From Feature Author |
Feature Author Session, we encourage you to have your students respond to his writing challenges.
Students and teachers may choose from the following activites.
When students write a sequntial story, the story passes through various steps, each step addding something to the story. This can be completed in two ways: - individual students add sentences or paragraphs to the story - groups of students read the beginning of the story, explore, visualize and verbalize what will happen next then add sentences or paragraphs to the story until it is complete.
Think of fiction as a table with four legs - each of which is a
support for our "fiction table". The difficulty many kids have with writing is that they want to write plot, plot, plot. They want to have stuff happening, car chases, bombs going off...the fun stuff. But we won't/can't believe the action of the story until we first believe the characters and the place and time in which the action is taking place. Before we can believe the camper's fight with a marauding bear, we have to believe the camper, the camp, the tent, what the camper was eating when the bear showed up, the kind of day it is; we have to see, hear and smell the camp BEFORE the bear arrives and the action starts. Students each take one leg of a "fiction table" and develop that leg, then get together in a group to put it together. It's important in the latter case that the kids who are concentrating on setting and character don't give much thought to plot. GET THE READER READY TO BELIEVE WHATEVER ACTION DOES TAKE PLACE. How to use the Fiction Table: a) choose a Story Starter, b) students focus individually on one PART of the fiction table, c) then, get together as a group (or do this individually if you prefer) and - visualize what the character is - verbalize/explain to other group members the part they see/did - talk/explore how all of your parts fit d) write the story collaboratively, meshing all parts.
Here are a few story beginnings that Mr. Poulsen thinks would be
fun.
1) I was kind of sleepy so at first I didn't recognize the sound. For a few minutes I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling cracks that had been there since we moved into the place four years before. I pretty well had them memorized just like I had memorized each one of the car posters that covered every square centimeter of wall in my room. Car. That was the sound-a car. Maybe coming from our driveway. But it didn't sound like the station wagon. No, that sound definitely wasn't the Belcher. The Belcher was the name I had given our ancient, used-to-be-brown, producer of blue-black smoke that my parents called "the family car". I pulled the covers back and rolled my legs out of bed. I almost changed my mind when my feet hit the cold hardwood. "You'd think they could turn the heat up a little in the morning," I complained to the cherry red Alpha Romeo that was always the first car I saw when I got out of bed. Okay, I admit it, I talk to the cars in the posters. Why not? The Alpha Romeo didn't answer. It never did. I was glad there were clothes covering most of the floor between my bed and the window. It meant my feet didn't have to stay on the hardwood for long. When I got to the window, I pulled the curtains (Corvette pattern) back and looked out. That's when I almost fainted. Mom was sitting at the wheel of a very cool, actually very hot, .......
2) Cadillac Jack Farnham was in a hurry. His limp was barely noticeable as he dodged his way between the night traffic of Third Street. As he stepped up on the curb on the other side of the worn pavement, he looked over his shoulder. He thought about which way to go. He decided right, then changed his mind and went left. Another look back. Nobody there. Wait, what was that, a shadow? There, by the corner of that pet store...he started waking again. Even faster now, wishing his legs were longer...faster. The wind whipped around him, colder now that he was out of the shelter of the buildings. He pulled his jacket around himself. The zipper was broken but it didn't matter. The jacket was all wrong for this time of year anyway. Cadillac Jack was scared.
3) If Judy Mason could have changed one thing about herself it would have been her height. Judy could slam dunk a basketball any time she wanted. When someone needed something off the top shelf of the cupboard, it was Judy they called on. She'd heard all the nicknames, "Stork" and "Stretch" were two of the kinder ones, and she was sick of the names and the giggling that always accompanied them. But most of all, Judy Mason was sick of being tall. As she looked across the packed gym at Phil Tomlinson, she knew that her height was about to spoil any romantic ideas she might have about Thompson High's newest student.
4) School was over for another year. And here it was-the first morning of freedom and Allen was totally bummed out. As he stared across the living room at the TV where Valerie somebody-or-other was talking enthusiastically about some celebrity's meatloaf recipe, Allen shook his head. He couldn't believe it. One day into the summer holidays and he was bored. Not just a little bored, he was bored out of his tree.
5) The body had been there for a while. Dooley Shlupp, brilliant grade nine detective (that's how the newspapers described him every time he solved another case) could tell that right off. Dooley stepped closer. The body was wedged in between the counter where Mr. Grosmeyer always kept the beakers and Bunsen Burners neatly lined up and the first experiment table. Dooley had done a barometric pressure experiment at that very table the day before. The body wasn't Mr. Gromeyer's. In fact, it wasn't anybody's body. At least it wasn't a human body. This was body of something or someone not of this planet. Dooley Shlupp shivered. (I have no idea if they still have this stuff in Chem labs anymore so feel free to edit to bring this into the 90's if necessary).
6) It was happening again. Hayley couldn't believe it. "Not now," she groaned out loud. All four of them looked at her. "What?" Jill Smythe stared over the top of the plastic cup that held her root beer. But Hayley knew there wouldn't be time to explain. Not that it would have done any good if she did have time. They wouldn't have believed her. The worst part was there was no way around it, nothing she could do to stop it. The swirling fog that was always the first thing she noticed. Then the way her body felt lighter, then lighter still. The fog took on different colours, first a green-blue, then a pale yellow and finally the orangish-pink that was the signal that the voyage was about to start. So far the journeys had always been back-into the past. But the old gypsy woman had said Hayley could go forward too. Hayley barely had time to think about that before she felt herself lifting up into the swirl of cloud. Hayley knew she'd have a tough time explaining this one when she got back. All the other times she had been alone when it happened. But now here she was-about to disappear-while eating A & W onion rings in the Kingsway Mall with her four best friends.
7) I slammed the book down so hard, dust flew in every direction. The owl looked at me like I'd lost my mind but he had the good sense not to say anything. The marmot did what she always does. "I dare say that's rather childish behaviour," she...uh...remarked. I thought about throwing the book but it wouldn't have done any good. She just would have remarked again and I really didn't need that just now. Besides the book was far too heavy-not unexpected when you remember it contained the recipes and incantations for over four thousand spells-four thousand two hundred and sixteen to be exact. And I'd memorized every one of them. Which was part of why I was angry. I didn't get the promotion to Sorcerer First Class again. What was the point of learning all those stupid spells? At least have of them hadn't been used in three or four double-centuries. And why bother wearing these stupid clothes and spending most of my time with the fourlegs, learning their languages, eating what they eat and sleeping where they sleep if I was going to be overlooked every time the "big job" came up. I deserved that promotion. But no, William Sky had got it and I would remain an Apprentice 2 for another twelve months.
8) The guy didn't look like he belonged-not in Central Junior High, the sports school. "The jock joint", that's what everybody called it. And I guess they were right. But this guy, the guy with the sandals and the hair and earrings in some pretty weird places didn't look like he was in the right place.
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