“You’re drunk,” Soledad said, almost in a whisper. “I came to take you home.”
“I’m not drunk.” Soledad raised an eyebrow. Isaac had never been a good liar and his appearance wasn’t doing much to help: his hair was mussed, his eyes bleary, his shirt untucked and wrinkled. He reeked of rum and beer.
When he saw the look on her face he said again, “I’m not drunk. I’m very, very sober. I’m just tired, let me sleep.”
I’m tired, too, she thought. I’m so tired, I can scarcely move.
Gabe, the bartender, silently placed a glass of water in front of Isaac, then flicked him on the forehead. Isaac opened his eyes, startled and annoyed, but he eagerly picked it up and gulped like he hadn’t seen water in days. He dropped his head back onto the bar, mumbling unintelligibly. His eyes shut, still too drunk. Soledad told Gabe to keep the water coming, slid onto a stool, counted to ten and back.
Soledad sat, silent, the hubbub of the bar all around her. She kept her mouth pulled into a smile, hoped nobody saw through her. She imagined how she must look to Gabe and to the people in the booths around them: messy ponytail, sunken cheeks, sad eyes with heavy bags underneath them. She closed her eyes, counted to twenty and back, thirty and back, forty and back.
“Soledad.”
Gabe’s voice startled her. She blinked and met his gaze. “Whatever you’re going to say, Gabe, you’ve said it before—”
“Yeah, well, you’re going to hear it again anyway,” said Gabe, voice firm, tinged with anger. She knew what he was going to say, could see it in his eyes. She jumped up, feet moving of their own accord as she nudged Isaac and grabbed his coat. He still wasn’t all that sober, but it’d have to do. Isaac got up on wobbly legs, mumbling about wanting to just sit down for another minute. Soledad wasn’t paying him any attention, didn’t offer to help as he stumbled. She looked at Gabe but didn’t meet his eyes. His fingers tapped anxiously on the bar. “Thanks for taking care of him,” she murmured. “Good night, Gabe.”
Once they got to the house, Isaac made a beeline for the bathroom, coat and shoes still on. Soledad slipped off her shoes and lined them up by the door. She heard the telltale sounds of puking. She went to the bathroom, perched on the edge of the bathtub and rubbed his back while he puked, counted to seventy and back with her eyes shut. When she opened them, Isaac was leaning against the wall, head in his hands. He looked like he’d aged a century.
“You should leave,” he said. “Me. You should leave me. I’m no good for you. I never have been.”
This was always what came at the end of every night: brutal, unflinching honesty that he only gave her when drunk. Soledad left before he could say more. She walked to the bedroom and pulled out a change of clothes for Isaac. She curled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. It didn’t work. She bit down on her knuckle so hard her teeth almost broke skin. “No,” she said. “No.”
With fidgety movements, she picked up the clothes and brought them to the bathroom. Isaac was in the shower and she tiptoed quickly out again, hoping the thunder of the water would drown out her footsteps. She slipped under the covers and pulled them over her head. It was pitch black, even with her eyes open, and utterly silent. In the darkness everything faded away, like dumping water over a used paintbrush till it ran clear.
But it didn’t last. Within minutes, Isaac was back and brought with him sounds: the creaking of the floorboards, the bed dipping as he lay down next to her, his slow breathing. Suddenly, once again: nothing, silence, a standstill. It disappeared just as quickly when he tugged the covers off her face. His eyes were the deepest brown, warm and lovely, molasses she could swim and drown in. She couldn’t make herself break eye contact.
“You deserve better,” he told her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and spooned her, dropping his head in the crook of her shoulder. “Every night, I pray I wake up and find you gone. Every night, I pray I wake up and find you still here with me.” He spoke the words low and close to her ear. “I love you. I don’t want you to go. But you have to, you gotta.”
“You’re still drunk, you’re not making any sense,” she said, but the words sounded flimsy even to her own ears.
She didn’t think he’d heard her. He stayed quiet for so long she’d started to drift off. But then he whispered, “Please.”
