Writing 101

All posts in the Writing 101 category

The Reality of Roger and Amy

Published October 10, 2014 by M. Natalia Arocho

This was an assignment my Creative Writing instructor gave us to write a one minute play. Here’s my one minute:


AMY: A woman in her late twenties, wife to ROGER

ROGER: A man in his late twenties, husband to AMY

Scene: ROGER and AMY are a young couple expecting their first child. It is night time and they are seen spooning in their bed with AMY’s hand on her swollen belly and roger with his arm wrapped around her. ROGER has been fighting all day to find a way to tell AMY something but can’t find the words. So as AMY is about to fall asleep, ROGER interrupts it with a question.

ROGER: What do you think of the name Rebecca?

AMY: Rebecca?

ROGER: Yeah. Rebecca. Do you like it?

AMY: It’s a nice name. (AMY yawns) Rebecca.

ROGER: And what do you think if she had blonde hair. Like you.

(AMY smiles, runs ROGER’s arm affectionately)

AMY: I like your hair sweetheart.

ROGER: And eyes?

AMY: I love your eyes, honey. They remind me of the green meadow you took me to for that picnic.

ROGER: Yours remind me of those cute blue heels that you have, the ones you wore for me-

(AMY playfully slaps him on the arm)

AMY: Oh stop it (AMY giggles)

ROGER: What? I like those heels

AMY: I know Roger

ROGER: And that dress that goes with it

AMY: Well it won’t fit now

ROGER: I know

(ROGER is silent for a moment)

ROGER: Think it’ll look good on me?

(AMY stills, opens her eyes and immediately sits up to look down at ROGER)

End Scene.


400 word, non-stop idea: Part 2

Published October 10, 2014 by M. Natalia Arocho

There have been two ideas that have been sitting in my head. One of them has to do with the Norse gods who I have had a bit of a fascination with by I haven’t read or found a lot of fiction that are about or contain information about the Norse gods. I know that Thor is popular in the comic book world and Loki, Odin and their world can be found in the Thor comic books but I haven’t really read any contemporary fiction that refer to the Norse gods. So I have been thinking, in my aspiration to be a writer to write a story that touches on the Norse Gods and brings the others that have a story to tell to light. I know that I would include Odin and Thor and Loki but I don’t want to make them the main characters. I don’t know yet if I want there to be human main character or a god as the protagonist. I am just playing around with this idea and researching to get ideas. If anyone has any suggestions or books they think I should look into let me know.

The other idea falls more into writing a story directed more toward YA readers about a young couple in high school maybe where one has multiple personality disorder. I think that it is fascinating and yet very complex to think of a person dating someone when in actuality they are dating two entirely different people within one body.

I am just throwing things out there and seeing if anything sticks with me, something I can’t shake off.

400 word, non-stop, idea

Published October 10, 2014 by M. Natalia Arocho

I have been wanting to write my own book and I have had two ideas in my head. One of them I’ve included an excerpt from my first idea. I have always been in love with the myth of Hades and Persephone. I have read so many authors own take on the myth such as the Goddess Test series by Aimee Carter (which is my number one favorite), Abandon Trilogy by Meg Cabot, Goddess of Spring by P.C Cast and Myth-O-Mania’s Phone Home Persephone by Kate McMullan. I like the representation of light and dark, especially Hades which I think people don’t see in such a good way. For me Hades was the god that was misunderstood and the authors have taken that and shed light on how they perceive Hades truly is when people get to really know him. That is why I want to bring him to life to show how I see and love Hades and get readers to love him too. Can’t always be about Zeus.

My take would be that main character, a female who shall remain nameless is taken by Hades (who will go by another name in this story for the most part but is understood to be Hades, Ruler of the Underworld.) She is taken because it is believed that with her qualities she can break the curse that was bestowed upon them by Persephone to protect Hades and the rest of her family from Kronos. (I’m not entirely sure if he will be the villain in this, it may turn to someone else as I write and do more research) She is taken to train to then one day break the curse and set the balance and world right again. Here is my excerpt. It may just end up being part of the beginning of my first chapter.

He watched her from a far. It seemed like that was what he’d been doing ever since he had laid eyes on her. He had to be sure. There had been too many, too many that had almost made it but had fallen short. He needed her to be the one. He knew that just judging her from afar and not getting to know her was not the ideal situation for find the one who would free them from this curse. But he had come so close to others, he had gotten to know them better and in the end it only caused him more pain, knowing them.

Watching her interact with others, with no influence or interruption on his part would help him determine if she was the one or not. He watched her walk from the school to the field. She was still young and naïve. Tall and athletically built, her skin was a light tan from playing out in the sun. Her face still soft but with defined cheek bones which he knew was from her mothers side of the family who has Native American. Her and hair that were the same color were from her father, who was Greek. Her dark brown hair hanging loosely across the middle of her back, was being tied up as she walked through the parking lot to a car where a group of girls were all standing around the trunk. They were grabbing bags and chatting about whatever it was girls talked about, he hadn’t a clue.

