Write the Next Sentence

Dear Fellow Writers:

Let's try something different. In the comments section, WRITE the next sentence. It's only one sentence, so it better be good. The winning sentence will be inserted in the manuscript, which could end up (in)on an agent's/editor's iPad/Kindle/Nook/inbox/desk within the next year, which could end up in the hands of a publisher, which could end up on a bookshelf. Maybe. Hopefully. Eventually.

WIP - Sample Chapter:

SEVENTH GRADE

The robins and sparrows are in full bloom this morning, chattering and singing in high-pitched tones that make my neck hair stand up straight.  It’s worse than when Mrs. Tingle used to scoot chairs across the tile floor to make space in the classroom for science experiments. 

As I stroll toward the street corner to wait for the bus, Mom drives by and honks while blowing a kiss out the window. 

“See you at school, honey,” she yells.  A stream of smoke filters out the window and she drives away, missing tail light and all.  

Everyone at the bus stop laughs, including Gabriela.  She’s wearing a light red dress made of thin material.  Her hair parts in the slight breeze, revealing her high cheeks and round eyes.  Her legs are tan, like she’s been on vacation in Florida.  Do they get darker in the summer and lighter in the winter?

“Your mom's a piece of work.”

It’s him.  The Oger.  He’s leaning against the stop sign.  He spits and a brown streak splats on the pavement.  He’s as tall as Dad was, but he’s 40 pounds overweight and uglier than an ostrich.

In second grade he dumped volcano spew on my desk and ruined my best eagle drawing of all time.  In third grade he pulled my underwear over my head.  In fourth grade he started calling me Fishboy, and so did everyone else. In fifth grade he locked me in the equipment room and I was stuck in there for two periods.  Last year he… (complete this sentence)

 

The Good Fight

I've been given a blog award. It came from Paul Michael Murphy over at Murphblog, who I consider one of the finest spewers in Bloganada. Thanks, Murph! Appreciate the positivity nod. I love Murphblog and would rather succumb to a knight's sword tip than go without reading it. But I have to be honest (because it's the best policy, and I consistently tell my students to endure this disgusting character trait, which--most of the time-- emits only positive ramifications) I have mixed feelings about the ubiquitous awards circulating within Bloggerville. Here's why:

1. There are too many awards.

 When everyone gets one, they become meaningless, just like trophies have become meaningless in little league sports. When I played baseball and soccer and basketball, only the winners received trophies, and they were usually shiny and gold. On top was a sports figure holding a baseball bat or shooting a basketball. The bat always ended up breaking, but it was still cool to be the only team that WON a trophy. Keyword = won. For those parents out there who are thinking, "Well, my son/daughter got a trophy and he/she thought it was the best thing ever and it made him/her feel good," this is for you:

Life isn't about feeling good all the time. Life is about winning. Losing. And unfortunately sometimes tying, especially in Major League Baseball All-Star Games. Kids should be taught how to handle the euphoria of winning and the misery of losing. It only makes you stronger. In life, not everyone wins. In life, sometimes you lose.  In life, sometimes you lose bigtime and have to deal with it. Again, what doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger.  

2. Bloggers pass the awards around like condensating potion at a witches' Tupperware party. 

3. The awards come with no prize money.

4. ShamWOWS! "The Germans always make good stuff!"

That being written, I accept this award with the positivity of these people and the smile of this boy.

In a society dominated by the scandalous, where the lead nightly news story is murder and mayhem that makes a Batman-less Gotham look civilized, where the freeway slows to a crawl because of crane necks looking for mangled cars and the remains of vehicular slaughter only so they can turn away in frightening disgust, where people flock to TV shows to live vicariously through others...

Positivity

Remains

Necessary

To

Survive   


Keep Fighting the Good Fight 

and 

Keep The Glass Half Full.

Top Five Positive Bloggers, stop by to claim your ShamWOW!


Myra
Shannon
Sharon
Corey
Tess

If You Could Ask Neil Gaiman....

On February 4, I'm going to hear Neil Gaiman speak at UCLA's Royce Hall. If you look to the right, you'll notice I'm reading Coraline (again) to refamiliarize myself with his work. I want his words to be fresh in my mind. More bang for the buck. The ticket wasn't cheap, especially for an underpaid, overworked teacher/writer/coach/tutor/juggler. Okay, I'm not really a juggler.

