Thursday, 7 August 2014

Story writing workshop at Ottie and the Bea, and the surprising delight of The Plan





I have spent the most inspiring, rewarding and best of all fun morning with two ten-year-old writers helping them to plan and create an original short story.

We met in the events tent behind Ottie and the Bea, a toyshop full of treats to fire the imagination, and had a workbook each to get us started.

My writers were Flora and Daisy, friends who confessed they didn't much like the planning side of things and usually preferred to dive straight in and get on with writing their ideas down. Sadly, creative writing lessons and teachers don't much like that and at school they are always made to PLAN. In fact, a lot of the time, they don't even get to write the story at all. Just THE PLAN. I remember myself how much of a shackle that felt (still does, if I'm honest ...).

Well, we weren't in a classroom and I'm not a Teacher. I'm just a reader who spent her childhood with her nose in a book and has been lucky enough to go on and make that her job for the past twenty years. So the normal rules of Learning Objectives and get-it-done-before-maths and What You Need to Learn for Your Common Entrance just didn't apply. I even let them off the hook of grammar and punctuation and spelling. After all, as Flora says, in real life you have an editor for that.

No, what we were concentrating on was the Story. And most importantly, how to make your writing have an emotional pull and a strong enough narrative that your readers can't resist reading on until the very end, and then still want more to come.

Which isn't to say that I let them get away without a PLAN. Oh no. But we crept up on it. We realised that what planning really is, is thinking about your ideas first. As Terry Pratchett puts it - telling yourself the story - so that when you come to write, or to put the final full stop to your writing, you've given your readers the best experience you can.

We started by talking about what Flora and Daisy like to read. For two close friends, they have quite different tastes: Daisy loves action and the excitement of wondering what could happen next, whereas Flora claims not to like adventure so much. She's reading Anne of Green Gables at the moment, and really loving the way Anne goes off on little diversions: the imaginary world she creates within her own 'real' world.

But in spite of our differences, we found we are all Hunger Games fans (even if Daisy does prefer Divergent), and we talked about the opening scene: what it is about it that makes you want to read on. And perhaps surprisingly, given how when we first started to talk about it we thought it might be the adventure and the excitement that made us love it, when we read the first paragraph we realised that what draws us in is the emotional pull: the first thing we know about our heroine, before we even know her name, is that she loves her sister, looks out for her, and there's something that's giving her nightmares.

And that, for me, is the difference between the Creative Writing you get taught at school and the kind of writing that gets you read and published. It's not about whether you've used the most interesting words in your description, or been clear about putting your sequence of events in the right order. It's about whether you've made your reader care.

Daisy's PLAN: What sort of story do you want to write?
So, in a four hour session today, that is what I tried to show and teach to Daisy and Flora. After we talked about what made us care, we started to brainstorm: how do we want to make our readers feel? what kind of a book do we want to write? Do we want it to end with a gasp of shock, or a sigh of relief?

They were brilliant: bursting with ideas that we captured as quickly as possible in our notebooks, never a bad one - but sometimes one that's not right for now, or this story, to file away for another time. And gradually as we talked, sometimes answering the questions I had set, sometimes shooting off on a long storytelling riff, it became clear that there was a value in planning, if that is what we were doing. Especially if you don't think about it as 'planning' but instead just let your imagination run wild.

We saw that, had we followed our instincts and just started writing the first moment we sat down, we would have ended up with a gypsy boy with a monkey for a pet who it turned out when we thought our story through a bit more needed to be a long-lost mother with no pet at all. We might have written an older brother who saved his sister from drowning only to tragically lose his own life, leaving her with a lifelong fear of the sea. Only when we thought about it some more, for the purpose of our story today, we thought that might be a fate better given to our heroine's father, explaining why her grief-stricken mother might have given her up for adoption and run away with the gypsies in the first place.

You see? There were any number of ways that our story could have gone. And none of them was right or wrong. But in the three hours that we spent 'planning' we were able to see which strand suited our story the best. We had, by the end of it, and after a refreshing field trip to eat our sandwiches in the sunshine, taking in some great sources of inspiration along the way (the cafe next door, great for dialogue and characters, the newsagent with its papers and magazines full of story ideas, and jokey cards that remind us of what makes us laugh, the launderette for people-watching, the alley-way to imagine dark and lonely at night and give ourselves the chills ...), a PLAN.

Perhaps not so detailed a Plan as, say, Malorie Blackman or Tony Bradman might have, but a Plan nevertheless.
Flora's PLAN: Who is your central character? 


And that meant that Flora and Daisy could write their story together. It also meant that, when they were writing, they were able to concentrate on the words and the emotion, the effect they were having on their reader, rather than focusing only on What Happens Next.

