In our household, time-telling is a big deal. "It can't be Tuesday," my four-year-old said the other day. "It's still summer."
Indeed, it is!
Seeing all of the back-to-school displays at the store this morning, my daughter was very worried. "Is August fall?" She has been having nightmares about her first grade locker, and in all honesty, I'm having nightmares about my husband going back to work and leaving me with all of the household chores he's been doing all summer long.
But... while those of you in the south are savoring your last moments of summer vacation, we've got a month to go (not to rub it in). I just finished teaching and taking my summer classes. I'm sorry, but I'm not quite ready to think about going back to school.
While our vacation plans have paled in comparison to April's, we've had a little beach time and a little NYC time and this coming week, Hersheypark (and a chocolate martini!). I was working while we were at the beach, so now I've been doing my "beach reading" from the comfort of my recliner -- the divine Jennifer Weiner for my grown-up book club and some great "boy books" for me. Since all of my favorite kidlit authors are women, I made a concerted effort to branch out, and as a consequence I'm now in love with Dan Gutman, Anthony Horowitz, Rick Riordan. I also can't wait to meet Zachary Ruthless. (Have I piqued your interest? Don't forget to enter our current book giveaway contest.)
At the SCBWI retreat I attended last month, one of the speakers was well-known boy-book author John Coy. He gave us a number of writing-intensive workouts, which probably work just as well at school visits with fifth-graders as they do with writing conference attendees. I am not, as I have mentioned before, typically a fan of such exercises. However, these were helpful to me in noodling on a new character/premise, so I will (thank you, John Coy!) share them here.
1) Picture your main character in a scene that involves a conflict. Now... describe what he/she is wearing.
As an aside, I am not a visual thinker. I rarely describe much about my character's appearance, and I can't get through a book that goes on in detail about Jimmy Choos or Juicy Couture. I hadn't given a thought to what my character was wearing -- nor would I ever stop to describe it in this particular scene -- but I definitely had a better mental picture of her when I was finished.2) Describe what she's wearing on her feet.
I'd already done this, down to her nail polish, so I was amazed to find how much more there was to say about her feet.3) Describe her hair.
Ditto!4) Describe the sounds your character would notice in the room.
5) Describe the smells.
6) Describe tastes.
Adding sensory detail to scenes is, we all know, what makes them come alive. I am much more apt to add smells and tastes to my descriptions than I am visual detail
The TeachingAuthors are proud to be part of the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA) Summer Blog Initiative. We're especially pleased to be the first blog to feature these inspiring and practical posts by students and graduates of the MFA programs because four of the TeachingAuthors (Carmela Martino, Mary Ann Rodman, JoAnn Early Macken, and I) hold MFAs from Vermont College. Last Monday, our series began with Jodi Paloni's entry, "The Point of Point of View." In Wednesday's guest post, "Decide vs. Discover," Cynthia Newberry Martin shared a technique for letting the characters tell you what happens next in your story. On Friday, Sion Dayson gave us another method for moving forward with "What Happens Next?" Today we hear from Lyn Miller-Lachmann on the art of critiquing. --Jeanne Marie
Critiquing Others: The Constructive Critique by Lyn Miller-Lachmann
Before entering the Vermont College of Fine Arts program in Writing for Children and Young Adults, I had extensive experience in critique groups and workshops. Some of these were helpful, but others left me with more hard feelings than ideas for improving my work.
Like unhappy families, unsupportive critique groups can be unsupportive in many different ways. Some function as cheerleading squads, leaving the writer unprepared for the highly competitive and often cruel world of publishing. Others spend more time tearing down the work and the abilities of the writer, leading to discouragement and disengagement from the critique process. Some members consistently fail to pull their own weight, refusing to read and comment on other people’s work or else to share their own. Others see the group or workshop as a competition, an attitude that some workshop leaders encourage.
Enough of the negative. The workshops at VCFA offer a model for the constructive critique that enables all participants to share their work in a safe, supportive environment and to learn from their own and others’ writing. At each residency, students take part in daily workshops, two hours long, with 10 fellow students and two faculty workshop leaders. At each workshop, two student pieces from 10 to 20 pages long are critiqued, giving each student an hour to hear feedback on the work and to ask questions. The workshop members are at different levels in the program, from nervous first semester students to workshop veterans about to graduate, and the types of works presented range from picture book texts to novels in verse to short stories, from early readers to edgy young adult.
On the first day, faculty advisers set the tone and the ground rules. The student with work to be critiqued reads a paragraph from that work. Then we go around the table, each person stating one thing he or she likes about the work. Faculty advisers take their turn. No one’s comments are more privileged than anyone else’s. After fifteen minutes of what we like about the piece, workshop participants discuss questions, which may be problems with the piece, or confusing parts, or aspects that touch on general writing topics. This part occupies thirty minutes of the discussion. For the final fifteen minutes, the writer, whose work is being discussed, finally has a chance to respond. Until that final fifteen minutes, the writer remains silent—unless there’s a factual question that requires a quick answer.
The silence of the writer for nearly an hour requires a lev
In honor of National Music in Schools Week, I'm supposed to be rhapsodizing about the power of music in our lives. Given that I met my husband in my church choir, given that my husband's fondest dream would be to produce first-chair trumpet-playing heirs, I was feeling quite enthusiastic about this topic until I sat down to write and my three-year-old began singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes" in full voice.
Give my kids (most kids) a song, and they will sing it -- over and over and over again. My daughter came home from school the other day, excited about a coin-sorting ditty set to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." Sadly, I have to say I that we all found this to be an improvement over full score of "Annie," which we've enjoyed in an endless feedback loop since I took her to see her first musical two months ago. In desperation, my husband tried introducting her to "Guys and Dolls," which has resulted in many questions such as, "Mommy, is it illegal to play craps in the United States?" Ah, teachable moments.
