Writing Prompt #2

I wrote this piece a while ago, but I’ve retyped and edited it here. The prompt was to create a descriptive setting. Disclaimer: I do not live in New York City. I’ve only visited, and that was a long time ago. So my description is mostly from my imagination. 

Walking through the streets of New York can always be hectic, even in the early morning just as the sun is rising. NYC is unique because of the constant life. It truly is the city that never sleeps. People are wandering through the city at all hours, the obnoxious yellow cabs drive throughout the night, and drunk partygoers don’t head home until the sun rises, facing the walk of shame. When morning comes, the snooty business men in their gray, bland suits can be seen hailing cabs and walking to work. Shortly after, the rest of the city wakes up. The shops open their doors, the diners and restaurants start their grills, and people pile out of their apartments and into the streets. The life of the city never stops.

Sounds of car horns, sirens, yelling, and cursing sneak past the walls of apartments, and into the heads of the tenants. Open windows let in the scent of the New York air, something bitter, polluted, smokey, and sickening. Closer to the Hudson River, the stench of rotting fish and dirty water rises to the noses trekking to work. As the street vendors start cooking, the tastes of everything from hot dogs to tacos to coffee to apple pie fill the watering mouths of people passing by. The yelling of vendors and sellers beckons people to buy something, but most ignore them and keep on trucking to their destination. Accents from all over the world, and the many accents of different New York areas, can be heard all around the city. The diversity of the voices almost matches the diversity of the personalities. Everyone from theatre geeks to business men to goth teens to street thugs to middle-aged moms can be seen. The people come form all sorts of backgrounds. Everywhere from China to Africa to India to England. The tourists stand out the most, with their crisp, white, “I Heart NY” t-shirts, sea green foam Statue of Liberty crowns, backpacks of every color, and shopping bags. Walking down the busy streets people bump into each other, humidity starts to rise, and feelings of claustrophobia emerge. Everyone’s packed tightly together, trying to fit onto the sidewalks, and doorways to tourist attractions and well-liked shops are blocked. They’re are too many people crammed into one place.

The city can be overwhelming to anyone who hasn’t spent years there. There’s always something new to see, smell, hear, taste, or touch. There’s just too much commotion in one city, too much life.


Writing Prompt #1

This is not actually any new writing by me, but something I wrote for my creative writing class a while back. I’m just hoping to get some feedback on it. Unfortunately, I haven’t had much time to write lately.

Conversation: An Accident

“Hello, Charlotte. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Callaghan O’Connell asked, giving the girl before her a comforting smile.

Charlotte’s mother had insisted upon these monthly sessions with Dr. O’Connell, the local therapist. Dr. O’Connell looked like she could use some of her own therapy. Her curly, red hair hung limply around her pale face. Her skin stretched over her cheekbones, making them more prominent, and the dark shadows hanging under her emerald eyes were vivid. Her body was all skin and bones, making her look sickly. Charlotte couldn’t help but think that she was hiding something, something that was causing her to deteriorate before her eyes.

“Well, I still don’t want to be here, but mother insisted that I come,” Charlotte grumbled. “So, I’m a little annoyed, doc.”

“Why don’t you want to be here, Charlotte?” she inquired, her voice soothing and gentle, like a mother talking to her upset child.

“Because I don’t need to be here. My mother’s the one that wants me here. She refuses to believe me when I say I’m fine,” she growled.

“Why does your mother think that you should talk to me? What happened?” she asked, curiosity laced in her voice.

Charlotte struggled with what to say. She didn’t want to tell this woman what had landed her in here. She hardly knew her. Charlotte wondered how she could trust this stranger with the secret that was eating her alive? Looking up into Dr. O’Connell’s eyes, those eyes that held wisdom and compassion, Charlotte couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“My best friend died. It was my fault,” she blurted, cringing at her bluntness. She clearly didn’t want to talk about that night, but something was forcing her to, something in Dr. O’Connell’s eyes propelled the words out. It wasn’t the pain in her eyes that made Charlotte talk, although that was present too. It was the empathy, the understanding, as if she had lost someone close to her too, that flashed in her eyes that forced the words out of Charlotte’s mouth.

“We’d been at a party,” Charlotte continued, the words coming out fast and rushed. “Some frat guys had invited us. There was music, and dancing, and lots of alcohol. Sophie, my best friend, had a lot to drink. She was completely trashed when I decided we needed to get back to our dorm. She didn’t want to go though. We argued, called each other horrible things. We were both drunk, though, and had no idea what we were saying. I didn’t mean any of it.”

