Storytelling, storywriting

In my last post, so very long ago, I promised to write about the residency I did with 8th graders in Scott City. I'd rather write about the program I offer called "Storytelling, storywriting." I know I've written about this before, so this is mostly a reminder.

Sometimes other storytellers ask me how I can give workshop plans away like this. I remember what Eric Booth says in The Music Teaching Artist's Bible: 80% of what you teach is who you are. If somebody takes my workshop outline and puts it into practice, it will be completely different from what I do. Maybe better!

Stuff I use, sometimes, for "Storytelling, storywriting"

Back to the workshop. This is an adaptable program. I can do a 45-minute version, a 90-minute version, a  two-hour in one fell swoop version, or a multiple day version. It works best with grade 4 (age 9) and up, with kids who can read out loud fluently. I've done it in Mexico with kids from all over the country who study at English schools, in Salina, KS with fourth and fifth graders, at a Juvenile Detention Center.

In the best case scenario, I have a whole session of storytelling before we even get to the writing. That's what will happen next week in Salina when I work with fifth graders. I'll tell mostly stories I wrote, pointing out story structure and the way descriptions in the stories evoke the senses. We'll have time for questions about stories and storytelling. The kids usually feel comfortable with me by the end of the session. That's intentional. I need to connect with them for this to work.

In the second session, I read a story out loud. I like "The Big Stone," which can be found in The Guizer by Alan Garner. It's written in a slightly archaic style, and though I read with expression, the students glaze over. Then I tell it the way it is on my CD The ghost with the one black eye, to demonstrate the difference between a written and a told story.

I ask what they notice, reminding them that there is no way they can be wrong in what they say. We talk about the use of gestures, facial expressions, the voice and the body. We might do an exercise or two to underline this.

Then, using a different story, we work on backstory. I want them to understand that in order to tell a story well, I have to see it fully. I must be able to answer any question they might ask me about any character, setting, or bit of action in the story, spoken or unspoken. The color of the big sister's shoelaces in The ghost with the one black eye? Pink, absolutely. Is there a pet in that story? Yes, a big dog. (Note: if I get in a rut with a story, sometimes I change the picture in my head)

Then what? We move on to writing. I use an abridged version of Natalie Goldberg's list of rules for writing practice from her fabulous book Wild Mind. I insist that the kids write them down so these rules will go in their pencil hands to their brains. Then, using the rules, we write for three minutes on a topic I give them. As they write, the room is absolutely silent. Occasionally I prod them with a reminder to keep their hands moving, or I give a slight suggestion if they think they're really stuck. After the timer goes off, we read a few aloud.

Then we play a game I adapted from Gianni Rodari. It's like "Heads, Bodies and Legs," which I've just learned is also called "Le cadavre exquis," or "Exquisite corpse," but with writing. Here's how I described it in a post in 2008:

 It's a game where we write a story line by line, folding the page backwards after each line and then passing that paper to the next person. I prompt the kids for each line: "Who was it?", "Where was he/she?", "What did he/she do?" and so on until the story is done. After each line, the paper is passed to the next kid. They're not supposed to look at the previous lines, so when the paper is unfolded, it's a completely ridiculous story. Some of them make a strange kind of sense.

It's a great game to teach story structure. I also point out this even simpler story structure:

Somebody wanted...
But...
So...

If there's time, we extend the timed writings or the game, or we can add another game, either a storytelling game or a writing game. Even as I'm going out the door, the students often are asking if they can do this some more. They're having a blast writing and storytelling!

Did I ever mention how much I love what I do?

Monterrey writing workshops

Through the years, I've offered a workshop for kids called Storytelling, Storywriting. We start with the difference between written and told stories, discuss structure and backstory, and play with a story or two. Then we write, using a modified version of Natalie Goldberg's rules for writing practice, from her book Wild Mind. Sometimes we have time for a last writing game, sometimes we just write (and read aloud) more.

On Saturday, I presented this two-hour workshop twice for 105 fifth-grade students, age 11 or so, at the Young Authors' Workshop at Colegio Ingles in Monterrey. The students are chosen by their teachers to attend this special three-day workshop. They come from different cities, from schools where they are taught in English for part of the day. The students arrive with their teachers and then go home to host families here in Monterrey. For many, it's the first time they've been away from home.

I was apprehensive about doing this with non-native English speakers, until I remembered that I did it in Belgium a few years ago, in classes where only some of the kids were native speakers. It worked, both there and here.

Here's what some of it looked like: Notice the teacher writing with the kids. These teachers were enthusiastic and helpful throughout. Some modeled good writing behavior, some did general crowd control. Many told me they would take the exercises back to use in their classrooms.

The only tough part was getting the kids to listen. While they were writing, they were absolutely silent, but when they were done, they were so excited about writing and reading aloud that it was deafening!

After the second workshop, I went to use the bathroom. I heard a voice from another stall intoning, "I...am the ghost...with the one...black...eye." Love that!

I've had an e-mail from one of the other students, telling me how much he enjoyed the workshop. Hey, Pablo! Keep writing!

Shaking loose writer's block

Yesterday I wrote about Natalie Goldberg's book Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life.

