We have returned!

Hey y’all! Wowzers! No one has posted on here in like FOREVER. All of us here at Author’s Press are truly sorry for neglecting this blog so. Hopefully we’ll be able to post more regularly on here in the months to come. Honestly, I haven’t really written any more chapters to my books. Really, the only things I’ve written in the past year are essays and literary analyses for school. So, due to lack of interesting stories, I’ve decided to post my essay entitled The American Camelot, that I wrote a year ago. Hope you enjoy!

  Have you ever heard of the mythical city, Camelot? If that doesn’t ring a bell, then have you ever heard of King Arthur, Lancelot, or perhaps Guinevere? The Arthurian legend has been a popular history topic for years, amidst the fact that Camelot might not have existed at all. Really, the legend is just so captivating with it’s tales of knights, romances, quests, and kingship, that we just choose to believe such a staggering story. While the Camelot spoke about during the Renaissance might not have existed, there is an American “Camelot” spoken about by one of America’s beloved first ladies, ‘Jackie’ Kennedy. And this “Camelot” was lived out not to long ago by America’s own Kennedy family.

In order for us to get a full understanding about Camelot and the Kennedys we must first select the opportune roles for each of the Kennedys. Camelot wouldn’t be anything without it’s royal majesty, King Arthur. When comparing the Kennedy family to that of Camelot’s, without a doubt the 35th president of the United States of America, John F. Kennedy, takes the role of Arthur. “For with Truth and Faith girded upon you, you shall be as well able to fight all your battles as did that noble hero of old, whom men called King Arthur.” (Pyle, 80) Just as Arthur led his country with dignity and optimism, so did Mr. Kennedy lead his country.

The role of Lancelot, one of Arthur’s most trusted knights, belongs to John’s brother, Robert. Bobby lands this role for not only being a great brother and uncle to the Kennedys in their time of despair, but also for having a rumored affair with Jackie. The great and guilty love he bare the Queen, In battle with the love he bare his lord, Had marr’d his face, and mark’d it ere his time.” (Tennyson, 245) Just as Lancelot fell in love with Guinevere, Bobby was rumored to have fallen in love with Jackie either before or after the death of her husband.

The son of Lancelot by Elaine, Galahad, served his country well. He sought out the Holy Grail and succeeded with his quest. The role of young Galahad fits with John’s youngest brother, Ted. Ted sought out universal health care for all. Even though he may not have succeeded as Galahad did, he was able to put the magnificent idea out there and call for a change. So the role of Galahad goes to Ted.

And lastly, we have the nation’s beloved Jacqueline Kennedy. Tennyson says in Le Morte d’Arthur that, “Guinevere was the most beautiful of all women and Arthur loved her dearly.” Jackie takes the role of Guinevere not only for being the wife of the president (Arthur), but also for having a recognizable style, for being very beautiful in many ways, and for having had a rumored affair with Robert (Lancelot).

When one hears the name Guinevere, we immediately think of a tragic love affair. We don’t think of a woman who led America through sorrowful times, who was strong for her family and for her husband, and someone who was an influential first lady to us all. Therefore, we must remember Jackie not as a Guinevere, but as a strong, influential woman, just as she wanted us to remember her husband. Jackie was the very person to come up with the nickname “Camelot” for her family’s dynasty. A few days after the assassination of John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963, Jackie was interviewed by the people of Life Magazine. She stated that she wanted the nation to remember her husband as a man who led America into a period of hope and prosperity.

Even though John’s time as president was cut very short, he led the U.S during the height of the Cold War, focused on our relations with the Soviet Union, and he encouraged NASA to go to the moon. “We choose to go to the moon”, he stated. “We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.” And this is what kind of person Jackie wanted America to remember him as.

She famously stated in that interview, “and the song he loved most came at the very end of this record, the last side of Camelot, sad Camelot… Don’t let it be forgotten, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment that was known as Camelot.” A quote that has been remembered for decades was said in so little amount of time. The story behind Camelot, she said, was every night John would play a record from the musical, Camelot. The songs would start off bright, cheery, and optimistic. Then the last song she stated, “the last side of Camelot, sad Camelot”, was sorrowful and very sad. And this is how Jackie described her husband’s time in office.

