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Open Mic, Anyone?

November 19, 2009

One of the biggest, coolest things that’s happened to me in the two years since Prophecy of the Sisters sold to Little Brown, is that I’ve been contacted by countless teens from all over the world. Often, our discussions about the book turn into discussions about friends, guys (or girls!), family, life, and writing.

I’m not surised that so many of the teens who have reached out to me because of Prophecy are aspiring writers, but what DOES surprise me is how amazing so much of the writing is. I continue to be thoroughly impressed and awed by the talent these young people display and am equally impressed by their desire to share their work.

I thought it would be fun to host a weekly feature where teens can share their writing with the world. I don’t know what kind of response we’ll get, so let’s just try it this time, okay? We’ll call it Open Mic, and now through next Wednesday, November 19th, you can post in the comments of this entry one writing sample of 300 words or less. It can be a poem, a short story or novel excerpt, journal entry… anything you want! If it seems like something you guys enjoy, I’ll consider opening my blog once a week to the feature in an effort to give everybody a chance to showcase and share their writing with the world.

And now, a note!

I never want my site to become an all-Prophecy pitch, all the time type of place, but I do think it’s important to acknowledge the many people who continue to love, support, and advocate for Prophecy of the Sisters, which is why I just kind of tack these reviews, links and stuff at the bottom of my regular blog posts. I guess if you don’t like the non-Prophecy stuff you can scroll down, and if you prefer it, you can just stop reading before you hit the bottom.

😉

That said, Prophecy of the Sisters updates for the week are as followsssss!

Thanks to Nazarea Andrews and Vicious Writers for posting their interview with me on the Vicious Writers website. Go check out the interview plus a review of Prophecy of the Sisters.

Thanks also to Nettie, who was sent a copy of Prophecy by the UK publisher, Atom, and posted an amazing review on the Watertstone’s site. It’s one of my favorites!

Big thanks to librarian Kathy Parker of Seneca Township High School for choosing Prophecy of the Sisters as one of her November/December “Parker’s Picks”. I’m so honored that Kathy would feel strongly enough about Prophecy to recommend it to her students, especially given the phenomenal company I’m keeping on that list! ❤

And don’t forget to enter my awesome Happy Holidays Swag Contest to win tons of books, gift cards, Gothic-inspired jewelry, and let us not forget, candyyyy!

😀

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20 Comments leave one →
  1. malovise permalink
    November 22, 2009 12:02 pm

    I know this is a little late, but I hope you’ll read it anyway

    “Daddy, please!”
    This was a familiar fraise. Emma had said it before, over and over again. He didn’t care though, he still lifted that glass to his lips, split them like he always did, and swallowed the alcohol like he always did.
    “I’m too old to change, honey,” he said dully, looking at her with tears glittering in his eyes.
    “I’m not a good father, I am so sorry. I am not who you need me to be”. The tears ran down his face, and Emma turned away. Didn’t want to see those tears.
    Tears were always running down his cheeks when he drank. She had seen them hundreds times before.
    “You said you’d change!” tears were running down her cheeks too. Not voluntarily, she hated crying. The only time she did was whenever she visited him.
    “Yes” he replied, like always. She knew what that meant. Yes means no. He had a problem; he just didn’t want to face it.
    “I can’t do this”.
    Driving home, she made her mind. She reached her house, and the tears flowed like never before. Her mind was set, but it hurt.
    It went a week, maybe two, before he sobered up. He visited the house, but his daughter avoided him. Until he was standing in her room, upset, clearly he knew what choice she had made.
    “I can’t do this. I love you so much, but it hurts. Every time I look at you. I can’t”
    “I’ll stop. I promise, I’ll stop.” And he meant it. The only words she ever wanted to hear, and he meant it. So she gave him another chance.
    He meant it. For one week. Then he gave up.
    And he lost his daughter.

    • michellezinkbooks permalink*
      November 24, 2009 6:15 pm

      Thanks so much for contributing to last week’s Open Mic. This is so heartfelt!

