Soph_thewriter

United States

God ✝️
Reading
Writing ✍️
Running ‍
Doctor Who ✨

Message from Writer

❤️Don’t be afraid to write what’s in your heart

Published Work

My December Competition 2019

Dear Santa

Dear Santa, 
For me, the month of December is more than simply awaiting a pile of gifts wrapped under a Christmas tree. Its spirit is greater than cheesy hallmark movies, scorching hot chocolate that burns the tongue, or even eagerly watching the clock tick down to the first day of winter break. 

Because for me, December is not just Christmas. It's the month to be a little kinder, a little more generous, a little more forgiving. Christmas is the month for hope-- no matter what a person is going through, December is the time to look ahead and plan to change the future, to be surrounded by family and friends and love. 

Maybe that's why I'm writing to you tonight. It might be a useless cause but I'm determined for my voice to be heard. For my ideas to be voiced.

Because this emphasis on the quality of the gift rather than the love attached to it-- it's not healthy....

Novel Writing Competition 2019

Trainwreck


    The frosty, winter wind bit at my face repeatedly, a thousand needles injecting themselves into my cheeks, nose, and lips. I felt like a patient in surgery whose careless doctor had forgotten to give the anesthesia, and the only thought keeping me going was the insane possibility that I might see my mother again, who abandoned my family when I was nearly six. She promised she'd be back, but she lied. And now I was risking everything to find her again. 

    Despite all this, I wondered how I'd mustered enough courage to even do this in the first place. Not only did I feel that my limbs were about to fall off, but I could hardly see the path in front of me, and I was doubtful that I was even going the right direction. The moon was no help either, hidden from view by the towering trees. Still, I had to try, even if I failed in...

Album Review Competition 2019

Little Darling

 
 
        The sun was blindingly bright on the day I fell in love with the Beatles, the warm rays like a spotlight coercing me onto center stage. Yet I was playing my role in the audience as my toes curled around the vibrant green grass under the rare, cloudless sky in Pennsylvania and earbuds were shoved my way while a medley of sounds filled my ears.
 
“Here comes the sun, doo-dun doo-doo
 Here comes the sun, and I say
 It's all right”
 
        I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the world slip away from me as I inhaled and let myself float away with the beat of the music.
 
 “Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
 Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here.”
 
        Of course, I’d heard the song before—it was popular, after all. But it was also the gateway for me into the realm of the Beatles,...

Human Connections Essay Competition 2019

Journey of Tears

 
 
    “I’ll call you every day,” I vowed, hugging my best friend as I held back my tears, which were threatening to erupt and cascade down my face like a gushing waterfall. Lexi didn’t answer but squeezed me tighter, and we stayed like that for a solid five minutes, wrapped in each other’s arms—hiding from our doomed fate.
    Across the room, a tall boy with chocolate brown eyes watched our embrace. I met his gaze, feeling my heart crumble for what seemed like the millionth time that year as he turned and walked out the band room door. So much for mustering enough courage to talk to him. Then again, it would have been so much more painful had I done so.
    Lexi and I broke apart and I, realizing I was about to be late for the bus, rushed out the door and towards my new life, greeted once more by the familiar Texas heat. The tears...

Human Connections Essay Competition 2019

Journey of Tears

    “I’ll facetime you every day,” I vowed, hugging my best friend as I held back my tears, which were threatening to erupt and cascade down my face like a gushing waterfall. Lexi didn’t answer but squeezed me tighter, and we stayed like that for a sold five minutes, wrapped in each other’s arms—hiding from our doomed fate. 
    Across the room, a tall boy with chocolate brown eyes watched our embrace. I met his gaze, feeling my heart crumble for what seemed like the millionth time that year as he turned and walked out the band room door. So much for mustering enough courage to talk to him. Then again, it would have been so much more painful had I done so. 
    Lexi and I broke apart and I, realizing I was about to be late for the bus, rushed out the door and towards my new life, greeted once more by the familiar Texas heat. The tears...

Flash Fiction Competition 2019

Midnight Swim

In the blackest night, I dive into the murky waters, relishing its cool touch across my skin as I claw my way deeper into the lake, my troubles  sinking like stones. When I emerge to gasp for a breath, a stunning view of the sky greets me— glittering, shiny stars accompanied by a plump moon, which glows warmly in the dark hour and reflects off the shadowy water like a perfectly polished diamond. As I float in an awed silence, something else catches my attention. A spark flairs across the great expanse above— and it’s heading straight for me. 

Flash Fiction Competition 2019

Midnight Swim

In the blackest night, I dive into the murky waters, relishing its cool touch across my skin as I claw my way deeper into the lake, my troubles  sinking like stones. The familiar darkness surrounds me, exhilarating yet comforting. When I emerge to gasp for a breath, thoroughly satisfied, a stunning view of the sky greets me— glittering, shiny stars accompanied by a bright, plump moon, which glows warmly in the dark hour. As I float in an awed silence, something else catches my attention. A spark flairs across the great expanse above— and it’s heading straight for me. 

The Art of Writing

Fingers slashing at the keyboard. 

Pencils gliding across the paper.

Characters coming to life.

I sigh and lean back in my seat, a smile sneaking onto my face while the rest of the world is drowned out. I’ve broken out of a rut, one that has plagued me for months, hunting me like a bloodthirsty predator chasing its prey.

Perhaps it was the stress of school consuming my life, or the never ending storm of perfectionism; whatever the case, I am free from my bondage now, inspiration swirling within me like a hurricane. 

Still, I fear that it will return, that inability to write. It’s impossible to ignore.

Some call it “Writer’s Block.”
But— is there such thing? 
 
In all honesty, I’m not sure. The one thing I do know, however, is that writing is an art. It requires patience and practice and perseverance. Don’t give up when you’re feeling unmotivated— take a break and come back later. After all,...