Meghan J

Meghan’s Personal Narrative

Have you ever had the pressure, the pressure of writing and eight-page story and completing the last two pages in fifteen minutes? What would you do? Would you give up and do something else ? Make it the most uninteresting ending ever just to finish it? Or would you work as hard as you could, as quick as you could, to have the victory of finishing? I choose the last one. My name is Meghan, I wrote and eight page story called Blurry Murder. It was for a website called Spilled Ink. This was the most memorable moment of my life. Pressing that last button on the keyboard,finalized my glory. I had to press send to the website manager by 3:15, in order to have my masterpiece on display.

 

So I sat. At my seat in the computer room. Typing. Typing so precisely so quick that my hands started to ache, but it was worth it. “Is he here yet?” I said impatiently because I needed to begin writing. It was June fourth and today was the last day for me to finish my writing. I had worked on this for weeks now. At school and at home. Constantly trying to be able to say “done.”

 

“No, not yet.”Noelle stated. “It’s 2:15 he should be back from his meeting about now.” I said unwillingly to wait any longer. Mr.Shea, the head of Literary Journal and our website Spilled Ink, had a meeting every Thursday before our class began. He usually would make it back at about 2:16, but today he did not. We were waiting right outside the upstairs door for the indoor track, like we do everyday.

 

“What time is it?” Anna, another student in literary journal asked.

 

“2:20,” Rylie replied.

 

“Ugh, we should’ve been in there five minutes ago,” I blurted frustrated. And as I said those last words, I could see Mr.Shea walking up the stairs and down the hallway towards the computer lab.

 

“Hey, guys, sorry I’m late my meeting went a little bit over,”Mr.Shea said, as he inserted the silver keys to the computer lab into the heavy door.

 

Mr.Shea finally got the door open and everyone barged in. I somewhat RAN inside… oh well. I had plenty of work to do and a good amount of time to do it. The computer room was like any other room in the school. Gray carpet, with four rows of computers on each side of the room. It had a Eno board in the front of the room with a white board right next to it. And like all of the classrooms, a two, rectangular desks set up next to each other. This was probably the most boring classroom in the whole school. Nothing special, just plain empty walls and boring tables. As I made it to my usual seat; third row,on the right side, in the second seat I urgently hit Control-Alt-Delete, and typed in my password. That’s where I have written all year, that’s where I had to finish writing today. Once everyone gradually sat down in their seats, Mr. Shea took to the front of the room and started his speech, for our last day of class. “Hey guys so today is our last day to get anything onto the website, so if you have any writings that you want on their, make sure they get edited by the end of class today!”Mr Shea explained. And once he finished, the class went to work. The room was filled with the “click,click” of the keyboards and the conversations of students asking,”Does this sound ok,” or, ”should I change this?” All those conversations, all those “click,clicks,” I had to block out of my head. I needed to focus on my writing or all my hard work would be for nothing. quotation-w-e-r-e-space-h-e-r-e-space-comma-a-t-space-l-e-a-s-t-space-I-space-w-e-space-a-r-e-space-h-e-r-e-period-quotation. Each letter was typed “in a jiffy” with many mistakes in its wake. But I didn’t have to agonize over the mistakes because Riley, the fiction editor, was editing my writing as I typed. As I reviewed my writing real quick, so many little,red lines underlined almost every word of my screen. I can type fast, but my accuracy isn't that well. Actually “isn’t that well” is an understatement, more like the most appalling,monstrous typing or the award for the most amount of words typed incorrectly. It’s pretty bad...but anyways, back to the story.

 

I had to take little breaks to review what I had and to make sure everything was written perfectly.Other breaks were for thinking because I would get stumped. As I was getting back to typing Riley complained,”Oh my lord,Meghan, you need to capitalize your I’s! I capitalized like fifty!”

 

“I don’t have time for that,”I said jokingly,” I need to finish! It’s ok if a couple I’s are not capitalized!”

 

“ First of all: a couple! And second of all: it is not ok!”Riley replied. Meanwhile, as I continued writing, other members of literary journal were finished and just doing random things on the computer. One member found webkinz and decided to play on that website. Soon, more and more members decided to join him and look up their accounts from when webkinz was entertaining for them. All I could hear was the laughter of people playing on the website and people saying “I had thirty-six webkinz...wow,” and “I loved webkinz so much, look at how many houses I had!” It was hilarious at first, but after a while of hearing them play, I just felt vexed. Writing became even more stressful with everyone talking and the time limit getting diminutive. My hands suddenly started to ache and cramp up. No sooner did my hands start to shake while I typed, and making writing the final page even more complex. I curiously glanced at the clocked to see how much time I had left. It read three o’clock, right on the dot.

 

I had only fifteen minutes to finish and I still had to write the big ending. I had no idea how I wanted it to be written or who to be the murderer. I had some ideas but none that I wanted to continue with. My thoughts were all over the place “Should I have it be him, that could be cool but how am I going to write that I have fifteen, no wait, fourteen minutes now left to finish this whole thing. Oh god, I’m not going to finish! This is just… ugh you know what I will do him! I think I can make it work..” And on that note I began typing again.

 

From behind me I could hear Riley calling my name,” Meghan did you finish yet!”

 

“No not yet but I really need you to edit! Like really need you to because I have ten minutes,” I replied.

 

“Ugh, fine! Did you capitalize your I’s this time,” Riley asked.

 

“Um probably not,”I replied blushing.

