Grab Bag Writing Challenge - March 2018
- active - being - center - dynamic - ego - forward - gutsy - hobby - impress - knack - memoir - profile - regard - self - unique -
by Arianna Stonewater
This is the (partial and brief) personal memoir of Arianna Stonewater! Normally, I write this kind of thing for a theatre program bio or a game/site profile, so it’s a different kind of thing to write it for a newsletter. I find it is always interesting to write about oneself, especially without coming off as bragging. I think it’s the snake in me, but I’ve always had a lot of ambition and maybe a bit of an ego, so I don’t mind bragging (at least a little!). Even from a young age I’ve loved being the center of attention. I was very active and loved playing outside, and that’s where I used to do a lot of crazy things to impress my friends. I had a knack for showing off with things that later got me in trouble, like jumping off the porch (only like 6 feet off the ground…), flipping off the swing in mid-air, or gross-out things like eating bugs (this especially improved the way I was regarded by the neighborhood boys)! Moving forward, I still consider myself a unique individual, but more so because of the hobbies I have rather than the gutsy stunts I pull. As I’m sure is obvious, I love Harry Potter! You can ask my husband, I’m always bragging about how things are going at HOL (and why not, I AM a third-year prefect after all!). Whenever someone wants to do a Harry Potter themed event, they always know to ask me for the most dynamic decorations, games, and crafts! It does wonders for the self-esteem to be considered the expert on something by your friends! While Harry Potter is a HUGE part of my life, it’s not the only thing. I love basically any kind of DIY crafts, I’ve been doing a lot more woodworking (my degree is in theatre and I used to build a lot of sets and props before moving to an area with only one community theatre), and have also recently started venturing into cooking. Just this week I have made my own sangria and BBQ potato chips! Anyway, I am a pretty open person, so please just ask if you want to know more, I’d be happy to go on!
This is the (partial and brief) personal memoir of Arianna Stonewater! Normally, I write this kind of thing for a theatre program bio or a game/site profile, so it’s a different kind of thing to write it for a newsletter. I find it is always interesting to write about oneself, especially without coming off as bragging. I think it’s the snake in me, but I’ve always had a lot of ambition and maybe a bit of an ego, so I don’t mind bragging (at least a little!). Even from a young age I’ve loved being the center of attention. I was very active and loved playing outside, and that’s where I used to do a lot of crazy things to impress my friends. I had a knack for showing off with things that later got me in trouble, like jumping off the porch (only like 6 feet off the ground…), flipping off the swing in mid-air, or gross-out things like eating bugs (this especially improved the way I was regarded by the neighborhood boys)! Moving forward, I still consider myself a unique individual, but more so because of the hobbies I have rather than the gutsy stunts I pull. As I’m sure is obvious, I love Harry Potter! You can ask my husband, I’m always bragging about how things are going at HOL (and why not, I AM a third-year prefect after all!). Whenever someone wants to do a Harry Potter themed event, they always know to ask me for the most dynamic decorations, games, and crafts! It does wonders for the self-esteem to be considered the expert on something by your friends! While Harry Potter is a HUGE part of my life, it’s not the only thing. I love basically any kind of DIY crafts, I’ve been doing a lot more woodworking (my degree is in theatre and I used to build a lot of sets and props before moving to an area with only one community theatre), and have also recently started venturing into cooking. Just this week I have made my own sangria and BBQ potato chips! Anyway, I am a pretty open person, so please just ask if you want to know more, I’d be happy to go on!
by Gail Allen
Master Ashworth joined the British Army when he had only just turned 18. It was a lucrative option for a young nobleman with three older brothers who would inherit their father's lands and title, leaving little for Phillip. So, as a young man, he took an active interest in learning the skills required of an officer, not willing to settle, of course, for the place of a simple soldier for long. He was often being seen out riding, or practicing fencing in the yard of his father's hall, impressing most who watched for any length of time with his gutsy moves, that coupled with great skill, usually awarded him the victory. There were other sides to the young lord too, however, that made him unique among his peers, particularly his knack for carving wooden animals, which had, over the years, become somewhat of a hobby.
When he did join his first regiment, he soon became popular both among the other soldiers as well as his superiors, always attentive and the first to volunteer for things, stepping forward when most others would rather take a step backwards and become one with the wallpaper. It soon led to him being promoted, and although he was clearly proud, he never let his ego swell to such size that others stopped holding him in high regard.
