Hi Math is Everyone and Fall Writing Frenzy Friends,
This is the second week of analyzing the Fall Writing Frenzy winners’ work from 2020! Wasn’t last week awesome? If you missed it, check out the first week analysis here!
Every week I will try my best to share 5-8 pieces from the Fall Writing Frenzy Winners that have something similar, a theme, if you will. (Figurative gold star if you get the theme in your comment ;))
Please use the comments to share what you think is working for the pieces and why, and you even what you think can be improved if you notice anything. Then you can respond to each other’s comments and of course come back to the blog on Fridays for interviews and giveaways!
Please make sure to be constructive.
We want to learn and grow together in a safe environment.
For example, if you think a piece was rambling (something I often do lol) please don’t say, “They’re rambling forever, can’t they just stop?” Try, “It seems to be a bit on the wordy side, maybe consider cutting out certain parts.”
Thanks for joining in the conversation!
Now off we go!
THE STARS YOU DON’T SEE
by Andrew Hacket
As the sun begins to dip,
Dad and I climb.
The white pines ushering us upward become sparse.
Anticipation masks the aches in my legs.
A little further and…
We are alone, but together.
The world, ours.
The sun gently touches the horizon.
A goodnight kiss.
I look to Dad. His silhouette outlined in the ombre twilight.
In a moment,
night has arrived.
Stars wink into view. I crane my neck back.
“Ursa minor.” Dad points. “There you are, my little bear.”
He tousles my hair and pulls me in tight.
I blink back tears.
“Can’t find Ursa major?” Dad asks knowingly.
“Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re gone,” he whispers through a gentle smile.
His hand swallows mine.
We cuddle together beneath the stars,
both seen and unseen.
Wrapped in Dad’s warm embrace, I drift to sleep.
That was long ago.
Now I climb
The breeze offers a comforting breath of a hug.
The sun gently kisses the horizon.
A goodnight kiss.
I glance to my side before looking skyward.
Just because you can’t see them,
doesn’t mean they’re gone.
Big Sis, Lil Sis
By: Janelle Harper
“Big Sis is home!” Gabby dashes through the screen door, knocking Amber over with a bearhug.
“Hey, Lil Sis!” Amber giggles.
Gabby studies her Big Sis closely.
A cozy college sweatshirt, a spunky new haircut and lipstick the same shade Mom wears.
Weird…Amber looks like a real grownup.
Gabby peeks at Amber’s thick textbook. So many strange words. This book isn’t like any of the stories they would read together at bedtime.
Big Sis shakes a bag of fluffy treats, “I’ve really missed our fall tradition.”
“S’mores Fest!” Gabby sprints to gather twigs.
The autumn air feels crisp against their cheeks. The crackling fire illuminates the sky.
They roast marshmallows, snuggled tightly under their favorite blanket.
WOOSH! A blurry red and orange whirlwind swirls and twirls the leaves.
The sisters scurry to save their gooey snacks. The ground crunches under their retreating feet.
Safely in the house, they shake lingering leaves loose of their kinky curls.
They kick up their feet. Gabby grins at their matching fuzzy socks.
She sips warm apple cider while Amber blows on her steaming black coffee.
Drinks may change…
Books may change…
Leaves may change…
but sisterly love stays the same.
By Karen Keesling
Maddie studied her watch. 10 seconds slower on this last sprint. She needed to be faster, gazelle-like.
She glared at the empty road ahead with gold and cinnamon leaves waving her on. Cinnamon and cider…the conversation…the memory made her sick.
The night after the visit to the orchard. Had she really looked at their faces? Dad stroked Izzy’s hair. Mom heated up apple cider and fried cinnamon donuts.
Why did they create such a perfect moment just to ruin it by telling them?
Had she seen Mom’s taut jawline, Dad’s sad eyes when he smiled? She should have known it was coming. In some sense she did. She heard the shouting. The doors banging. She saw the crumpled blankets on the couch.
Maddie’s heart slammed against her chest when she heard, “still love you…not each other.” Had they even said divorce? She didn’t know. Her body took flight, catapulting her out the door. That was her first time running. Two years ago.
Now Maddie inhaled the fresh, fall air. She stared ahead, sneakers striking the pavement, scattering dead leaves behind her. 20 seconds faster. She knew how to win the race on Saturday.
By Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson
On the last day of the summer sunflowers, we found out Mama was sick, very sick. Daddy said we all had to be brave. But I didn’t know how. Mama was so sick she missed the first day of Kindergarten.
When autumn winds blew through the trees, Mama had to have surgery. That day, my tummy felt like a bucket full of rocks, and I couldn’t eat my lunch even though it was my favorite.
Winter dusted the trees with frost. Mama rested a lot. I helped her pluck the seeds of the dried sunflowers. “In the spring, we’ll plant them,” Mama said.
At Christmas, I gave Mama the bravest idea I had ever had.
“Superhero capes,” I whispered when Mama opened her gift. “To make us brave. You can only see them if you believe.”
“They’re perfect,” Mama said. And then she put on her superhero cape and helped me put on mine.
In the spring, new bird songs filled the air. Mama was getting better, day by day. And our sunflowers sprouted, like hope and courage and love. No matter what happens, I know we’ll be okay. Because Mama and I are superheroes.
A song of light and dark
By Preeti Gopalan
My silk pavadai, new this Diwali rustles as I rush to find mom. Jingling bangles add their song to festive Nadaswaram tunes. There she is, in gold jhumkas and an exquisite rust-colored Kanchipuram. So beautiful today. She has been a happy whirl of busyness this week. The rich smell of ghee thick in the air as she whips up delicious murrukkus and Mysore-paks. She’s not the mom who struggles out of bed at 9am and ends her day still in PJs.
Her spirits follow the seasons, sunny in summer, dropping with the fall leaves, leaving a homesick anxiety as winter shrouds Seattle. All thoughts then are of another home. When I ask if I need a jacket for school, she crimps her eyes , converting Fahrenheit to Celsius. At my smile, she sighs, “You don’t understand feeling divided, with your life of blessed simplicity. My recollections of warmth are in Celsius. My past has no present, my present has no past.”
But today, an easy smile plays on her lips, at memories I am not a part of. I don’t mind. The diyas she lights chase away her gloom. Today she is whole. Diwali is her festival of inner light.
I can’t wait to get this discussion underway about what we can learn from these creators and their pieces! Please make sure to RT this tweet to get others in on the fun!
Kaitlyn Leann Sanchez
PS. We’ve just recently got photos up for all my clients, so please take a minute to check out my wonderful literary clients page 🙂
PPS watch my twitter feed for a super fun surprise to be shared within the next week 😉