Kate is also fond of making up her own lyrics. Here's a gem from last week:
"I am cleaning up, cleaning up... Why do Patrick and I have to do all the work around here?"
She told me the other day, "I wish I could write down the notes to "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" on a piece of paper." Unfortunately, she has yet to learn to read music, let alone write it. And I realized, as I was explaining to her why we had to wait for her daddy to get home and help her, that precious few of us -- even those who do read music -- know how to scribble out a few bars.
I was reminded of those bumper stickers that say, "If you can read this [musical score], thank a music teacher." While most of us have great appreciation for music, our literacy is often sadly lacking. My daughter baked brownies yesterday and then sat down to draw a picture and write a story about the experience. Unfortunately, she couldn't (physically) write a song if she wanted to. It is my determination (and hers) that someday she will have the skills she needs to write anything she wants!
When I ask my college students whether anyone writes in his/her spare time, typically I hear disgruntled murmurs. But when I ask whether anyone writes music, I always have at least two or three enthusiastic respondents. Lyrics = poetry, and one of the most refined and difficult forms, at that. Someday soon, I will try a songwriting exercise, which I think will be a great hit.
Check out this
post and terrific exercises from the National Writing Project. (And please support the NWP, which is facing a dire financial crisis.)
The tune of the moment is now, "If You're Happy and You Know It." Wishing everyone a happy Monday and a terrific week! -- Jeanne Marrie
To quote April Halprin Wayland's wonderful Friday
post about clutter-busting:
Before we get started, run over and read the dynamite interview with Cynthia Leitich Smith by Teaching Author Carmela Martino and enter our latest book give-away! Note that the deadline for entry is 11 pm (CST) Wednesday, February 2, 2011. Make sure you follow the rules by posting a comment at the bottom of that blog post and include your contact information. And you must have a USA mailing address.
Teaching Author Esther Hershenhorn kicked off our current topic with a great intro to 6 + 1 Trait Writing: Organization. Teaching Author JoAnn Early Macken followed with Getting Your Ducks in a Row. Teaching Author Mary Ann Rodman's It Just Looks Disorganized came next. All include practical and inspiring Writing Workouts, so check them out.As the absolutely least organized of the Teaching Authors (the one who took my son to preschool on Friday when there was no school; the one who this week mailed our new church registration to my mom and a handmade card from my daughter to the church; the one who "ran" to amazon and purchased my copy of
Clutter Busting as soon as I read April's post) -- it is my pleasure to tackle this topic last.
In fact, my college classes this week (when they haven't been canceled due to snow) have been learning about essay and paragraph organization. Our text suggests the most obvious methods: chronological; spatial; most to least important or, conversely, least to most important. We have also been stressing the use of appropriate transitions.
To illustrate how writing instruction is similar across the grades, my daughter brought home the following exercise from kindergarten on Friday:
"I wish I were famous," my 5-year-old daughter announced yesterday. When I asked why, she explained reasonably, "Because then everyone would like me."
Her enthusiasm seemed undampened when I explained that it didn't quite work that way. I then asked her if she knew how to get famous, and she said, "Yes. You find what you're talented at and then work really hard to get good at it." Followed immediately by, "I know what my talent is. Hula hooping. I'm working on being a great hula hooper."
Wary of pinning all my hopes and dreams for her on her hula hooping future, I explained to Kate that there is one other way to become famous that has nothing to do with talent. And that's just to be the best, kindest, most generous, most honorable, most principled person one can be. I reminded her that we are celebrating Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday this weekend, and that he was famous for standing up for what was right and for helping other people.
As writers, we have the opportunity to reach many people with our words. As we all know, words matter deeply. Words can wound, and words can inspire. To aspiration and inspiration! --Jeanne Marie
My college students write a research essay at the end of each semester. The assignment I give asks them to contemplate the following question: "How do you plan to leave your mark on the world?" I find this question an excellent jumping-off point for a research essay because it requires them to 1) write about something that matters to them 2) to contemplate a specific plan for both writing and living.
This question is really the one I ask myself before I write anything. I also like to ask my students on their other assignments, "Why are you writing this essay?" If the answer is, "for a grade," I can pretty much guarantee that it won't be a very good one. :)
Our neighborhood book club met this week to party. We ate homemade toffee, we drank lots of wine, we left our children with our husbands, and we didn't even pretend to discuss a book.
I don't think I'm alone in attending a book club primarily for purposes of socialization with grown-ups (and a night out of the house!). As one of my neighbors once said, a person could sell filing cabinets and we would come. I am, of course, a reader by nature, and I love a good debate (ask my husband). However, I am also a very slow reader with severely limited time and am easily put off by books that seem too depressing, too showoffy, too unbelievable, too trite... in other words, much of what seems to be popular book club fare.
The idea that books bind us, though, is an irresistable one to me. It is a theme to which I return over and over in my own writing. A few weeks ago I met a little girl at church named Lavender and couldn't wait to press a copy of
Love, Ruby Lavender into her hands. I've loaned and re-loaned
All-of-A-Kind Family and
The Westing Game and the complete Bobbsey Twins dozens of times, and the thought of sharing these books with my daughter someday literally gives me shivers.
I'm supposed to be blogging today about
five books that have made me who I am. Well, anyone who has even a passing acquaintance with me probably already knows. The way my mom passes down family recipes, I pass along reading recommendations.
Books are a way to keep connections alive, through time, through space, through generations. A dear friend walked several blocks in Manhattan on Friday with 51 pounds (!) of books on her back and in hand so that she could send this bounty to my avid-reader father. These novels belonged to her beloved husband, Roger Newman, who died earlier this year. When the first batch of books arrived (yes, there were more), my husband and I both found ourselves rather reverently touching the pages that touched Rog's hands and, of course, his heart. Rog was a writer, a man of eminently good taste, keen mind, and huge heart. We were privileged to know him, and we are honored to be the keepers of these treasured mementos.
