfriend named Ruby,” Padma exclaimed.

“Well that’s not what your text says,” I claimed now in an angry tone.

“Oh… that text.... Well, before you go on any further pointing fingers, did you see my following texts about how it was sent to him by accident and did you see how many times I apologized?” Padma wasn’t about to take any blame.

I, in fact, didn’t see the following text, I had seen the text only seen the first text. In shame, I quickly hang up the phone. I knew I was right about David; he wouldn’t do such a thing. All the sudden, in the midst of imagining seeing David, she remembered leaving a drunken voicemail last night. I jumped up in hurry and put on whatever was the closest to me and busted out of the door in lightening speed. While running to David’s house, I got a call from Alex, her perverted coworker, from the hospital.

“What Alex? I don’t have time for your dirty jokes right now, so whatever it is make is fast,” I said in annoyance.

“Come to the hospital now,” Alex said in a traumatic tone.

“Can’t you get some of the interns to do whatever it is?” I asked, while running out of breath.

There was a long silence and then a big exhale, and finally he said in a nervous tone, “I am serious, I can’t tell you over the phone, just get here right now….”

I could feel it; I could feel that something is wrong, I couldn’t figure out what though. At last it struck to me, Alex was the one who introduced me to David.

Reflection: Based on the feedback in workshop, i now plan to make my story more clear. I am thinking about changing my 1st paragraph to include more details about the main character. I want to find a better way to incorporate details about the main character without compromising the plot of the story. I don't think my first paragraph is eye catching enough to interest the readers, therefore when editing my story, i want to focus mainly on my first paragraph. Additionally, i want to work on my last sentence or the revealing part at the end. I originally thought the last part was a subtext but one of the feedback said that the last part was too confusing, so i want to edit it so that it is not too confusing and still be a subtext.

Journal #10: Character Created from Personal Place

“Why did you do it, huh?” Charles asked in a psychotic tone as he walked back and forth in front of Bundy, who was strapped to a chair.

The tired and beaten up Bundy, replied in confusion, “What the hell are you talkin’ about man….”

WHA-CHAA!! Charles added blush to Bundy’s already bruised face, although you can’t really see the redness. However, Charles’s face was becoming visibly red as his brain flashes back to that night when he couldn’t recognize his little girl’s face due to the cuts and bruises from falling down the mountain. He could see the image of his dead 6 years old as if it was a picture in retina display.

“Remember the night of March 18, 2002? Remember how you were too fucking drunk to drive?” Charles slapped Bundy on the head and resumed to shouting, “You were a cop for god sake! You should’ve known better! The world was better off when you Negroes were slaves! You’re kind is nothing but a parasite to this great nation, you-”

Before Charles can insult any further, Bundy interrupted, “Look, man I’m sorry for what happened. I’m truly sorry, I know how much I hurt your family.” Bundy weeps, “I wish I can go back in time and change what I did. Trust me man, I am mean it, I am truly sorry….”

In the blink of an eye, he pulls out his Taurus .38, pointing sharply in between Bundy’s eyes.

“Because of you my wife, my high school sweetheart, was in coma for 6 years. My daughter was unrecognizable!!!! If you think your apology is going to save you, then you are sorely mistaken. This is for my wife and daughter….” POWW!