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Young Writers Society


Where Does Writing Hide?



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381 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 1144
Reviews: 381
Sat Dec 30, 2006 11:19 pm
Fand says...



- in the smell of my best friend's cologne
- in the play of light across Manhattan, as seen from the thirteenth floor
- in the play of light beneath the trees
- in the grass on the hill behind the student union
- in how picky he is about what photographs of himself are shared with others, no matter how adorable he is
- in how he gets angry when I'm dubious about the sincerity of compliments I receive from others
- in a sleeping cat
- in eavesdropped conversations
- in 2 AM phone calls
- in silence and solitude
- in the death of a president
- in the majesty of a lit monument in inverse silhouette against the night
- in the sound of bells
- in the portraits of strangers
Bitter Charlie :: Shady Grove, CA :: FreeRice (162,000/1,000,000)
  





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Gender: Female
Points: 300
Reviews: 0
Fri Feb 02, 2007 3:33 am
hprules13 says...



- in the woods in winter among the bare trees
- in the sunset I can see when I walk down the road behind my house
- in the things I see out the bus window on the way to school every morning
- in empty school hallways
- in the air on Christmas Eve
- in the mountains on hikes with my dad
- in the view I see from the fire tower when we get to the top of said mountain
  





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Gender: Female
Points: 890
Reviews: 3
Fri Feb 02, 2007 7:13 am
extrastapled says...



- in walking late at night, when the moon is full and the skies are clear, and dried leaves whisper secrets for your ears alone...

- in the bottom of the bottle of a 40 you just shared with your best friend because neither of you has any money to get anything better, but you had your $3.08 and your nice spot under the tree by the crick...

- in the patterns in the paint on your living room ceiling while your sister plays video games and your brothers fight over the computer...

- in life
  





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8 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 276
Reviews: 8
Wed Feb 07, 2007 4:13 am
Zen says...



In the green leaves and thorny brambles, and the way they entwine around the teal fence trapping me in.

In the paper lantern dangling from the beam overhead, in all its redness and golden light.

In the warmth of the keyboard going “click, click, click” under my fingertips.
  





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Gender: Male
Points: 690
Reviews: 1
Wed Feb 07, 2007 11:53 am
Jetman123 says...



Between the lines in a book, where I find the strength to go on, almost as if the author of the book that inspired me is lifting my spirits him or herself.

In the warmth of my room when I'm hit by insomnia in the middle of the night, and begin to slowly type, gradually getting faster and faster and playing out a million different outcomes in my head but not caring so long as I'm writing...

In the deepest depths of my own thoughts as I wander aimlessly, thinking about everything that has taken place... or will, jumping from one thought to the next, endlessly evading me as I pursue it, frustrating me time and time again as my hands grasp at it's trail... only to erupt into triumpth as I finally catch it and dash back to my comfortable perch on my bed to once again begin writing.
  





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816 Reviews



Gender: None specified
Points: 8413
Reviews: 816
Wed Mar 21, 2007 10:25 pm
Leja says...



- in the foggy darkness on the way to the bus stop
- in the dark quiet of a moonlit beach
- in the forgotten graveyard on the side of the road
- in the stories of History class
- in the community of English class
- in the camaraderie of my Spanish friends
- in the endless shelves in the university library
- in a trickle at the side of my dirt road after a rainstorm
- in the music from Band class that swirls like mist around the room
  





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280 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 5890
Reviews: 280
Wed Mar 21, 2007 10:47 pm
Sumi H. Inkblot says...



Inspiration lies in the genius of past and present authors coming together to form a brilliant, shining new idea.
:)
ohmeohmy
  





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46 Reviews



Gender: Female
Points: 890
Reviews: 46
Thu Mar 22, 2007 1:34 am
chocolatechipmuffin says...



-In a blanket of snow in the early morning
-In the silence of the woods
-In the solitude of a race
-In the wonder of the Church
-In the love of friends
-In the sorrow of the Holocaust
-In the beauty of poetry
-In the lonliness of not belonging to a couple
"The only winner in the War of 1812 was Tchaikovsky."
~Solomon Short

"We are all of us living in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."
~Oscar Wilde
  





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816 Reviews



Gender: None specified
Points: 8413
Reviews: 816
Mon Apr 02, 2007 5:44 am
Leja says...



writing hides in the insomnia of 2am
  





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39 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 890
Reviews: 39
Mon Apr 02, 2007 6:20 am
Lancrist says...



- In my head, and it kicked poeticism out.

;)
  





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Gender: Female
Points: 890
Reviews: 335
Mon Apr 02, 2007 7:00 am
Fireweed says...



-In sleepless nights

-In daydreams during math class

-In the brilliance of the winter moon on a clear, frigid night

-In the wisps of fog amongst the Spruce trees

-In the trembling notes of a violin

-In the mournful call of a loon at night in the middle of the Canadian wilderness

- In mythology

-In political debates in the Letters to the Editor

-In bitten pencils and blue-lined notebook paper

Cool thread! :D
"I myself am composed entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions."- Augusten Burroughs
  





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103 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 4119
Reviews: 103
Mon Apr 02, 2007 7:23 am
Dynamo says...



-in my closet
-in the fridge
-on a bike
-in the trunk of my car
-at the bottom of a river
-dripping from a knife in large red drops
-in my neighbors stomachs
-in white jackets that bound your arms
-in small rooms where the walls and floor are made of pillows
-inside a courtroom
and finally,
-in the electric chair


Well, that was fun. Good thing they haven't caught me yet. Wait, what does that say? Where Does Writing Hide? Well, that makes more sense!... err, forget I said anything.
Chicken <-- Egg <-- Rocket Powered Fist
Take that, science!
  








We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
— T.S. Eliot