--Jeanne Marie
If you allow me to slip into "teacher mode" for a moment, let's have a show of hands. How many here are participating in National Novel Writing Month? Good luck, and happy writing to all!
I did consider signing up this year -- for all of two minutes. Who am I kidding? My writing ADD is at least as bad as my reading ADD. Just as I tend to read a dozen books simultaneously, I am working on at least half a dozen writing projects at once. In fact, I am finally discovering my natural pattern, and I can't say it pleases me. My habit is to complete a draft through chapter three, and then... I send it off to my agent; he reads it, offers notes, and I revise; then he says he is sending out the proposal and the chapters to a variety of publishers, and then I never hear from anyone again. Does this sound familiar to a single one of you?
I suspect that the "real writer" in me should be so compelled by my characters that I absolutely must, must finish a draft. On the other hand, I have other characters and stories clamoring loudly to be told, and extremely limited "spare" time in which to do so. Do I finish a draft that apparently has little prospect of being sold? (Especially if my agent is not actually sending it out!) Or do I move on to the next one? What would you do?
To illustrate my dilemma more clearly, these were my obligations of the past week:
1) Write outlines for two 60-minute TV shows (20 pages each) with two days spent in meetings discussing said shows.
2) Entertain my five-year-old, who had no school on two days this week. (I have discovered that each week seems to bring at least one day on which one child has no school.)
3) Grade definition essays for my community college class -- for which, by the way, I spend more time driving to and fro than I do actually teaching.
4) Grade annotated bibliographies for my online class and moderate the week's discussion.
5) Write an article for a local publication.
 |
| Like sands through the hourglass... |
I'm sure many of you can relate to the feeling of being generally overwhelmed. (We Teaching Authors are hyphenate multi-taskers by definition, after all.)
In lieu of enrolling in NaNoWriMo, I signed up at
onepageperday.com to receive "gentle reminders" of encouragment toward the simple goal of writing one page a day. I have yet to post a page. (DAYS OF OUR LIVES, alas, does not count.)
Meanwhile, my Gruve exercise monitor has been blinking at me, telling me I have failed to have a "green day" (adequate calories burned) all week.
I was exceedingly happy to crack open a book last night in bed, making the absolute most of my extra hour (until my five-year-old threw up in her bed, anyway).
Today I hope to spend a few minutes with my adult mystery novel (!). Small steps, baby!
Last weekend at church, my daughter almost poked out my son's eyes with a pencil in the middle of the Transubstantiation. This week, a kind stranger from across the sanctuary came up to me and said, "I know you don't know me, but would your kids like t
My daughter learns lots of interesting things at school. While she is loath to respond to direct questioning, occasionally I'll get a glimmer of a glimpse into her daily adventures. Last year, her best friend taught her the word 'vagina.' Of course I have no problem with her learning the anatomically correct terms for body parts, but we had never found a need at home to get more specific than 'bottom.' After all, while the penis has two functions, the vagina has only one, and we were really not ready to have 'the talk' at age four.
Shortly thereafter, Kate came home and told me that one of her little friends had said the 'Sh word.' I explained to her that this was not a word that we use in polite conversation. I graphically described the literal meaning to drive my point home. Only later did I realize that the offending phrase was "shut up." While I issued an immediate (if awkward) retraction, my daughter probably still retains a notion that "shut up" has vaguely scatalogical connotations. And, like the sixth graders my husband teaches, she apparently believes it to be one of the most offensive phrases a person can utter.
On a very basic level, ordering someone to refrain from talking, from sharing, from doing, from BEING, to is a grievous offense. On the other hand, there are rules of decorum and tenets of tact. In the weeks following the great Koran-burning scandal, Banned Books Week seems particularly well-timed.
If I may exercise my First Amendment rights to pontificate for a moment on the First Amendment... I am a news junkie, and the airwaves have been dominated in recent weeks by the Dr. Laura controversy, the "Ground Zero mosque" debate, and yes, the Florida pastor bent on destroying holy books for the world to see. With freedom of speech comes, it should go without saying, the tremendous responsibility to use our words wisely.
As a parent, I am learning swiftly that when you release your children into the world, you relinquish all control over their influences. When I asked my daughter what she learned in kindergarten the first week, she said that Hannah P. and Hannah M. and Kailyn all knew a particular Lady Gaga song. I suggested that perhaps it was not appropriate for kindergarteners to be talking about Lady Gaga, and Kate apprised me the next day that she had brought up the subject on the playground, but, "It's okay, Mommy, because we whispered."
As parents, as teachers, as writers, as grown-ups, we are the gatekeepers to the ever-widening world in which our children live. And as I navigate the etiquette of play dates and disciplining others' children (aagh!), I discover that rules and norms are not as readily apparent as one might hope.
Last year at this time, the fact that our President planned to speak to our nation's schoolchildren was the subject of national brouhaha (despite longstanding precedent). As my teacher-husband pointed out, his sixth graders were on that same day listening to a presentation from a magazine salesperson for a school fundraiser. Parents had not been required to give permission for their students to hear from this non-teacher about subject matter barely pertinent to the curriculum. He made the point that if individual parents with their wide array of beliefs and mores had direct input into what is taught in the schools, mayhem would ensue.
I support our public schools, I send my child to public school and, for better or worse, I trust the professional gatekeepers, the teachers and the librarians whose job is to ensure that materials presented are age-appropriate and accurately reflect the world around us.
My daughter started kindergarten two weeks ago. She seems to be enjoying it tremendously (the most frequent descriptor being "awesome"). On the social front, to my horror, she has been eager to tell us who knows which Lady Gaga songs. (I do not let my 5-year-old listen to Lady Gaga, I swear.)