By now tears were streaming down Charlotte’s face, blurring her vision so she could no longer see Dr. O’Connell, who was now just a blob of colors. Her voice was raspy, cracking every few words, but she didn’t stop talking. She needed to get this out.

“I grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her into my car. I knew I shouldn’t have been driving, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get back to our dorm. And I knew if I didn’t take Sophie with me, she’d call me later for a ride, probably waking me up. I tend to be crabby when I’m woken up. Anyway, I managed to get her in the car, I’ve always been bigger than Sophie, and I got behind the wheel. I was driving down Main St. when it happened. I hadn’t really been paying attention to what was going on, and I ran the car into a light pole,” she whispered. My whole body was shaking as tears continued to roll down my face. Dr. O’Connell didn’t say anything. She just nodded for me to continue.

“The whole front of my car was smashed. I hadn’t buckled and neither had Sophie. She hit the windshield. Her airbag hadn’t activated. I was stuck in my seat. The steering wheel was blocking my legs. There was so much blood. It was everywhere. I tried to help her, I really did, but I couldn’t reach. I tried calling for help, but I couldn’t find my phone. She- she died right in front of me. My best friend’s dead because of me,” Charlotte wailed.

Her tears were sobs now, racking her whole body. It was all her fault. She’s the one that crashed the car. She’s the one that was driving while drunk. She made Sophie get in the car. It was her fault her best friend, the girl she shared everything with, was dead.

“I think we need to meet again next week,” Dr. O’Connell whispered, coming around the desk to wrap an arm around Charlotte’s shoulders.

My daughter, Caitlyn Jenner, and Laverne Cox

This is amazing. We definitely need more people like this in the world. We need more parents who accept their children for who they are, and people who embrace it.


As the mother of a young transgender child, my response to Caitlyn Jenner’s headline-grabbing announcement is a visceral one. Yes, I’m kind of put off by the hype. No, I’m not a big fan of celebrity culture or reality television. But when I look at the cover of Vanity Fair, and read the news articles that respectfully use Jenner’s new name and female pronouns, I’m overwhelmed by this new state of affairs, and by a world that might just be ready to accept my daughter. And that knocks me off my feet with awe and gratitude.

I called my friend Alice, a member of our support group whose trans daughter is a few years older than mine. “Did you see it?” I said. She knew what I was talking about.

“Of course,” she said. I could hear her shaking her head over the phone, as overcome as I was…

View original post 606 more words

Caitlyn Jenner 

[Warning: this is coming from my mobile. I have not checked grammar.]

I’m tired of reading all these hateful things about Caitlyn Jenner. I know Bruce was a huge, masculine icon, and so I understand that it may be a little hard for people to adjust to this. Transitioning is a difficult journey, and Caitlyn could use some support. Yes, she has it easier in some sense because of her wealth and ability to afford proper care, but that doesn’t diminish how big of a deal this is or how difficult mentally it must be. Let’s be decent human beings and show some support for her happiness.
Respect Bruce’s wishes and begin thinking of him as Caitlyn, a ‘her.’ Don’t continue calling her ‘Bruce.’ We allow people to go by all sorts of names. Some people prefer to go by their middle name, so we respect that and use that. Some people like to go by a nickname or shortened name, and we respect that. Let’s give Caitlyn the same respect and use her desired name and appropriate pronouns.
And as for this Espy award she’s winning, I think it is deserved. I also agree that the runner ups deserved it as well. But they only give the award to one person and I think it’s wonderful that they chose Caitlyn. It’s a big step for the transgender community. Let’s try to be supportive. Please.
This post has been purely my opinion and stance on issues surrounding the public and Caitlyn Jenner. I do not expect everyone to agree with me, but I do expect anyone who reads this to be respectful towards me. Feel free to share your own opinions, but don’t bash me for mine. Thank you.

Welcome, Friend!

Congratulations, you’ve found my blog!

You’re probably wondering who I am, what this blog is all about, and how to find the site you were really looking for. To answer your questions: I am Morgan, an aspiring writer who needs to practice; this blog is a collection of my writings, both creative and serious; and I unfortunately do not know how you can find what you were really looking for. However, I hope that you find my ramblings interesting and decide to stick around to read what I have to say.

Now that introductions are over with, let’s get down to business! If at any time you have suggestions, constructive criticisms, or writing prompts you wish for me to fulfill, please share them with me! I’d love to read what you have to say and am more than willing to meet some of your requests. I’m constantly searching for new things to write about. Maybe you can help me out.

Sadly, that’s all I have for today. Check back here soon for some real writing! Thanks!