 

“Shame,” Riley said jokingly. With Riley editing the rest of my writing, I tried to type the rest of my story as fast as lightning strikes. As time passed I got closer and closer to finishing. Last few sentences left. 3:13, the clock read. Mr.Shea walked to the front of the room… oh no. “Ok everyone, are you guys almost finished?” Mr.Shea said. By that time I was the only one working, so he somewhat motioned the question towards me.

 

“No, but almost,” I said anxiously. I barely even looked at him. My eyes were focused on the computer screen in front of me. Ok, but we only have about two minutes left,”Mr.Shea said. Did he have to remind me,I thought. I was on my last sentence. Seven words left. Then, five. Then, four. Then three, two one! “Click.” The sound of that last button, the period. I was done! I finished! A weight was lifted off my shoulders! I couldn’t believe I had done it. “Done!”I yelled. I had walked into the computer lab with a whole other section of my story, that was four pages long, and finished. 2,216 words typed. My eyes felt sore from staring at the computer screen too long.

 

“Yes Meg!” My friend said.“Send it to me!” Delaney, the website editor said.

 

And so I did. It was June twelfth. Literary journal ended. No more writing. But today, there was a party for our excellent work. I was excited and nervous at the same time. Our families were coming. For me it was my mom and dad. Previously, we had to decide if we wanted to read aloud some of our writings. I said yes. I choose to read two paragraphs from Blurry Murder. I am never really nervous reading aloud or even going in front of a crowd. Like in class I can read whatever passage from the story we are reading to the class, or in dance, I could go on stage and dance the dance we have been working on for weeks prior. I may be a little nervous before hand but never during. But this time, I was terrified. Weird right? It is one thing to go up in front of someone and read or dance to someone else’s work, but when you have to read your own work, it more nerve racking. Something you're proud of and scared others won't like it, that's on a completely different level. And reading to a bunch of adults, ten times worse. Despite all the nervousness running inside me, I was still very thrilled. Once we reaches the school ,we were a little early so we had to wait. We saw another member, Mackenzie, walk towards the door, but then had to wait for Mr.Shea to come.

 

As we saw Mr.Shea open the door, finally for Mackenze, me and my family walked inside as well. “Sorry guys, he said, “I was setting everything up. You can go head down to the cafeteria and take a seat.” We all did as he said. Once we reached the cafeteria, I could see pizza boxes, plates,napkins,and sodas lining one table in the left side of the room. I sat on the other side of the room, where most of the tables where. After we all sat Mr.Shea walked into the cafe and said, “Hey, I brought some chromebooks for you guys to use to show your families you work from our websites.”

 

Mr.Shea handed me a chromebook, and I logged on.

 

“What do you use the chromebooks for?”My dad asked.

 

“Well we use them in class to work on any writings or projects we have due, or to due some work the teacher assigned to use that we have to do online,”I explained.

 

Once I reached the website I told my mom and dad about how we upload our writing every couple weeks to the website, and about the different positions in literary journal. As I showed my parents my work, more and more people started to walk in. Riley came in and sat down where me and my parent sat. We all greeted each other and went back to showing our parents our work. First I showed them of the first writings I did, then I showed them some of the poems, and then I showed them some of Blurry Murder. “Wow Meghan, why are your poems so sad,” My mom asked jokingly.

 

“Well, I don't know, when I write poems they can get pretty deep, I guess.” I answered. Over time, the cafeteria was filled with everyone in the club. At my table, there was Riley and her parents and Rylie with her mom and her grandma. For about fifteen minutes we all shared our writings. After, Mr.Shea took to the front of the room.

 

”Hello guys, I’m Mr.Shea and I am glad that you all came today. We had a fun year working on our writings and I am very happy how they all came out! Parents, I hope you all enjoyed reading them as much as I did. Now, you can go and have some pizza and drinks if you would like.” At the end of his speech we all went over to the table and grabbed our food. After everyone from the club went up, the adults followed. The pizza was very good, and it was fun to talk to everyone about our writings. Further on, Mr.Shea, again, went to the front of the room, and began talking to everyone.

 

“Now that everyone has eaten, some students wanted to share with you their writings. Who would like to got first?” Mr .Shea said.

 

I did not want to go first at all. But someone did go up and read. And as more and more people shared I thought it was about time that I did. My friend would look up at me every time Mr.Shea would ask who would like to share next. I said,”After this person.” But then someone else would end up going and I would have to wait. Finally, it came to my turn. When no one else raised their hand I decided that I should go, and so I did. As I walked to the front of the room, Mr.Shea talked about my writing a little. “Meghan, is reading a little from her writing Blurry Murder, and she spent a lot of hard work on it. I think it was the longest writing this year, and I recommend you go read it.” With Mr.Shea talking about my writing more, it made me feel better knowing that he enjoyed it so much.

 

I began to read. I was shaking. I could barely talk. This was so strange. I have never been like this before, but as much as I would just have liked to sit down, I had to read. I read my introduction paragraph and one long one that I thought was really funny. I barely looked up at everyone. Though I tried to, I rather just look down at my paper and read along. Once I finished everyone clapped like they did for every reading. I rushed back to my seat and sat next to my mom she said, “You did great!”I was glad I read. With all the hard work I put into that writing, it felt good to showcase it. After a few other people read. Mr.Shea called each student one by one to give them a certificate for doing literary journal. It felt so amazing getting mine.Writing the story Blurry Murder helped me realize what happens with a little time and some hard work. Looking back, I now realize that I can achieve whatever I want, as long as I keep believing in myself. In conclusion, you never know what you are capable of. I had know idea I could write so much, but when I did, it turned into something great!.