She says, among other things, that in teaching writing, she learns more about the way fiction happens. Bingo.
Now for the writing assignment: main character finds a diamond necklace in the seat on his school bus.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Ch. 1: A Running Start
Boy does she start off fast! Already, on the first page of the book, she has you writing for 20 minutes! Granted, she gives you a prompt (several in fact), but I just wanted to read. Not actually have to write. For a while anyway!! Well, here goes. 10:55am.
Prompt: "Be nice", my father said. "After all, he's your brother."
My brother, I thought. More like some alien from outer space. A demon from Harry Potter. A monster from the black lagoon (I read that in a library book!). How am I supposed to get along with someone who uses my tooth brush to clean his race cars, I should ask.
"Well, how am I supposed to get along with someone who uses my toothbrush to clean his race cars?" I think to ask my dad. After all, he needs to know all these things, all these problems that make it so impossible to live with the little runt.
"He doesn't know that he's doing anything wrong. You have to teach him.", my dad replies sweetly.
"He's five years old. Why doesn't he use his own toothbrush to clean his cars?" I ask, thinking this makes perfect sense and is all the evidence I need to prove my point.
"Well, well", chuckles my dad, "Just remind him."
Just! I think. Just! That one word implies that it is all so simple. So easy. Ha! I've reminded him about a thousand times but he just smiles that stupid sappy smile of his and says:
"I can't use my toothbrush to clean my race cars. I need my toothbrush to brush my teeth.:"
But of course he says this where my dad can't hear him.
It's all so unfair. Just because I''m the oldest I get blamed for everything and he gets off scott free. I'm supposed to teach him, watch him, read to him, help him do this and that and this and that. I have to walk him down the street to see his friend, even though I was right in the middle of my favorite TV show: Dragons and Pirates.
11 more minutes. Uggh.
It wasn't always like this. When Andy was born, I was five years old. Boy, I had it made. Everything to myself. Toys, the TV, all the fun snacks, even my mom and dad. And then, along he comes. Spoiling the fun. Making me the "responsible" one. I was even glad to go off to school so that I could be a kid again and not Andy's body guard. Why don't parents understand? It's their job to watch him and teach him. Not mine. I've talked to my friends. None of them have to do all this for a younger brother. Ok, well some of them do. Sometimes. Just a little. But not as much as me! No sir. Why, I'll bet I'm the only kid in the school who has to help his brother take a bath. As if he doesn't know how to sit in a tub of water and splash around. I got smart on that one though. I taught him how to take a bath so that I don't have to help him anymore. You just have to make sure you get wet behind your ears, and then your parents think you have taken a full bath. It works for a few days anyway.
6 more minutes.
How do you come up with ideas???
We were going on vacation. I could hardly wait. The beach. Five days at the beach. Running on the beach, flying my kite, swimming, looking for shells, going to get ice cream (have you ever noticed that your parents always let you get ice cream at the beach--every time you ask?? What's with that? They hardly ever let me get it at home).
"Ryan, will you help Andy pack for the beach? Make sure he has enough shorts and shirts. Oh and don't forget pajamas and underwear." My mom begins the long stream of directions I will get before we actually leave for the beach. Andy just looks at me with his lopsided, all-knowing grin. Smirk would be a better word. I think he's got this all figured out. As long as he stays little and cute, I have to do all his work. Wasn't I ever little and cute?
And I thought growing up would be so great.
Well, the way I see it, there are only two choices here. I can teach him what he needs to know. Or I can do it for him forever.
20 minutes is up!
Whew- the pressure!
Prompt: "Be nice", my father said. "After all, he's your brother."
My brother, I thought. More like some alien from outer space. A demon from Harry Potter. A monster from the black lagoon (I read that in a library book!). How am I supposed to get along with someone who uses my tooth brush to clean his race cars, I should ask.
"Well, how am I supposed to get along with someone who uses my toothbrush to clean his race cars?" I think to ask my dad. After all, he needs to know all these things, all these problems that make it so impossible to live with the little runt.
"He doesn't know that he's doing anything wrong. You have to teach him.", my dad replies sweetly.
"He's five years old. Why doesn't he use his own toothbrush to clean his cars?" I ask, thinking this makes perfect sense and is all the evidence I need to prove my point.
"Well, well", chuckles my dad, "Just remind him."
Just! I think. Just! That one word implies that it is all so simple. So easy. Ha! I've reminded him about a thousand times but he just smiles that stupid sappy smile of his and says:
"I can't use my toothbrush to clean my race cars. I need my toothbrush to brush my teeth.:"
But of course he says this where my dad can't hear him.
It's all so unfair. Just because I''m the oldest I get blamed for everything and he gets off scott free. I'm supposed to teach him, watch him, read to him, help him do this and that and this and that. I have to walk him down the street to see his friend, even though I was right in the middle of my favorite TV show: Dragons and Pirates.
11 more minutes. Uggh.
It wasn't always like this. When Andy was born, I was five years old. Boy, I had it made. Everything to myself. Toys, the TV, all the fun snacks, even my mom and dad. And then, along he comes. Spoiling the fun. Making me the "responsible" one. I was even glad to go off to school so that I could be a kid again and not Andy's body guard. Why don't parents understand? It's their job to watch him and teach him. Not mine. I've talked to my friends. None of them have to do all this for a younger brother. Ok, well some of them do. Sometimes. Just a little. But not as much as me! No sir. Why, I'll bet I'm the only kid in the school who has to help his brother take a bath. As if he doesn't know how to sit in a tub of water and splash around. I got smart on that one though. I taught him how to take a bath so that I don't have to help him anymore. You just have to make sure you get wet behind your ears, and then your parents think you have taken a full bath. It works for a few days anyway.
6 more minutes.
How do you come up with ideas???
We were going on vacation. I could hardly wait. The beach. Five days at the beach. Running on the beach, flying my kite, swimming, looking for shells, going to get ice cream (have you ever noticed that your parents always let you get ice cream at the beach--every time you ask?? What's with that? They hardly ever let me get it at home).
"Ryan, will you help Andy pack for the beach? Make sure he has enough shorts and shirts. Oh and don't forget pajamas and underwear." My mom begins the long stream of directions I will get before we actually leave for the beach. Andy just looks at me with his lopsided, all-knowing grin. Smirk would be a better word. I think he's got this all figured out. As long as he stays little and cute, I have to do all his work. Wasn't I ever little and cute?
And I thought growing up would be so great.
Well, the way I see it, there are only two choices here. I can teach him what he needs to know. Or I can do it for him forever.
20 minutes is up!
Whew- the pressure!
What this is...
Gail Carson Levine has written a book called Writing Magic: Creating Stories that Fly, Collins (Harper Collins) publisher, 2006, ISBN 978-0-06-051960-5, in which she guides you through the writing process. Designed for kids ages 10 and up, it actually shows you how to get ideas for stories, "invent great beginnings and endings, write dialogue, develop memorable characters, and much more." I can't expect my students (or my own children) to do what I'm not willing to do, so here goes! Also, I think the more a librarian knows about the writing process, the better she will be at her task (which is matching great books to the right kid, but that implies that he/she has found the great books first!).
Here's a link to the book on Amazon.
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