Berta's Music

Tuesday Quick Write for Kate Messner's Teachers Writing Camp
6/26

Today, Julie True Kingsley joins us with a writing prompt on character development…

How:

Step One:
* Pull out your magazines and look for faces that you find interesting (You could also do a Google Images search or use Pinterest).   What faces call you?  Pick one.
(Teaching Note: I make students pull a picture from a paper bag)

* Take in the photo.  What do you notice about this person?   Give the person some traits.  Start with physical traits (So easy!), now look deeper.  What do you think this person is feeling?  What makes the person’s heart tick?  Secrets? Yes, they are there.  Find them.  Dig deeper.  Learn more.  Push yourself here.

Step Two:
* Find songs that match your character’s inner and outer character.  Play around with this.  You Tube is your friend.  Go find that song that represents your character.
(Teacher note: Depending on the age group you teach you might need to frontload different styles of music and have them choose between a few specific choices.   You know your kids, do what they do they can deal with.)

See Example on the blog.

Step three:
Start this character’s story.  Go on, try a half a page.  Keep the music on.  Put the beat into your story. See what happens.  If you are motivated try numerous songs.  Notice, how does your sentence structure changes with the beat of the music? Does the beat find its way into your words?


+++++++++
My Turn: 

Photo Credit: Flickr by Donald Lee Pardue CC 2.0 on June 26, 2012

My Fictional Description: 


Name:  Roberta Rhodes
From: Seattle, WA now in Small Town, WA

Physical Characteristics:  streaked blonde hair, pulled back in a rubber band, bangs curled and pushed to each side, brown eyebrows, hazel eyes, slight but strong nose, pointy like her focus; thin lips, serious, even and rounded chin, healthy weight (huggable)

Song:  That Girl Was Me (Drama Queen) by Lindsay Lohan

Internal Characteristics: Takes charge of her life, focused, gets the job done, over works, but when interrupted, just sighs; pleasant, but feisty; doesn't take any crap -- has "tude";

Song
Opuzz Determined to Succeed  - solid beat; instrumental keeps moving


Story:

"Bert," I called and snapped the picture.

Roberta just sighed and continued chopping broccoli.

"Get that camera out of here and get your gloves on! Spin that spinach."

We had many more to feed tonight; tons of sandwiches to make. People would be dropping into Bert's Bakery and Cafe all night tonight during the community cancer walk.

Bert's mom had passed away from breast cancer and Berta is a survivor. But you wouldn't know it. She works long hours and helps out whenever she can; all sandwiches are half price today for the community activities.

We've been open five years, and it looks like we'll make it. Just like she did. Life is short, and Bert keeps her cool, despite my continued teasing. I reach over and kiss her cheek. We've been married for twenty-three years.

She smiles and says, "Start another row of sandwiches." She throws a radish at me.

I'm glad she's back.

++++++++++++++

Your Turn:


Follow the steps above.

For images:
Go to Flickr.com, advanced search, and choose Creative Commons for commercial use and faces. Then type in a word to find; I used determined.

 To search YouTube, just type in your Google Search Bar: "youtube music determined" That's how I found my music.


Link back here with your new character!

Poetry Friday on Tuesday

Tuesday Quick Write
Kate Messner's Teachers Write Camp

6/19

Guest author Sara Lewis Holmes  suggests this about poetry:

Part of her introduction to poetry:
"We write poetry in response to the things that set off alarms inside us. The moments when we are vibrating with wonder, or fear, or heartbreak.  Poetry is most definitely FEELING.
But we also write poetry to examine things more closely; to cry out: that’s not the same thing!  To logically parse a silly thought until it reveals something we didn’t understand when first we were alarmed. Poetry is most definitely THOUGHT. Perhaps that’s why I love Auden’s definition of poetry as 'clear thinking about mixed feelings.'"


Her assignment to us:
"1) Tell me about a time you didn’t reject the first silly thought or phrase that came to you—and what happened afterwards. Write a poem about it if you wish.
2) When you have a free evening, find the recent documentary, Louder Than a Bomb, which follows four teams of students as they prepare for and compete in a Chicago poetry slam. Need a quick jolt immediately? Here’s seventeen-year-old Adam Gottlieb performing “Poet, Breathe Now.”
3) Begin a “commonplace book.” This is simply a notebook into which you copy poems you want to keep nearby. You can do this by hand, inking in the lines, or do what I often do: print or make a copy with your computer, and paste it in. Or do both—no rules! Try reading from this commonplace book before you approach your regular writing time, and see if it puts you in the right frame of mind to be both open and clear.
4) To explore your mixed feelings, write a credo. But do it slant, as Emily Dickinson would advise. Start with “I don’t believe in…” and see where your intrepid words take you."

