1942 - Shillington, PA Dear Diary, New Book and Discoveries Mother bought me a book today. A mystery titled The Case of the Drowning Duck. It’s a new one, by my all-time favorite Author, Erle Stanley Gardener ("John Updike Bio-1”). I was able to start reading my new book on top of Mt. Penn at the pagoda, earlier today. I particularly enjoyed seeing the views of Reading, PA down below. I discovered that the irritable red patches on my arms are psoriasis ("John Updike Bio-1”). Just another issue I’ll have to deal with, in addition to the fat-headed Gillette boys down the street, mouthing off about my stammer. Its times like this, I wish I had an older brother that could put those wise guys in their place. Later this evening, grandpa asked me to help fix that old jalopy. She’s running on her last leg. Hopefully she pulls through or else he’ll have to buy a new one. After dinner I read more chapters of my book. I really think I’m going to enjoy this one! Until next time, John 1945 - Plowville, PA Dear Diary, Move to Plowville My family just moved 11 miles from Shillington to Plowville. This is the town where my mother was born. Mother says’ she wants to get back to her roots (John Updike Bio-1”). We live in an old but very cozy stone house on a huge 80-acre farm. I am really enjoying living here now. I love listening to the animals and birds at sunset, and reading out in the old barn. (Liukknen) My mother seems to like the space; it was pretty cramped over at my grandparents’ house. It’s been a few months since we moved and my mother is still getting our new home cleaned. New pictures and paintings appear on the walls during the day only to be moved to another room or put back into a storage box. I’m happy that I can continue g... ... middle of paper ... ...and fantasies and small discoveries dark marks on paper which become handsomely reproducible many times over still seems to me, after nearly 30 years concerned with the making of books, a magical act, and a delightful technical process. To distribute oneself thus, as a kind of confetti shower falling upon the heads and shoulders of mankind out of bookstores and the pages of magazines is surely a great privilege and a defiance of the usual earthbound laws whereby human beings make themselves known to one another.”("John Updike>Quotes) “I have tried to plug along on the theory that I can still do it and still get published and that a professional writer is what I set out to be when I was an adolescent and I have been fortunate enough, in this increasingly rare profession to have been able to make a go of it.”(De Wilde) In Loving Memory of John Hoyer Updike 1932-2009
As Marcia so eloquently puts it: “‘People will do anything for me – but publish my manuscripts.’” (88). She goes on to describe how she has had “‘…printed forms of rejection from every magazine and literary newspaper in the country.’” (89), and only had a two-inch snippet of her work posted in a Sunday paper throughout her three-year career. But when asked by the narrator if she is ready to give up, Marcia so eloquently says “‘No; not if it were ten years instead of three.’” (89), showing her true persistence as a writer.
Upon renovating the quaint little house on the hill with my mom, my own feelings toward the house changed dramatically. Before the project took off, I hesitated to step foot inside the building. The odor and dim lighting made it difficult to envision a successful result, but once we finished I was tempted to move in myself. This is the goal. Taking on this second project, I’d do my best to make the house one I’d love to live in while not allowing myself to implement my personal style preferences. The result is a home both move-in ready and open for visitors.
Today was one more of those average days. Saving the world, climbing big ben and snooping around Buckingham Palace. I don’t understand why everyone underestimates me. For all they know I could be putting myself in mortal danger. My headquarters is on the corner of Clapham Junction. I
...on to produce novels. But authors cannot just write whatever it comes to their mind, they have to image what interest their readers might have. As stated by Swerdlow, writers often have to prompt other people to think as they read “It’s something that you must do even if you do not have the leisure of being in prison. To write, you must work methodically, forming your thoughts and prompting other people to think as they read. Writing requires work at both ends. That’s what makes writing special” (42). Subsequently, writing is not an easy task by any means, but it helps us express important aspects of our persona.
