Serving students and faculty since 1971
Welcome back students, faculty, and staff! Are you looking for creative writing activities and opportunities available this semester? If so, you’re in luck, because our September issue of Scrap Paper covers just that! Check it out to learn about the Writing Center’s own writing group, the Writers’ Circle, as well as our upcoming Spooktacular Writing
Scrap Paper: A Creative Writing Newsletter April Issue We’re back with a new issue of Scrap Paper, our creative writing newsletter! In celebration of Poetry Month, our April issue covered “Bite-Sized Poetry for the Perpetually Busy or Easily Distracted,” prose poetry, rhythm and meter, and more. It also included the 1st place poem from our
I knew we would have a good marriage. I made certain. I still remember that day after all these years. My buddies from Kappa had all agreed to meet up by the foyer at the homecoming dance. “None of us would leave alone,” we said. But the flu had other plans; plans it didn’t share
Since you left,I got worse at parallel parking,but I can drink coffee blackwithout making a face I learned that it’s possibleto not kill plants,and that I look best inthe mornings wearingolive green I’ve figured out how to askfor what I want,to yell when I’m being talked over,that I can make people feelthings they’ve been ignoringjust
“Where would you like to eat?”A question as old as time.“I don’t know, you can pick,anywhere to me seems fine.” “Let’s get burgers and fries,that would be tasty and nice.”She looked up, rolled her eyes,“Haven’t you heard of their lies?” “We could try that new place,”pointing to the map, with grace.“My brother went there, Chase,in
This just in! The Marian E. Wright Writing Center now has a creative writing newsletter. Please enjoy our first issue of Scrap Paper, a newsletter dedicated to: This issue covers creative writing tips on topics like “Creating Your Own Writing Space” and “Setting Goals and Deadlines”. It also covers UM-Flint’s Poetry Award, Qua Literary and
I’ve come to slay the beast. My scabbard feels light as it dances with my stride, exhilarated for what’s to come. A wretched thing: that what is to come. Killing, I mean to say. Ahead, on the path, there’s a thing that I’ve come to end. Above, the stars bore into me with ferocity. I’ve
In a dusty and forgotten corner of my grandpa’s house, there was a painting. I’m not sure how long it had been there. Perhaps it had always been a fixture, since time immemorial. Perhaps it was part of the house itself, a draw for any potential home buyers; something to sweeten the pot. Whatever the
Crooked, bloodied, and incorrectly a figure stands, human before it met its mangler. The jagged point of a femur sticks out from its left thigh. Another bone protrudes through its forearm pointing to a hand that has been forcefully parted from the webs between each finger to its wrist, dangling as the figure sways, causing
I’m new to the Writing Center this year, and at first, the idea of tutoring people was both exciting and a little intimidating. I actually had the chance to make my writing skills useful to others by helping them with papers and resumes and whatever else people brought in, but I kept thinking, “who am