And even with The Plan, it wasn't all plain sailing. We had our broad outline of this happens then this then this. We had descriptions and motives for our main characters. But moment by moment, that's what we needed to draw out now. Sometimes it was easy - the opening sentence 'Go on, get in!' popped right out and gave us a great start. But then we got worried about whether we needed to pause the story and get some description of our characters in there (that old School Rules of Creative Writing trying to get a look-in again).

It was getting quite hot in the tent now, not much air and a lot of sunshine, and after lunch anyway is a drowsy time. So we stood up and started acting. It wasn't a drama class, we didn't care about performance and projection. But we could try out our dialogue, decide if we needed speech or thought, see what our story needed for pace and excitement and to keep the reader hooked, work out how it might feel to be in that boat with Bonny as Becky pushed her away from the shore . . .

By two o'clock, Flora and Daisy had collaborated seamlessly and written their First Chapter. We had spent three quarters of our time together Planning. And - yes - if we had sat right down and started writing the moment we met, we could perhaps have finished our tale. But I can tell you that every word that they wrote has been crafted and carefully considered. And I think it shows.

We three are Planning converts. In fact, we'd go so far as to say that Planning can be fun. Because what it really is, is letting your imagination off its leash, to sniff out all that's interesting and bring you back tit-bits so that when you sit down to really tell your story it has all the best bits in the right places.

Thank you, Flora and Daisy. I learned a lot today, and I look forward to reading your story all the way through. We've got a great Plan, so I kind of know how it ends, but I bet you still pack it full of surprises.

Chapter One, Page One (by Daisy)

Chapter One, Page Two (by Flora)

Flora and Daisy have vowed to meet up in the holidays, or back at school, to finish writing their story together. When they do, they'll send it to me, for typing and publishing in an inklingstories limited edition exclusively for Ottie and the Bea. Watch this space!


A little post to catch you up





The time has flown but we have been spending it wisely, and I'm relieved to say we made it through the Princess Poppy years and bypassed the Rainbow Fairies completely and we're now deep in to little a discovering her own books to read and even better recommend to me.

So here goes on a whistlestop tour of the books we've loved reading since last we met, in no particular order except for how I managed to balance them in that huge pile ...

I think top for me and the best surprise has been rediscovering graphic novels, and realising that little a is old enough to share them with me. It began with The Encyclopedia of Early Earth which I discovered thanks to a rave review at the London Book Fair by inspirational booktuber (video book reviewer to you and me) booksandquills. (watch the review from 3:50, she says it so much better than me). I was reading it, and little a kept stealing it, and I think it was the first book we have really shared in that just readers who've loved a book kind of a way.

It led us on to read Persepolis which again we both loved, and broached subjects for us to talk about that I would never have known how to go about introducing. We have book two waiting on the to-read pile and I have my eyes open for more - any recommendations gratefully received.

Little a is still definitely very much a visual reader, but what I'm learning is that doesn't mean 'simple' either in content or in writing style. She responds to humour and wit, and has devoured the ususal suspects of Wimpy Kid, Claude, Horrid Henry, as well as delighting in some wonderful discoveries we made on a trip to Australia that have yet to hit the UK: The Treehouse Storey series and Weirdo by Australia's self-nominated 'happiest refugee' Anh Do. She already has that book-lovers relish in being the first to discover something new and wonderful and wanting to spread the word. Perhaps a little too much sometimes - her friends are hoping that her current How to Train Your Dragon craze is soon to pass.

We still love full on illustrated picture books too. We were lucky enough to see Oliver Jeffers speak - and teach us how to draw a penguin - at the Hay Festival, and through the recommendation of a friend discovered the gem of Jackie Morris, who showed us her absolutely beautiful sketchbooks and early workings in a quiet event tucked away in a side tent at the end of the day. The wonderful Yellow-Lighted Bookshop yielded The Mighty Lalouche, with illustrations by Sophie Blackall of Ivy and Bean fame, and just this week I ordered specially a copy of Magic Beach from Daunts: an Australian picture book classic, in theory far too young for either of us but we revelled in the way it captures all the different magic that a trip to the seaside can bring.

We're discovering the wonders of non-fiction too, starting to unlock the secrets of science and nature, and finding the answer to What Goes On In My Head? (I still don't know but I'm hoping that giving little a an early start will help ...). Chineasy is a wonderful visual approach to the beautiful characters of Chinese. Not hothousing but I guess it's like Persepolis because it's so much better to show than tell, for there to be an element that little a is discovering things for herself and for me, that's what books can do. They're a distinct unit of experience, unlike the internet, where I can leave her free to wander by herself and bring her own interpretation. Sometimes we talk about what she's reading, sometimes not. And it feels like the first step towards sending her out in the world.










