CREATIVE WRITING

at the Ruth Asawa School of the Arts in San Francisco

Welcome! CW develops the art and craft of creative writing through instruction, collaboration, and respect. This blog showcases STUDENT WRITING and how to APPLY to Creative Writing.

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  • On Interviewing by Liam Miyar-Mullan

    In CW these past few weeks we’ve been preparing for the release of our zines, of which there are five differently-themed issues. On top of scouting for cool submissions, we were asked to conduct one interview. First we learned the basics of interviewing: how to stay cool and professional, how to engage, how to sound casual, how to get to the point, etc. Then we took a look at some examples via You Tube. The first one was an example of what to do. We saw a short exchange between Howard Stern and Jay Z, in which they talked about the rapper’s new book. Stern was very comforting and welcoming and the very obviously nervous Jay Z quickly became relaxed and confident.

    Then we took a look at what not to do. A grainy video of an interview of Mark Zuckerberg was probably the most depressing thing I’ve seen in a long time. If you can imagine standing on stage and interviewing the most famous technology celebrity on the planet and have EVERYTHING go wrong, this would be that interview. The woman interviewing began off talking quietly to him and giggling, almost like she was flirting with the poor guy. Then, she started telling a story, leaving him nothing to say or do other than nod his head and confirm the story’s truth. Eventually, he got fed up with that and decided it would be best to stare blankly into the woman’s eyes, leaving her blushing and flustered. The following two minutes were an explosion of squabbling and mob-like audience responses that overall left the place in an extreme state of awkwardness. I went home that day and proceeded to watch one million bad interviews.

    After days of practice, I felt comfortable with conducting my interview. My subject was a classmate named Floyd, who is famous at school for his eccentricity and creativity (this past Halloween he wore a rag and a mop of hair on his face and went as Jesus.) We talked about the apocalypse for a good twenty minutes and, using our new note-taking techniques, I was able to take good notes and transcribe it into a proper interview. The finished product, along with many other entertaining conversations, will be published in our zines next week.

    Liam Miyar-Mullan, class of 2018

  • Meet Your Cowboy by Josie Weidner

    Meet Your Cowboy by Josie Weidner

    I want to talk about a new ritual Creative Writing has adopted this week. At the beginning of class, we tear a little piece of paper from our notebooks and write our name on it (I prefer to use Josofinnne, Queen Josephine, Jojo) for Heather to collect. She then distributes our names to a different person in Creative Writing and gives us a prompt of something to write to them (Tell them a secret, What do you admire most about this person?) and then the paper is given back to its original name-bearer.

    One of my personal favorites was the prompt “What do you wish for this person?” On my piece of paper was written, “I wish you finally meet your cowboy.”

    As a senior, it’s getting increasingly harder to be present in school. With finals week fast approaching, and my own personal schedule growing more hectic, it’s even harder to be grounded and cognizant of other people, of my community. This little ritual, however, has helped me focus in Creative Writing, not to mention create personal connections with everyone in the department. It turned my day around when someone wished for me to meet a cowboy. I realized that, no matter how crazy things might get, I will always have the Creative Writing community, and I will always be valued for exactly who I am.

    I highly suggest this ritual for all kinds of group settings. It not only feels good to receive your paper, but it also feels good writing them. I love having that personal connection with one other person in the department, even if it is just for five minutes before class.

    I’ve been collecting my pieces of paper in an envelope, and when I’m feeling overwhelmed I read them. I’m looking forward to reading them for many years to come!

    Josie Weidner, class of 2016

  • In the Spirit of Thanksgiving by Harmony Wicker

    As a high school student, it is easy to forget how much I depend on my parents. I rarely consider that they have lives outside of my own. Many may find this self-centered or selfish, but as a teenager, it is normal to believe that the world revolves around your whims. It only seems natural for my parents to fund my projects, drive me around, or wait for me to finish after-school activities. However, upon reflection, I’ve come to realize how hard it would be for me to live on my own and pursue a career in creative writing.

    Writing is a career that is notorious for not being extremely lucrative. Unless you make it big, or sell some organs on the black market, it is hard to live a relatively nice life in the Bay Area. That isn’t to say it cannot be done. There are plenty of writers who are successful, well- known, and have made a lot of money. Sadly, however, that reality isn’t true for all aspiring writers. For these reasons, I am in the perfect place as a young writer to explore writing to its fullest. This is all because of my parents.

    When I really think about this fact, I understand how much I need my parents’ support during these odd teenage years. They save me from the worries of the adult world and its issues. This could easily include having to take care of a child, utilities, food, or possibly another adult human being. My parents’ support allows for me to be able to focus solely on my passion and improve my writing so that I become better at my art. And sure, while parents in some ways can seem overbearing and slightly annoying at times, their effort in helping me with life is invaluable. This time of year forces you to think about all the things we have to be thankful for, and this was at the top of my list.

  • Little Notes by Isi Vasquez

    Lately, to start off class, the head of Creative Writing, Heather, has been having us write little notes to each other. Just something nice to a random person in the department, or a book recommendation, or a secret, or something like that. It’s a quiet sort of ritual. We tell each other brief little stories at the beginning of class every day. It’s become one of my favorite things to do, simply because I get a sweet little note from someone, and get to give a sweet little note to someone else. Before Thanksgiving, our prompt was to tell our person what we were thankful for. I got a note saying that my person was thankful for me.

