This is an article I wrote for my Media Writing module. I got a 2:1, and was three marks off a first.

The Truth About Wicca


The other day, I was asked what my religious status meant on Facebook. My housemate had gone onto my page with her friends and they had seen the term 'Wicca'. One friend instantly concluded I was a witch and they thought that was a bad thing. My housemate told her friends that 'I couldn't possibly be a witch, I was too nice.' But that is not what Wicca is. There are many misconceptions about the religion, and yes, it is a religion.
     Whenever I tell people I'm a Wicca, they either look at me in complete confusion, or try to edge away slowly like I'm going to turn them into a frog. More often than not, I guess they're thinking I belong in an asylum. I'm overjoyed when they ask what it is.
    I would not call myself a witch. You can be a Wicca and a witch, but you can't necessarily be a witch and a WIcca. A witch is someone who does magic. You can be a Wicca and not do magic, so therefore you're not a witch. A Wicca is someone who has the beliefs and values of the Wicca religion, but who can also incorporate magic into their lives if they wish.

This week I'm not going to post any of my own writings here.
In memory of my granddad, who died last week, I'm posting Rudyard Kipling's poem 'IF' that I have been asked to read at his funeral on Tuesday 9th. It was one of his favourites and I love it too.






I got it here.

An abstract of writing I did for my Creative Writing final piece. We were looking at textual intervention and how a lot of literature is inspired by something that came before it. So this piece is inspired by Dracula, which was one of the novels we looked at in class, and it tells the story of how he became the 'monster'. It's set in the 18th Century:
    I stood alone above the winding steps in the great hall patiently waiting for the first hoof fall to echo along the path. Just turning 18, this would be my first ball as an adult, to be treated like one and allowed to join in the adults dancing. Glancing over at the polished mirror on the right of me, I straightened out my knee length silk coat. My mask looked back at me rather than my real face; it was blood red and curved under the bridge of my nose. Large black feathers fanned out of the top, that met at the hairline and they shone in the glow. Gold and silver paintwork twisted around the thin eyeholes and was dotted with diamonds.  


That's the first few paragraphs, I might post up a couple more later in the week.



Lauren

Just a short one today.