Academically, she was fairly mum until about the third day when she said, "Mommy, I have a big problem. You know those composition books we bought with the Redskins on the cover? We have not used them at all." At her Montessori preschool, journal writing was a BIG DEAL for the kindergarteners, and I think coloring the letters of the alphabet has been a bit of a letdown. However, she came home proud as can be on Friday with news that, not only had she written in her journal, but she'd completed her first poem!
She went on to explain that she got to cut and paste (excitement!) a computer printout and fill in one blank. The poem, she tells me, goes like this:
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday, dear Kate, Happy Birthday to you
Never mind that her birthday is in April. As far as she's concerned, it should be her birthday every day. She was pleased as can be with her accomplishment, and she is tremendously excited about writing her next poem because the first one was so simple. Kate thinks that writing is easy and fun. Yay! May it always be so!
My three-year-old, meanwhile, is working on tracing his letters in shaving cream. He, too, is learning to love to write.
My husband and I are in the process of easing our new students into a writing-intensive semester. I caught a glimpse of the sixth-grade curriculum and was (somewhat naively) surprised to note that many of the objectives and outcomes were the same as those for my first-year college students taking English 101.
Our education-major baby-sitter was here last night. She is extremely bright, is terrific with our children, has several part-time jobs, and is taking 13 credits as a college junior. She said that she is enrolled in two writing-intensive classes that were going to "kill her." Now, I've read one of her papers in Spanish. She is a very good writer. She added that she loves the text (Zinsser's On Writing Well -- one of my faves, too) and the teacher, and she was very positive about how much she feels her writing will improve as a result of the class. It was the actual work that freaked her out. As a professional writer, I can totally relate. Can't we all? What to do? The first rule I teach my students: Butt in Chair, baby!
Don't forget to enter our biggest contest yet! The prize? Win either a 30-minute Skype visit from a TeachingAuthor or a set of six autographed books—one from each TeachingAuthor! Your entry doesn't have to be long. See the Carmela's post (updated 9/12) for more details. -- Jeanne Marie
Reading
Mary Ann's last post reminded me of a wonderful handbook for young writers that I recently bought for a talented neighbor. In it, Anne Mazer bravely confesses that she's never much cared for
Charlotte's Web. While I adored
Charlotte's Web and probably read it a dozen times, I must admit that I have no memory whatsoever of the passage Mary Ann cited with such love and affection. I am a foodie, and instead it was the buttermilk in the creases of Wilbur's ears and the scraps of Templeton's newspapers that made a lifelong impression on me.
Reading, as I always tell my students, is a highly subjective experience.
A Wrinkle in Time conjures for me images of cocoa; lettuce and tomato sandwiches; turkey and dressing. Of course I also remember pulsating IT, the rhythm of the bouncing balls and jump ropes, the quirky language of the three Mrs. Ws.
In short, I am not a visual thinker. At all. I don't care whether the heroine of my book has honey-colored hair or which brand of shoes she is wearing. What grounds me in an alternate reality is the scent of freshly cut grass or the taste of a dark chocolate Reese's cup. Yet how to describe these sensations? Because many of us are visual thinkers, English, I would venture to say, has evolved to possess a dearth of descriptive words for scents, sounds, and, to a slightly lesser extent, tastes.
From
Ramona Quimby, Age 8, by Beverly Cleary:
"Ramona bit into her hamburger. Bliss. Warm, soft, juicy, tart with relish. Juice dribbled down her chin. She noticed her mother start to say something and chnage her mind. Ramona caught the dribble with her paper napkin before it reached her collar. The French fries -- crip on the outside, mealy on the inside -- tasted better than anything Ramona had ever eaten." I never liked hamburgers as a kid until I read this passage. I don't believe that Beverly Cleary is best known for her descriptive language, but I still think of this scene every time I eat a french fry.
Of course the brilliance of Beverly Cleary is typically recognized to be in her humor, and these are the other passages that have always stayed with me. From the first page of
Ramona the Pest:
"'I'm not acting like a pest. I'm singing and skipping,' said Ramona, who had only recently learned to skip with both feet."I have a five-year-old daughter, and Ramona IS my daughter. Oh, when Ramona thought she had to sit still for "the present," when she described her eye color as "brown and white," when she understood the lyrics of the national anthem to involve a "dawnzer" that emitted a "lee light" -- what child could not empathize with these situations and laugh? I am typing this paragraph and thinking, "I can't WAIT to read these books to my kids
As a kid, I took flute lessons for many years. I was supposed to practice nightly. I think once or twice per week was the best I ever managed. The part I dreaded most was always the scales -- chromatics, thirds, "long tones." I always hurried through to get to the "real music."
As an adult, I play only for fun. My competence level is probably about what it was when I was in seventh grade. I haven't attempted scales since, and I can't say I've missed them.
I think of keeping a writing journal as the writer's equivalent of a musician's disciplined practice routine. Unfortunately, "discipline" and "routine" are problematic concepts for me and have been all my life. Right now, I am teaching an online class; I have an article due on Monday; I have a full-time job; I have two kids whose favorite word most days seems to be "Mommy." Writing time is precious. Some days I fall into bed too tired to brush my teeth. (Thus, I'm sure, my long chronicle of dental woes.)
I know that disciplined writing practice outside of my current projects is simply not going to occur. Unlike flute-playing, at least I do write all day long. If my writing "muscles" aren't well limbered by emails, thank-you notes, and the 20-page outline (or two) that I write weekly, then spilling out words in a rough draft can count as my morning (or, more likely, late-night) pages.
In high school English, we were required to keep daily writing journals for two years. While sometimes the process was therapeutic, I was never moved to voluntarily continue the practice. I was not a child who had a diary, who enjoyed corresponding with pen pals, or who did a good job of keeping in touch with my farflung fellow military brats.
