Chapter 5 - Getting into It

"When you start writing a story, all the beginning needs to do is get you into the story...it's too early to worry about drawing the reader in."  Levine suggests starting where you are interested in the story.

I've wondered about this myself.  I have imagined a few "scenes" of a story that I would like to write, in fact, I have scenes from two stories in my head, but I get caught up in how I am going to get my characters to that scene.  In one case, I have been able to go ahead with writing those scenes and I am more eager to work on that story because even though I don't have everything in order, I have something to work with--some pieces to work on fitting together. But I worried if that was a good way to go about writing this book.  According to Levine, it is indeed just fine to write that way, working from the inside out, per se. She also gives an example of some of her work that she wrote for The Fairy's Return and how not everything she wrote was in the finished copy.  I need to allow myself to not only write junk, as mentioned in a previous post, but I also need to let myself write paragraphs and scenes that may not end up being used, but will help me fine tune the writing that I keep.

Writing Assignment

Begin a story about a competition at three different points. Only write one page each. 1) open the story with the moment the competition begins, 2) open with when the main character finds out about the competition, 3) open when the main character begins preparing for the competition.

School's Out For Summer

Since my kids have been out of school I haven't had much time to update this blog. (It seems like if they see me on the computer, they suddenly need my attention, or want to check their email, or to play a game.) But, even though I haven't had the opportunity to write as much, I have seen a change in the way that I think.  I find myself actually wanting to write instead of feeling obligated.  That, in and of itself, is a huge step for me. Instead of finding ways to avoid writing, I am thinking of ways that I can find a few quiet minutes to jot down my thoughts.

Chapter 4 - Eureka!

"I am living proof that you don't have to have lots of ideas to be a writer." -Gail Carson Levine

As someone who is trying to work up the guts to be a writer, this sentence is very comforting.  Levine goes on to say that she doesn't have any special ways of getting ideas, and that her ideas are pretty ordinary.  For her, "Relaxation, repetition, and rhythm let the mind fly free." 

I can see how this pattern would be helpful, I just need to allow myself to relax and go through the motions of writing so that I can find my own rhythm.

In this chapter, Levine also confesses that she writes a lot of "junk" before she gets to "the good stuff."  She says that by continuing to write, even if it's just junk, "eventually that subterranean part of your brain will come through and begin to send you ideas,"  and then you need to work with those ideas to thank that "brilliant part of you."

Writing Assignment:  Write 12 story ideas (they don't all have to be good).

1. grade school girl getting her feelings hurt by best friend

2. historical book about the lost city of Guge

3. mystery/adventure/growing up story of royal twin boys

4. growing up story of grade school girl-one summer's experiences

5. picture book about Ringo the Rainbow Pig

6. picture book about worrying

7. a child coming home after a long absence

8. fictional book about Emily Dickinson

9. pioneer story related to Prayer Rock

10.picture book about gardens

11.picture book about 4 yr old boy and his tractors

12. condensed, picture book version of The Mansion

Chapter 3 - Shut Up!

When I was a kid, I didn't want to be a writer...in my spare time I painted and drew. But if a painting I began wasn't suitable for framing in the first fifteen minutes--and it rarely was--I'd start hearing chatter in my head that would go something like this: "That's lousy. You don't know what you're doing. You're no kind of painter. You stink."

So begins this chapter where Levine addresses the inner critic in all of us. She talks about how our critical beliefs, can and will halt our creativity if we don't learn how to tell them to "shut up." Recently, I finished a college class in which the assignments included quite a few essays about this very subject. For my final, I wrote an essay about how I am learning to quiet my inner critic and develop my own voice as a writer.

Levine goes on to say that we who continue to be creative and battle against that inner critic are heroes. I like the sound of that. I've always wanted to be heroic.

Writing prompt: Turn someone you dislike (or like) into an animal. It can be a camel or a caterpillar or any kind of animal. Describe the animal. Tell what happens to it in a story. 

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Sunny.  She was very sweet, and a little mischievous.  One day she went out to feed her bay-colored horse, Dreamer.  As she was filling up the watering trough, she looked at her own reflection and started imagining what she would do if she were a horse. Just then, she felt a tickle of a breeze on her neck.  She turned in the direction of the breeze, slipped on the wet grass, and fell into the trough.  As she picked herself up, she was startled to realize that she had indeed turned into a horse.  She had four legs ending in hoofs, two large ears, and a long mane and tail.  She was slightly shorter than Dreamer and had a blaze patch of white hair on her forehead. Her left back foot had a stocking, which means that it was white up to the hock.

She stamped around for a moment trying to get her barrings.  She was still standing next to the watering trough on the outside of the fence, and Dreamer was watching her with suspicious eyes. She looked around wondering how this could happen to her.  Her thoughts were still her own, but her body was defiantly the body of a horse.  Would she ever be human again?  Was there anyone that could help her?  She tried to talk but neighed instead.  Oh dear, she thought.  No one will know what happened to me.  What do I do now?

Thinking like her old self, she went to sit down on the ground, only to find that she didn't know how to settle herself down into a sitting position with four legs.  She finally gave up and laid down on her side instead. However, by this time she was feeling quite panicky and decided that she would rather be standing and struggled to get her four feet under her again.

Another Run at a Beginning

I stared into the corner where I placed my stick this morning, but it was empty. There was only one person that could have taken it, and that person was my big brother David. How could he leave his sister defenseless? How was I going to make it home now? I had two options. I could retrace my steps for a half a block and then walk around the whole block, which would take an extra fifteen minutes, or I could hope to sneak past the nemesis of the neighborhood.
Our neighbor's dog was the cause for my apprehension. And believe you me, I had reason to be nervous around her. She reminded me of a miniature wolf. She was, I suppose, a medium-sized dog with a grayish-brown coat and a white belly. Her tail was fluffy and long. But despite her unthreatening size, she was the most menacing thing in my world. Ironically her name was Cuddles.

