Dallas Woodburn is currently a columnist for WRITING magazine. She is a creative writing major at the University of Southern California. She hopes to one day make a career as a successful author and maybe even start her own publishing company. For now, we are happy to welcome her to WORD.

Yes, it’s true. Bring out the balloons, confetti, and "CONGRATULATIONS" banner. I am now a proud mommy of the rough draft of a 248-page, 51,000-word novel manuscript!

I actually finished writing the draft on January 11, but I let my baby incubate in my computer’s hard-drive for a few weeks, so I could read her over again with fresh eyes for the first round of editing. While there was a sense of satisfaction as I typed "THE END" four Wednesdays ago, it was not until this morning, as I held my novel’s still-warm-from-the-printer pages in my arms, that I truly realized what I have accomplished.

Well well well... I must say it's been quite a productive day. After bouncing around the web all day, I came to find out that, guess what?, I hit every single page there is! That's right, I came to the end of the Internet! I didn't think it existed either. But it does.

Don't believe me?

Click here... if you dare...

Story by Amanda Walgrove, Grade 10

 

The heavy barricade suffocated her mind from all reality as it closed with a thud.  Her stomach dropped freely and with a quiet blink she saw the words "Stage Door" one last time.

 

"Break a leg, sweetie" and "You're gonna be great!" were phrases she had heard only seconds ago, yet they disappeared into another world once her eyes discovered the stage before her.  The other side welcomed her with a shock of icy air that could've come from a crisp winter day; she didn't care to remember that outside those four midnight walls, the sun was reaching its peak. The frosty breeze filled her mind and pumped warm blood to her heart which danced inside of her.  The contrast was invigorating. Her monologue became a catchy tune that jogged through her memory in preparation.  It drowned out the high notes that bounced off of the balcony of the hushed audience.  She told herself to have fun and enjoy the experience as if it was just that simple. When she finally came to peace with her thoughts, applause filled the auditorium and her heart kicked.  Her legs carried her center sage and when the bright red "X" was greeted by her toes, she lifted her eyes to the lights and sang her song.

Poem by Carol Kuruvilla, Grade 11

the river creaks through ancient city gates
falling in drops that kiss the dust
on the sun streaked marble

plains of my face that
hate the way you look at me as
if I hurt you with this white morning

lie on the water while the gondola
swings softly with the current
of splintered, unsteady ocean

waves that would shatter and curse the moment
I broke the light with my tempest
so strong I don't hate

you touch the sleeping water
and drown in the echoes of silence
that cry between our bridge of sighs