1) Underneath the section with your name, please introduce or re-introduce yourself. Tell us your grade and where you will be attending school next year and whatever else feels important to share. You could remind us which door you chose in our first quickwrite or the title of the book that would represent your life. Feel free to share about your family, hobbies, and aspirations, as well.

2) Then, include an IMAGE, please. if you have already created an avatar via an app like Bitmoji or Social Media or a video game, it would be fun to utilize those images here and possibly in our anthology. No worries, if you have not. Perhaps you have another kind of image that would work. You can see Shelly's example at the end of the Padlet.

3) Once you have provided a little introduction about yourself, please pop back in to read about your fellow writers and writing coaches. You can even leave comments underneath one another's posts.

Topic: OWP Youth Writing Pre-Camp Zoom Meeting

Time: Jun 7, 2025 10:00 AM Central Time (US and Canada)

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I was in the 3rd grade when I wrote my first poem. I remember a magical moment when I shared it with my teacher, Mrs. Umphers. She leaned over my desk and whispered how much she liked it and that she would teach me how to write more poetry. I think that's the first time I felt the spark of seeing myself as a writer.

My teaching career came in two eras of my life. The first began when I was in my 20s and before I had children. I taught Speech/Drama and English. After 5 years and two daughters, we moved from Lawton to OKC and I had a chance to be a stay-at-home mom for about 9 years. During that time, my son was born. My second era began in 2001, when I became an English / ELA teacher at Central Jr. High in Moore. I became a Teacher Consultant with the OWP the following summer and that changed everything for me.

My three children are grown, married, and busy changing the world. One will soon become a practicing counselor, while the other two are in the medical field as an RN and a PA. I have four amazing granddaughters, ranging in age from 5 months to 8 years. And I'm married to the sweetest man in the whole wide world--the grandkids call him Ray-Ray. Sometimes, I do too. :)

Being a teacher is something I've done all my life, even though I wasn't teaching as a career. After high school, I worked in various fields and ended up as a licensed agent with State Farm Insurance. When I turned 45, I went back to school to chase after my dream of being an English Language Arts teacher. I am now going into my 9th year of teaching middle school. I love it! I think my favorite year was this last school year teaching a Creative Writing class with a enormous total of 5 students. We had so much fun!

I am so excited to work with you and deepen your love of writing. My hope is that you leave Writing Camp with tons of new ideas, knowing the importance of having a voice, and a refreshed desire to write.

I worked as a writer and editor in my twenties. In my thirties, I decided I wanted to be a teacher and share my passion for the pen with students.

I just wrapped up my eighteenth year of teaching. After seventeen years in middle school, I moved to high school last year and taught English I and English IV.

I can hardly wait for our week of writing together! (I am a sucker for alliteration!)😊

I am looking forward to traveling this writer's road with you all!

In case that image is confusing, it's supposed to be a snapshot of the inside of my mind: full of collective chaos, silliness and obsession over my favorite video game.

School: Moore High

Favorite color: lime green

Height: 5'3"

Hobbies: Making / building things

Um. I don't really know what my future will be like. I am stressed about what I want to do in life, but I am currently focusing on my interests before I plan anything too big. I chose the door that had the option of friends involved. Life sucks if you don't have any friends. That's pretty much it. I don't really have anything meaningful to say, but thank you for giving me this opportunity. 👍

You wake up and your mirror gives you a different reflection—someone who looks like you, but clearly isn’t. What does this version of you do differently than you? What might they be trying to teach you?

After we went around the virtual circle, introduced ourselves, and learned which door we chose and why, we discussed the vision and expectations of our camp. The vision is to create a safe, collaborative writing group where we can all grow as writers. Our expectations are that you will try to break bread with people who want to create words that fly off the paper and find themselves swimming in the souls of their readers.

After we discussed the foundation of our camp, we all participated in another quickwrite. The prompt asked: What would you title a book about your life, and what genre would your book be? Each member of the group presented their book title and genre to the group, and I could not help but feel as if this epilogue to right here and now in this room was the beginning of a fruitful journey.

After this segment of our meeting, Shelly ended the meeting by asking parents if they had any questions or concerns regarding Youth Writing Camp 2025. After everyone agreed they did not have questions, we all went our separate ways.

Once our session started, the group did a quick write led by Shelly over a donkey, and everyone had to identify which stanza stood out to them in the donkey poem. Ryleigh, Addison, and Jonathan were each brave enough to share the results of their writing with everyone in the group.

The group spent the next thirty minutes participating in Shelly’s watercolor activity, which was inspired by the book Dot. The group was locked in with creating timeless watercolor art while also being immersed in two quick writes. The vibes in the room were also enhanced by people who volunteered to read what they wrote in the big yellow author’s chair!

After our watercolor experience, the young writers had downtime to work on their own writing projects.

Lunch was soon provided by Jimmy John’s afterward. Jackson was appalled that someone would eat a lettuce-wrapped sandwich and declared the creation disgusting. Shelly proved him wrong by eating one in front of everyone. I still can’t help but agree with Jackson…

We then spent the next hour in our writing groups, where we discussed our writing and shared our words with each other.

After writing groups, we all learned how to create a zine. We treated this activity like the writing process: rough draft, editing process, and finally feeling accomplished after getting your paper designed to your liking. Tamesha led this project and also led the Heart Map activity! Mr. Carter said it’s okay to include your opps as someone important to you—because hater energy serves as fuel!

