My English 11 students are currently writing a place narrative modeled after a narrative in Penny Kittle’s book Write Beside Them. Taking Penny’s advice, I’ve been walking students through the writing process, working alongside them to share my own inventive process, using my work as a model for students. Here’s what we’ve done so far:
- Brainstormed: Created a list of places where we had vivid memories.
- Brainstormed more: Selected one place from our list that held strong potential for stories and created another list, this time of as many stories as we could remember tied to that one place.
- Pre-Writing: Narrowing our list, we selected three to four stories that we want to write about, and for each we drew a sketch depicting the moment and listed as many details as we could remember, concentrating especially on sensory details.
- Drafting: For each story, we completed a ten minute quick write, getting our ideas into paragraph form.
- Revision: We then returned to our quick writes, looking for places where we could elaborate (or zoom in as I’ve been calling it–zooming in on a precise moment and focusing on showing, not telling, that moment), adding more details, especially imagery.
That’s where we are now. Throughout the year, I’ve been leading mini-lessons in writing workshop that students are now employing in a larger writing piece:
- showing not telling
- using muscle verbs
- writing in present tense
- using similes and metaphors
- including dialogue
- starting in the middle of the action
I used some Michael Degen’s mini-lessons from Crafting Expository Argument to give students practice in showing not telling. We still have a few steps to go to reach a publishable draft. I’ll share those steps in a future post.
The Thinking Behind My Narrative
For now, I leave you with the first draft of one of my stories. My idea is to share how in college, without my realizing it at the time, God was measuring my steps, leading me to my soul-mate, my husband, Steve. I’ve planned three stories, each about relationships with three different guys. My final story will be about meeting my husband for the first time and knowing he was the one for me. I’m not normally so sappy, but attending my twentieth high school reunion this past weekend has apparently ignited a bit of reflection in me. I admit–drafting this piece made me feel a bit like Stephenie Meyer (not that I can measure up to her by any means): I couldn’t resist incorporating an allusion to one of my favorite classicals, a strategy Meyer also seems to adore and one I wrote about in an earlier post.
I know it’s a bit lengthy, but I’d love to hear your feedback on my first draft. What a great model it would be for my students–to show them how their blog can be a tool to get feedback on their writing!
My Narrative Model
The knock echoes through the living room into by bedroom, rousing me from the wooded forest where Hardy’s Tess struggles futilely against Alec. I dog-ear the page, a bit perturbed that someone, in the early morning hours, is disturbing my reading. I slide my wool socks across the cold tile floor. Peering through the peep hole, I recognize Ken, clothed—despite the cool morning air that punctuates each breath—in a yellow Gold’s Gym muscle shirt, the kind with arm holes sagging half-way to his waist. He shifts his weight to his other leg, turns to the side, gazing off into the distance, taking his blue eyes and white perfect teeth out of my view. The bulging biceps and taught shoulders are still clear, still vivid in my mind. My heart skips a beat, and my mind returns to last night. I can still hear the music pulsing through the student union and feel Ken’s breath against my cheek as he leans forward to shout at me above the music. Is he really standing outside my door? The electricity I imagined last night—had he felt it too? Suddenly, my head is pounding, my pulse racing forward like a greyhound bolting from a newly opened gate. A ringing pierces my ears, blocking out all sound. I gasp for air, realizing I’ve been holding my breath, and struggle to steady my breathing. I reach for the door knob. Oh crap. My hair—my face—my breath. I’m still in my pajamas. I quickly tassel my hair, using my fingers as a comb. I rub my eyes, feverishly trying to wipe away remnants of sleep. It will have to do. There’s not enough time. I wish I could at least brush my teeth. My hand returns to the doorknob, and slowly, very cautiously, I edge open the door, trying to block my just-got-out-of-bed appearance. Ken turns toward me, his toothy smile and square chin erasing any confidence I’ve mustered in the last few seconds.
“Hey. How’s it going,” he says, not really a question. His flat monotone voice leaves me dizzy and unsure. The electricity from last night is gone replaced by awkward silence.
“So, I was wondering if you might have time to, uh,” he says, shoving a basket of dirty laundry toward me. My eyes fall to the basket he’s now nudging into my stomach, into my uneasy, unfolding arms.
“Well, I don’t…I can’t really…I have class today, and I’m trying to finish reading a novel that’s due tomorrow.”
“That’s okay. There’s no rush.”
I clumsily unfold my arms, unwillingly letting the basket slide into them. Shocked, unable to react, to move, I want to tell him I can barely keep up with my own laundry, that I’m not his maid, that no—heck no—I don’t want to do his laundry. But, I’m frozen, reeling from the excitement I felt just moments earlier and from the confused numbness that now paralyzes me. My mind returns, not to the electricity of last night, but to the book perched on the side of my bed.
I’m Tess, a helpless female standing before him, a girl unsure of herself, unsure of her place in a world she’s just beginning to understand. He’s Alec. All too willing to take advantage.
“I guess,” I say, as I reach for the basket.
12 Comments
October 7, 2008 at 2:35 am
So… to be like Stephenie Meyer is to write mundanely detailed, narcissistic twaddle that goes nowhere? Why don’t you just quit while you’re ahead? That is, why don’t you wait until you have a STORY to tell and THEN start writing…?
Wait: I just spotted the phrase “soul mate” in your lead-in. (Never mind “God was measuring my steps.”) Oh, boy. Sound the “self-reflective New-Age garbage” alert. I’ll back away quietly now.