Now I keep an open idea file on my computer filled with vaguely indecipherable notes, scraps of character descriptions and plot outlines for about a dozen different projects. Such is my "system." Could it be better? Surely. But as I tell my students, the process is highly individualized -- do what feels comfortable and refine as you go along. I'm hanging in there, and that's about the best I can do.
Speaking of writing journals, don't forget about TeachingAuthors’
latest book giveaway for Karen Romano Young’s intriguing graphic novel about a girl who keeps a doodles-and-writing journal,
Doodlebug: A Novel in Doodles. Entry deadline is 11 pm (CST) Wednesday, August 4, 2010. If I did keep a writing journal, I know it would be full of doodles (and I can't draw!). And if I could enter this contest, I so would. I can't wait to read this book!
I began my Friday in the endodontist's chair, effectively muted by a curtain-like drape, pervasive numbness, and numerous dental implements. As the dentist violently excavated the roots of my molar, she made small talk about her brother-in-law, who had written a science fiction novel "for fun." She said she'd read the first few pages at his request and that the writing was "childish," in a style that might be appropriate for a 10-year-old, but with subject matter that would never interest a 10-year-old. A very valid criticism, I'm sure. Unfortunately I was unable to ask whether she'd shared this opinion with her brother-in-law and, if so, whether family harmony had prevailed.
Critiquing is, frankly, a bizarre business. As writers, we desperately seek feedback from others, secretly longing only to hear, "It's wonderful, it's perfect, don't change a thing!"
Of course, when one gets feedback that's so resonant, so right-on -- even if it involves a total rewrite, it inspires its own kind of writers' high.
Then there's the rest.
As a teacher, I find that one of my most frequent sources of frustration is students who totally ignore feedback. Sometimes, I'm sure this is a factor of sheer laziness; sometimes, it's sheer stubbornness. There are certain notes that are objectively indisputable. "This sentence is a comma splice." There are certain notes that are a factor of my own personal biases. "You cannot use a photo of the Virginia Tech shooting victims to convince me that gun control is a bad idea."
My day job involves constant editing, rewriting, feedback, discussion -- for the good and for the not-so-good. Not a day goes by that I don't think of my high school teacher, Mrs. Weingarten, who taught me the critiquing method that I wish everyone on the planet followed:
PQP -- Praise, Question, Polish
Start with praise. Always. There's something good you can find. Somewhere. Always.
Usually you can find a way to end on an encouraging note, as well.
In between, be constructive, be specific, and offer suggestions.
I try to run a workshop-based version of English 101 -- "try" being the operative word. I vary my methodology every semester, but I have yet to hit upon a procedure that truly works well. I've asked for voluntary online critiques via Blackboard (even dangling offers of extra credit), but usually only the same few students post. They are typically reluctant to give specific feedback, and the most commonly read comment is, "I really liked your paper!" In-class critiques are also difficult because there are always the students who have written something of a highly personal nature that they are loath to have classmates read. (And of course I encourage them to write about personal topics and would never want to inhibit their honesty by forcing the issue.) There are also the (many) students who don't finish their rough drafts in time for the critiquing session. Then -- the very worst thing -- there is the specific feedback that makes the writer feel as though his work has just been gutted and spat upon.
Last semester, I had a student who was writing a paper in which she argued that war should be ended. I told her this was not a controversial premise, as she wasn't going to find any
I once worked at an Industrial Psychology firm, where I administered hundreds of Myers-Briggs tests. My own test results showed the most extreme case of introversion that I encountered in my albeit brief career. I am an INFJ, a rare type. How many of you can say the same? I'd actually venture to bet plenty.
At writing conferences, I note that there seem to be more of "my people" than not; whereas in the world at large, not so much. And yet, there we are, a room full of introverts trying painfully to network.
I will be bold and say right now -- I HATE WRITING CONFERENCES! I like the results of having attended (sometimes), but the actual process is awkward and, frankly, often excruciating.
My first writing conference was the big one -- the annual SCBWI conference in L.A., 1992. (Were you there, April?) I was 21 years old, was completing an unpaid internship at DAYS OF OUR LIVES, and had no car to get me from Burbank to Marina del Rey. (If anyone here has ever contemplated living in L.A. without a car, you get how badly I wanted to attend this conference.) I believe I took three buses, and I know it took me four hours to get home. But wow, was it worth the effort. At the Golden Kite reception, one of the keynote speakers, Mary Downing Hahn, was seated at my table. She is from my hometown, and I am a big fan. (My husband teaches at least one of her books to his students, as well.) She also happens to be VERY funny. Mary Downing Hahn is the person who taught me that it is indeed possible for an introvert to make a room full of people burst into gales of laughter.
My manuscript consultation that year was with the late Craig Virden, who was then the head honcho at Bantam-Doubleday-Dell. He was extremely kind and enthusiastic enough about my manuscript to tell me to send it to his Executive Editor with his blessing. Can you imagine? Excitement! Then deflation, months later, when she rejected it outright. (As an aside, the same manuscript subsequently got buried on Stephanie Owens Lurie's desk. Over a year later, I received a rejection note: "I'm sure you've sold this by now..." Nope. Not yet! )
The following year, my manuscript consultation was with a writer whose work I did not know. She hated my manuscript -- she hated everything about it. She did not have one positive thing to say. I accept constructive criticism well. I am enthusiastic about rewriting when feedback resonates, makes sense, makes the work better. This was an unnecessarily miserable experience. Even my college students know that the first thing you do when giving feedback is find SOMETHING nice to say. What I took away from this experience (and I say this as the veteran of a workshop-based MFA program) is the understanding that when you enter into a critique with a stranger (or even a non-stranger with whom you are just not simpatico), you must guard your ego carefully. A mantra I always share with my students: Everything is subjective!