We then used the next twenty minutes to work on our sacred writing time.

We finished our day by reviewing our time together and being reminded to bring a creative piece we’re working on to our writing group the next day. All in all, today was a good day!

Jackson Densley, 10th

Raja Tubbs, 11th

Piper Heyck, 10th

Logan Perry, 9th

Ruby, McVay, 8th

Milli Lam, 8th

Maya Waggoner, 9th

Zahra Ali, 9th

Mavreigh Keyes, 9th

Tenley Howser, 9th

Natalia Alca, 8th

1. A name for each person in your group (you included)

2. Which wrap they would prefer?

3. One Half or Two Halves?

Place your orders in the comments, please.

The bird sits down at the tree’s stump, ready for an evening stroll. That is, until he’s invited to a party by his best friend.

Oh, no, the bird thinks, but doesn’t want to be rude. So he accepts, ruffling out his feathers and making sure his talons are nicely trimmed.

He needs to look good.

The bird practices introductions and ice breakers in the mirror, attempting to plan out every conversation before it happens. He rehearses his best, most charming smile, hoping for the best and planning for the worst.

Arriving, the bird notices that all of his friends are there. Friends. He doesn’t have to deal with strangers! Until a group of unknown birds join the party. His anxiety is through the roof, but he takes it.

Until someone points out that one of his feathers is out of place.

Like the deepest of seas or darkest of hours,

Sits above the city like a shadow trailing your back.

Lightning strikes above,

Sending hair straight up and taking a picture,

Of the scared children and joyful sleepers,

Of its finest work.

The electric bolts and city lights illuminate the area,

Shining a flashlight on an unknown path.

Rain pitter-patters on the ground,

In gutters and in your hair,

Sticking strands to your awestruck face.

Its beauty is cruel,

Attempting to look terrifying.

You’re grateful, though,

That this aggressive song of thunder and rain,

Is something the sky is willing to play for you.

I enjoy writing fantasy, horror, paranormal, and descriptive writing

"I hope we're still friends, I hope you don't mind"

• TV GIRL - Not Allowed

Some people grow apart,

Because it’s not meant to be,

Although it can break your heart,

It can also set you free

Songs from a movie,

Dancing and being goofy,

Not knowing what they meant,

Just time being spent

I listened to a song,

KidzBop at school,

Just trying to be cool,

The bad words replaced,

The truth not to be faced

I listened to a song,

The radio that played,

And the tunes that stayed,

Listening while playing a board game,

That music will never be the same

I listened to a song,

It got stuck in my head,

When the lyrics had said,

Making me think of the scars that bled,

My heart holding on by only a thread

I listened to a song,

Now it's an escape

The pain of a scrape,

Feeling like a slash.

Turned to a gash

I listened to a song,

Music is the key,

To a world where I am free,

I now can relate too deeply,

Back when I listened so sweetly

I listened to a song.

With the heat and cool drinks,

To jump into a pool and crash against the water,

And to be free of work and stress

I’m waiting on next year,

“High School is a whole other world”

To see what it’s really like,

Or if High School Musical was lying 

I’m waiting on a career I love,

Though I don’t know what it’ll be,

I will be happy and free,

With the excitement of little me

I’m waiting on the little things,

An email or a text,

Next hour or the next day,

An activity or event

We’re all waiting,

No matter how big or small,

Life is a waiting game,

And it might just be calling

 your name

I am the cry of revolting words loudly spoken.  

I am what holds our nation together,

I am the fall of the sleek eagle feather.

I am responsibility and independence,

For my country is something dreamed up in transcendence

I am the change that you want to see,

And I am the reason you sing for the land of the free.

White and blue strings of light

shoot from the sky

like arrows from a quiver

illuminating the shadows

of my backyard solace.

Each beam of light

reveals its beauty

showing off the magnificence

of nature never failing

to amaze me as the wind

brushes through my hair.

Thunder rumbles in the distance

like a bass drum.

Its power soothing me into

a tranquil trance transporting me

to a world where

only me and the storm exist.

I remember…woodcarving on the front porch

listening to Merle Haggard and Hank Williams.

Sipping ice cold sweet tea on a hot summer day

believing you would be in my life forever.

I remember…watching you work on my Trans Am

getting it ready to paint the shiniest blackest black.

Feeling so proud that it was you I’d give

all the credit due when people admired my car.

I remember…telling you I was getting married

hearing you say, “I should think about it again.”

Realizing later I should’ve taken your wise advice,

you had never offered it so passionately before.

I remember…hurrying to my childhood home

eager to reveal the monumental news.

You and Mom were going to be grandparents

hearing you say, “You’re going to be a good mother.”

I remember…showing up with supplies in hand

a new project I had found just for us.

You greeted me with that adorable smile

the all so familiar phrase, “Oh goodie.”

I remember…how it felt knowing you were

my safe place and a strong, solid foundation.

Nothing could happen that you couldn’t fix

with creativity, ingenuity, and love.

I remember…the blue and white striped overalls

the old work boots kept together with silver duct tape.

The amazing sky-blue eyes framed with dark curly hair

the unconditional love so generously bestowed.

I remember…I wanted…No, needed…More time

conversations about nothing in particular.

Glancing into your gentle eyes with adoration

hearing you call me Sissy like you used to.

Daddy, I will forever remember.