As I promised, I'm going to share the story I wrote with you. I'm trying to recall all the specifics, but I'm having a little difficulty. What I DO remember is that I wrote the story for an educational publisher. I think I wrote it for 5th graders and I think that I was given some specific vocabulary words that I had to use. It's probably floating around as a leveled reader in lots of different schools.
Writing leveled readers is probably my favorite kind of freelance. Just knowing that lots of kids are going to read (and hopefully want to write) because of an idea that came from me is amazing.
Message in a Bottle
Ribbons of color filtered through the bedroom window casting a delicate pink glow across my room. The early morning sunshine did nothing to shake my need to crawl back under my covers, but I could hear Catherine clambering up the porch steps to the front door. "Coming," I yelled as I scrambled to get ready. Catherine always came early to meet me when we went to the beach. She said the prettiest seashells were always gone by mid-afternoon. I grabbed my sunglasses and tote bag and trudged downstairs, wiping the sleep from my eyes. About halfway down the doorbell rang again. "Hold your horses!" I screamed, I’ll be there in a sec!"
Patience was not one of Catherine’s virtues and this morning was no exception. As usual, she couldn’t wait for me answer the door, and like always Catherine opened the door and marched precociously inside. She looked more like she was more prepared for a month at Camp Katydid, than just one day in the sun. "Come on Liz," she whined as I eyed a donut on the counter, decided against it and grabbed an apple instead. I followed her out the door, silently chuckling at her weighted-down walk. It was a gorgeous day outside. The sun wasn’t scorching yet; it was pleasantly warm, and the breeze made it a perfect day for the beach. I swung my leg over my bike and rode up the street.
We got about two house down the when I sensed crazy old Hattie Thompson before I actually saw her. I tried to look preoccupied as I rode by, but I made the mistake of taking a sideways look to see if Ms. Thompson noticed me. Unfortunately, she caught my glance and I was forced to acknowledge her presence. I tried to avoid Mrs. Thompson whenever I could because she was the craziest crankiest woman I ever met and frankly, she scared me a little bit. In fact, she gave me the creeps.
"Hi, Ms. Thompson," I stammered in as friendly a tone as I could muster, "How’ve you been?"
"Slow down on that bike before you fall off and end up on my grass," she snarled. I assumed that was the end of the conversation, at least I hoped it was, and began to pedal off, when once again, I sensed old Hattie’s eyes boring a hole in my back. "Always say goodbye," Hattie singsonged, "Always say goodbye." "Don’t answer her," Catherine whispered, "You know she’s loony as a bat. Pedal f-f-faster…. Let’s get the heck away from her!"
We rode like there’d be no tomorrow, the muscles in my calves began to knot up like baseballs, and sweat began to trickle down my face and drip on the handlebars of my bike. I looked over at Catherine and couldn’t help laughing out loud. Her once triangle-white sunscreened nose was now void of protection, but the ooey gooey white stuff was running down her face and she looked like a clown ready for the performance of her life. The tension broke.
We left our bikes on the bike rack, rusted from years in sea mist and sand, and started walking along the shore. Shell collecting isn’t exactly for me, I’d prefer kicking a soccer ball any day, but since Catherine is my best friend, I strolled with her at a leisurely pace.
Before long, Catherine was ahead of me, bent over searching for seashells. I was in a relaxation mode, listening to the gulls and splashing water, when a dark green glass bottle hit my ankle and broke my concentration. "Oh great," I thought, "She’s finding shells and I’m finding old trash." I grasped the old bottle by the neck and was about to fling it back into the sea, when I noticed a slip of paper inside. I stuck my finger in the neck of the bottle as far as it would go, squeezed the paper between two of my fingers and as gently as possible, pulled it out.
By now, I had Catherine’s attention…I’m sure she thought I’d found the most extraordinary conch shell of the day…. and she came to inspect my treasure.
"Lizzy," she asked in a tone that usually implies she wants what I have, "What did you find?" I didn’t reply. "Liz?" For a minute I couldn’t talk, in fact, I couldn’t move. Catherine grabbed the paper out of my hand and read it out loud, "My darling Hattie, today is the day I’m leaving to fight the Nazi’s, we both agree it’s important for me to go. My heart aches because I can’t find you to say goodbye. Know that you will always be with me in the air that I breathe and the moon that I sleep under at night. When I come home, we will make our life together. Since I’m going to put this note under "our rock" I have do doubt that one day you will read my words. Goodbye Hattie Thompson, wait for me. Forever yours, Jonathan." The tattered yellow note was dated September 5, 1944.