This past September I taught The Graveyard Book (6th Grade Summer Reading). The concept is ingenious (though a reincarnation of The Jungle Book, which Gaiman happily concedes as a major influence), the point of view is fascinatingly omnisicient (which is extremely hard to accomplish), and the writing is buttery (like you're being told a story around a campfire). Though not short, Gaiman's sentences are definite; it's this way or that way, and he's sure of it. At the same time, he threads fantasy, mystery, horror, and humor (at least in his young reader stories) into a winding path that keeps the reader turning pages, even if it's only to experience the villain's return. His characters are proud of their existence, whether living or non-living, and, after the last chapter of The Graveyard Book, I wanted to leave, to go somewhere new, to travel someplace across the globe. I wanted out of my shell. A storyteller who can muster that kind of emotional response from me has, in my opinion, THE GOODS! It's Good to Be Gaiman.

Like he does at most of his presentations, I'm sure Gaiman will open the mic for questions. I'm embarrassingly stupid when it comes to speaking in front of people (yes, I'm a teacher), but I'm willing to put myself out there for you. If you could ask Neil Gaiman one question, what would it be?

"What have you written?" does not count, and if you ask that, you will be expunged from Chalk Head Nation.  

What I've Been Up To

These are the things I've been doing since last Monday:

1. Semester Grades (Creative Writing & English)

2. Reading & Writing (War Dances & WIP)

3. Buying a House (our first)

4. Figuring out how to make it a home (also our first)

5. Skiing in Mammoth, California (6th Annual MLK Weekend Trip)

6. Anxiously Awaiting Newbery Award Announcement (Congrats to Rebecca Stead)

2010 Newbery Medal Winner:

When You Reach Me - by Rebecca Stead

Honor Books:

The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate - by Jacqueline Kelly

Where the Mountain Meets the Moon - by Grace Lin

Mostly True Adventures of Homer P. Figg - by Rodman Philbrick

Claudette Colvin: Twice Toward Justice - by Phillip M. Hoose

The Bizarre Scope of Dream Land

In class today many students shared their personal writings about dreams they've had. The hardest thing about recalling dreams is exactly that: remembering them. So I was impressed that most students could recall at least one or two dreams, and I was even more impressed with the bizareness of it all, which, as a former psychology major, I appreciate and find fascinating on many levels.

Here are some of their dream topics:

1. Rapping tomatoes
2. Melting green people
3. Sinking schools
4. People who can only whisper
5. An aviation sickness that causes brains to melt
6. Paul McCartney sitting on a balcony playing "Revolution" backwards
7. Rides at Six Flags made of candy
8. A house with bleachers outside so people can watch you "live"
9. Tractor-riding pirates
10. The BFG who eats people
11. A Hunger Games world
12. Mummies coming through the TV
13. A land of waterslides, ball pits, and swinging rings
14. A ball pit so big that it takes a year to escape
15. Guardian of Frozen Yogurt Secret Formula

Don't get me wrong, these leave me speechless. But they don't compare to this excerpt:

I had a dream I could fly over the Civil War. There was a system. It went something like this: when someone came down from the sky, they passed you a bottle of glue and you put some on your hands. This would make you grow wings. Then you could begin flapping like a bird. Once you were airborne, you grew to the size of Oklahoma. Below, you could watch the red glow of war. Civil War.

This student also had a dream about going to the doctor to get two shots in the eyelid and one in the ear. Ouch!

Dreams. Write them down somewhere. You never know.

My Second Interview

Ever wonder what I did during college lectures? Did I pick my nose? Droodle? Sleep? Suppress burps?  If you're curious...

...Starting on Friday morning you can read an interview starring yours truly at Edited to Within an Inch of My Life.

Thanks, Heather, for including me in your Journeys Toward Publication and Beyond segment.

(My first interview was a for a Teacher Profile piece in the school newspaper. I know, it doesn't really count)

2010 Writing Goals

A new year brings a fresh start. And this year will be the first time I've ever set writing goals for a calendar year. I've thought about goals before, but never put them down on paper, which is something everyone, especially writers, should do.

So, here they are (in no particular order because they are all important):

1. To earn literary representation.

My first middle grade novel, Crossing Chalk, has been on submission for a while. I say "earn" because "gain" sounds like it's owed to me, when in reality, all writers "earn" their literary agents through the amount of blood, sweat, and tears they put into their manuscripts.   

2. To complete my second middle grade novel.

I'm 50 pages into a novel that I'm calling Bird-Man Street. I like to have working titles. It makes me feel like I'm being watched. Yes. Watched. By the title itself.

3. To learn more.

When this is no longer a goal of mine, I will stop writing.

I plan on learning until I kick the bucket, which hopefully isn't soon.