After being a shy attendee at several conferences and hearing dozens upon dozens of lectures at Vermont College, I finally promised myself a respite from writing conferences for awhile. But as my time and focus have waned with the births of my darling children, I realized last year that it was time to get reinspired by communing with like-minded folk.
Last summer I attended the alumni mini-residency at Vermont College, which included small workshop groups with well-known editors. For serious writers, mid-residency events for alums at Vermont College (and, I believe, Hamline) are open to the general public and are a terrific opportunity worth considering.
In short, this business is tough. If a little handshaking and smiling is what it takes
Happy Almost-Summer! This week our neighborhood book club started discussing beach reads (would that we were going to the beach). I'm wrapping up my teaching for the semester and thinking I might actually find a few extra reading hours to spare. I can't wait to see the reading recommendations posted by YOU. For more suggestions, check out the new links in our sidebar to the Bank Street book lists.
I freely admit that I am a fickle reader. I read a dozen books simultaneously. Unless I am truly riveted, I may make it to the midway point, the two-thirds point, but it's relatively rare that I reach the end. I was an avid consumer of fiction in elementary school, but somewhere along the way (too many deadly-dull (to me) "classics," too little time, and a very SLOW reading speed), I turned into a picky one. I'm not quite a reluctant reader, but I am a reluctant finisher. Is there a single soul out there with a similar reading style?
My reading-as-a-writer M.O. is haphazard. No highlighter or studying or writing workouts for me. Basically, I need a plot that I love and a style that feels natural -- not pretentious, not too "spare," not to "voicey-voice." If the writer seems to be trying too hard, I will have to try too hard to get through the book. A book with the above criteria is the one that gets me to the end and sticks with me, often forever.
In combing through my books-to-finish piles scattered about the house as well as the home page of my wonderful new Kindle (more on the Kindle in another post), my summer kidlit reading plan consists of the following:
Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life by Wendy Mass
Sophie the Awesome by Lara Bergen
Th1rteen R3asons Why by Jay Asher (I am behind the curve on this one, but wow, what a book!)
Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver
The Billionaire's Curse by Richard Newsome
A Crooked Kind of Perfect by Linda Urban (another wow!)
It's Raining Cupcakes by Lisa Schroeder
The Kane Chronicles, Book One by Rick Riordan
The Seventh Level, by Jody Feldman
The Sixty-Eight Rooms by Marianne Malone (super-wow!)
Then there's the ultimate reader/writer/parent book for me:
Book Crush: For Kids and Teens by Nancy Pearl
I also look forward to the treasure trove of easy readers and picture books that my kids will be bringing home all summer long.
For those interested in reading a wonderful novel in poems this summer, enter April's book giveaway here.
Please share your own reading recommendations if are so inclined, and happy summer to all! --Jeanne Marie
My husband's bags are packed. This morning he leaves to spend three days in the great outdoors with 150 sixth graders. When we told our daughter about his impending trip, she cried for several hours. The next morning she asked, "Is Daddy going because he HAS to go? Or because he wants to go?" Well, a little bit of both. And isn't that how it is with so much of what we do?
Thanks to our bizarre winter weather, my husband's school district doesn't celebrate its Last Day until June 23rd. As the fourth marking period began a mere two weeks ago, my husband said, "They're done." A spate of spitting and binder-clip-throwing incidents this week has proved his point. A change of pace and scenery will do everyone some good.
My husband's district has changed its curriculum substantially in the last few years. Reading and interpreting novels has been discouraged (except as a supplementary activity) for on-grade-level readers. Most of the instruction is aimed at "reading to perform a task" (and pass a test). Does this trend sound familiar to you classroom teachers?
Being a creative type, my husband tries to incorporate song lyrics into writing assignments in order to draw out his middle school musicians. A recent research project involved designing travel brochures for summer destinations. Thinking ahead -- to summer and beyond -- is always a good end-of-year theme.
On the other hand, my end-of-year activity for English 101 students is typically a boring (but necessary) portfolio review.
Which was your strongest paper?
Which was your weakest?
Why?
What did you learn this semester?
What do you wish you'd learned?
What did you like about this class?
What didn't you like?
Of course the students are being graded on this assignment, so I rarely get honest answers about what they didn't like. I'll have to work on that one, because I really do want to know!
It occurs to me that a really good end-of-year activity might synthesize the forward-looking and backward-looking inclinations into one assignment. My daughter is "graduating" from preschool next week, and I must admit to feeling ridiculously sentimental about this passage. My 3-year-old son is simply graduating from one room to the next, and I feel almost almost as
freklempt that wonderful Ms. Liz and Ms. Kim will never teach a Ford child again.
My brother-in-law, an English Lit major (now a computer programmer) was telling me yesterday with great intensity about his favorite English assignment, in which he was asked to write a letter applying for his dream job. I had my students complete a similar assignment once and received mostly enthusiastic responses. Of course there are always the students who have no idea what their dream job may be or who do not have the appropriate qualifications to list and don't feel comfortable making them up. :)
So...
I ask my students in their research essays to write about how they'd like to change the world. This is a daunting assignment for many. Some ignore this aspect of the assignment and simply research a topic of moderate interest to them, such as legalization of marijuana (a very popular choice!). But then I will get the essays that move me to tears -- the student who wants to be a dentist serving kids with special needs because her brother has autism and
April may be the cruelest month, but I don't care. I'm too busy celebrating the last year of my thirties, my son's third, my daughter's fifth, and yes, a Blogiversary and our April's birthday, too.
