Anne Woodland

            I was going through some of my old things, and I found this short story I wrote in my high school creative writing class.   I got the idea from a really bizarre dream I had...    Admittedly most of my dreams are strange.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!   Here’s part one: The Birthright             The charcoal fire burnt smokelessly and Lysander stopped his interrogation as dawn drew near.   Picking up his harp he leaned back and plucked out a simple tune.   The girl sat quietly across from him, her black hair falling across her face.             Yul, Lysander’s second-in-command silently appeared.   “Is she cleared?”             “She appears to be harmless enough,” the king replied, nodding, “No weapons trai...

            Whenever I edit my peers’ papers, I go a bit overboard marking things that can be clarified or expounded upon, grammar errors, etc.   I don’t do it to be mean, I do it because I want to help them write the best paper possible, and I want them to reciprocate with my writings.   Sadly, I am almost always disappointed.               My editing has two results.   Either they’re offended or they start considering me as some sort of writing guru!   Neither of which is desirable.   Over time, I’ve stopped using red pen when editing, for obvious reasons.   That has helped prevent some offense, but it does nothing to address the other extreme.             Recently, I was writing a thesis paper for an English course.   I am, by my standards, terrible at writing thesis papers. ...

            There are three parts of my psyche:             First, there is the adult part that is comprised of strong maternal instincts and a tendency to overcommit when helping others.   She feels the constant need to be doing something productive and fulfilling what she perceives as her adult responsibilities, despite the fact that she finds them quite challenging and often downright terrifying.             Then there’s the teenager part of me.   She’s in her later teens; probably seventeen or eighteen—old enough to be relatively confident, and young enough to still think she knows a great deal more than she does.   She’s a strange combination of sarcasm and apathy, with a wide sadistic streak thrown in for good measure.   She’s introverted, and the only people she likes being around on a regular...

            I appreciate Disney fairy tales, I grew up on them, but something that irks me to no end is the fact that Disney is remaking their movies into live-action films.   The issue with this is that they’re just reusing their already modified plots!   If you’re going to remake the blasted things at least go back to the original fairytale!   The Cinderella movie is mostly forgivable as there are hundreds of versions of that story.   The only part that I find completely aggravating is at the end where the Prince asks her name and she’s like, “I’m Cinderella.”   No woman!   Your mother named you Ella!   Don’t identify yourself by the name your abusive step–family gave you! Seriously!             Anyway, I’m rather annoyed that they did pretty much the same thing with their new Beauty and the Beast.   The original story is much more in...

            Recently I’ve been working on a short story about the parents of Cora, one of my characters.   I came up with Megumi and Shazar and their story in the past year, which is a bit ironic considering I came up with their daughter’s story almost a decade ago!   (It was during Geometry class my sophomore year of high school.   Believe it or not: I got straight A’s in that class.)   Only last summer, while I was in the midst of revising an early draft of my manuscript and considering developments to be contained in the second book, did I realize this glaring hole.  Even if Cora was to never learn about her parents, I wanted to know.              It’s been interesting: devising a story when I already know the ultimate ending.  Usually, when I start developing a story I take a rough idea of my characters’ identities and a “what if” scenario and proceed from there...

            There should be some higher-level qualifications required to obtain adulthood, turning eighteen just isn’t enough.   I remember when I was a senior in high school: it was terrifying talking to some of my peers.   Some of them didn’t know how to fill their car with gas or how to use a washing machine!   And we were about to be released into the world as “adults”.             I suppose my annoyance with the whole concept of adulthood is that the word "adult" really only deals with physical growth.   Think about it: if you go on a zoo tour you’ll probably be told various facts about the animals at certain developmental stages.   For example: “An adult tiger eats around fifty pounds of meat a day.”   All that adulthood implies for most species is physical maturity, and that’s fine.   Adult giraffes don’t have to file taxes or know ho...

            I love fairy tales.   To be clear I’m referring to the original versions were the villains meet their demise by dancing in red-hot metal shoes until they keel over, and the like.   (I’m sorry Disney, but not every villain will fall to his or her death.)             I love them, but I’ve come to the realization that if I were the protagonist the plot would be radically different.   For example, the story “The Six Swans” recounted by the Brothers Grimm starts in a similar fashion to many fairy tales: There is an evil Queen who is stepmother to seven children.   Being a witch she turns the six brothers into swans but forgets to do the same to the little sister. Eventually the sister undertakes to break this spell, but in order to do so she “may neither speak nor laugh” for six years and during that time she must make six shirts for her brothers. ...