When they started the new year at the Wellpinit high school on the Spokane Indian Reservation,
As a 17-year-old Author, many told me that I was too young to publish a book. After being hit by a “wave” of hearing so much negativity from my peers about how I could not publish a book; I was hit with another problem to publish my book within my budget. It was hard for me to
I decided for my first real day in Sydney, being a pilot, I would take
This gave me the opportunity to indulge in my surroundings. Sitting on a mini bed that replaced a beige suede couch in the living area, I see bamboo plants, a bible laying on top of a small shelf, and some religious décor threw out the living area. The house is a bit out of date. I saw stained wooded floors, a small flat screen T.V., and the walls were covered with a poor paint job. My mom loves to paint the house. She paints the house approximately twice a year sometime skipping a year. We lived here for about ten years, so one could imagine the number of paint jobs done in our home. We resided here longer than we lived in any other house. Usually we experienced a move about every four
This house has a unique brick color, a sort of pink and green. An uphill driveway leading to two small one car garages, one garage filled with years of a mixture of items and the other holds my grandma’s car and two of her fridges cram packed with stew of components. The side walk leads to a screen door, which is always locked, and a large think wood door which is cracked. When I walk in I smell flowers and sweets, then I feel the cold tile tough my feet only for a moment until the fluffy carpet is met with your feet. One of my favorite things is when I walk in I see my grandmas smiling face, she is always so happy and it just warms my heart to see her. Any time I see her house or think about it the warmth of her hugs and smiling face overwhelms me no matter how mad or sad I am I always smile. In the back corner of the house is the bed room converted to a game room, where all the kid’s toys are located. That’s where I would sleep when I stayed there. The kitchen is tiny but perfect for just one little perfect person. It has an electric stove top with four burners and a typical oven below. Next to that is her fridge stocked with her diet cokes with a freezer on top and a microwave
Someday I’ll soar like an eagle totally oblivious to my surroundings and for once time, as a fourth dimension would cease to exist. As if eternity would sit next to me unassumingly and time would virtually stop by moving with bolted feet in sand. The mere thought of achieving this state of mind makes me enthralled to the fullest. There are flashes of brilliance that take me near to my nirvana, as I imagine it, but a rude awakening always ends my flight and I hit the earth with a thud. And every fall makes me more adamant in achieving my dream of making for the sky, reach out for the heavens and experience what its like to defy gravity. It seems almost divine an experience of being able to float in absolutely nothing, devoid of any emotions which peg me back to my surrounding. I would realize why space is Gods stature and how strong an element air can be. Floating aimlessly, defeating the burly winds on the highest grounds and the best part would be to have absolutely no abstract feelings of anguish, deceit, disappointments to take me back to the familiar surroundings I came from. The panorama stretched in front in my flight would almost seem to go on for ever and I’ll be on the move but would have no definite place to go. In my days of fatigue I’d stay perched at the top of the highest cliffs and stand in the shadows waiting for night to fall and then make eye contact with god thru the millions of stars that would that would have risen from there slumber only to marvel at what I had attained .My trance would only be further enhanced by a swan I would pluck from her embellished flight. She would go places with me where words of mine could not take us, listen to much more than I can say and herself would be a proficient flyer.
The air is really fresh, and the wind is comfortable. Grandma usually opened the window during the daytime; I still remembered that feeling when the sunshine came in house and scatter. I walking among those numerous grand trees and admire colored leaves on the trees and on the ground. I miss that feeling of calmness and stability of the world around. I wish I could return the reality of those feelings once more. Memories in mind and never forget about happiness of staying in my grandmother’s house. Grandparent’s time-honored gift to their grandchildren is their unconditional love, unfettered by schedules, routines or commitments. They reinforced their grandchildren’s sense of security and self-value.
My strong interests in music, good food, and the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom may seem broad, but they are the essentials for my aspiration in life. These passions are the incentives of how to be a happier and more successful person for me to become.
I love journals and have been keeping one on and off since I was eight. Keeping a journal, or diary as many have called it, can help clarify your thoughts, ideas, notions and problems. It can help manage those overwhelming emotions and reduce anxiety and stress. The ability is there to gain perspective on your thoughts and feelings. A journal can be profoundly personal and something tangible to go back to to relive parts of your life. Your life based on a true story, spread out over time. It is a place to record whatever you wish. Be it your darkest secrets, your first crush, your innermost feelings, how events made you feel or changed your life. It is a friend that is always nonjudgmental and always
It was a week before Valentines Day in 1987. I was nine years old and
Upon writing this paper I felt uncomfortable. I thought “how do I write about myself?” I thought this because at this point in my education I have yet to do so. This really made me think about who I am. Physically I have red hair, I am big, and tall. Some groups I associate with are the Athletes, academics, and my family. I am interested in plenty of things such as politics and reading. My personality is described as happy, fun, intelligent, loving, and caring. I also have a few things I am passionate about like education, science, independence, and friends. I am also defined by my job where I would describe myself as working, progressive, and patient. So, twenty words to describe me are; red-headed, big, tall, athletic, academics, family, politics, strong, happy, fun, intelligent, loving, caring, education, science, independent, friends, working, progressive, and patient.