Busy, busy, busy . . .

I confess to being rushed off my feet (not in a literal sense, I hasten to add) with all the work I'm doing with this latest section of The Big Red Book, as we students of the Creative Writing course are calling our coursebook!

I am now on the Poetry section and, while not really enjoying the activities set us, am aware that, by stretching our knowledge, we are, hopefully, being tempered in our poetical arts!

While busy with the activities, I'm also concenrating hard on the next TMA we are due to send by the 27th of this month, and there has been much pulling of hair, muttering, and frantic reaming through poetry books, to make sure the poems I write are as technically perfect as I can make them.
It's as well that I'm doing most of this on my trusty laptop, otherwise I'd be chin-deep in screwed up bits of paper! Lol

There are a group of us who have got together to critique each other's work, and it has been a godsend for all of us, as panic tends to blind each of us to faults in our own work, that we can see immediately in others'. - There is a scripture about splinters and logs that that this definitely brings to mind!

Here's one of my earlier efforts, although not one that I sent to our tutorial forum, so I haven't had any feedback as to whether it's any good or not - I leave you, the reader, to decide:

Source Code

Animate matter, we all call it life,
now needed, and wanted, we call it the prize,
that sits on the cusp of eternity,
hands clasped demurely, all soft in the breeze of
resounding echoes, grown large with the ease
of chasing dark shadows, that gradually freeze.

Particular places seem full of this thing,
of vital, strong motion, all needing to bring so
many together, that seek, like themselves,
old and new friendships, where all laughter dwells.
resounding around all the halls, we seek out,
perhaps in mistaken desire, we peek out
haltingly, true, at all things that we strive,
in living this life, before hope was alive.

Soaking up atmospheres, both grave and bold,
and seeking to understand all that is old.
though given that all of us hope to live life,
is that why God gave young Adam a wife?
or is it that we hate to think of our fate?
Never give up, know it’s never too late!

The Results Came In . . .

I couldn't believe it when I got the email to tell me that my results were in.
For the first time since starting with the O.U., I had forgotten that I was waiting for a result!
'Forgotten?' I hear you exclaim, 'How on earth could you have forgotten?'

Easily enough, unfortunately. That's one of the problems I have with my various health troubles - this loss of memory is affecting me more than I had realised!

Anyhoo, to get back to my exciting news - I went online to my OU site, and clicked the button that brings me my result and, on opening it, discovered that I had been awarded 88%.

I was utterly gobsmacked as, in all the time I've been with the O.U., I've never got higher than 76% for any of my TMA's!

I double-checked, just in case I had been mixed up with some clever student by mistake but, no, it was definitely my result!

I had been given the privilege of reading some of my fellow students essays after the last date for submission went by, and was really impressed with the quality of writing in my group, so was amazed that my little story was given such a good mark - thank heavens for different tastes, I say! Lol

I can't tell you how happy I am to get this. It has really given me the impetus I need to continue on with the course - especially as this new section - poetry - is a lot harder than I had expected.

Still, onwards and upwards, as they say - whoever 'they' are!

TMA 02 is off!

Well, I finished editing my tutor-marked assignment, and sent it off yesterday, before I ended up editing it beyond existence! Lol

I'm fairly pleased with my story, and just hope it appeals to my tutor - and that I haven't overlooked anything too glaring.

It's such a personal thing, this writing. You spend so much time wrestling with it, trying to get it to go in the direction you want, and investing almost every hope and dream into it - and then you send it out into the world for others to read, and pull apart, and comment on . . . and a small part of you is wishing that you could keep it safe with you, where nobody can hurt it - this child of the imagination!

We started the next block this weekend - poetry this time.
I'm enjoying what I've read so far, and the first couple of activities have given me some ideas for poems, although they are very much still in the hesitant note stage still!
I've been looking forward very much to this section, as I've always written poetry - so I'll have to see how I get on with being so structured for a change. :~/

I've been writing a daily Haiku since the course started - well, to be strictly accurate, it's been more a weekly one, but it's something I've enjoyed doing, as it keeps the creative processes going. Here's today's one:

Sun glints on water.
A corruscoping pattern
blends eternally.

And There Is A Right Way by Katy Board

I am so enjoying writing the activities for this last chapter, which is dealing with prose. I was asked, in activity 11.4, to write a story in 500 words, and so I did, using a sci-fi genre to do so - my very first attempt at sci-fi!
We were given a multiple choice of subject, and I chose ' a funeral', but we were to use a different title for the story, which I have.
Anyway, here it is, and I hope you enjoy it:



And There Is A Right Way

In the instant that the sun sank beyond the horizon, Zed placed the torch into the stacked wood in front of him. For a second, nothing happened; the only sound was Zella intoning the death dirge quietly in the background, as was her role in this passing of a mate. But, in a second, the flame flared brightly and the wood, stacked neatly in the cremation pyre, caught and quickly spread to envelop the wrapped form of Zarn.
Zed stood back, placing the torch in the holder waiting beside the pyre. He turned to face west, and saw a flare, an after-image of coruscating green, where a shard of light from the set sun reflected back from the clouds. He knew this was a sign that his mate’s soul had reached the gods, and he felt happiness that Zarn would be there waiting when it was their turn for the funeral pyre.
Zella finished intoning the prayers of the dead, and then silently came to stand beside Zed. They shared a moment of reflection, remembering the times before Zarn breathed his last in this world. They quietly spoke to each other about this, using it as a way of remembering their mate, and of reassuring themselves that they had done everything tradition demanded for this precious time of death-dealing.
Zed was reassured by Zella’s respectful demeanour, knowing that he had dealt the death-blow in the correct manner and at the right moment, so that Zarn would know nothing of it. He knew that Zarn would now be finding his way to the gods, still full of enough vigour to serve them in whichever capacity they chose, and this comforted the two remaining mates. They knew that it wouldn’t be long before it was their time to join with him, and they looked forward to that time with peacefulness.
As the pyre burnt down, all that was left was ashes. Zed and Zella waited patiently and, as soon as the ashes were cool enough to handle, they were gathered into the box waiting nearby. Then, with solemn steps, they made their way down from the headlands, until they reached a promontory that led out to sea. With all the solemnity it deserved, they continued the funereal tradition, by taking it in turns to scatter the ashes of their mate into the sea.
Just as the last handful was spread, they looked eastwards, and saw that the sun was about to rise once more. They had timed it perfectly. They looked at each other in the growing light of the hot, white sun, and the nictating membranes that served to protect their eyes in this bright world automatically slid over their eyes. With a last look out over the sea, they turned, and stepped slowly back up the promontory, using their powerful legs to push upwards to the headlands again. Zella carried the emptied box in her central arms, using the front set to pull herself over the rim of the cliff, and then walked back to the site of the pyre, where she placed the box for the next cremation.