Silently, Soledad counted to eighty and back. Ninety and back. A hundred and back. By the time she was done, her eyelids were too heavy to keep open and finally, finally, she drifted into the abyss of sleep.
Breaking News
HANNAH NESBAT
Basmala and I both challenged ourselves to participate in NaNoWriMo this year. This is an excerpt from my project that mirrored a scene in Basmala’s story.
She was still a little tipsy when she got back to her building and was surprised by her reflection in the closed elevator doors. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair had fallen out of its bun, and she had been too distracted to feel the hair on her shoulders. Every part of her was sweaty. The air-conditioning dried it to her skin quickly; once she walked through the door to their apartment she was cold.
She dropped her keys in the bowl by the door with a clatter and Michael said, “How were the girls?”
So it hadn’t come out yet; he didn’t know. Still, she knew it would be a push notification by morning. He paused—or possibly muted—the TV.
“Good,” she said in what she hoped was a neutral voice. “Nice to see them.”
“Any big updates?”
“Nah,” she said. She wasn’t sure why she’d lied. The truth felt too large, even though the words were still looping through her brain. She was so tired. She was so tired. She was glad when the sound of the TV resumed.
She went to the bathroom and turned on the water to run it until it was ice cold. The sound of the water hitting the sink basin was soothing, and she took out her contact lenses and brushed her teeth.
She swabbed toner over her still-red face and felt a wave of rage. She hated being afraid. She hated lying to Michael. She thought about the girls in their wrinkled uniforms who would open the news story and read it through half-open, bleary eyes minutes before they had to get out of bed and start their ordinary high school days, hours before they turned in a lab report or wrote an APUSH DBQ.
She took three shuddering, gulping breaths.
In the bedroom she slipped out of her sweaty sundress into fresh, cool pajama shorts and a top. She walked into the kitchen to fill a glass with mostly ice and some water. She did not say anything to Michael.
She crawled into bed and plugged in her phone. Michael came into the room and kicked back the sheets. It was only eight p.m., but her alarm was set for three-thirty.
He breathed into her hair. “Is everything okay?”
How dare he notice.
And then, to both her and Michael’s surprise, she started to cry.
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PROMPTS AND WRITING EXERCISES FOR INDIVIDUALS AND GROUPS
The Girls Write Now 2019 class of mentees, and young people the world over, are coming of age in strange times; times when the powers that be are attempting to strip our control over our art, our livelihoods, our homes, and our bodies. But these young writers are bold. Through suspense fiction, persuasive letters, and ode poetry, they’ve tackled standards of beauty, standardized testing, people always touching their hair, betrayal, expectations, how much they love to sleep, how much they love K-pop, how much they love themselves, and so much more. There is no generation of writers that I trust more to boldly demand their control back—for themselves, for one another, and for future generations. And they’re already doing it! Join us in the following writing exercises—be bold, and take control.
—KYNDAL THOMAS, Community Outreach Coordinator
SUSPENSE FICTION
Suspense fiction—from crime fiction, to mystery, to thriller—is a genre that has taken the world by storm, and for good reason. When the world around us feels particularly out of control, suspense fiction gives writers t
he opportunity to take back some of that control. Through suspense fiction, we can reclaim the things that make us feel anxious, angry, or vulnerable and control the narrative. We can tackle our greatest fears, give power to the powerless, grant voice to the voiceless, and enact justice however we see fit. These activities will give you the opportunity to boldly do just that.
PART ONE: WHAT’S AT STAKE?
Ask yourself: What about the world right now—socially, politically, or culturally—makes me feel sad, angry, or scared? Do a quick and loose free-write.
All suspense fiction centers around a crime, obstacle, or unfortunate event that creates high stakes for the protagonist. Use what you came up with in this free-write to fuel the central point of conflict in your suspense story.
PART TWO: WHO IS YOUR HERO?
