Memoir, Anyone?

a painting of my granddaughter; the artist is her daddy,
Jason Reynolds

    


       A picture is worth a thousand words. And a well-written story paints a picture with words.

      Memoir (and) has a call out for submissions. If you are a writer who enjoys writing slice-of-life stories, get busy. You don't have much time. The deadline is February 16, 2012.

      To find out about the guidelines, go here.

Guest Author: Tracy Seeley

       Exciting news! On July 12, Tracy Seeley will be doing a guest post on my blog. Tracy is the author of My Ruby Slippers: The Road Back to Kansas.

      Her post will help writers who find their words are just not working for them. (Don't we all have uncooperative words at times?)

      I was lucky enough to be the random winner of a copy of Tracy's book; the contest was hosted by WOW--Women on Writing.(I cannot wait to read it!)

      For those who love memoir, for those who are writing a memoir, or for those who want to pick Tracy's brain about the writing/publishing process, leave your questions in the comment section on July 12 and Tracy will answer them. 
    

I Want to Steal That Line!

          This afternoon we took up some of our math time to continue writing, since we go to recess from 11:00-11:20, have writing from 11:20-11:50, then lunch from 11:50-12:20.  Drinks of water and bathroom trips have to be squeezed in somehow and somewhere.


          The students have worked on beginning drafts of their memoirs.  At the third grade, their beginnings are not always engaging.  Some Most of them are not experienced story-tellers, so they think, "This story is about a time when I was excited," is a great opening line.


         Today I told a story about when I broke my arm.  I told the story in just a couple of sentences:  "When I was 12 I fell off the high diving board.  Part of me went into the water and part of me landed on the concrete."


          I then asked if they had any questions---questions that were not answered by that kernel of a story.  They had many questions.  Did I have to see a nurse or doctor? Did I cry? What part of me landed on the concrete? (They probably thought it was surely my head that hit the cement!) Did I cry?  Did I get into trouble? What made me fall?


          I then chose one of the questions that interested me the most, and used it as a springboard for a new story beginning.  I chose the "Did you cry?" question.


          I didn't cry when it happened.  I didn't cry when everyone at the pool was talking about me.  I didn't cry as I walked home.  I didn't even cry when I got home and my mom asked why I was back from the pool so early---I just slipped into my room.  But I did finally cry when, no longer able to hide my arm, I admitted to my mom that something was wrong.  Something terrible had happened at the pool, and now my arm couldn't even hold a towel...


        That day began like any other summer day. I went...


        The students saw that they can begin in the middle, and flash back in time.  A really cool thing that writers do is keep the reader in suspense for a bit.  The author does not have to tell what the story is about in the first sentence. Let the reader be intrigued.  Let them hunger for more...


         Following are a few beginnings the kids wrote:


     Yes, I did cry.
     I cried when my mom put me on her back. I cried when I got in the car. I cried when I got in the house. My mom told me to stop crying.  I did not stop.
     She got some alcohol.  It was cold. She put it on my knee and she told me to stop crying and I stopped crying.  She put a bandaid on it and went to my gran's house.


        -------------------------------------------------


     Yes, I was scared. When I had opened the door he was getting closer to me, so I went to the back of my closet and I stayed there.
     My heart was beating so fast.  The closet was so dark in there, I was scared even more so.


(That story is about an older brother who scared her when he put on a mask.)


       ---------------------------------------------------


      When it happened, everyone cried 'til they dropped to their knees. Everyone begged for him to come alive.
      But the doctor said he was dead.


( I love the image of family members dropping to their knees.  I told this student I wanted to steal that line and use it in a story of my own.)


    ---------------------------------------


     I never forgave my aunt. 
     When I see her at holidays, I think of what she had done. Sometimes when I see her I walk away from her.  Sometimes I even get in trouble with her, and we start to argue, so then I go to my grandma's room because my aunt infuriates me.
     I'm still mad at her to this day...


(This student had a pet dog, and the aunt sold the dog at a yard sale---without the family's permission.)

photo by anthonyasael

           Hopefully I will have more promising beginnings tomorrow.  (Most of the class took them home to work on them.)
      

Third Grade Memoirs and Zzzzzzz!

          Today was the 7th day of school, and already I'm overwhelmed.  I could list all the things we have heaped on our plates, but you would think I was lying or at least stretching things a bit, so I'll just digress to something else. 


         I received a "Circle of Friends" award from Donna.  Donna's blog touches upon a variety of topics.  If you're a writer, if you're an observer of the world, if you're a grandparent----she has something for everyone.  (It made my brain go on an ADD-addled tangent, thinking of one of my favorite movies---Circle of Friends with Minnie Driver. Okay, back on track...)


        I've only met Donna once, at a group called "Saturday Writers."  (It's a group of St. Louis area writers who meet on a monthly basis.)  Have you ever encountered a new group of people and just felt at home immediately?  That's the kind of effect they had on me. 


