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February 2018

Pursuing a Career in the Field You Love

While I was growing up, my father said that it wouldn’t be smart for me to become a writer.

In middle school, I used to pride myself in the idea that I would, one day, find myself to be a famous author. I’d hand my father a short story as he reclined on the couch, my hands restless and my feet jittery. When he looked up, my stomach flipped; I respected my father’s opinion greatly, and I was nervous to hear what he had to say. He’d clear his throat, force a smile, and say something along the lines of, “You know, you’re a great writer. But you won’t be able to make it in the real world. Have you considered going into business?”

I like to think that, on the inside, my father rooted for me, but society told him not to. It isn’t smart to let your daughter enter a career with no money involved, society said. Passion will never get her anywhere. 

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Once my father figured out that I was serious about my writing, though, he took me to writing seminars and conventions; he helped me build my juvenile plots about mutants and mad scientists; he encouraged me to listen to writers’ advice and to self-publish at an early age. He never told me that I would make it, though. Never explicitly. But I would see it in his eyes when he looked at me across a seminar table.

So is it worth it? To follow your dreams? To block out any voice of doubt around you? To keep going? The short answer, dear reader, is yes.

I have a friend who gave up her love of history in order to make money in the medical field. I internalized her loss for her; to lose a passion is to lose a part of your soul. Never let go of it. Cling on to it like it’s your lifeline. I assure you that, if you are talented in the field you are passionate about, you will find a way to make a living out of it. That is a promise, and it is a promise I’ve offered myself as well.

I hope you all have an amazing day, and always keep writing!

Submit Your Writing to Stoneman Douglas – “Art for the Heart”

Dreyfoos School of the Arts’ own literary magazine is initiating a program to help the students at Stoneman Douglas. We are asking students to submit visual and/or written submissions that are meant to heal the students and faculty at Douglas. All submissions should be sent to seedsmag@gmail.com; we also launched an Instagram page called seeds.artfortheheart, where students can follow this initiative live. Seeds is going to personally deliver all submissions to Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland.

Thank you all for your love, prayers, and support.

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Solace

When everything churns and sinks in reverse

and the moon pulls back its tides with taut strings,

the waves of the ocean crash and disperse

in the tumult of my imaginings.

 

But oh, let the continents shift and quake,

and let the sun’s final rays brush the shore;

his promising light is what my heart aches:

a glistening star I have fallen for.

 

I would gladly suspend in endless gloom

if it meant I could hold his ardent light,

because only he can make my heart bloom

with flowers basked in his beaming delight.

 

Let the world dive, let my words fall to sea;

my star will glow, his light will comfort me.

 

Written by Hannah Butcher
©2BorNot2B. All rights reserved.

The Rose

A delicate rose perched on a bush,
her hand beneath her chin.
Her sigh froze dew drops in the air;
her patience was waning thin.

For she was awaiting Autumn—
he hadn’t visited in days—
and he had promised that he’d bring her
the sun’s sweetest golden rays.

But ‘twas Winter who had stolen Autumn
when he blew his chilling kiss;
the maiden: “Where art my Autumn dressed in white,
the lovely warmth I miss?”

Winter cloaked himself in velvet blue,
and his eyes were cold as ice;
the maiden: “Where art my Autumn’s tender passion,
his fragile warm device?”

The rose began to shrivel,
her bud began to decay:
“Have mercy, oh cold Winter;
please let my Autumn stay.”

But Winter merely stripped her
and ignored her wish to weep.
He listened to her last breath
as Autumn sang her to sleep.

 

Written by Hannah Butcher
©2BorNot2B. All rights reserved.

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