I stood stone still and dumbfounded. Catherine was the first to break the silence as she shrieked, "This note can’t be to the crazy old Hattie Thompson we know, can it? No one could have ever loved her like this, Liz, it’s not possible…is it?!" "Let’s go find out," I whispered. sounding only a little braver than I felt. Catherine took longer than usual to gather her paraphernalia, but she did it, and then somewhat begrudgingly unlocked her bike from the rack.
It seemed like it took us twice as long to get back to Hattie’s house as it did to leave there…in fact it seemed like an eternity. Now instead of muscles knotted like baseballs, my legs felt as though they were made of heavy lead, and my mouth was so dry I could spit cotton. I didn’t ask Catherine how she was feeling, somehow, words just didn’t seem right.
As we approached Hattie’s paint-chipped house, I had an overwhelming sense of trepidation. I could see her old face peering from behind the lacy curtains that kept the sunshine, and everything else, out. Before we had time to think, Hattie flung open her door. "Now what," Hattie growled in her usual way, "Didn’t I tell you girls to stay away?"
My hands were shaking like a washing machine out of balance as I reached out to hand her the crumpled up note. "We think this m-m-might be yours," I stammered. Hattie started to turn on heel and slam the door, but something made her change her mind. Her withered hand took the note from me, and as she begin to read, tears fell from her eyes and softened her wrinkled face.
"Come on Catherine," I said, "Let’s go." The moment seemed surreal but as we began to pedal away something made me turn around to look back. Old Ms. Thompson was still standing where we left her, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and I could swear I saw a twinkle in her eye. "Goodbye, Liz," Hattie singsonged, "Goodbye."
"Hello Ms. Thompson," I whispered.
I'll get right to the point here. We've been writing together since January and I'm happy as a clam. Since writing is as natural to me as picking up the phone and talking to my best friend, this blog takes me no time at all. I love writing with you and I love the new blogging friends that I've made.
Since this is an interactive blog, I need to know what you'd like to do for the summer. Do you want to keep on just doing what we have been doing or would you rather do something else? I am willing to do anything (well almost anything) you'd like.
For those of you who truly do want to get published, we can work on that. For those of you who need to talk about igniting the spark of creativity in your children, we can do that too.
The reason that I'm saying all this is that soon I'm going to have a webpage up. It will direct people to my blog and it will offer services for a fee. I am not going to charge any of you anything. But since my freelance work is so down, I need to turn Ignite to Write into a business.
We'll see how all that goes. When you're creative, you're creative. Writing is what I love. Writing is what I do. I just have to figure out a new way to make it work financially for me.
Nothing will change for you at all. I would just like your feedback. Your visits to my new website will be greatly appreciated. It will help to encourage advertisers for me. That's all I will ask from you. As soon as my new website is ready please check it out. I'll make it interactive so it will hopefully be almost as much fun as this blog!
That's it. Thank you for making my life so interesting and this blog so much fun!
Jan
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By: Jan Mader,
on 9/22/2012
slouched into the tattered lawn chair to enjoy the warmth of the September sunshine.
was reading the Sunday paper out on the patio. I love the cool crisp autumn air as I sip my warm cup of coffee.
opened my oven and let the wonderful apple pie aroma fill the house with love.
...thanked my lucky stars that I had until January to stay warm in the warm desert sun.
Sipping coffee, the aroma of apple pie, and the warm desert sun...I'd say we're off to a good start!
continued to shiver away the cold summer days
Autumn seemed to burst with beauty as I turned the corner and became caught in a breeze, stirring the fire-red leaves still clinging to the trees while the remainder crunched under my feet.
listened to the shush shush of the leaves under my feet.
Autumn seems to burst with beauty as I sit in my favorite NYC cafe sipping cider and drinking in the multifaceted flavors of fall.
Autumn seemed to burst with beauty as I relished snuggling into bed for the first time in months.
That said, it is spring here which has beauties of its own. Thank you for your visit to my place.
scuffled and rustled through a pile of glorious leaves.
Can't wait!
put the finishing touches on her thick red hair.....
Autumn seemed to burst with beauty as I watched the green caterpillars march across a mossy log in the dark forest.
Sneeze my way through the season. lol Though I would say sound wise, love the sound of leaves when you crunch your way through them. Might not have as many this year with all the tree limbs we've lost in the various storms. Sadly, I think we may have to cut down another tree.
Rounding today from Bridge and Beyond. Hope you're feeling better.
Autumn seemed to burst with beauty as I strolled the path around the lake. The leaves whisper in the light breeze and their colors reflect on the rippling water. A faint smell of smoke from a distant fireplace tickles my nose and I continue on my way.
Autumn seemed to be bursting with beauty as I sat around the camp fire sipping a cup of hot coffee.
xoxo
tweedles
...breathe deep the crisp air, a slight taste of wood smoke on my tongue, as i cross the yard trailing a crunch of leaves.