Nicole

1. How long have you been interested in writing? Since 9th grade.

2. What kind of music do you like? Rap when I’m with my friends, but my favorite bands are Third Eye Blind and Matchbox 20.

3. What is your favorite book? Harry Potter

4. What is your biggest pet peeve? When people lie when it is not necessary.

5. What is your favorite thing to do? Spend time with my best friend.

6. What kind of writing do you like best? Fiction.

7. What kind of movies do you like? Horror and romantic movies.

8. Who in your life influences you the most? My mom.

9. What is your favorite thing about writing? I like seeing my ideas on paper as a finished product. I like the feeling of finishing something.

10. What kind of writing do you enjoy the least? Playwriting

Interview by Emily Johnson

My name is Nicole Koch, I entered creative writing two anticipating the same class as last year learning nearly the same things. I love fiction and everything about it so i was pleasantly surprised when I got the opportunity to make the class unique and fit my own interest. I love writing in my free time and keep my own journal to write in at home. No not a diary, a journal. My favorite part of the class is listening to others writing.

The house is beautiful. It’s white, with sky blue shutters. The pastel colors in the flowers make it seem as though I pulled the image out of a dream. I’m sure the inside is even more elegant then the serene view from behind the white picket fence. I feel a small pressure from inside the pit of my stomach, warning me sweet baby Emma is awake. Nick and his parents are already discussing prices and designs with the realtor. “Rich talk,” he calls it, “of course you wouldn’t understand all of their fancy talk.” Just because I’m not interested does not mean I don’t understand. That’s what I want to say, but I just nod my head and agree, as always. They swiftly rush pass me and I tell them I need air. Not a problem of course so I am left alone. I’ve been married to Nick for seven months and am finally getting used to being tossed to the side and left alone. I like it that way. Memories begin to flood my mind and suddenly I’m twenty years old again. I think hard to remember the conversation. I can feel the heavy white dress; it’s uncomfortable and extreme. Church bells are ringing and suddenly my father walks into the room. “Their ready for ya darlin’,” his voice sounds warm, something I wasn’t used to anymore. I turned to stair at him. He has to know what I’m thinking because the features in his face suddenly become gentle. “I know ya miss him. It’s been three years, he ain’t cumin’ back. Ya gotta learn to let go, I’m sure he’s watchin now. And I know what yer thinkin’ and this ain’t how I saw it either. It’s a smart match, you’ll get everything your mama and I couldn’t give ya. No more struggles. Trust me Bell, it’s a smart match.” Another kick from Emma brings me back to reality. A reality where china was used every night for dinner, where proper English is mandatory, and where true love is non-existence. The only thing keeping me held here is my concern for Emma. This wasn’t what I dreamed. I never wanted any of this; all I want is to be happy. Happy where I belong, with my family and old friends, neighborhood barbecues, cheap beer, worn and ripped clothes, somewhere free. Somewhere that true beauty doesn’t cost a thing. I want to go home From the front porch something bright in the sin catches my eye. Frantically waving pieces of metal I hear Nicks voice calling out, “Welcome home Isabella.”