Sunday, 13 January 2013

Doodlemum

little a can read now, really quite well. But she's not devouring books, not by any stretch. And for stories at bed time, she's still going back to the old favourites. Which isn't making for a very active blog ... there's only so many times you can write about Princess Poppy (though seemingly no limit to the number of times you can read the books).

This week, though, we have a new love, and it's entirely mutual. I have been lucky enough, through work, to be given an early finished copy of the very beautiful A YEAR OF FAMILY LIFE by Doodlemum. My new heroine, the author draws a picture a day and posts it to her blog, and together they make up a lovely lovely tribute to the irresistible chaos of kids, chickens and washing machines that feels familiar even if you don't have three children or hens.

So it's going on my shelf next to Island Wife, Miranda Hart, Caitlin Moran, Gabi Hinsliffe as inspiring guide to suriving modern womanhood.

Or it would be, if little a hadn't stolen it to read by torchlight ...

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

The Family from One End Street

oh the drama of it, as Lily Rose's hat gets washed out to sea! This is Advanced Milly Molly Mandy - a celebration of the simple family life, all mucking in together, not much room or money but happy in the good fortune of having each other.

Love it.

And tonight - what a cliffhanger! Will Jim Ruggles ever escape from his drainpipe, or will he be whisked off to foreign parts in the belly of a big ship? Agog we are, I tells you, agog.

Wednesday, 13 June 2012

Dr Dolittle

little A came back from a couple of days with Grandma and Grandpa clutching my old copy of DR DOLITTLE. Bliss! for the first time, she is really truly captured by a full length book and wanting to keep on till the end. I'm sad to say that not even Roald Dahl has had this effect until now.

It's not without its problems though. Hugh Lofting was very much a man of his time and I'm afraid I've found myself skipping over some deeply unfortunate passages. I do wonder if modern editions have excised the dodgy attitudes to people of other nations? At first I took my lead from Mrs Winterson (oh do read WHY BE HAPPY WHEN YOU CAN BE NORMAL? if you haven't already, and you'll understand this reference) and tried to rewrite extempore but it turns out I lack her talent and after a couple of attempts at substituting the word 'white' with 'fine' in the sentence 'I wish I could be a fine prince' I floundered at the relentlessness of it all and just skipped a chunk of pages with no regard for plot.

That aside, what I hadn't appreciated in Hugh Lofting the first time round is that he's a rather beautiful writer. Tonight's adventures involved Jip the dog sniffing the four winds of the world in search of a sailor, and a boat with silken beds. His imagination is a joy to get lost in.

You can tell how much I'm enjoying it - it's inspired me back on here. The long silence has been filled with endless re-readings of Ivy and Bean and some well-loved picture book favourites. I fret sometimes that while her friends have started avidly devouring chapter books, little a is not yet a fan of reading herself. But perhaps we both are clinging to this special time of reading and being read to.

And with my father now introducing my daughter to the books he shared with me as a child, I'm revelling in the sense of stories which will go on being told forever, and loving reliving the magic of the pushmipulyu.

Sunday, 27 November 2011

Homework serendipity


I'm not a massive fan of homework for five-year-olds - the poor mites are knackered enough by the end of the week, without having to spend their spare time practicing spelling (not to mention their poor exhausted parents ...) But I eat my words this week.

The very day I'd picked up a leaflet for Greenwich Theatre Festival and seen with a pang that there's a puppet show of The Velveteen Rabbit, Little A came home with a project to find a story about toys, and draw a character from it.

The Velveteen Rabbit is one of my favourite children's books, but Little A has never been interested, which made me sad. This Friday, though, all because of homework, we spent a happy hour curled up on the sofa under a fleecy blanket, reading the story of the rabbit who was loved so much by his boy that he became Real. Little A clutched her own beloved toy rabbit, who peeked over the edge of the book and is surely destined to be hopping through meadows herself one day.

Happy hoppy happy.







PS also discovered through homework this week The Magic Paint Brush by Julia Donaldson. She is a complete genius.




Saturday, 8 October 2011

Appy ever after

That's it. My work is officially done. I've been replaced by an iphone.

As I write this, little a is having her bedtime story read to her not by a doting auntie, fithusband or grandma, but at the touch of a button on the 3-D fairy tale that is nosy crow's Three Little Pigs app.

I haven't even recorded a personalised voiceover, which I believe is the ultra modern act of love from absentee parents.

Is that it, then? have I completely sold out?

We didn't have a television at all when I was growing up, there's a lingering part of me that sees them as the ultimate decadent corruption and I have equally ambivalent feelings towards the computer: lured by the bright entertaining fun of it all but guilty that I don't have to put in much work.

But the pictures in these apps are as charming as any story-book, and in many ways it's a calmer more child-centred experience than me galloping through some hideous pink fairy book with my teeth gritted. Isn't it?

Now all we need is an app that will get out of bed at hideous times of the night to scare off monsters and we'll truly be ready to retire.