+++++++++++

First: I've chosen prompt 4: I don't believe:


Next: Here is Sara's Credo Poem -- A model for us

And now, mine:

I don't believe in giving up.
I don't have time to write this poem,
It's not even Tuesday; it's Sunday,
but I can't let go of my commitment.

I don't believe in giving up.
I had three days of class this week.
Out of town, away from my safe harbor.
And I want to finish my poem.

I don't believe in giving up.
Although I do believe in adapting
and revising and reforming so it's doable
For me. I will be able to finish my poem.

I don't believe in giving up.
And I don't let my students give up either.
We adapt and revise and reform so the work is doable
For them. They will be able to finish their work.

I don't believe in giving up.
We look together at what needs to be shown
And decide on how each will find a way and a when to show
to me for them what must be done. They do commit to their work.

I don't believe in giving up.
Commit, Adapt, Revise, Reform, Extend.
I don't believe in giving up
But sometimes, I let go.

I don't believe in regrets.
I live each day as best I can
And do as best I can
Fulfilling, for sure, promises.

I don't believe in regrets.
I know that twenty-four hours and sixty-two years
Are both short and long;
Get done with what I can.

I don't believe in regrets.
We look forward to keep going.
We can't see behind without
A mirror, but that's no longer real.

I don't believe in regrets.
So when I can't, when it's too much,
I let go.
I let go and let it behind.

I don't believe in regrets.
Sometimes a student resists everything
We could do for success. What do you do?
Let go.

I don't believe in regrets.
I don't believe in giving up.
I do what I can and then
I am done with it.

Let go.

+++++++++++

Your Turn:

Which prompt will you try?

I hope your try your thoughts wrapped up into an "I don't believe in" poem and share it here.

Character Conversations

Tuesday Quick Writes
June 12, 2012

Guest author Jeannine Atkins or Kate Messner's Teachers Write Camp, guides us to sketch out our characters through questions and conversations.

The Prompt, remixed:

Think of your character

• Write about her or him as if to your mom or a trusted friend
• Or begin a poem or story as a letter to your main character
• Perhaps write a conversation, a dialog between two characters. 
• Or you can write a poem based on questions and responses, and edit out the questions. 

Or ask your character the sort of sincere, casual questions we often reserve for friends:

• Do you have a favorite place to be alone?  
• A favorite toy, piece of clothing, pet, tree, tool, or book?  
• Did someone encourage you to do what you love?  How? 
• Did anyone try to stop you?  
• What did they do or say? 
• What parts of your work are hard or boring?  
• What mistakes did you make?  
• What did you learn from them? 
• Who or what do you love? 

Remember, if your character seems chatty, please, just let her speak, even when it seems off topic.

The Writing (Asked character questions and edited them out within the backdrop of the story):

I plopped my backback onto the table in the back of Garden Cafe. This is my favorite place, if I’m not in Lilac Row, one of the gardens in our city building. This table sits in the circle of potted fig trees, each reaching up to the skylight now covered with pelting rain. I could hear the tick, tick, tick of each drop. This is one of the few cafes with a skylight, and this table is usually taken. I may have to share it.

I placed my water cup near one of the empty chairs. I sipped my Blue Moon slowly. The spearmint relaxed me, and the flavor lingered as I pondered my blunder today. I hoped the water glass detered anyone else from sitting here.

Unzipping the side pocket of my backpack, I slid out mom’s sunflower coin and set it before me. I adjusted my necklace with it’s medpouch filled with lilac petals. I closed my eyes and sighed. 

Why did I forget Andrew’s permission slip? Now he may not get to go to the Sun Dance. I pulled out the slip and stared at it. I ran home after school and tried to turn it in to Ms. Banjours. She had left already. I looked around but did not see her here; this is her favorite coffee spot. At least, that’s what she described when she modeled “elaboration” for us in English. 

In one hour I have science lab, my favorite class. I’m leader of today’s session, and a little nervous. I don’t like having to tell people what to do if they forget what to do or forget part of their assignment. I love planning the labs, though, in the gardens. Today we will analyze the sudden outbreak of fungus on the sycamore trees. Even in this rain, it will be fun to run deep into the woods, hiding from each other and getting work done. The Elders will appreciate our analysis. We may even earn a day in the roof garden if we solve the cause of the issue. My dad says I have a gift for environmental science; he says I see how things are connected.

I wish I had connected with Mrs. Banjours. I’m not sure where she lives. I picked up mom’s coin and slid back into my backpack. Perhaps Mr. Sawyer knows where she lives. I may still have time. I checked the slip again to make sure Mom had signed it.