Anthony turned the page, and on the center of the next one was the portrait of a handsome young man, photographed in half profile, making the image dynamic and seeming like the man in it was just about to spring into action. It wasn't that part which mostly caught Anthony's attention. It was how striking the similarity between himself and this man was. Being an orphan, Anthony had never had a sense of belonging, never known where he came from and never thought he would get one. But here he sat with the memoirs of a man looking so much like himself that the DNA test he had taken that showed they were related were undeniable. He reverently put it into his bag. He would forever treasure this first piece of a puzzle on the journey to find himself.
Master Ashworth joined the British Army when he had only just turned 18. It was a lucrative option for a young nobleman with three older brothers who would inherit their father's lands and title, leaving little for Phillip. So, as a young man, he took an active interest in learning the skills required of an officer, not willing to settle, of course, for the place of a simple soldier for long. He was often being seen out riding, or practicing fencing in the yard of his father's hall, impressing most who watched for any length of time with his gutsy moves, that coupled with great skill, usually awarded him the victory. There were other sides to the young lord too, however, that made him unique among his peers, particularly his knack for carving wooden animals, which had, over the years, become somewhat of a hobby.
When he did join his first regiment, he soon became popular both among the other soldiers as well as his superiors, always attentive and the first to volunteer for things, stepping forward when most others would rather take a step backwards and become one with the wallpaper. It soon led to him being promoted, and although he was clearly proud, he never let his ego swell to such size that others stopped holding him in high regard.
Anthony turned the page, and on the center of the next one was the portrait of a handsome young man, photographed in half profile, making the image dynamic and seeming like the man in it was just about to spring into action. It wasn't that part which mostly caught Anthony's attention. It was how striking the similarity between himself and this man was. Being an orphan, Anthony had never had a sense of belonging, never known where he came from and never thought he would get one. But here he sat with the memoirs of a man looking so much like himself that the DNA test he had taken that showed they were related were undeniable. He reverently put it into his bag. He would forever treasure this first piece of a puzzle on the journey to find himself.
by Maxim Trevelyan
The darkness and shadowy profiles were breached by a sudden ray of light, and I blinked several times in quick succession, trying to dispel the actively piercing pain as my eyes adjusted to the unwelcomed intrusion. I was still curled up in an upright semi-fetal position, kneeling on the cold floor at the center of the room. The pain was replaced by a dull ache in my knees, but my brain was still focused on the whispers, so I barely heard the person stepping forward.
“You’re quite alright, Mr. Trevelyan,” a kind, and rather unique, voice reached my ears as I slowly looked up, my arms tightly wounded around my body as if they could repel the horrible words dancing around my head. The professor. I was in Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
“Social fears and anxieties are incredibly hard to beat or get rid of in general,” the voice, which I now knew belonged to Prof. Proudfoot-Craig, continued as I slowly dragged myself to my feet, fingers slowly dusting off invisible particles from my robes. I rubbed the nape of my neck, avoiding the looks from my classmates. It did not take a genius to find out they regarded me as a failure. A loser that could not even banish a simple semi-corporal being. What a blow to my ego.
“Your homework is to write two parchments on most common physical, situational or social fears and anxieties that plague people and the dynamics when faced with a Boggart, like we did today, or alternatively, write up a memoir of a Boggart survivor,” the professor continued, but I barely paid her any mind. “Dismissed.” The class exploded in chatter, with chairs and tables scrapping when people moved them back to their original position.
As I was putting the books back in the bag, my name was called by the professor. I slowly approached her table, trying not to flinch as I met her eyes. I always had a feeling Proudfoot-Craig could see straight into my soul.
“Are you feeling okay, Mr. Trevelyan?” Her question broke me out of my haze. I gave her a wide grin despite feeling the cold in my body. At least the voices were quiet. “It is impressive and gutsy standing up to a Boggart, especially with a fear like yours,” she paused. “If you have trouble dispelling the effects, try distracting yourself with a hobby that you like. Or something that you have a knack for.”
“I am fine, professor,” I replied with a large smile, but it was clear to both of us that I was lying. I was thankful for her advice though.
With a slight nod she dismissed me and I hurried out of the classroom, the bag clasp tightly before myself.
I was not okay. But I will be, as always.