    I’m only sharing this because I’ve had a terrible few days, and it’s a nugget of gold in this field of coal. I’m sharing this because I want everyone who reads this to know that if they want to be part of this community, we will welcome you, and we will find you a safe place. Even if it feels like everything is falling down around your ears, we will find you a safe place, a place where at least there is one thing that is positive. Yes, this is cheesy, yes, it might even be cliché, but it’s also important. If you feel down, someone will care. If you feel lonely, someone will help. If you need to talk, someone will listen. I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am for these small moments that I get every day that make things seem not quite so bad.

    Isi Vasquez, class of 2019

  • Why The Spoken Arts Department Is Going To Be Super Cool by Amina Aineb

    On the last day of Thanksgiving Break, I was lying on my couch, feeling miserable. I had a cup of steaming hot tea in my lap, three blankets piled on top of me, and my fever was still raging hard. It was about six in the evening, and I had just woken from a brief, disorienting nap when I had wandered into the living room, where my mom and grandma were sitting. They were watching TV and, despite my confusion about who I was or what day it was, I decided to join them.

    I could barely focus, but I managed to gather from the blur of shapes on the screen that we were watching a performance by Andrea Bocelli, the famous, blind singer. His eyelids were closed as he leaned into the microphone and sang “Maria” from West Side Story. His voice vibrated and filled the vast theater. And though I’ve never been a fan of musicals, and though I was shaking and near hallucination, I started to cry.

    What I realized then was something Heather had told me a long time ago, but I had failed to truly understand what she meant at the time. She said that the human voice was the most beautiful sound ever heard. And I agree. I can’t think of a single animal or force of nature that compares to a person’s voice. We hear it so often that we tend to forget. Just go into a public space, a park, a bus, and just listen to what’s around you. Voices are fascinating. They rise and fall and roll and strike. We have the power to take emotions and assign words and sounds to them. What’s amazing to me is that everyone has different tones and inflections but yet they all serve the same purpose: to articulate what is inside of us.

    Obviously, I’m aware that SOTA already has a Vocal Department, but the Spoken Arts branch of Creative Writing will be the first time students will be creating art with special attention to how it is going to sound when performed. And that’s so cool! I hope its freshman year next fall will go alright, because it really is an excellent idea.

    Amina Aineb, class of 2017

  • In Six Months Time by Abbegail Louie

    In Six Months Time by Abbegail Louie

    You attempt to delete every single post on your Facebook wall. You’ve not only shared embarrassing Wetpaint articles, but you also have written some horrible, blackmail-worthy statuses during your pre-fetus years. Resent your parents for not stopping your 5th and 7th grade self from posting unflattering selfies because those are the only pictures that you can’t delete. You’ve put them on private.

    After the evidence of your not so appealing childhood has been destroyed, create a new persona. Become said new persona. Write. Give up after two days because you hate not being yourself. Be you, but quieter. Give up because you get way too excited when someone mentions an anime you watch. Make yourself intimidating again. Write. Wear sweatpants. Go on a huge rant on why you don’t want a boyfriend. Ask a guy to make out with you. He says no, don’t believe him. Ignore him for three days. Make intense eye contact with him, count to 5, look away. Go up to him. Say “I hate you.” Expect him to say nothing, while also expecting him to pull you in for a kiss and say “where have you been all my life.” The latter is your hormones. He says nothing. He is nothing. Realize your life isn’t a Korean drama. Get angry. Write. Move on. Go on another rant about how you don’t need a boyfriend.

    You have schoolwork up to your neck. Watch an episode of Mad Men. Jon Hamm is the man of your dreams. Write. Realize that he is 44. Write. You’ve sworn off boys for awhile. Write.

    You’ve changed since the end of 8th grade. You want to write daily statuses and post pictures of your freshmen year. You activate your Facebook once again. You wish you saved a few weird statuses. All you have left are pictures of your 5th and 7th grade self.

    Abbegail Louie, class of 2019

  • Auditions & Doubts by Julieta Roll

    Every Tuesday and Thursday for the most couple months has been shadow day at SOTA. This means that around 1 o’clock pm every department receives a handful of ‘shadows’. Shadows are 8th graders who are interested in the department and come to visit the school for a day. They sit in with us during the art block and ‘shadow’ a student, usually a 9th grader.

    Every Tuesday and Thursday that I am reminded that not to long ago I was a shadow, and a scared 8th grader who wanted to apply to the Creative Writing Department. Seeing the new group of people interested in CW it makes me reflect, and as the due date for the portfolios approach I can not help but remember my experience applying to this department. I often look back and try to remember my audition process, but all I can really recall feeling is nervous, and wondering if my writing was any good, and if it was even a good idea to apply in the first place. It is these doubts that we all feel that get us down and prevent us from doing things we want to do.

    For all those applying to the department the advice I give you is to not be doubtful of yourself and your writing. If things don’t work out the way you want them to it shouldn’t stop you from continuing your interests, especially if that interest is writing.