         Anyway, after receiving this prestigious award (I know there is a huge monetary component to it; I've already got it spent.  When can I expect it?) I found out I am supposed to pass the award onto five other blogging friends.  That part is easy.  However, I figured I would not be able to somehow display the award on my blog, but lo and behold, I was able to right-click my way to success (I think).  Here is the award, and I am passing it on to several writers:

Barbara and her purple pen.  This is a writer who definitely lives life twice. (One of the Donalds---Donald Murray or Donald Graves said that "Writers live life twice."  Barbara might even live life thrice, which is even more nice.  (Okay, I'm falling into a 3rd grade kind of rhyme.)  She makes ordinary things extraordinary...


The school psychologist and her blog.  It's serious. It's light.  It helps you look at things from another angle.  There is a photo of her, but it's rumored (by me) that the picture is a fake.  No one could do what she does and look so...so...perky!


The teacher who is underground.  This reminds me of the original movie The Out of Towners (with Jack Lemmon).  The humor is dark.  (I guess that's because she's underground...)


The teacher with a dream.  As teachers, we need to keep our eyes on the prize.  The prize?  Our students...


And a blog I enjoy reading in a faraway land---India.  This writer makes you look at plants differently.  He makes you look at life differently.  (Check out his archive.)


        This week we brainstormed some feelings that would help get us writing.  We would come up with an emotion, and think of a particular time when we were incredibly frightened, incredibly furious, incredibly sad,  and so on.  The students then chose their favorite story ideas, shared with a peer (because we're always writing for some kind of audience) and the peer chose their favorite out of the three.  The next day, they began their rough drafts.


       Unfortunately, so many kids are paralyzed with fear.  They are afraid to write because their spelling skills are poor.  They don't know diddly about punctuation.  They don't think they have anything of value to write about.  It was rough going, and will take lots of one-on-one time to open up the faucet so their feelings can really flow.


       (They were all crestfallen because I said I would not allow any Six Flags/amusement park stories, and no birthday stories.   Unless...one of the roller coasters went off the track and flew into the air, then I would be interested in the story.  If the curtains caught on fire because of all the candles on the cake, I would love to hear that birthday story.  I let them know I want to hear a story about something that matters to them---not a report on "and then this happened, and then...and then...")


        I also told them I would include some of their writing on my blog, so here are a few beginnings:


         February 2007.  I saw my grandfather in the nursing home.  He was in a wheelchair. he was wired up to machines.  Two years later I heard that he died.  I started to cry.  When I went to the funeral I saw him in the casket.  I started to cry again.  I loved him so much.  I still cry to this day.  That was the saddest day in my life... (Okay, the dot dot dot is mine--my fave when it comes to punctuation, but already, this kid knows how to "fastforward" in his story.)


      One day a baby was going to be born. The mom and dad were so happy. They went to the  hospital.  The nurse said it was a boy.  They were shocked. When the mom born the boy, the mom went to sleep. Then when the mom woke up and saw the boy the mom was so happy the mom cried.  The boy was sound asleep.  When the boy was eight years old the mom gave a DSI to her son and they were happy for the rest of their life.  (Oh no, it's veered off and become another video game story.)


       When I was six years-old my brother went to college.  It was his first day.  It was winter and it was slick on the highway.  I was incredibly worried that he was going to have an accident.  (This is all this writer has, but it has a lot of potential.  I can't wait to see it as it progresses.)


          I am going to end this posting, as it's long, probably an insomniac's dream come true.  (The snores that are part of my title?  For some reason this afternoon, when planning with a colleague, I kept yawning---more than a dozen times in five minutes or so.  Perhaps it's my body's way of telling me that I need to get a bit more sleep?) 

A Teacher's Summer

People who bemoan teachers' three months off drive me crazy, and make me want to go straight for their jugular. The span of summer (a scant two months) is taken up with reading (for pleasure as well as "work" reading), doing as few home projects as I can get by with, and engaging in those little pleasures that I don't have the energy for during the school year.

For instance, I hope to get together with my book group. The last book we read and discussed was Same Kind of Different as Me--a great memoir. I just finished Mary Karr's Lit. She's the author of two other marvelous memoirs. Her perspective is unflinching...The women in our group are spirited and passionate, and sharp-witted. The barbs fly---all in fun---over a great discussion and tasty food.

Jodi Piccoult is an author I have been digging into for the last year or so. It amazes me, but with every one of her books, I read the inside blurb, it doesn't blow me away, but I succumb (because this happens every time)and the plot, the research, the emotional tugging does blow me away. The latest one I read was about a family dealing with a child born with fragile bones. Even on the last page, her characteristic twists kept me guessing. (If you are in the habit like I am sometimes, of reading the first few lines and then turning to the end and reading it, with this book, don't. The end is heartbreakingly surprising.)

That is the sort of fun fare that keeps me occupied this summer as far as reading. I am also engaged in becoming more data driven as a teacher. On my next blog, I'll note some stuff about data and pre-tests and post-tests, how being reflective is crucial, and also, how documentation can help protect educators...