Whether your crime is a kidnapping, a cult forming, or a cat burglar, there has to be someone trying to right—or prevent—this wrong. Start thinking about what is driving that person, what’s at stake for them personally, as you answer these questions:
1. What does this person want?
2. What does this person love?
3. What is this person’s weakness?
PART THREE: WHO IS YOUR VILLAIN?
Credible characters are complicated. They don’t fall easily into preconceived notions of good and evil. Heroes are flawed and villains are often driven by sympathetic factors. So challenge yourself to turn your hero into a villain. Think about what drives your hero. How could those motivations become warped, twisting a hero into a villain? Think of this as an exercise in empathy. Make a bold choice to try to understand what motivates people to do things we don’t agree with or find reprehensible.
This is also a great way to begin thinking about perspective. Suspense fiction relies on both a hero and a villain acting at odds, but you get to decide whose story you’re telling. Are you telling the story of the villain trying to get away with something most people would deem diabolical? Or the story of the hero trying to stop them?
RECOMMENDED READING
My Sister Rosa by Justine Larbalestier
The Thing About Jellyfish by Ali Benjamin
“Gone Boy” by Maxine Babb
PERSUASIVE WRITING
Writing doesn’t get much more bold and in control than the persuasive letter. Through this genre, we empower ourselves to identify a problem, take control of the situation, and ask, with confidence, for someone to listen, to change his or her mind, and to act.
PART 1: WHAT IS YOUR ARGUMENT?
Start by thinking about what is important to you—what issues in the world around you affect you, your community, and/or the people that you care about most? What issues seem to go unseen or unaddressed that you would like to bring to light?
Here are a few questions to get you started:
1. What is a current event that you would like to address?
2. What is a historical event that you would like to explore?
3. What is something you like/dislike/love and want others to like/dislike/love, too?
4. What is something you think should stop, or something you think should start?
5. What is something you think your peers need to hear?
6. What is a rule or law you think needs to be changed?
7. What is something you want, need, and/or deserve?
PART 2: BUILD YOUR ARGUMENT
Whether you’re addressing a prospective employer, your best friend, or a scholarship organization, there are several elements that will help you build an effective argument:
Evidence: Use facts, statistics, and credible testimonials to make your audience believe in your cause.
Emotional Appeal: Use strategies such as tearjerkers, scare tactics, pride, guilt, and humor to get your audience emotionally invested.
Anecdote: Tell your audience a story to help them relate to your position.
The way you employ these strategies should be different, depending on who you’re addressing. As practice, choose a few of the audiences below and, through quick bulleted lists, use evidence, emotional appeals, and anecdotes to try to persuade them.
1. A younger sibling, cousin, niece, or nephew
2. A parent, grandparent, or guardian
3. Your favorite celebrity
4. Your boss or principal
5. Your local representative
6. Your classmates or coworkers
PART 3: WHO IS YOUR AUDIENCE?
Now think about who, from the above list or beyond, has the power and the platform to help you achieve your goal. This should be your intended audience! As you write, consider which elements from your bulleted lists you will use to best address this person or community. Think about how you’ll strike the appropriate tone, creating the most effective balance among evidence, emotional appeals, and anecdotes, to convince your chosen audience.
RECOMMENDED READING
“Get Yourself a Giant Dog” by Maeve Higgins
“Rico Nasty Is Punk” by Lakin Starling
Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay
“An Open Letter to Teachers Who Hate the Hard Questions” by Aniya Greene
ODE POEMS
Poetry is all about choices. Poets have minimal time and space to communicate with their readers, so every word is a heavy lift and every choice is imperative. In ode poems, the first choice we have to make as writers is what the subject of our poem will be. What will we exalt? In this way, we as writers take control of standards of beauty, worth, and value. We are often told what is beautiful, what is logical, what is worth our attention—but in these activities, we don’t have to listen.
PART ONE: FEELINGS
Start by thinking of a person, place, or object that makes you feel really, really good. Then, try to identify what that really, really good feeling is. Is it joy, pride, comfort, gratitude? Whatever that feeling is, it should form the emotional crux of your poem. Every choice that you make from here forward should serve to create that feeling and to glorify your subject as the source of that feeling.
