Featured Artist: Rashell Flescher
Get to know a few of the artists from the second issue-out November 15th.Be the first to read by subscribing (free) to the magazine here.
Who are you? I am Rashell Kathleen Flescher, and I am 14 years old. I have wanted to be a writer since I was in 1st grade, when I wrote my first short story. I have been writing and reading since. I can be incredibly shy; I have never made friends easily. Although other people could say otherwise. The lone wolf is kind of the path I am heading down. I sit at school avoiding contact as much as possible, listening to loud punk music that makes people say I am going to be deaf one day. But it is how I get away. One day I just turned up my music all the way, and I was astonished. It was all I could hear, nothing else. It was like watching a silent movie, just not in black and white. All of my life, I have had one main friend. To me they were my only friend. I remember being in a argument with this girl who was an acquaintance, when I was in 6th grade. She was yelling at me about how nobody likes me, and that I will never really have any friends. I replied with the fact that I had at least one friend who was there for me. She just kept screaming at me about how one friend isn’t enough. I can go on about how that one friend that I had in every school I have gone to. They were the reason I made it through the year, the thing that kept me going. The only thing that I needed. I have wanted to be a singer at one point. What girl hasn’t? I sang in a school talent show but I just am not a good singer to be honest. People always say I am a good but I have heard my voice on a recording. Not so good. I recently decided how much I like the idea of being a photographer. I have a certain perspective that I love to see in my photos. The only thing that drives me crazy about it is that there is no camera that can see the way our eyes can see. Which is what I want, to put what I see on camera. But my writing, that is the ultimate life goal that I have. I want to at least write 100 pages which I have yet to do.
I am Rashell Kathleen Flescher, I am 14 years old, and this is me.
List three things you’re loving right now. Three things that I am loving right now? There is so much that I love though, hard to narrow it down. At the moment I am all for watching TV and cuddling on the couch. It makes me feel better. Okay first thing I am loving, Michael. Also this is like a “he’s really cool”, and like a “super guy best friend” kind of loving. Yeah, he helps even when he doesn’t know it. Lately, my depression just has been catching up with me. My mind has created this system. Could just be crazy but whatever. There’s happiness and smiling. Happiness is like getting a hug and being in a really good mood all day. Not to get all depressing all of a sudden, but happiness doesn’t come often for me anymore, but when I am with him, I smile. I don’t feel any real emotional connection to him, just that he is my only escape. Number two: Photography. Photography is gorgeous. Tt sets a mood as soon as you see it. I am on picture websites all the time. Well, all websites have pictures but as I like to look through them. I come across those special ones that just catch my eye instantly, and you can just feel the beauty within it. It is like love at first sight (which I don’t believe in by the way). Like looking at the perfect girl for the first time, and just feeling the warmth and consuming the feeling of beauty. Final one: TV. Who doesn't love TV? I love it, I come home and instantly get on the couch to watch a movie or show. I literally do it like almost every minute of the day. Movie after movie, TV show after TV show. I can watch more than one season in a day. Yeah, that totally takes skill. You know, it’s not like I am losing brain cells by the second. Ha.
What did you submit for the November issue? Tell us about it. Is it prose, poetry or something else? What’s it about? Why did you submit it? What inspired you to write/create your submission piece? I submitted 4 things: “Being Happy”, “Controlling Your Imagination”, “Only 93”, and a photo titled “Change”. Only 3 of those things got accepted but that is perfectly fine with me. All of the stories were some kind of prompt actually, and the photo was just from photos I had taken. I don’t really get inspiration, I see the prompt and I just write what instantly comes to mind. “Being happy” was just a small paragraph; I guess it was prose. I think most of my writing is prose actually, I always write and format everything in my own special way. It was about me mostly. It was actually quite depressing but I write depending on my mood. “Controlling Your Imagination” was prose and poetry. It was about the world, and how we act towards it. About our emotions and what we feel on the inside. “Only 93” was a prose short story about an old woman who was only 93 years old. She was reflecting on her life, and thinking about when she was young. My photo titled “Change”, was of a little flip book thing in a twirl that was on a shelf of the library bookcase in the Kuna High-school. I wouldn’t call it much honestly. But, I love my art. I love my work. I submitted my work because when those girls came in and told us about Girlsense and Nonsense I saw an opportunity to be published in something. It was a chance to be known, even if it is by a small group.
Tell us about yourself as an artist. When I write, it is all of my emotions put into motion. Writing is my expression. Everything I have ever written, hides little details everywhere about what I am feeling in that moment, and about me in general. I put me into my work. I love to write, always have. The first story I remember writing was in 1st grade it was for some project that we were doing. I have no idea what it was. But it was a childish short story about me and zombies. I put my whole family into the story and kind of based it off of me in a way. I passed that story on all the way to like 5th grade. I wrote the story over and over again, just better every time. I think I have put too much confidence about what I do. I have been around people who don’t care about the project, or just want to get it done as soon as possible. They might not have been taught as well, or just don’t have “it.” All of my teachers have always told me what a great writer I am. It would take me less than an hour to finish any writing project. Things changed when I took a creative writing class. I listened to people read aloud their writing, and I realized that everyone else’s mind works so much more normally than mine. I take a prompt and spend time trying to think about it. I listened to other writings and their topics were just so obvious, I wonder why it never came across my mind. I also realize that I am not as Wonderful as I thought I was. It is awkward to read yours out loud and then you think that your own work isn’t even as close to being as incredible as everyone else’s. Not as detailed, so far from the topic, and just not what you wanted it to be. Why am I an Artist? I am an Artist, because I spent my life wanting it, believing in myself. Since the first story I wrote, I just knew that it was what I was going to be. I am an Artist because I love to be. It is my dream.
Respond to the following prompt: “There is a girl sitting in a chair in the back of a room. Hair tightly curled and smearing pink gloss across her lips, she knows things.” There is a girl sitting in a chair in the back of a room. Hair tightly curled and smearing pink gloss across her lips, she knows things. I watched as she put her gloss away in her tawny handbag. She looked around at everyone with such class. Her back straight, legs crossed, head held high, eyes looking like lust. She scanned the people in the room as if she was sizing them up, but when she saw me. Somehow I had caught her attention the most, it was most likely my gawking stare. I had no reason why, but I had suddenly felt very uneasy. Uncrossing her legs, she stepped towards me but was interrupted by a very tall man. He wore a suit like the rest of the men in the room. He had a short mustache, that made him seem more intimidating. He leaned towards her ear, and told her things that I couldn’t hear from all the way where I was standing. She only responded with a nod, and headed in the other direction. But not before looking at me with one of those seductive side smiles. For the first time I looked away, back to the group of people I was surrounded by. Taking another sip of the whiskey in my hand. I looked back, gone.