Day 2:
A piece of flash nonfiction before we begin:
It 's the second semester of my final year of high school and my first-period class is Consumer Education. I walk to school, am exposed daily to dangerous windchill and student drivers swerving into their spots two minutes before the final bell at 7:35 AM. The halls are clogged with kids unwrapping themselves, shimming out of their jackets; the floor is slick with slush dragged in from the outside. I 'm one of the first in the classroom, and I drop my stuff in the seat closest to the door. The chairs swivel and that 's how I spend my time before everyone else stumbles in. My teacher has a pudgy red face, a hairline like lawnmower tracks. Tomorrow, he will start class by listing all the "unacceptable"
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But when you have to find an extended metaphor in an already existing text, it 's unimaginably difficult. Writing is weird like that sometimes, as a study and as a profession. I actually think the meaning (different from theme in that it 's not as overarching) of "Balloon Brain" is exemplified well in today 's writing. I also think BB explains my major fault in writing as well: the inability to stay grounded and clear in one topic. Writing is hard. A good writer is an observer, an independent. But me, I don 't know the recipe, don 't know the components. I believe something awful: good writers are born and not bred. This is not a skill; it 's unlearnable. And if you have it, you spend your life getting better. But you were always good.
Day 3:
A writing prompt addressed to Isabella: Begin with none of the basics: that sloppy second person, the body parts and bloody guts. Eliminate sentences that start with "and." Lengthen words, lengthen thoughts, make them coherent as you can; make sense all the time. Braid and weave things, no strand of fat sticking out. Don 't pick new words mid-thought. It 'll be hard, not starting with verbs and not letting things flow. Never wonder. Go.
And my