PART TWO: WORDS
In poetry, words are far more than their dictionary definitions—they are also sounds and shapes on the page. In this way, poetry is all about smashing words together that may have never met before. Word combinations don’t necessarily have to be literally compatible to be literarily compatible.
Here are a few examples:
that woven fire […] those glowing socks
(“Ode to My Socks,” Pablo Neruda)
Half-face towards the starchy scape.
(“Bodybuilder,” Cathy Park Hong)
splayed & sighing as a star in my arms
(“The Black Maria,” Aracelis Girmay)
These interesting combinations of words serve to create visceral feelings. In your poem, challenge yourself to use unconventional word combinations to answer these three questions:
1. What does your subject smell like?
2. How would your subject feel in your hands?
3. What role does your subject play in your life?
PART THREE: SOUNDS
Poetry is a genre often known for its rules, but these rules don’t have to be taken as law. We can think of these rules as tools that we can use, or reject, for our own purposes. Meter is based on rules that create sound patterns. Rhythm is about how readers experience those sound patterns. As writers, we can take control by breaking the rules of meter and creating our own rhythms.
Meter is a basic scheme of stressed and unstressed syllables in a line of poetry. There are two basic types of meter: iambic and trochaic.
Iambic meter follows a pattern of unstressed, stressed. For example:
But still, like dust, I’ll rise
(“Still I Rise,” Maya Angelou)
Trochaic meter follows a pattern of stressed, unstressed. For example:
Downward through the evening twilight.
(“Hiawatha’s Childhood,” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
First, challenge yourself to write a whole
stanza of your ode in perfect iambic or trochaic meter.
After you’ve gotten some solid practice in, start exploring rhythm. Rhythm is all about how you use meter—how you adhere to it and how you deviate from it. It’s about taking control of meter, being bold, and breaking it where you see fit. All rules are meant to be broken in poetry, but it’s important to be intentional about how you break them. You want to consider how each deviation from standard meter is working. How does it affect the flow and sound of your line? How can you use rhythm to express your feeling toward your subject?
For example:
Sing the song of summer.
Sing the song of true love.
The first line is all in trochaic meter, a stressed, unstressed pattern. The second line is not all in trochaic meter. The last two syllables follow iambic meter instead. Ending on a stressed syllable gives the line a more conclusive feeling. It suggests that there is nothing left unsaid.
Now take the lines you wrote in standard meter, iambic or trochaic, and start carefully playing around with the order of stressed and unstressed syllables. Think about how each change you make to standard meter is working. Through your word choices and your rhythmic choices, you have the power to control the flow of your lines in a way that translates your feelings to the world.
RECOMMENDED READING
Odelicious Poems by Samantha Thornhill
Black Jelly by Melanie Maria Goodreaux
Kong and Other Works by Pamela Sneed
“An Ode to Tears” by Amina Morgan
About Girls Write Now
For more than twenty years, Girls Write Now has been a nationally award-winning leader in arts education as New York’s first and only writing and mentoring organization for girls. Girls Write Now matches underserved teen girls and gender-nonconforming youth—90 percent of color, 90 percent high need, 75 percent immigrant or first generation, 25 percent LGBT/nonconforming—with women professional writers and digital media makers as their personal mentors. Our mentees are published in outlets including Teen Vogue and The New York Times, and perform at Lincoln Center and the United Nations, all while winning hundreds of Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. One hundred percent of Girls Write Now seniors are accepted to college. Reaching nearly five thousand girls, Girls Write Now is a founding partner of the New York City Council’s STARS Citywide Girls Initiative. Girls Write Now is proud to launch Writing Works, a new initiative that delivers enriched professional development and, through job and internship placements, creates a writing and technology pipeline into the schools and industries in need of diverse talent. Our annual anthology has received numerous awards and recognitions and has been featured in Bustle, People, and Newsweek.
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