Have you noticed that "Happy Birthday" is rarely (if ever) sung on TV? As Mary Ann pointed out, there's that pesky matter of royalties, and apparently this song commands exorbitant ones. Next time you watch a soap opera (if you dare), note the quick cutaway to commercial when the cake is wheeled out or the opportune ringing of a phone or sudden heart attack that befalls the birthday girl. It's not about the drama, I'm sorry to say. It's about the stupid song. Just as often, it's about the Midol product placement or the actor who can't remember his lines or the set that has enough room for only two people when you need to throw a wedding!
Most of my paid writing work has been writing for hire. Writing for hire can be an awful lot of fun. But apart from the challenges that are readily imagined (what if I hate the material?), there are also those devil-in-the-details moments I never considered. When I was writing Nancy Drew, I had to be cognizant at all times of the rules of Nancyland (no guns or drugs despite the raging crime epidemic in River Heights). There was a preordained number of chapters and pages, as well. An hour-long daytime program is only 39 minutes minus the commercials. Writing to a set structure (see the five-paragraph essay) makes life a lot easier in many ways. In other ways, it is horribly constraining.
My English Composition students write five essays per semester, and often they have trouble getting excited about the material, to put it mildly. This is writing-for-hire in its barest form, after all -- pass the class, and you get to graduate and, one hopes, find the job of your dreams. Fail to get the job done, and well... take English 101 again.
For my students, God is in the details. Once they can recount an experience vividly, without resorting to cliches and empty expressions, they have connected with the material in a way that makes the writing fun (and the reading, too). And if they have done it once, they can do it again. So even if their writing is full of run-ons and agreement errors and I despair of having taught them anything, I have. I think. I hope!
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I usually do this exercise earlier in the semester, but it's waited until the last day (today!) because we've been too busy cramming exercises in grammar
A library is allegedly coming to the corner of our county sometime in the next decade (read: never). In the meantime, our nearest branch is in a burg called Walkersville. The whole building is approximately the size of our living room and kitchen combined. Given the obvious constraints, their collection is impressive. (They have MIND GAMES on the shelf and once featured FIRST GRADE STINKS prominently in the children's corner. What's not to love?)
When my daughter turned two, I was excited to take her to our first Story Time. After the first half-hour experience, my excitement waned considerably. Ms. Shelba was fantastic. My daughter, alas, was not. She was mostly concerned with wandering the aisles, pulling books off shelves, and making repeated breaks for the parking lot. At least it's fairly easy to corral a wayward kid in a library the size of a postage stamp. Despite the browsing opportunities the aisle-roaming afforded, we were not so long for story time.
Blessedly, the library bookmobile now comes to my daughter's preschool. Apparently she is angelic and attentive during story time. She and her brother frequently play "libary" at home. This is a game that has the rare cachet of House, School, Princess, and Horsie. My daughter, by some miracle certainly not wrought by me, has come to view the library as a magical place.
My college students, on the other hand, were reluctant attendees last week at a presentation from the campus librarian about research and materials available to them. As I have observed in many classes now, the idea of reading actual books or journal articles (a requirement for this assignment) is pretty much a non-starter among today's Digital Natives. If you can't find it on the Net, forget it.
I do understand this mentality. I am a proud member of Generation X. I have my Kindle for PC app, and I adore the instant gratification it affords. I operate a paper-free office for my job. I read everything on my computer screen. And I can't imagine how I ever lived without the Net.
The thing is -- our students can access the campus library from the comfort of their own homes. They can search for information, reserve books, read articles (CQ Researcher!), and even watch movies. Our local library allows patrons to renew books online and sends overdue reminders via email. Yay, 21st century!
In my mind, the library is a place with cozy chairs and that scintillating smell of books old and new. But technology has made it possible for the library to come to my home -- and not just in the let's-pretend way of my children.
Happy National Library Week!
And if you're looking for a fantastic addition to your home library, remember to enter our new book giveaway! Before entering, be sure to first read our Giveaway Guidelines here.
If you'd like a chance to win an autographed copy of the anthology Ladybug, Ladybug and Other Favorite Poems, post a comment here telling us why you'd like to win the book. Also, we'd love to know if you're doing anything special to celebrate National Poetry Month. And please, don't forget to provide your email address or a link to your own blog in your comment so that we can contact you. (U.S. residents only, please.) Entries must be posted by 11 p.m.(Central Standard Time) Wednesday, April 14, 2010. The winner will be announced on April 15.
A co-worker called me on Friday en route to Target. I was jealous (I unabashedly adore Target) until he told me the purpose of his trip -- to get materials for his kindergartener's "Dr. Seuss book costume." Being a practical parent, he was going the simple route -- posterboard to make green eggs and ham.
Of course all the teachers among us know that tomorrow marks Dr. Seuss' birthday and the NEA's annual Read Across America Day. How many parents have been scrambling for materials to make extravagant tributes to Dr. Seuss?
As a kid, I was never (sacrilege, I know) a huge Seuss fan. Neither are my own children, though "Dibble dibble dop" is one of our very favorite nonsensical things to say. However, Green Eggs and Ham was the basis of one of the most moving television scenes ever, IMO -- on St. Elsewhere -- so I am probably the only person I know who thinks of Dr. Seuss and instantly wants to cry.
My daughter, at age 4 and 11/12, just last night read a whole REAL book at bedtime for the first time. Oh, the excitement in our household! Of course no one was more excited than she. (Once upon a time, she worried that learning to read would mean that she would no longer be READ TO. I think she has finally overcome this fear.)
Kate goes to a Montessori school, and one of the precepts of the curriculum, I recently discovered, is that kids typically learn to write before they learn to read. Perhaps some of you early childhood educators could shed some light on this concept. At any rate, Kate has been using a "moveable alphabet" to sound out words since she was three. Her spelling is atrocious, but her sense of phonics is pretty impressive. Just this week she brought home her first story:
Translation:
Then, the fire-breathing dragon put her in a cage. Later, the princess saw a police. Finally, the police put the princess out of the cage.