As they walked, he followed behind, trying to look natural and not out of place. He would have probably been mistaken for some sort of rebel in the black t-shirt, dark washed blue jeans and black boots. He never had a real sunny disposition and many of his siblings would say that he was always brooding over something, looking much to serious all the time.

Well, one couldn’t always feel so happy go lucky in his line of work. How anyone could be when dealing with the dead, he had yet to see. Except for her. She had been the light in his life. The one to show mercy. Though she had been able to pass cold hard judgment to those who needed it, she had still been fair and no one, no even though souls who were surely going to bed damned, argued against her decision. When she said it, it was as if the sun where shining a light on their wrongs, making her decision irrefutable. Oh how he missed her. Remembering her only strengthened his resolve to go on and follow this girl. Observe every detail of her. Make sure that this time she was the one.

The Big E

Published October 3, 2014 by M. Natalia Arocho

It’s gone.

The smell of popcorn, the sticky feel of cotton candy, the crunch of peanuts, the taste of a bacon hamburger between two glazed donuts.


The screams of children, the feel of the harness clicking into place, the smell of sweat on a parent who has been chasing his kids around the park, the taste of his kiss in the photo booth.


No more. It’s all over. The tradition is no longer a tradition because the place where this tradition to carry out is gone.

The place where the Big E once too place was deserted, vacant, there was nothing there any more, completely was empty. With the Big E no longer being there, it is as if my memories have gone with it even though I know that they are still there, stored away in a file in my mind.

Standing there in the empty lot, in the place that the Big E once stood, I see the ghost of a place that once was. The children that use to come with their parents, bright eyed and filled with wonder at the rides and exhibitions. The parents who were brought back to their childhood with the smells of fried dough and hotdogs, remembering the stickiness and missing the sweetness of cotton candy, caramel corn, and candy apples. College students walking in groups, not worried about the stress of exams or papers but just being young and feeling like the world is theirs for the taking. Older generations walking around hand in hand, remembering their younger years, their first dates, their first loves, their first heartbreaks at this very fair. It was it’s own world, a world where problems, worries, doubts, depression, grief was no where to be found. A place where there was only joy, happiness, love, intimacy, family, friendship, hope. There are only a few places in this world that one could describe as being a place of happiness and a release from daily problems. This, the Big E, was one of them. Where my childhood began, where my first love had been, where my first healing from heartbreak had started, where friendships had been maintained and tradition had been upheld.

All that, is now gone. Removed. No longer in existence.

Where it went? No one knows.

Why it left? Not a clue was given.

Will it return? One can only hope.

The Alpha

Published October 2, 2014 by M. Natalia Arocho

The Alpha is what I call him. Looking at him, being around him one could tell that everything about him is pure masculinity. The way he walks. His manner of speaking. How he towers over everyone (discount the fact that the is well over six feet) surveying all in his domain. He claims what is his, dismisses what he has no use for. The Alpha that keeps his pack in line.

A younger me from a far, having yet to be exposed to his world, watched him in admiration and thinking him to be a great leader. A man who is knowledgeable, is logical and fair in his decisions, charming, friendly, who keeps to himself but can socialize like the best of the extroverts. The younger me had a great liking to him, a regular high school crush.

The older me now looks at the once younger, naïve me and sighs. The older me knows better, sees more clearly. The alpha inside me is growling at being seen as a child, immature, her ego is feeling slighted at the fact that she is not being recognized. She is not a minor character, a beta, a supporting role, and she will not acknowledge the fact that she is being seen as such.

Living on a small campus, having such a small, interloping circle of friends and having the same taste in events and places, there was no way to avoid being in his constant vicinity. No way to avoid the preening that my ego goes through on site, the way my head goes up a notch higher, my shoulders find themselves elevated and I am more aware of my surroundings and the signals I give out. Aloft. Approach with caution. You would be only so lucky to touch. Beware, my bit is just as bad as my bark.

There is no helping it. I’m a string pulled taught on bow, waiting for the release. For him to talk to me. For him to not talk to me. For him to look my way, for him to look away. I’m just ready to let my arrow fly and yet it goes no where as he moves along. An intruding shooting star that penetrates into my orbit, is visible in my atmosphere constantly to only leave as quickly as he appeared.

And when he does leave, my string relaxes, the arrow is away but I feel the slight twinge, the continuous regret of a missed shot.

Serially found-The Bed She Lay In

Published October 2, 2014 by M. Natalia Arocho

She lay there in a bed that wasn’t hers. On her back, she looked up at a ceiling that didn’t belong to her. Her ceiling had glow in the dark stickers that you could still their outlines in the daytime. The bed she lay in was not like hers. It was hard, with every movement she made she could feel the springs pressing into her. The sheets were not as warm as inviting as the ones that she curled under in her room. Hey body draped with a thin light blue sheet and a blue blanket that was well worn on top that offered little warmth in the chilled room. The body that she awkwardly lay next neither offered protection against the AC’s cold front nor did it look willing to provide. Back to her to keep her to her side, legs curled close and hands pulling the greater portion of the covers over, the boy, supposed gentleman and charmer from the night before was now a man lost in his alcohol induced sleep. He was a part of this room. This room that she could see had posters of half naked women on the walls, dirty clothes strewn across the floor, the chairs, the closet. Bottles of liquor on the shelves next to text books that have papers protruding from the end of it. The desk covered in papers, his wallet, wrappers of condoms and lube bottles that had trails of its residue on it and the desk.