Nothing could be more fitting for a man who led America with optimism and gave it hope. Today we remember the Kennedy’s family legacy as an American Camelot; a story that starts off in prosperity but ends in despair. Nevertheless, neither the Renaissance version of Camelot or the American Camelot will never be forgotten. We shall always remember the Kennedys as a period of Camelot, just as Jackie wanted.

written by: Cupcakegirl10 

Hope you enjoyed! And thank you for sticking with us throughout this past year! God bless!

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The Writers Ink Challenge

Hey y’all! So I was nominated by Rachel Vincent to accomplish this tag! Thanks Rachel!

The rules are simple

1.Thank your nominator

2. Answer at least any 8 questions about your writing

3. Nominate 5 other people

  • When did you first show a big interest in writing?

I remember it was about 2nd grade. My teacher would give us very random topics to write about. We would write about blueberry muffins to the tallest person in the world! I remember not struggling at all with coming up about an idea to write about. And I would write 2 to 3 pages at a time.

  • Is writing something that comes easy to you?

It does. I feel that I can explain myself through writing more-so than talking sometimes. Even when doing a short book summary I end up writing two pages. It isn’t a struggle, it comes naturally. So when my teacher says “write 500 words or more” I take that seriously and write about 1,000 instead.

  • Are you published yet?

Not yet. But in a year or so I hope to complete the first book in my christian mystery series: Triple J Mysteries. The title of the book being: The Campout Crisis. After that I hope to have my christian, romance, war novel: Hope published as well.

  • What style and genre do you like to write in?
  • Christian
  • Mystery
  • Romance
  • Historical (during wars or significant events)
  • In the years past. (Like the middle ages, old west , rennaissance, etc)
  • And once in a GREAT while, fiction

 

  • What gives you ideas to write about?

I love reading. So everytime I’ll read a book and idea pops into my head. “That will make a good book title” or “That is what my book could be about!” And I just go from there.

Note: If you ever get writers block; read a good book and the ideas will start coming fast! It also helps you improve your vocabulary and grammar.

  • Have you ever written a story with a friend?

I have. I am working on a book right now with Izzypopcorn entitled: Growing Flames, Glowing Hearts. 

  • Have you ever finished reading an entire book series?

Yes. The first series I completed was a christian mystery series called; Camp Club Girls. I have almost finished: The Boxcar Children, Nancy Drew, and Dear America.

  • What helps you with using good penmanship?

Writing a lot. When you are given a writing assignment don’t type it, write it! And even when you don’t have a writing assignment, write in a journal or diary to keep up your penmanship. Nobody likes a story they can’t read!

  • Would you recommend a pen name when writing? And do you use one?

I don’t have a pen name at the moment, but I have different choices to choose from.

If you don’t want to give out your real name: then yes

If you have a different or long name that is hard to spell/pronounce: then yes.(I have a weird last name)

Because how will people find your writings online if they can’t remember your name! Or if they ask for your book at a library, the librarian needs to know the name!

 

So that’s all the questions! 

Hope y’all enjoyed!

 

I nominate:

Izzypopcorn

Asqa

Lucky

And I can’t think of any more!

 

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TPPWC

Hey y’all! Most of y’all probably already know, but if not…

The creator of Author’s Press, Rachel, has another blog: http://www.nancydrewblogforyou.wordpress.com

Well she is having a contest. It’s called; The Prettiest pen writing contest. And I along with IzzyPopcorn and MaryLouise are on Team Panda!

We have to use certain sentences in our short story we come up with. Two for extra points.

So here is my story:

I was always alone in life. Not so much when I was little. I saw light and shapes. I saw the birds and the trees. I saw the freshest flowers and the most delicious pies. I saw the puffy white clouds and the fluttering butterflies. I saw my family, which I only had for a little while. Who, I could only see for a little while.