David and I had to deal with her on a daily basis because we had to cross her path on the way to school. That’s why we started carrying sticks; large, heavy ones. If Cuddles saw the stick, she would bark at us, but she’d stay in her owner’s yard.

The neighbors were civil people; however, they couldn’t, wouldn’t believe that their little Cuddles was a mean dog. The problem was that they were usually at work when we went to school. Even after my mother explained how terrified we were of the dog and asked them to watch it more carefully, they said that we must be harassing the dog or it wouldn’t bother us. It took my dad going over and threatening to call the police, for them to keep Cuddles tied up or in the house.

That eased the situation considerably, but there were times that the Rasmussens forgot or Cuddles wiggled her way off the chain. Walking to and from school, I was always filled with apprehension until we had gotten past the Rasmussen's house and had stowed our sticks for our next foray. David was much braver than I was, still if Cuddles saw any one of us, and wasn’t tied up, she was more than eager to gnash her teeth and tear after us.

We devised a system so that we would always have a stick to protect ourselves. There were only two places that we kept them so that they wouldn’t get lost or taken. The first was by the chimney on the corner of our house. These sticks were for business and we never played with them so they were always there when they were needed. The other place was in the corner of Mr. Harston's steer pasture near the end of the street. We each had our own stick and we weren’t supposed to use each other’s. Now my stick wasn't where it should have been. I remembered that David hadn't gone to school this way this morning. He had walked over to Jonathan's house to help him carry something for Show and Tell. I had figured that he would help his friend take his stuff home too so I hadn't thought to carry his stick with me on my way to school. Now I was stuck.

Chapter 2- Why I Wrote This Book

In this chapter Levine shares a little bit about the purpose of this book. She says that after volunteering to teach creative writing workshops in her hometown, she began to see some common ways that students get into trouble with their writing. She also tells about a picture book she had written that was initially rejected because she was too close to the story, but that was accepted after some thoughtful revision.

Writing Assignment
Write a story about a main character who finds a diamond necklace on a seat in his school bus. That's the main idea, but change details as needed.

With only on week left, the school year was coming to a close. My school bus stop was next and I was ready to go home and shoot some hoops. As I gathered my backpack and jacket, a sparkle of light reflected off something in the seat. I looked down and saw a necklace made of crystals set in gold, or maybe the stones weren't crystals, maybe they were diamonds.

I looked all around to see if anyone else had noticed. Then I glanced out the open window and saw a old woman staring at me. She whispered, "Grab the necklace and come on." I don't know how I heard her over the rumble of the bus engine, but I did, so I picked it up and got off the bus.

She was waiting for me, but started to walk down the sidewalk just as I got to her. I quickly moved up to walk beside her. Holding out the necklace I asked her if it was hers. She smiled, but kept walking. Then she said, "I've decided to ask you to keep the necklace for me. You seem like a trustworthy boy and it will be safer if I don't have it."

I was about to ask her what she meant, but just then a tan car came squealing around the corner ahead of us. I felt, rather than saw the woman halt suddenly, but when I turned back to her, she was gone. The car was still headed my way so I knelt down to retie my shoes so that I wouldn't look so conspicuous stopped there on the sidewalk by myself. As the car drove past I looked out of the corner of my eye so that I could see the driver. What I saw puzzled me even more. I guess that I assumed that the driver would look like a gangster or something, but this guy appeared too normal to be one of them. He was wearing a dark suit and seemed to be a business man on his way home from work. His face didn't look worried or strained like I had supposed it would.

I straighten up and put my hand in my pocket where I had stuffed the necklace when I heard the car. In addition to the necklace, there was also a piece of paper on which was written, "I'll be in touch." I didn't remember the woman giving me the paper, but it had to be from her. Now my head was full of questions. Where did this necklace come from? Why was it on the bus? Who was the old woman? and why was she worried about keeping the necklace safe? and from whom was she keeping it? And, how was she going to find me?

Suddenly I was exhausted. I didn't want to shoot hoops anymore. I just wanted to get a glass of something cool to drink and lay down.

Chapter 1- Part two

In the second part of this chapter Levine suggests 7 rules for writing.

1. The best way to write better is to write more.
2. The best way to write better is to write more.
3. The best way to write better is to write more.
4. The best way to write more is to write whenever you have five minutes.
5. Read! The payoff for this pleasure is that reading books shows you how to write them.
6. Reread! There's nothing wrong with reading a book you love over and over. When you do, the words get inside you, become part of you, in a way that words in a book you've read only once can't.
7. Save everything you write, even if you don't like it, even if you hate it. Save it for a minimum of fifteen years.

She then explains the last rule commenting that she used to think that she would remember what it felt like to be a child, but she can't. She says, "When you become a teenager, you step onto a bridge...the opposite shore is adulthood. Childhood lies behind. The bridge is made of wood. As you cross, it burns behind you."

As I read the 7th rule, I remembered a story I wrote in 4th or 5th grade. We were supposed to write a story about an animal (probably after reading a book like Summer of the Monkeys). I wrote about a wolf cub. I remember that the story wasn't very good because I had a hard time getting into the character.
I didn't understand at the time, that because I have terrible allergies and can't be around animals, I didn't have enough positive experiences to write about loving or rescuing animals and have it come out sounding the way I wanted it to. The narrator of my story loved animals and was rescuing an abandoned wolf cub. But, I didn't love animals, in fact I resented them and all the people that could be around them. I don't have a copy of that story because I didn't think it was very good and didn't want to keep it. Although it would have been irregular for a 5th grader, my story would have been much better if I had taken a different route and put my real feelings into it. In that case, the story would have ended badly for the animal.