One of these things is not like the others and she was the odd ball out. Taking it in, looking at the ceiling that wasn’t hers, she was thinking of herself, of her saturation. She was the Alice that fell down the wrong rabbit hole into the world of the immature, still sowing his green oats, college boy. There was no tea party, only shots after shots of forgetfulness and reckless abandon. There was no white rabbit, no mad hatter, no door mouse, only airbrushed, plastic women with looks that said come hither but all she wanted to do was crawl away unseen.

This wasn’t her. This girl that was laying next to him was one that left the real her outside of the bar that night, that is still waiting for her to pick her up. She was like Peter Pan’s shadow, going off and instead of ending up in Wendy’s room, she had landed into Will’s, a skinny white boy with short brown hair and no flare for story telling or for creating orgasms.

Trying to crawl out of bed without disturbing her hung-over host, she placed one leg and the other over and out of the bed. Her clothes weren’t too hard to find, being that there were few of them and close by. Slipping on last nights sweaty cigarette smelling cropped top and shorts, she zipped up her boots after taking out her keys and wallet that some how strategically put there at on point in the night. Like a shadow she slipped out of the room and the apartment that she didn’t care to look at, only thankful that the rest of it’s inhabitants were all still sleeping in late.

With twists and turns, seeing flicks of light come through the windows of a rather dim hallways, she managed to get out of that world of one night stands and walked into to the light of a new day. A new beginning, last night in the past, history, old news. Walking the few blocks to her dorm, she could feel her reason come back, the scolding of leaving with a stranger, the caring to make sure no harm was done, the lesson learned that no cute boy was worth loosing ones self, she finds herself in front of her building.

In her room she sheds last nights clothes, last night boy and tosses them into the hamper. In the shower, she scrubs away the bad decisions and mistakes, worries, and doubt, the pretend of being a girl she wasn’t. Stepping into sweats pants that belonged to her bad, a sweater that she’d stolen from her brother, socks that her grandmother had given her last Christmas, she felt pieces of her being put back together, her shadow being sewn back onto her body. Looking in the mirror she smiles, brushing away a stray hair from her face like her mother would and says “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Death to Adverbs

Published September 25, 2014 by M. Natalia Arocho


They are all staring into screens. Some of the stares appear glazed, others seem to be staring at nothing in particular. Others have eyes that show they are no longer in the present. Eyes are scanning the room, looking and taking everything else in except for what is on the screen. There are those whose eyes don’t move from where they are, engrossed in what is before them on the screen.

Students are slouched in their chairs, not wanting to be in the place that they are but are there because of their obligation to themselves, and their parents, to do well in class. There are tables with students scattered here and there, a few tapping their pencils on the wood, hand stuck in their hair, eyes staring at the paper, willing it to make sense or for the answer to appear. There are those who are so relaxed. They sip their Starbucks coffee or herbal tea, leaning back in the chairs, not stressed about deadlines or due dates. Their Mac laptops covered in different patterns and colored cases form a barrier between those who are pulling strands of hair from their scalps, eyes bloodshot from being in the same seat since early that morning.

The silence that was universally expected kept getting interrupted by the hard press of fingers and nails on the keyboards. The fast, then slow, abrupt pauses in the typing. The squeaking noise of the mouse, directing them to a new page, dragging picture and files across the screens. There is quiet chatter in several places. A couple look over their laptops to discuss a going to see a movie that weekend. A group of boys are speaking in a language that I can’t identify but their soccer club jerseys and the game that is playing on one of the bigger computer games tell me that they are discussing a recent call that was made in the game, causing to speak in heated hushed voices at the screen. Girls with the same Greek letters displayed on their chest twitter about the social they will be having and the cute boys that will be there. They flip their hair, blush at the male names that are mentioned, grin excitedly, their eyes bright and leaning close to one another to hear all that is being said at once.

I see all of this as I walk from the spot in the corner where a lone love seat sits with a small coffee table in front of it. It hides behind the circular café whose back wall has computer screens that have been staring at me and swiveling chairs that beckon me to come and take a spin, to put that dust filled book down and have some real fun with them.

I ignore the call and watch the people, the students that are glued to their computer chairs, staring at the screens, their papers as if doing it will get them out of the chair faster. I take my book to the counter and give it to the girl who is smiling across from, a laptop in front of her. She takes me book and says, “Checking out?” as she scans my book.

I smile and reply with a yes, taking my book and leaving the library.