  2. Ashley Pulawa permalink
    November 21, 2009 1:47 am

    Those were all so Amazing!
    Unfortanatly I was to late.
    You should make this a discussion on the discussion board!
    Id love to share my writings. I LOVE to write.

    • michellezinkbooks permalink*
      November 21, 2009 3:57 am

      It’s not too late, Ashley! Submit away!

      MZ

  3. November 20, 2009 1:25 am

    i’m always writing random little tidbits, freeverse and otherwise.. if you like this at all, check out my livejournal –
    http://rchlfch.livejournal.com/
    i have a few other things posted up there. all unpolished, though, because i don’t usually intend on sharing what i write. so be careful.
    anyways, i wrote this a while ago. called “spellbound” (:

    our string is still invisible
    how will it be red?
    revealing what we kill to prove
    was never ever said
    hide it so the face
    on each end is a clue
    to rise to promises
    to turn from rubber into glue
    i fail to see a scar
    with sea salt swallowing my veins
    it heals before the valley
    can make a place for trains
    when these pass by fingers
    i long to draw you in
    to see the beauty i do
    in loving she with sin
    unknown to all her dreaming
    in one-way mirrored eyes
    so many overwhelming flaws
    deject the passersby
    so wish and want your fairytale,
    hope from high to low
    someday soon he will appear
    to make your heart his own.

    • michellezinkbooks permalink*
      November 20, 2009 7:35 am

      This is just gorgeous. I wish I was better at writing poetry. As with most things creative, I think it’s a gift that you either have or you don’t, and clearly you DO.

      Can’t wait to read more from you next time!

  4. November 20, 2009 12:04 am

    In the end, we will all have been hurt more times than when the world didn’t let us down, as we break hearts and find ourselves heartbroken but all for comparison. To feel happy you must have felt sad to realize how much better things are now, to feel love you must have been hated, pushed aside, broken or else how would we know its truly love. We find these walls surrounding us, this protection, sheltering us from the cannonballs and the armies waiting to seize you but at the same time we’re blocking out the hero or the heroin sent to us to take us from our fortress and bring us to salvation. We’ve all been broken so we are able to appreciate when we aren’t being broken, we’ve all broken a heart so that we can look our true love in the eye and know we could never do that to them. The heartbreaks aren’t sent forth to destroy your life but to help you continue down the road until you reach the destination that you will meet the right person at. In no way am I saying breaking hearts is ok, but in all honesty it must be done, just has to be handle in the proper way. To hold someone in your arms, knowing they’ve been crushed in the past, it’s a somewhat sad feeling but leaves you feeling so strong when you can hold them tightly and say “You don’t have to worry about that ever happening to you again” and if he/she lets those walls down then you can just feel the magic rushing from limb to limb and jumping off of yourself to him/her and theirs jumps to you. You find yourself caught in the moment, trapped between the heavens and the ground beneath you, nearly gasping for air as the world stands still, as if the hands of time were laid to rest just for the 2 of you to share the moment for ever. But as the seconds continue to slip away and the blood rushes through your veins you find yourself caught in that moment every time you look him/her in the eyes, feel skin brushing against yours, lips pressed together, tongues tied. All of the sudden, the heart break was worth it.

    • michellezinkbooks permalink*
      November 20, 2009 12:16 am

      This is really beautiful, Jason. Beautifully expressed and very, very true.

      MZ

  5. November 19, 2009 11:43 pm

    I love that you’re doing this, Michelle…and that so many people are responding already. Excellent work from everyone.

  6. November 19, 2009 11:42 pm

    ok i was really tired when i made this poem

    “Some Poems are sad
    Some poems are sweet
    But this one just reeks”

    Just to let you know i am not that great when it comes to poetry but I AM writer and hope to finish my novel soon

    • michellezinkbooks permalink*
      November 19, 2009 11:43 pm

      Well, you got a laugh out of me, and after this week, that’s sayin’ something!
      😀

  7. Katiee permalink
    November 19, 2009 10:55 pm

    One with an abode,
    it is not a homestead.
    She may be prosperous,
    but she does not want her fluke.
    Her psyche so twisted,
    Tousled, gyrated, and perplexed.
    What can she achieve?
    How can she confront the bitterness of this residence?
    Casting strikes, shrieks and cries.
    It leaves nothing perceivable.
    Moreover it engraves an indisposed reminiscence.

