Historical Fiction, Poetry and Fantasy

Abby Gray, Jennings Roghelia, and Kamryn Lee are all attending Young Writer’s Camp at UNCG for the second week starting today, along with a whole classroom full of 6th and 7th graders. The first week allowed them time to begin writing their stories (and other assorted writings), and this blog post is dedicated to showcasing some of their work. Namely Abby’s, Jenning’s, and Kamryn’s.

As the astute reader may have noticed, there are three distinct genres and writing styles being explored by the spotlight writers for today. For those who weren’t cognizant of our title (I can be quite guilty of this sometimes), you’d best refer there to find our genres of choice. Now, without further ado, our first young writer of the day, Jennings Roghelia, a 12 year old up-and-coming Historical Fiction enthusiast.

When asked what his favorite part about writing was, he responded with “It’s fun." He says he decided to come to camp because he wanted to learn more about writing. He says he enjoys making things up where he can kill people. He admits it’s a bit dark, but he enjoys writing about people’s pain, which is almost definitely why he chose to write a piece on World War II. Here’s an excerpt of his writing from the camp, entitled War’s Call:

“The year was 1941. The second great war had been raging for 2 years now. More people were dying every day. I was lucky, until the bombs came. They fell like rain from the blackness above. I awoke to the sound of the air raid sirens screaming in the distance. Anti-aircraft guns blasted at the targets that the huge spot lights found, gliding through the dark night. I leaped out of bed and ran outside to the metal safe house next to the potato field. Then the bombs began to fall. First it was a distance drone of boom, boom, boom. Then the sound got louder and louder. The bombs were dropping in the field right next to my house. I closed my eyes and tiredness overcame me as I drifted to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of birds tweeting outside. I dragged myself out of the safe house and blinked in the bright sun light.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Do they fade away unnoticed
Or break away with pain?
Like the sting of a gash
Or as peaceful as the rain?
Excerpt from Dreams of Ours, by Kamryn Lee

Our next young writer of the day is a poet. Kamryn Lee, a 12 year old girl who honestly writes better poetry than either of us can. Her favorite part of writing is the freeness of it, being able to do whatever you want and having no limits. She came to camp because she’s been here for a few years. She enjoys it because she gets to be around other writers, with which she’s allowed to bounce ideas off of and meet new friends. Her poetry is a delight to read, often covering realistic and relatable themes. But why bother talking about it when you could read it for yourself? This piece is called Drip, and was written especially for camp.

Drip, drip
Goes the water
Drip, drips
Into the sink
Drip, drip
It turns to red
Drip, drip
I cannot think.
Drip, drip
It’s haunting me
Drip, drip
I cannot stay
Drip, drip
I see the man
Drip, drip
He fades away.
Drip, drip
The water goes
Drip, drip
Goodbye to red
Drip, drip
My hands are clean
Drip, drip
The man is dead.

______________________________________________________________________________

Last, but certainly not least, is our resident fantasy enthusiast, 12 year old Abby Gray. Her favorite part of writing is being able to create new people and new worlds that could never really exist, or developing new characters inspired by people that she knows in real life. She came to camp because she needed someone to give her advice and encouragement about her writing and get a chance to write in an environment with few distractions. She enjoys world building and character development more than anything else, which gives her an outlet to her more creative side. Here’s a taste of this fantasy fanatic’s writing for camp, entitled Mission Awkward:

“Got it! See ya!” He waves. I laugh at his excitement and turn to get a running start to fly. My feet kick up ash as I run I leap into the air and spread my wings. I need to hurry because Angi is probably already there. I fly the fastest I can until I’m home. Angi’s mom has parked in front of my house with her tan minivan and Angi is sitting on my porch with a glass of sweet tea.

“I have been waiting for like, ten minutes!” Angi glares at me.

“But you have sweet tea, and I had to get Calden… He’ll be here in ten.” I tell her.

“We have to wait ten more minutes?!” she complains.

“Come on, it’ll be fine. He’ll be here soon.” I assure her. I hear a screeching “ring ring” as I say that. Here comes Calden on his bike, which has a very annoying ring.

______________________________________________________________________________

Of course, these three are not the only campers enjoying their time at UNCG’s Young Writer’s Camp; there are a multitude of other children exploring the craft of wordsmithing with us this year. Unfortunately, if we tried to go over all of them, it’d be a *very* long blog post, which might get a bit tedious. There’s no tedium, however, in saying that each and every child here at the Young Writer’s Camp is enjoying the experience(We’ve heard no complaints, at least!) and improving their skills in all areas of writing. Until next time!

Written by Aidan Heberle and Kaley Wood