After diving in to the freelance and creative writing world almost two years ago, I have finally gotten around to creating my website. Supposedly this makes me an official writer, with an official resume, and now I am officially ready to go all out on promoting myself.

It's been a little weird, learning all the tools of the self-promoting trade. Feeling pressured, I got a Twitter account, and now I find myself constantly trying to think of the next great 140 character thing to write about, and then link to everything I have ever written. I also started a couple of blogs, and the first thing I do every day is check my visitor count (spoiler alert-it's very low).

I've taken quite a few writing classes, talked to many professional writers, editors, and agents, and though advice on techniques differ, everyone agrees on one thing: today's writers also have to be their own advertisers. Probably because of the Internet, good writers (who want to make a living off of writing) should divide their time into three parts: writing, reading, and building their brand. Sure, the quality of writing may suffer (look at the Twilight series), but I think the point these days is just to stand out.

Read More    |    Comments

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”

My hands clenched the book I was reading, and my heart fluttered. Between my book and my headphones, I had not noticed the man standing next to me enter the train. I let my eyes flicker over to him for a moment before going back to my book. Sweat formed on my hands but I bent one knee and tried to look nonchalant. I looked back at the man, just in case I needed to memorize details of his face. Long, wavy brown hair escaped from his red baseball cap, but his eyes were covered. But there was nothing to worry about, I told myself. I have to stop watching Law and Order.

The doors closed, and I felt trapped. Only one stop to go. What did this man want?

His hands were twitching, and his voice shook when he spoke. “I was a soldier in Afghanistan, and I was honorably discharged after an accident triggered my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and caused me nerve damage.”

He bowed his head, and his voice cracked. “I’ve lost everything. I’ve tried to contact the government for help, but there has been no response. I just…I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Tears began to well up in my eyes. He looked like a little boy, broken and scared.

“It’s been an honor to serve this country,” he said. “I’m truly grateful. If you can find it in your hearts to give me any scraps of food, or some spare change, I’d really appreciate it.”

My hand was already in my purse, digging for my wallet. It was five days before Christmas; of course I was giving him money. He saw what I was doing, and he stood in front of me, waiting.

The train stopped, and the doors opened. I placed the money in his hand, and for a brief moment, I could feel his hand, warm in mine.

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes looking directly into mine. I had to look away, before I started to cry. Nodding, I turned and briskly walked off the train, up the stairs and onto the street, feeling grateful that I had met a man who had been through so much and not given up hope, and grateful that I was able to in some small way help him.

 

Read More    |    Comments

For the past five or six weeks I have been taking online creative writing classes via the UCLA Extension program. I had never taken an online class before, although I know some universities are starting to incorporate them into their coursework, so I did not know what to expect.

As of now, I am about halfway through the courses, and I am enrolled in three classes, where I am practicing writing for children, writing flash fiction, and writing creative nonfiction. I'm not taking these classes for a grade, but I'm the kind of person who needs deadlines in order to be motivated to write. I'm hoping by the end of these classes I'll have enough material that needs to be revised that I'll be motivated to do the work on my own.

 

Read More    |    Comments