The birds and the animals were always my friends. I would come home from school, drop my glasses on the table and run outside and smell the fresh air. See the green trees and blue sky. And I would play with my friends. I was always called “Four eyes” because of my glasses. So the only true friends I had were the animals. Then mother would yell for me to come inside. I would go, reluctantly, and scrub the shop’s floors, and tables. I would count the money in the register, and the stock. Then I would be so tired I just collapse on my bed. “Working hard makes a good shopkeeper”, “A healthy girl makes a good shopkeeper”, mother would say.

Doctors visits were a regular thing with mother. “We must make sure you are healthy”, “The healthy girl makes a good shopkeeper”. She didn’t want a daughter, just an assistant.

But strangely, the world grew darker each day and mother talked less and less to me each day. My animal friend’s once vibrant color’s faded. The black board at school became harder to see. Even the blue sky started to appear gray. She couldn’t bear to tell me what the doctors had told her. She didn’t have the nerve to look at me. She couldn’t even tell her own daughter that:

She was going blind.

One day I couldn’t see anything. I screamed, I cried, I yelled. No objects were visible, the people were gone, my bedroom was a dark cell. All light was gone, all hope had faded, all the faces of the world were just cold dark voices. The buildings and trees I couldn’t see. All I saw was black. Cold, dark black. It was like a never ending night. Mother’s face was just a voice coming from the corner. I couldn’t look into the mirror. I couldn’t see what was for breakfast. The colors and adventure the world had once been so full of, were gone. The green of the grass, the blue of the sky, the purple of the lilacs, the white of the linens, were all black. All dark. The animals which I had once played and looked at for hours, were gone. I even shined a flashlight into my eyes, and I couldn’t even see that. I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t breathe in my everlasting cell of darkness.

Mother always wanted a strong girl so she could raise her up to take over the family business. A healthy one. But, I was healthy! I just couldn’t see anything. Nothing. Not even my own hand in front of my face. I was blind and mother had to accept that. I could still work. Still make a good shopkeeper.

Mother just took me, just thought of me as a sack. A dumb old sack with holes. It could hold nothing, it was good for nothing but to be thrown away. And that’s what she did.

She dumped me on a street on a cold and I think rainy day. I could feel the hard cement of the sidewalk and the hardness of my mother’s heart. I called to her to come back. I cried for her not to leave me. I told her I could be a good daughter and shop keeper. I cried, I begged, I begged her to look into the face of her daughter and show love. But I couldn’t see if she cried or laughed at me. I couldn’t see her resentment or her obligation to leave me. Hot tears continued to stream down my face. I was soaked to the bone with rain, I shivered from the cold of the rain and the darkness of my sight.  The world was dark. She was dark. The sky once blue, was black. The flowers once pink, were black. My favorite yellow dress that I always wore, was black. Even my red hair, was black. I couldn’t see the people walking by, or the cars on the street. I couldn’t see the rain clouds or the birds taking shelter.

I couldn’t see, and that’s what she hated me for. I wasn’t healthy enough to be a shopkeeper. And apparently not good enough to be her daughter.

And with that she walked into the rain and didn’t look back. And that was the last time anyone ever saw her. The last time I ever saw her.

 

Hope you enjoyed!

~cupcakegirl10

War was at our door. The scream of the bombs filled the air, as the Nazis were upon us. The sky was pitch black, and hints of red started to fill the sky, and smoke clouding the horizon. Grandmother and Grandfather stared out the window, and mother sat there ice cold, thinking about her “foolish family” who was in the middle of it. Father was out there somewhere, and my brother missing. And all I could do was sit in a ball, on the ice cold stone floor, thinking about how they took my brother away, my father to war, my mother never to be the same again, and my little baby sister’s life. I fought the memories out of my head, but hot tears streamed down my face. I wanted father’s gentle touch, my brother’s caring hands, and my sister’s gentle laugh. But what I really wanted was hope. Hope to once again find all that was lost, hope to survive, hope that things would turn out alright. But all I kept wondering was, would my life ever be the same after this? And worse, would I even survive at all?

So this is just a small excerpt from my “in progress” book entitled Hope. Hope you enjoyed!

~Cupcakegirl10