“Excuse me,” a voice said, “May I join you? All the other tables are taken.”

I looked up.

Mrs. Banjours sipped her cappachino and smiled.

“Is that Andrew’s permission slip? I can take that.”

---

Ok.  Your turn.  What's your character's favorites? loves? strengths? fears? mistakes?

Lilac Lane

Source: June 5 Tuesday Quick Write

Basic Prompts:  

1. Write for two minutes to describe a very specific place.

2. Find yourself at the place:  in photos, videos, reality, or if necessary, imagination.

3. Write for one minute each to describe the details of sights, sounds, smells, touch.

4. Rewrite the descriptive paragraph using the details of senses.

5. For kids: use the places near you.  Write first, then go there for step three.

Here goes:

1. Two minute write of place:

I look both ways and slink underneath the bush, pushing aside the branch and slowly letting it drop back into place.

Above me my roof is now green pointy leaves reaching towards the skies. Light purple lilacs top the branches. I breathe in the perfume and close my eyes. I love this, my own house.

I step over the first branch and into my kitchen. The tin cake pans and cups await my ingredients.

I reach over the three thin branches and pull out the big spoon.  I step "outside" and into the sunlight. I run with my spoon and cake pan to the sprinkler, now squirting water into the zinnia flower bed. I scoop near the back and fill the pan with dirt, letting the sprinkler soak it as I fill.

Carrying the pan back, I swat a mosquito, pick three lilac florets, five lilac leaves, and a bunch of grass.

Back in my kitchen, I stir and arrange. Each leaf and floret must be in the correct place to finish the dessert, a balanced pattern for my cake.

I carry the finished cake through the kitchen, step over two large branches and onto my kitty quilt spread in the largest opening between branches, my living room.

2. Close my eyes: Imagine the place that once was my playhouse and now is a parking lot for the Bismarck Hospital.

3. Four one-minute writes of sensory details:

Sights

The noon sun beats down around the house, but filters gently through my skylights. The shadows dance around, playing tag with the light, fairies sparkling here and there.

Sounds

An occasional buzz, a soft wine, whirrs by my ear. Splat! I squish another mosquito. The gentle breeze fills the space with a soft shhh  shhh. 

Smells

Sweet lilacs fold through me, and the earth breathes a clean cool dew all around.

Touch

The trunks, striped in brownish twists like licorice, occasionally peel away in stings that may catch in my hair.

4. Rewrite

I run through the back porch and out the screen door. It slams, and I hear my little brother rushing after me.

I look both ways and disappear underneath the bush, pushing aside the rough branch and slowly letting it drop back into place. I stand in the middle of the thick row of lilacs, silent as Bill runs past. This is my sanctuary.


The trunks, striped in brownish twists like licorice, occasionally peel away in strings that sometimes catch in my hair. I brush away the fuzz, and shake my head, only slightly afraid of a possible spider web.

The noon sun beats down around this place, nature's summer play house, but filters gently through my skylights. The shadows dance around, playing tag with the light, fairies sparkling here and there. An occasional buzz, a soft wine, whirrs by my ear. Splat! I squish another mosquito. The gentle breeze fills the space with a soft shhh  shhh. 

My roof is now green pointy leaves reaching towards the skies. Light purple lilacs top the branches. Sweet lilacs fold through me, and the earth breathes a clean cool dew all around. I breathe in the perfume and close my eyes. I love this, my own house.

I step over the first branch and into my kitchen. The tin cake pans and cups await my ingredients.

I reach over the three thin branches and pull out the big spoon.  I step "outside" and into the sunlight. I run with my spoon and cake pan to the sprinkler, now squirting water into the zinnia flower bed. I scoop near the back and fill the pan with dirt, letting the sprinkler soak it as I fill.

Carrying the pan back, I swat a mosquito, pick three lilac florets, five lilac leaves, and a bunch of grass.

Back in my kitchen, I stir and arrange. Each leaf and floret must be in the correct place to finish the dessert, a balanced pattern for my cake.

I carry the finished cake through my kitchen, step over two large branches and onto my kitty quilt spread in the largest opening between branches, my living room.

Crack. I turn and smile. My friend Darlene has brought her own treat: cupcakes of pebbles topped with petunias. 

We giggle, and call out, "Bill! We have treats for you!"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lilacs are magic:

 

5. Your turn!  

Please share your sensory description of a favorite and happy, sad and emotional,  or eerie and scary place -- or any feeling that is strongly attached to a place. 

Please leave a link to your writing, or write it here.  Thanks!