By the by, anyone over the age of fifteen should be able to dismiss Ms. Meyer as a role model when it comes to writing. Her overblown trash is going to teach you nothing but bad stylistic habits.
October 7, 2008 at 7:35 am
@Norma: Thanks for your feedback though I think your ideas might be better received if you’d use a constructive tone rather than a sardonic one. As for having a story to tell, I do. This is only the first of four stories I’ll tell in my essay. The combination of the four stories will point to the big idea of my essay: how God perfectly knit my mate for me, how my previous experiences were simply preparing me for the moment He’d bring Steve into my life. I hope you’ll see such an idea not as “New-age garbage,” but as a sincere acknowledgement of God’s hand in our lives, even when we don’t see it. As I write this, I’m reminded of Joseph, the Biblical character God led through several years of not-so-good experiences, only to reward him, finally, with a beautful family and position as second in command. Perhaps I’ll weave in that allusion in one of my stories.
October 7, 2008 at 8:29 am
I like it, especially the twist at the end. Who hasn’t been there? I’m a Stephenie Meyer fan too and love the classical allusion at the end. I’d like to read the rest!
October 7, 2008 at 6:16 pm
Wow, Norma. Totally unnecessary. The capacity for rudeness that people display online never ceases to amaze me. Would you have said something like that directly to Lisa’s face? Why folks feel that because it’s online they can dismiss civility, I just will never know, but at least you had the cojones to use a name.
Lisa, I can’t believe the nerve of that jerk! I’m sure I, too, would have been so stunned by his audacity that I am not sure what I would have done.
October 7, 2008 at 6:18 pm
My husband is named Steve, too, by the way. How freaky is that?
October 7, 2008 at 7:38 pm
Thanks for the support. I’m actually planning to use Norma’s comment as a teachable moment for my students: an example of what not to do when commenting.
October 9, 2008 at 12:00 pm
Wow.. a teachable moment for all of us, I guess.
This is how I was reading your piece. Loved the story of college lust–remembered a few of my own moments like that and was totally enjoying your story. I was standing at the door with you and then he hands you his LAUNDRY? I laughed out loud. I was in! Hooked. My daughter (who was sitting in my office eating her lunch) got really annoyed at this point because I wasn’t listening to her worries about getting into college and couldn’t pull my eyes off the screen. ha.
But I loved that you were in that moment and couldn’t be the smart person you are today, but were instead the young adult figuring out relationships and all… so you took the laundry. Even though I wanted to smack you, I thought that moment was real. Loved it.
So then I skim down to 6 comments. I’m thinking… very cool. This online thing can work. And I read Norma’s and had to read it again. I was hoping that Norma was some good friend of yours who could (maybe) have the right to shred your work like that… but no, looks like some know-it-all who thinks that crushing a first draft is helpful. I not only disagree entirely with the comments, Norma, but I think you need to grow up. That isn’t feedback, it’s evaluation. It doesn’t help. If I say anymore my school filter will probably censor me for language.
Way to go, Lisa. I hope you’ll post the next draft.
October 9, 2008 at 1:01 pm
@Penny: Thanks for the feedback. I feel a bit redeemed. Though my head told me Norma was out of line, her comments my heart still took a stab. It’s been a lesson for me though, a valuable one. 1) Putting your writing out in cyberspace is a bit intimidating: you’re opening a piece of your soul, hoping others appreciate it, understand what you’re trying to do in a piece of writing. I’m certain my students feel the same. I wonder if they’re ready–mature enough–to share first drafts with the world. Perhaps, a more controlled setting (an invitation-only wiki, for example) would be more beneficial. 2) Writers, even experienced ones and especially young ones, need validation. We need to hear we’re on the right track–that what we were trying to achieve is actually working.
I’ll be using your comment as a model for my students of how to respond to another’s draft. Thanks for taking the time to comment.
October 9, 2008 at 1:27 pm
@Penny: BTW, I wanted to smack myself too!
November 2, 2008 at 11:18 pm
I don’t know if you wanted editing, but I thought I would mention these two things:
taut-not taught
“gone replaced” needs a hyphen, or something
That said, I wanted to say, “well done” for two reasons: One, and most importantly, it is great to model your work for your students and in a public fashion so that they know you understand their fears. Writing is often a scary business because you never know when a “Norma” will come along and dash you to the ground on a whim. So, Kudos to you for that.
Two, your story seems to model accurately what I understand your purpose in this writing to be and you chose a story that the students could relate to, rather than a more adult and “mature” tale. I hope you post more about this unit.
November 5, 2008 at 10:16 am
I’m hooked and can’t wait to read the next story.
September 19, 2009 at 12:18 pm
Lisa, I apologize that I am just now reading last year’s posts. I have been in the “lurking” step of web 2.0 too long. Your story pricked by curiosity making we want more, which I believe is one purpose of our writing. As a Stephanie Meyer fan myself, I am always shocked when I hear someone being so critical of her writing. How often has so young an author ever hooked so many readers? It is not just her story, it is her writing style where is leaves you hanging, wanting more, but at the same time absorbing details and envisioning Bella’s life as if it were your own. As I have you on a literacy/technology pedestal, I was extremely shocked to read Norma’s comments. However, it also made me realize that you too take a chance each time you post on the world wide web, and ruthless, negative, inappropriate comments have not deterred your movement forward. Thanks for taking the risk. Norma, thanks for giving me a model of how not to critique a post.