The darkness and shadowy profiles were breached by a sudden ray of light, and I blinked several times in quick succession, trying to dispel the actively piercing pain as my eyes adjusted to the unwelcomed intrusion. I was still curled up in an upright semi-fetal position, kneeling on the cold floor at the center of the room. The pain was replaced by a dull ache in my knees, but my brain was still focused on the whispers, so I barely heard the person stepping forward.
“You’re quite alright, Mr. Trevelyan,” a kind, and rather unique, voice reached my ears as I slowly looked up, my arms tightly wounded around my body as if they could repel the horrible words dancing around my head. The professor. I was in Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
“Social fears and anxieties are incredibly hard to beat or get rid of in general,” the voice, which I now knew belonged to Prof. Proudfoot-Craig, continued as I slowly dragged myself to my feet, fingers slowly dusting off invisible particles from my robes. I rubbed the nape of my neck, avoiding the looks from my classmates. It did not take a genius to find out they regarded me as a failure. A loser that could not even banish a simple semi-corporal being. What a blow to my ego.
“Your homework is to write two parchments on most common physical, situational or social fears and anxieties that plague people and the dynamics when faced with a Boggart, like we did today, or alternatively, write up a memoir of a Boggart survivor,” the professor continued, but I barely paid her any mind. “Dismissed.” The class exploded in chatter, with chairs and tables scrapping when people moved them back to their original position.
As I was putting the books back in the bag, my name was called by the professor. I slowly approached her table, trying not to flinch as I met her eyes. I always had a feeling Proudfoot-Craig could see straight into my soul.
“Are you feeling okay, Mr. Trevelyan?” Her question broke me out of my haze. I gave her a wide grin despite feeling the cold in my body. At least the voices were quiet. “It is impressive and gutsy standing up to a Boggart, especially with a fear like yours,” she paused. “If you have trouble dispelling the effects, try distracting yourself with a hobby that you like. Or something that you have a knack for.”
“I am fine, professor,” I replied with a large smile, but it was clear to both of us that I was lying. I was thankful for her advice though.
With a slight nod she dismissed me and I hurried out of the classroom, the bag clasp tightly before myself.
I was not okay. But I will be, as always.
Living Famously - by Shiloh Adlar
My career has never been as active as it has been until recently. Being the center of attention, however, has come with a lot of ups and downs. Everyday, the dynamics seem to change. One day, the press love me and the next, they’re blowing up these stories that have me asking where they got their information from.
People have begun to say that since I became famous, my ego has grown to big for me and others to now keep in check. I am sorry that I choose to keep moving forward in my career. It is very important to me after all. It’s not as if I wanted to leave people behind, but to succeed, sometimes that has to be the case.
It all started off as a gutsy move when a record label hosted a competition to audition people to find new singers to add to their list. Singing had always been more than a hobby for me, and as prepared as I thought I could be, I still knew that I had to do something amazing to impress them. I have this knack for coming up with crazy ideas on the spot, and not only did I perform a song I had only written a few nights previously, I also decided to add in a guitar solo that had not been in the original piece. After all, singers who could also play an instrument as well as I knew I could were sought after.
The plan worked, of course, and I began my singing career straight away. The first single was a major hit, and the music video that followed ended up winning an award. With New Artist of the Year being a nomination away, I was living the dream. Things kept popping up though, and I am sure one day my memoir will put things straight unlike all these tabloids that want to start gossip. They create this ridiculous profile of me that makes absolutely no sense to anyone who truly knows who I am.
In regards to my true friends and family, I try to be self aware, and this is something that they see. I never want fame to change me into the person the gossip columns say I am. Yes, I am unique with how I do things, but I wasn’t born into royalty or anything. I’m new to this, and I’m learning as I go. People can take what they’re told or leave it at the door, which is what I try to do. What’s most important is showing my fans how much they mean to me and how much of a real person I am. Fame isn’t everything, and I know where my priorities are and where they always will be.
My career has never been as active as it has been until recently. Being the center of attention, however, has come with a lot of ups and downs. Everyday, the dynamics seem to change. One day, the press love me and the next, they’re blowing up these stories that have me asking where they got their information from.
People have begun to say that since I became famous, my ego has grown to big for me and others to now keep in check. I am sorry that I choose to keep moving forward in my career. It is very important to me after all. It’s not as if I wanted to leave people behind, but to succeed, sometimes that has to be the case.
