Youth writers rock! (alt title: Don’t need a college degree in English to get that “real” feel in fiction)

My blog has meandered over a wide variety of topics lately, but the primary purpose was to blog about writing. What I like, what inspires me, and what I’ve learned from 6 years of writing fiction.

When I need inspiration, I scour the net for youth bloggers who have a knack for that “authentic voice.” Rainie AKA VoldyMort has “it.” She’s in high school, lives in Hong Kong, and when she writes about her life in high school, it cracks me up.

Writers obsess over “voice” and “authenticity.” I’ve been told I have it in my writing, but I often look around and wonder where it came from. It’s the other stuff – like description and narration that I struggle with. I can scrawl out dialogue on the fly, because that’s how my brain works.

[wait a sec – Redskins just scored a touchdown]

Where was I? Oh yeah… I’m writing as if everything is happening now, in the moment. Maybe that’s why Rainie’s blog about life in high school in Hong Kong ( rocks. She writes in the moment too.

Here’s an excerpt:

“Yesterday, we had P.E. and we played tag, it seems harmless when you think about it, and I thought so too. I was like “Yay! Games!”, but who could predict the violent outcome?

We lined up in a row and we were supposed to run one by one. When it was my turn, I sort of half ran half jogged about one hundred centimetres (I don’t know how to measure in metres, sorry) and this guy who is the catcher just rushes real fast towards me like he’s trying to attack me, I didn’t even know he was that close to me. Then I trip over him because his leg got in my way. Nothing happened to him, but there I was, my entire being collapsing with a loud crack onto the gym floor. My legs were hurting so bad, I was like MY LIFE OVER, IM GONNA BE CRIPPLED, in my head.

So I was sitting there on the gym floor with a bruised hip, ego, arms and legs and feeling physically damaged. Everyone was just STANDING THERE. Even the teacher. No one said anything, even the said retard who tripped me over. After around 10 seconds, the teacher comes over, he spent those first 10 seconds stopping his stopwatch. He walks over slowly and tells me to stand up. I couldn’t, so he helps me. He tells someone to bring me over to the chair, so basically no one was bothered to apart from my friend who helpfully came over, thank god.”

I thanked Rainie. She wrote back:

“Hi, thanks! 😀 I’m glad you found my blog interesting. I’ve never intended my site to solely focus on writing nor did I expect anyone to really care about what I write, which is why your e-mail really brightened my day.”

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