    • michellezinkbooks permalink*
      November 19, 2009 10:59 pm

      Oh, man… this one has me thinking. I don’t think I’m capable of writing something this profound.

      I’m SO glad you posted it (I’ll be thinking of it the rest of the night)!

    • November 20, 2009 12:07 am

      amazing! ❤

  8. November 19, 2009 9:25 pm

    Alright this ones kinda deep but I hope you like it : )

    The sound of running water
    Soothes me into a dull haze–
    My thoughts are far deeper
    Than any appearance is perceived.

    Think! Think about where you could be.
    If only you had gotten it over with,
    So you wouldn’t spend your life
    Thinking why not, why not?

    Running water, dark ideas form
    In some place I can’t comprehend
    I feel myself being pulled deep–
    into the recesses of my mind,
    a dark and demented place.

    I need my life preserver,
    But he can’t always save me from drowning.
    Falling, falling, falling–
    Into the rabbit hole I go.

    I have prolonged the inevitable
    But for how long?
    Even I could not say.

    Hope you liked it : ) I wrote it quite a while ago. I know it’s a bit on the darker side but that’s kind of how I write. Please leave feedback, I would absolutely love it : )

    • michellezinkbooks permalink*
      November 19, 2009 10:41 pm

      Ohhhh… this is really profound. There is a lot of sadness in it, but somehow I feel hope, too, even though I can’t point to why.

      Thanks so much for sharing this…

      MZ

      • November 19, 2009 11:52 pm

        Thanks so much for the feedback : ) and if anyone else has any thoughts I would definitely appreciate them as well.

  9. Wally C permalink
    November 19, 2009 8:13 pm

    Hi all,
    If you’re a fan of Michelle Zink and books similar to hers, please check out my new blog. I would very much appreciate it and would love to hear your comments and input.

    http://readthisnothat.blogspot.com/

    Thanks! (and that includes you Michelle : ) )

  10. gushingenthusiasm permalink
    November 19, 2009 1:59 pm

    I think this is a great idea! the following exert is from a novel I am writing about my father’s life, with some minor tweaks.

    “My grandmother’s faith hindered my youth more than just during holidays. I was not allowed to join sports teams, or any clubs, although the sports teams were easy to avoid, for John Dewey has no sports teams. My free time was spent wandering the streets of Brooklyn with Mary, trying to spread the word about the one True religion. Of course, it happened to be the one True religion which I didn’t believe in for a second.”
    “It is not in my nature to question things. Whether this lack of inquiry is due to my nature, or my upbringing in a Witness household, I can not tell you. I would much rather attribute it to my upbringing. As a senior at John Dewey, I was taking several classes, my favorites being English and a public speaking class. The latter was more for entertainment for myself rather than help for a future career. There were students in that class who wanted to be actresses, politicians, and business executives. I am not allowed to pursue any of these careers. Technically, I am advised against going to college. But, religion or not, I will be attending college. I don’t want to end up like Mary, who is seventy-two years old, and has never held a real job outside of the Watchtower Organization. Watchtower is our governing body, since all earthly forms of government are controlled by the Devil. Mary has worked for the Watchtower selling magazines and Bibles, making absolutely no money
    while doing so, and living off a very small retirement fund.
    Throughout high school, I had made good grades, and I knew I had several academic scholarships available. Mary wouldn’t hear of such a thing.”

    • michellezinkbooks permalink*
      November 19, 2009 3:38 pm

      Oh, wow… I LOVE this. What a strong powerful voice you have in this piece. I’m already riveted and wanting to know more.

      VERY nice.

      Thanks for sharing it with us!

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