After graduation, my friends and I took a quick camping trip to Assateague Island. Afterward, I had the chance to guest write about the experience for the Mandala Blog. If you’re interested, take a look:
One of the first things I did when I graduated college was hit the beach. And not just any beach: Empty stretches of sand and a rising sun over the ocean’s horizon, where you’re isolated alone on an island seemingly in the middle of nowhere—and are those wild horses?
Assateague Island, a 48,000 acre vacation oasis, is shared between Virginia and Maryland, and is relatively untouched by human civilization. The secluded nature and wild island horses feels like a scene straight from your collection of Walter Farley Black Stallion books you had as a kid.
As a post-college graduation indulgence, and as a way to prove to nature that we were competent adults worthy to take on the world, I and two of my friends from high school ventured through the countries of Maryland to Assateague Island National Seashore.
Only Veronica had been camping before, but while she supplied the tent, cooking utensils, lantern, and fire starters, even she admitted to Rebecca and I that she’d never camped at Assateague before and that she was more familiar with camping in the woods than by the ocean.
But not to fear; we were college graduates. We were adults.
Every year, the Copy Editing II class works hard to produce PCC’s annual literary publication, Fountains. This year, I had the fantastic opportunity to be one of two Senior Editors, and it wasn’t until this year did I realize the awesome process of creating such an incredible product.
I had the privilege to publish two more stories in the America’s Emerging Writers series this year, a new publisher now nominating its best stories for Pushcart nominations.
I’ve never written a horror/campfire story until the first semester of my freshman year, but staying several nights in a large Portofino resort on the end of a Pensacola island got my creative juices flowing. Four years later, the story is finally available for others to read in the East Region’s horror anthology, and anyone familiar with the island resort will notice the story’s resort bearing remarkable resemblance.
The other story, published in the East Region’s literary publication, is a story I wrote as a college sophomore, and a version of it can be read here. Since penning it, the manuscript has evolved and developed, so be sure to check out the updated version in the paperback edition.
I had the opportunity to guest-write for my college’s blog. Being a hungry college student who craves encouragement and chocolate, I naturally compared donuts to the Christian faith. Take a look:
Guest post by senior Jenneth Dyck When I was in high school, my donut went missing from my lunchbox. I was in a particularly bad mood that day, and the AWOL dessert almost pushed me over the edge. 25 more words
It was a great experience, and I really enjoyed seeing my name printed alongside so many other talented writers representing the state of Florida. Little did I know that there would also be a national copy set to print just in time for Christmas — and my story made the cut.
While 2,000 entries were accepted for the state-level publishing, making up all 50 states, only 136 of those 2,000 were selected to make up the national edition: America’s Emerging Writers.
You can buy a copy on Amazon, or click here to buy from Z Publishing’s website. Note that there are two volumes to this book. You can find mine in the first volume.
This past month, I’ve been struggling with severe writer’s block. I almost never succumb to it’s cold, calloused embrace, but this month has been a doozy for my writer’s mind. What’s worse? I had a paper due; a long paper.
In an attempt to conquer this…impediment…I wrote this short soapbox rant for my nonfiction class:
Today, I have a problem. A real, big-time problem. It’s a problem every writer faces, a problem every writer fears. It comes with no warning, but strikes a quick, agonizing blow to your self-esteem, your peace of mind, and your overall sanity.
I’m talking about writer’s block. The wicked, wicked illness of every writer.