Posts Tagged 'Bravura'

It’s here!

The Bravura Literary Journal 2011! I’m officially a published writer (and editor). Suck it (Trebek, suck it long and suck it hard)!

Don’t underestimate the things that I will do.

I’m officially on Spring break. Here’s what I’ve got planned for the week: nothing! Ahahah. No really, I have a few little things planned, but I’m actually really excited about having nothing planned! The only thing I want to do, (especially with all of this rain) is cuddle up with a couple books from my own reading list.

As you may or may not know, I’m once again taking a creative writing class this semester, as well as the literary journal production class (Bravura) and in doing so I’ve been doing quite a bit of writing and work-shopping and  revising. It’s intimidating and fun and exciting all at the same time; especially when you get a positive response to your writing (or in my case my flash non/fiction).  So I thought I’d share some of the stuff I’ve been working on. Here is one such piece:

“I didn’t do it.”

My Barbies loved to have dance parties and I loved to get them together, dress them up and coordinate these parties. As their master party planner, I sat on the floor in my room one sunny afternoon perusing through Barbie’s closet trying to put together a stylish ensemble for her upcoming event. As I was rummaging through pleather, sequins, neon and everything pink I noticed my sister in the corner of my eye. She was standing in my doorway and appeared to be slightly perturbed. Perhaps she hadn’t gotten the invitation to my latest Barbie dance party extravaganza? Then again, maybe I purposely had forgotten to send it?

She was rarely invited because she always ended up chewing–on Barbie’s high heels, hands or even worse, her feet. Barbie would end up leaving parties having to carry her shoes in her newly deformed hands because they no longer fit her newly widened or shortened feet. It was traumatizing for everyone involved. And somehow I always ended up being blamed for this.

“Keep those little plastic accessories away from your sister! She’s going to end up choking to death!”

So I take the accessories away and end up with a crippled Barbie. There was just no winning; my sister had to be taken off of the guest list.

As she was standing there, I started to notice small, slightly alarming details: her little hands were clutched, one of them holding a newly sharpened pencil and she was gritting her tiny teeth. I felt the little hairs on my neck stand up. Clearly she was out for blood. Before I had the chance to utter a word she started running at me with every intention of stabbing me with her tiny spear. Eyes wide and frozen, I just sat there anticipating the blow. Luckily for me she hadn’t quite mastered the art of the loop, swoop and pull, which resulted in her tripping herself and stabbing herself in the eyelid.

I sat there are watched, half horrified and partially justified, as she laid on the floor screaming her head off, and thought to myself, “I do not touch her!”

More to come later, kids!