It all started off as a gutsy move when a record label hosted a competition to audition people to find new singers to add to their list. Singing had always been more than a hobby for me, and as prepared as I thought I could be, I still knew that I had to do something amazing to impress them. I have this knack for coming up with crazy ideas on the spot, and not only did I perform a song I had only written a few nights previously, I also decided to add in a guitar solo that had not been in the original piece. After all, singers who could also play an instrument as well as I knew I could were sought after.
The plan worked, of course, and I began my singing career straight away. The first single was a major hit, and the music video that followed ended up winning an award. With New Artist of the Year being a nomination away, I was living the dream. Things kept popping up though, and I am sure one day my memoir will put things straight unlike all these tabloids that want to start gossip. They create this ridiculous profile of me that makes absolutely no sense to anyone who truly knows who I am.
In regards to my true friends and family, I try to be self aware, and this is something that they see. I never want fame to change me into the person the gossip columns say I am. Yes, I am unique with how I do things, but I wasn’t born into royalty or anything. I’m new to this, and I’m learning as I go. People can take what they’re told or leave it at the door, which is what I try to do. What’s most important is showing my fans how much they mean to me and how much of a real person I am. Fame isn’t everything, and I know where my priorities are and where they always will be.
by Sky Alton
“In my experience….”
She closed her eyes, knowing it was safe to tune out for the next five minutes. Daniel was off again: delivering a grand speech about ‘the big picture’ while completely ignoring what everyone else had been talking about. The tutor had yet to develop the knack of actively nipping it in the bud. He just let Daniel run and run, then tried frantically to find a spark of unique thought at the centre of all the circumlocutions.
Not that Daniel’s ideas were necessarily unoriginal. Her lips twitched when she remembered him trying to impress on them that Johnson’s memoirs about travel in Scotland revealed a deep-seated phobia of trees in general and big ones in particular. All the lecturer had been able to say to that was to splutter that it was of limited use to try to psychologically profile people who’d died centuries ago. It was as though Daniel regarded filling awkward silences with the sound of his own voice as a bizarre hobby. It was a shame really: one day he might actually have something worthwhile to say, but nobody would be paying attention. The walking ego who cried wisdom.
The tutor finished his ‘non-response’ and looked around at the rest of them. “Shall we talk about the setting? The Naples Carnival, what do you think Behn was trying to achieve there?” he broke off as Daniel leaned forward, “Perhaps someone we haven’t heard from yet?”
Well, that put pay to the group dynamic entirely. She could literally hear people inching back in their chairs and avoiding the academic's eyes. The tutor looked beseechingly at Gilda, then at her. She licked her lips and cleared her throat. It was all well and good to judge Daniel, but at least he was gutsy enough to speak up without being put on point.
“I think Behn used the Carnival and the concept of masks to comment on how we hide our self, our being and what we really fear,” she said, annoyed at how soft and croaky her voice came out, “Not just from others, but from us as well.”
“In my experience….”
She closed her eyes, knowing it was safe to tune out for the next five minutes. Daniel was off again: delivering a grand speech about ‘the big picture’ while completely ignoring what everyone else had been talking about. The tutor had yet to develop the knack of actively nipping it in the bud. He just let Daniel run and run, then tried frantically to find a spark of unique thought at the centre of all the circumlocutions.
Not that Daniel’s ideas were necessarily unoriginal. Her lips twitched when she remembered him trying to impress on them that Johnson’s memoirs about travel in Scotland revealed a deep-seated phobia of trees in general and big ones in particular. All the lecturer had been able to say to that was to splutter that it was of limited use to try to psychologically profile people who’d died centuries ago. It was as though Daniel regarded filling awkward silences with the sound of his own voice as a bizarre hobby. It was a shame really: one day he might actually have something worthwhile to say, but nobody would be paying attention. The walking ego who cried wisdom.
The tutor finished his ‘non-response’ and looked around at the rest of them. “Shall we talk about the setting? The Naples Carnival, what do you think Behn was trying to achieve there?” he broke off as Daniel leaned forward, “Perhaps someone we haven’t heard from yet?”
Well, that put pay to the group dynamic entirely. She could literally hear people inching back in their chairs and avoiding the academic's eyes. The tutor looked beseechingly at Gilda, then at her. She licked her lips and cleared her throat. It was all well and good to judge Daniel, but at least he was gutsy enough to speak up without being put on point.
“I think Behn used the Carnival and the concept of masks to comment on how we hide our self, our being and what we really fear,” she said, annoyed at how soft and croaky her voice came out, “Not just from others, but from us as well.”