I'm so proud of my little author!
My mother had to point out the anachronism of police and fire-breathing dragons co-existing, but she didn't seem to have a problem with the amusement park. :)
I will tell you what I love about Kate's school. I love that her teachers don't correct her spelling. I love that they encourage creativity and allow her to think for herself. And I really, really love this exercise. It teaches beginning, middle, end. First, next, last. Story structure!
The rule of threes! It gives encouragement and prompts, but it leaves the bulk of the imagining to the child. Between fire-breathing dragons and princesses, what four-year-old boy or girl would not be engaged in the topic? The next day, Kate had to c
For our East Coast teacher readers enjoying (and I use this term somewhat loosely) an extended break from school -- I hope you were finally able to get outside this weekend. As for me, I was tempted to kiss the ground when I finally made it to Costco. (For the record, my daughter finds snow "too cold" for play and my son is too short to venture outdoors at the moment, lest he should disappear into a drift. Thus I literally did not leave the house for at least 5 days.)
As a teacher-spouse, I am always happy to do the snow dance with my husband in the event of a flake or two in the forecast. However, after ten days trapped indoors with two little kids, our feelings toward snow days have begun to evolve. My husband is worried about his students' ability to pass their upcoming state tests, and I've all but given up on the first two essays I've assigned to my class.
So, teachers among us, do we have a contingency plan in the event of interrupted instruction? I have asked (and reminded) my students to check school email and Blackboard regularly. Since the first class cancellation (three snowfalls ago) I have been emailing them like a crazy woman. Their papers were due last week. I have heard from about 5 students since we last met. In short, I wish I had been clearer regarding my expectations in the event of a missed class. Of course, given the conditions, some may have been without Internet access, computers, or even electricity for a time. But over the course of two weeks, if I could make it to Costco and throw a dinner party attended by out-of-state guests -- am I really expecting too much?
I just made a list of the material I need to review in class today. I'm hoping to cover 4 chapters in 75 minutes. I don't even know where to begin -- MLA, revising, grammar? Aagh!
By contrast, I remember my childhood snow days with such fondness. The year we moved here from Hawaii was the year we experienced the blizzard of '79. Well, I do recall being in big trouble for climbing on my father's car (I couldn't see it!), but otherwise it was a week of building forts and playing rummy and re-reading THE BOBBSEY TWINS' OWN LITTLE PLAYHOUSE. I have thought often of that book this week. That, and (of course) THE LONG WINTER. The details I remember are an odd assortment -- tea and hearts from the former; from the latter, brown bread, twisted rope used for fuel, chapped hands. Give me LITTLE HOUSE IN THE BIG WOODS any day. Actually, give me Hawaii any day!
Wishing everyone a safe, warm day, and Kung Hei Fat Choi! ("Congratulations, and wishing you prosperity!") For what it's worth, the celebration of the Chinese Lunar New Year is also known as Spring Festival. Celebration time!
My four-year-old daughter woke up yesterday morning and announced, with terrific enthusiasm, that she wanted to "write a book for Dr. (Martin Luther) King." After much concern about how to make "the outside part of the book" and time spent on selection of workspace, paper, and appropriate markers, she sat down to work, turned to me, and said, "Now what should I write?"
Our next topic is the first of the "Six Traits of Writing." Of course it all begins with the IDEA.
It occurs to me that my daughter's writing process is much like mine -- and many of my students' -- and probably at least some of yours. I get an idea. I get excited. I sit down to write. I discover I have no clue where I'm going. And that, alas, may be the end of that.
In my exit conferences with students at the end of the semester, they tell me almost universally that they feel that topic selection is the most important part of the writing process. When I give assignments, I always tell them that I want to "feel their passion" (in a PG sense, of course). If they don't have so much to begin with -- which is often the case, let's face it, when dealing with an assigned essay -- I think one of my most important jobs is to help them do so.
Often students are able to identify a general idea about which to write ("world hunger"), but when it comes to distilling their paper into a thesis or, as we say in fiction, that one-sentence pitch -- homing in on exactly what they want to say is often the most difficult part. I have frequently been asked where I get my ideas. A better question might be how to decide whether an "idea" is worth writing about.
I have at least five unpublished novels in a drawer, to say nothing of the unfinished ones. Mind Games is (so far) my notable exception. What makes it different is, I'm quite sure, something that happened before I ever put a word to paper. I chose a topic that mattered not only to me but would also, theoretically, be of interest to parents, teachers, kids, and/or editors (not necessarily in that order).
The first series books I read as a kid were
The Bobbsey Twins. Thanks to Bert and Nan (Freddie and Flossie, not so much), I spent most of my childhood wishing I were a twin. Another book that had a big impact was
And This is Laura, by Ellen Conford. I was certain I had a latent case of ESP. After all, there was that time I dreamed a gerbil lost its tail in my hand (eew), and this very same disgusting circumstance happened in real-life the next day. So in eighth grade, when it came time to pick a topic for the science fair, I chose ESP. I read about the
Minnesota Twin Study (fascinating!). I was even able to use identical twins as subjects. I did not conclusively prove anything -- but of course it is impossible to DISPROVE that something like ESP exists.
My grandmother used to dream of her old house at 305 Broomall Street in Chester, and the next morning she would tell my mom to play that number in the Pick-3 lottery. And more often than not, she w
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Thanks for sharing the link, JM. I never realized how many songs used that lyric. I think cliches are especially prevalent in song lyrics, perhaps because many cliches started out as a reflection of something true, and so they resonate with us. Happy Monday!
I love this video, Jeanne Marie!
And, while it might teach a whole lot about AVOIDING CLICHES, it just happens to teach a whole lot about VOICE! :)