So this is my work place. Yeah, it’s quite tiny, but I love it. It’s where my mind goes to flourish and make magic happen! I only took a picture of Skyrim’s map because I think that it’s so cool. 😉
This shiny little title signifies the very thing that I’m going to be entering into this weekend in the hopes that I come out with a gold key due to my writings.
What does this mean? Well, I’m glad you asked!
The Alliance For Young Artists and Writers is a group from Schoolastic found here: http://www.artandwriting.org/
They are a major group within America that takes submissions from either the school, or the local Art Museum and from there, they judge the work from each region. That work includes writings like short stories, poems, freelance essays, and even novels. Art includes anything from drawings in pencil to taking a photograph of some long forgotten room.
The judges of each region judge each category and then give it the rank of either, Honored Mention, Silver key or Gold key. If you are a senior in highschool, and you are ranked a Gold key, you are automatically entered into a judging in New York City. There, they will judge you once again, only this time, on a national level, and if you are the lucky winner there, you are granted the ability to display your work in the museum in NYC. (I believe that there are some scholarships involved, but I forget.)
Last year, I was a Junior, and I receive a Silver key, which is incredible, with a work I wrote Freshman year.
This year, I am entering in a lot more submissions, and I really, really hope that I win Gold. I think that it would be a major boost to my belief in myself, as well as get at least a little recognition for myself! I DO want to go into writing when I grow older, and I think that this will only help me. Deadline is this Friday and I have about fourteen to fifteen works to enter.
Wish me luck.
The writer starts as a dreamer. Stuck within his own head, his own imagination, acting out the greatest feats that his dreams dare show him. And dare they do. Each Dreamer is sitting within his class-room, the teacher writing on the board while the dreamer is somewhere of his own making, doing things that he wished that he was doing. Castles, wars, espionage, and mystical lands create endless stories and fantasies within his head. One day, he will be in love with a fiery woman with a body that would melt a man’s heart, the next, he will be living on the streets as the local drunk. Every action, every day, is an adventure to this dreamer.
But, as with every hero, there is always the battle. The teacher, the parents, all look down upon his heinous act, frowning in disapproval, their mouths moving in disgust as they scold his longing.
“Nothing will come of this!” They say, “It will only ruin you! Learn your numbers, learn your charts and figures, learn about those important things!”
The dreamer is ashamed, he casts his eyes down and twiddles his thumbs behind his back, thinking about this atrocious act that he has done. Guilt burdens him, and soon, he quits his imagination as best as he can, now determined to do what he has been told. To learn to parrot what They say, always waiting for that pat on the head and nod of approval.
“Good!” They say, “This is what you should have been doing! Isn’t it magnificent?”
“Yes.” The Dreamer mumbles, doing and acting as he is told.
Years pass, he grows from a young boy, soaking in the dull, the morose, and the tainted, to a young man. He repeats what he is told, becoming the perfect example of what they wish him to be.
“Now you will be set!” They say, “Doesn’t it feel fantastic?”
“Yes.” The Dreamer says.
But it is not so wonderful. Over the years the Dreamer has kept a secret. One, that would surely ruin him, just like they said, but one that called to him, wooed him. It is his secret affair, his little skeleton kept within his closet. The world that he use to explore so openly, the one that he would tell others about in a sing-song voice, had been kept within his heart. It was that what helped him get through the Success that They told him to pay attention to. He had married what they had wished him to, an arrangement. But his true love waited in that lost tower, kept in some long distant and forgotten valley. But, despite what they wished he would visit her everyday, climb that tower and make love to her.
“I love you more.” He would whisper into her ear.
“I love you too.” She would whisper back, batting her lustrous lashes.
Everyday, he made love to Success, as he was told, but his heart was not in it. She destroyed him, telling him horrible secrets, feeding him a slow poison while she took him in.
Then, one day, he was found out.
They found him in his tower, found him making sweet, sweet, love to Passion.
“What are you doing?” They demanded, looking at him with incredulous eyes, “You have betrayed the love of Success, how could you do something so terrible? We warned you that she would destroy you!”
Guilt fights with anger inside, waging a terrible battle that leaves a torn heart within his chest.
“But I do not love Success, you have only shown me what you wish me to see.” He mutters, anger the victor, “I love Passion, she does not poison my mind, she is a true lover.”
In a flash They have out their weapons, “Ridicule”, “Judgement”, and “Hatred”. Their eyes flash and a fire burns within their chests, hot air comes from Their mouths and a voice shatters the heavens in an attempt the frighten the Dreamer.
“NO LOVE!” They shout.
“Pen”, “Paper”, the Dreamer takes them out, weapons of his own, and with Passion by his side, he writes a symphony that breaks through the barriers of their voices. “Ridicule”, “Judgement”, and “Hatred” are consumed in inferno and They are brought to their knees in a clap of thunder. Success weeps tears of blood, fighting for control on her lost love, her adulterer.
“I love Passion.” He says and leaves Success.
The Dreamer looks to his lover at his side and gives her a tender kiss. She grabs a hold of his hand and closes his fingers around the Pen.
“You used it to fight your enemies, now, use it to make friends, to inspire hearts, and together, you and I will create a whole new world. Dream, be free.” She kisses him, and the words pour from his mouth, scrawling themselves on the paper, showing him the world that he had seen in that classroom, long, long ago.