I Am Girls Write Now. Directed and produced by Kathleen Sweeney, Video-Text


“Girls Write Now mentees are talented, serious young women writers. Their wide-ranging work sparkles with wit and passion.” – Alix Kates Shulman, author and guest speaker

Writers don’t usually let you see their work-in-progress. But for us, process is vital: it’s how we learn, how we stretch ourselves, and how we see that story, poem or play through to a beautiful finish. We’re not scared of the red pen along the way.

In our workshops, our mentors and mentees spark their creativity with writing exercises that take them through six genres: fiction, poetry, memoir, journalism, playwriting & screenwriting, and a wild card. After each workshop, they share their work in progress in secure online portfolios for mentors and mentees only.

But every now and then, mentees share the pieces in development, so you too can share in their process. Take a look!

Amendments (Persona Poetry Workshop)

Amendments I come from the world of “Silence is a virtue.” Where success is the prize in the game called life and I’m sorry that one of the levels doesn’t involve you. I recall the countless hours In which we conversed and exchanged laughs. Where we made each other blush, shared strengths, weaknesses, and told

Poetry Workshop


A Little Girl’s Day in Court

A Little Girl’s Day in  Court   Fade in:   Int. Court  -Day   Metallic sound of shoes heard on the marble floor. Long hallway lined with wooden, large doors. Dissolve into:   Int. Outside Court room   CAMILLA, a hispanic woman in her mid-twenties, motherly warmth, but getting wary every year. Preoccupation covers her

Completely True

GIRL’S BATHROOM ON THE THIRD FLOOR – FRIDAY AFTERNOON Mikey, a 17 year old Dominican girl with anxiety issues is hunched over a toilet as her lunch spills into it. She takes a sharpie out from her bra and marks another tally beside a bunch of others on a wall of peeling paint. INT. PSYCHIATRIST’S


The relationships I have with the toilets in my life have become complicated. In recent mornings, I’ve clawed at the dark air of my room, vision swimming with stars and static fuzz, stumbled to the bathroom, and gotten on my knees in front of the mighty porcelain throne. Dinner from the night before spills into

The Talking Thing

“What’s Johanna doing over here?” I hate it when people ask me questions, the same way I hate when those questions are just ditches for me to fall into, so they can cover the top and leave me to soak until I degrade into nothing. “Excuse me.” II try to pass them but they won’t

Studio Workshop: Cut Ups and Splices

FREEWRITE: Free to be You and Me When the timer  starts, write as much as you can until the chimes sound, then stop. Pass your paper to your right-hand neighbor. When the timer starts again, repeat.   The prompt was to take a piece on a beauty diy and cut up words that appeared significant.

Empty Train Rides

Empty Train Rides It is truly amazing the capacity a train cart can hold of such diverse lives in the span of the interchanging boroughs. There is of course that percentage who despise knocking elbows with the person holding onto the metal pole next to them. They are usually the ones who are counting the

Field Recording Remix

This beat was made from recordings my mentor and I took in The New School stairwells.

The Climb

INT. House —Night Mom (Puts a chicken leg into Ming’s bowl, and puts a chicken wing into dad’s bowl) Eat more, Ming! See how skinny you are! I am afraid a typhoon will blow you away one day, my sweet son.   Dad (Looks at his chicken wing, and uses his eyes to compare with