First Place!!!

Congratulations to Nay, my daughter! She called me as I drove to class today and told me that she won first place in a writing contest at school. She won out of 27 students. The topic of the writing contest was about mothers (being that mothers day is right around the corner). I was so excited for her. She read her paper to me over the phone and I couldn't believe it. She wrote about our relationship and the things that we do together. I didn't realize how much she remembers and observes, even the little things. It made me smile. She's already picked up the talent of writing, among other things. Like mother, like daughter - she enjoys reading and writing and already finished her own short story. Yeah Nay!!!

Final Project: e-book cover

Check it out! This is what the cover of my e-book looks like. The title of my e-book is called "Unearthed: A Collection of Short Stories" by Odessa Windear.

I'm done!!!!...with my final project for at least 1 class. Only thing left to do is present it. It's an e-book. One change that I made late in the process of doing this project was that I decided not to publish it and make it available on the web just yet. I didn't realize all the considerations of first publishing rights. My final project is a small collection of short stories in a pdf document with a cover page and table of contents page. The table of contents are hyperlinked to take the reader directly to the corresponding page(s) of the short story that are selected. I love the cover. I put a lot of time into this project, mainly with revision. When I decide to make it available to be published, I will most likely add a few more short stories.

Now I've got one more final project to go and it's for my screenwriting class - which will require me to write 20+ pages to add to my script.

Well, it's winding down to the end of the semester and I don't know how I'm making it with very little sleep these days as I juggle school, a full time job, and family; but I think I can, I think I can... : )

My Final Project

For my final project in electronic publishing I've decided to do an e-book. Yes, I know I could've done something that's not so time consuming or complicated...at least I'm assuming it will be. I have a jump start because I plan to use some of my short stories and incorporate them into one book. I'll have a specific theme for the book rather than having random short stories thrown together to make a book. The hard work will probably be revising the work that I've already written. Once that's done, I can get it formatted and uploaded, then it's ready to be published. I'm actually looking forward to the finished product and seeing my own work available on e-book websites. Of course I'll download it to my own e-reader!

The next step would be to market my book by possibly creating a webpage for it on Facebook.

The work begins...

Written Passages

I have a new website that I created. Feel free to check it out at http://www.writtenpassages.wordpress.com

It has a great look to it - crisp clean look, bright colors, and easy to navigate.

I designed it with the writer in mind. Included are some helpful tips, recommended readings, and websites - all found on the Passages page. There's also some other interesting things on the website such as an Art page, Bulletin Board page, and more . It is of course going to be a work in progress as I plan to add more to it. I appreciate any feedback (both good and bad) and suggestions about the site. Comments can be posted on the bulletin board or can be emailed.

Check it out!

Not Enough Time in the Day!

There is not enough time in the day! I'm sitting in my electronic publishing class attempting to blog on my site while I stuff my mouth with a dry ass cinnamon poptart. I guess you could say that the poptart is either my really late lunch or my snack before dinner - I haven't eaten since this morning. At work today I worked in my office while trying not to pass out because of the heat...yep the AC wasn't working. So I toiled away with the everyday duties of my job until 4pm...sort of like waiting for the school bell to ring at the end of the day. I grabbed my things and was on my way...only to sit in traffic and stop and go, and stop and go. Then I get downtown and there's more traffic. So I make it to the parking garage and walk down four flights of stairs then up two and a half blocks to get to class. I'm now blogging and thinking about what I need to do for my final project in my electronic publishing and screenwriting classes, what's for dinner tonight, the staff meeting that I have tomorrow morning, the article for the newsletter I have to do for work (which is past due already), and how I'm going to fit in homework, down time, and taking my daughter to a pre-teen girls summit this weekend. I'm also wondering if I'm making too much noise with this plastic wrapper that the poptart came in. I'm trying to eat discreetly while everyone is being quiet working and typing. There is not enough time in the day, or the week, or ever. I haven't blogged in forever and have some major catching up to do for my blog posts, which are supposed to be 3 entries per week! I forgot to mention that I also need much needed sleep...but there just isn't enough time.

Excerpt from my short story, "Dear God?"

This is a coming of age story about a girl named Faye. It takes place in the seventies, its about losing innocence, a child's spirit, and gaining a voice strong enough to speak for herself and her younger sister Maribel...

Glass beads the size and color of lucid peas were strung together by thin hemp string, bound by an over sized knot at each end, hung as long as I stood tall. Columns loose like chains descended from the makeshift plywood frame that was painted a stark white to match the ceiling it was secured to, at the top of the stairs. The stairs, swathed in burnt orange Berber carpet reminded one of autumn and things of the sort like leaves and pumpkins, or Thanksgiving and its spices of nutmeg and cinnamon. It tickled my bare feet when I ran up and down the stairs or even walked slowly. My slender fingers caressed the hanging beads, playing with them. They made a clicking and clacking sound, the slight folds of air barely brushed past the edges of your face, each strand moving and shaking until they were perfectly still again and in place as if they had never been touched. There was paneling on the walls, a hue of dark brown. It was the seventies - the time of my youth. I use to pretend to be a runway model, passing through the hanging beads and sashay down the stairs, a towel draped on my head, swinging it left and right as if I had a head full of long flowing hair. I was the oldest, although only eleven or twelve around that time. My younger sister always followed suit, imitating my awkward movements and voice, her feet drowning in MaMa's big shoes.

In that house there was an unforgettable smell, a pungent odor of aged liquor and old women's perfume. It was always warm, which caused the air inside to be cutting. Because of the heat we often went baring our flat bellies beneath the tube tops and above the mid rise cut-off shorts that were once Jordache jeans. It was around that time that I hadn't quite grown into the bras MaMa bought for me from Woolworth's, but I stuffed them with toilet paper anyway. I had worn the plastic white peace earrings that I managed to afford for fifty cents at swap meet with MaMa before my first year of middle school. My legs were thin like ostriches, unassuming and plain, supporting the frame of a young girl nearing thirteen. A body that puberty was taking its time with to flower it with the changes a girl would live to see only once...