    Julieta Roll, class of 2019

  • Distractions by Lena Hartsough

    As kids, we’re often advised to find ways to let out anger and sadness. Find a hobby, the adults say. Join a club, or a sport. Learn martial arts, or even just hit a pillow. Scream into that same pillow. Anything but hurt other people. Then later, we’re finally told what will happen if we don’t follow the rules the adults have set for us. If we hurt other people, they might hurt themselves—and we’ll get in trouble. And if we can’t find a different way to let out our anger, we might hurt ourselves.

    A lot of us learn this the hard way. I went through time outs and punishments because I got angry and hurt people, and sometimes I still hurt myself a bit. But recently, when I’ve gotten sad, angry, overwhelmed, or anything like that, my first thought is to take out some paper and write. Sometimes I’m not able to put my thoughts into words, but the act of writing and searching for the right way to say things soothes me. I go into the writing pressing hard enough on the paper to break my pencil, or barely brushing the surface, but finish skimming the lines like a normal person…or as much like a normal person as my chicken-scratch-writing self is.

    I put my whole self into writing, refusing to let my mind wander into whatever was making me upset. Writing about my feelings make them dull somewhat, and I can see how small my troubles are compared to those of people without food or education; it’s like I’m an outsider observing the silly problems of a teenager. I read through my work, editing it, and I can see what’s actually happening, and how I can fix it. My writing is a chance to step back and try to figure out what I need to know.

    So although I do, occasionally, need to scream into a pillow, writing protects me from breaking the rules that I find are still just as relevant now as they were when I was in preschool.

    Lena Hartsough, class of 2019

  • On Complaints by Sophia Mazoschek

    Last week in Creative Writing we started the process of making zines (replacements for our beloved but occasionally overambitious literary journal, Umlaut). We were broken up into groups of four and tasked with coming up with an original idea for a zine. I tried to look contemplative and scribbled a few notes on my paper, but my mind was elsewhere; On the huge stack of English work I had waiting for me at home, the fact that I was scheduled to babysit for the entire weekend, and a hundred other minor problems that somehow felt like the most reprehensible injustices the world had ever seen.

    Recently I have been complaining to anyone who’ll listen. I realize that this isn’t exactly an endearing characteristic, but I can’t shut it off. My relatively normal life has suddenly and inexplicably become a source of constant frustration. I’m out of it all the time and feel stuck on autopilot, as if my daily life is just a boring short film on a never-ending loop. Obviously this is a normal thing for a 16-year-old to be going through, and people tolerate it to a point, but after, say, a week, you’re expected to suck it up and feel better.

    What usually gets me out a funk like this is doing something productive or focused on self-improvement, like exercise. But this time around I haven’t been able to redirect my feelings into the sort of productive energy that might help solve my problems. Attempts to sweat them out always end in sore muscles and frustration, and trying to write about them yields at most a half-page of repetitive whining. And without an outlet, the negativity festers until I feel compelled to unload it on my friends again. It’s a vicious cycle.

    After brainstorming aimlessly for a while, one of our group members (I want to say it was me but I honestly can’t remember) came up with an ingenious idea: Complaints. Our zine will be a compilation of multimedia grievances from students all over the school. We’ll be accepting anything from angry anarcho-punk playlists to letters to the editor to straight up bellyaching. After all, doesn’t everyone need to vent about something?

    As a junior, I’m the head of my zine group, and I’ll be the first to admit that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing- submission guidelines, deadlines and design ideas are all up in the air. God knows if our zine will come together or not. But I’m excited to get started; Whether it ends up being a hit or a miss, at least I’ll finally be channeling that negativity into something productive.

    Sophia Mazoschek, class of 2017

  • Chess and Such by Kayne Belul

    Chess and Such by Kayne Belul

    Pawn to e4. There are other options for sure, but it’s always a safe bet. One move into the chess game and there are already eleven common enough ways for black to respond. If both players are skilled and want a safe game, the first half of their match becomes choreographed. Certain moves just work.

    A few weeks ago I attempted to have the protagonist of one of my stories play a game of chess with the omniscient narrator. I’ve since given up the idea. There are too many ways the story could play out. I can’t narrow the choices down.

    I: The protagonist is sitting alone, in a park, at a stone chess table. A piece moves.

    II: The protagonist only exists in the moments when his eyes are open. When his eyes are closed, he flickers out of existence and is replaced by the narrator, who wants to play chess in the intervals.

    III: The narrator is standing in a white cube, watching a projection of the protagonist on one wall. To make a move, the narrator simply alters every slide from the moment when a piece moves to infinity. If he only altered one slide, the piece would revert instantly.

    IV: The narrator thinks in the mind of a passerby, allowing him to play the protagonist in human form.

    V: The narrator believes the pieces move, and so they do. The protagonist is driven insane.

    VI: A homeless man acts as the king. The narrator half-heartedly attempts to kill him off while the protagonist tries to save him. Sort of like a word game.

    And so on. None of the options quite worked.

    Many people have made the case that pawn to d4 is the superior opening move. I don’t get it. I will eventually.

    Kayne Belul, class of 2018