In 1996, I was influenced by another book, one that helped me get out of writer's block. Georgelle Hirliman had writer's block in the 80s, so she installed herself in the window of a bookstore and invited people to ask her questions. She had a typewriter on which she wrote answers. 

I loved the idea and decided to combine it with Wild Mind writing. I went to my favorite coffee shop and set up a whiteboard (with permission of the owners), inviting topics. I promised to write nonstop for five minutes on any topic at all. I was honor-bound to accept all suggestions. I wrote the rules for writing practice on the whiteboard. I did this one evening a month for about a year. Sometimes friends would write with me. I kept a carbon copy of each of my pieces and gave the original to the person who gave the topic. Sometimes I got tips. Usually I got a free coffee. 

Here are a few of the pieces:

Gymnastics floor routine

Okay, here's my first routine: three baboon lopes, a leopard roar and a snake slither, two monkey leaps forward then a chimpersault backwards. A dogrun to the left, catpaw tiptoe to the right. Wave to the crowds, bow, accept the flowers thrown by the loyal fans. What? The judges need to see it again? Oh, no! What did I do?

            I think it was two coiled springs backward, one mattress spring forward, a quadruple spring day with no April showers to the left...no, that wasn't it. I think I started with a guitar strum in the key of Z, then eased my way up to an organ chord with trumpets and piccolo. Or was it the rotini, double twist cappuccino, basil pesto on my toes, back flapjack, quarter pounder, two all beef patties, one taco grande and then for the finale, baked Alaska? Rats! I wish I could remember the way this floor routine was supposed to go.

Apologies to my mother for this one:

There goes the neighborhood

Yup, it all went downhill when the Howes moved in. That house was beautiful, with its wall in front, the white pebbled path, the pillars. But now there are always kids around, their bikes thrown down in the driveway, their runny noses and skinned knees offending our senses. It would be different if they had some money, but they don't. The noise, too, oh my Lord, the constant bickering of the younger children pierces a hole right through my brain sometimes. The white pebbled path has clumps of dirt in it from the last time the children had friends over. They had a war in the front yard with the wild onions. I don't imagine their mother was happy about that, though who knows, there never seem to be any parents around. If there were, they would put a stop to that nasty little pet cemetery the children put next to the church wall. It doesn't even have pets—just dead pigeons and squirrels. And I do wish the children had never learned to play the church bells, which they do at the oddest times.

A nod of respect to B. Kliban's cartoons here:

Those aren't raisins!     

Children love petting zoos, especially those with deer in pens. Every summer Mac worked the zoo, explaining to the children how deer really lived in the wild, what they ate, how they survived the winter. He'd make sure the children didn't throw their hotdog buns into the pen, make sure the deer always had water, pass out handfuls of grain pellets for the kids to feed the animals.

            He didn't really like his job, but he liked the deer and it was an easy way to spend the summer, standing around outside. He'd have to clean out the pens, sure, but that wasn't such hard work. Mac always left a some deer droppings near the edge of the pen, for sheer entertainment value. He kept a tally of the number of times a day he heard it, usually coming from a parent but occasionally from an older sister or brother or friend. "Get that out of your mouth! Those aren't raisins!" It was almost always too late.  

It worked. I was able to shake loose my creativity by doing this. I may try it again someday.

Writing my way into stories

I learn through my pen hand, possibly more than through my tappitytapping fingers on the keyboard. In the early 1990s, my sister introduced me to Natalie Goldberg's book Wild Mind. 

In it, Goldberg sets out "Rules for Writing Practice": 

1. Keep your hand moving.

2. Lose control.

3. Be specific.

4. Don't think.

5. Don't worry about spelling, punctuation, grammar.

6. You are free to write the worst junk in America.

7. Go for the jugular.

These are genius. Of course, this is for writing practice, for stretching and flexing your creative muscles, not for final drafts. 

When I moved to Kansas in 1993, my sister and I met often downtown in a cafe or doughnut shop (Jennings Daylight Donuts, long gone now) to write together using the exercises in the book, writing and then reading aloud to each other. 

The more I wrote, the more I understood my world of story. I began to write about the characters, settings and actions in whatever story I was working on for performances. I wrote backstory, stuff that you need to know but never say out loud. I wrote real estate ads for settings, personal ads for characters, and letters from one character to another.  I also found new stories unexpectedly. 

In the mid-90s, I offered classes to storytellers and others interested in trying this method out. We wrote, read, talked, wrote some more. I love writing with other people, hearing the gems they put down on paper. We all have the feeling that what we've written is total garbage, and then, between the writing and reading, it transforms into something strong and true. 

I no longer offer those classes, but my sister and I still write together weekly, and I teach kids about Wild Mind writing, with variations. Last week I worked with a small group of high school students, teaching them this method. Each had a unique and wonderful voice. It was an honor to hear them. 

Thank you, Natalie!

Writing with kids

I'm back in Salina, KS this week, making up for the two snow days of December. As I write this, it's snowing and very cold. I hope school is on tomorrow.

Today was fun. I was at Sunset Elementary School. Today was a writing day with fifth graders. In the first session, I had all four classes (10 year olds, more or less) together for a storytelling performance. Because most of the kids at this school have heard me tell stories through the years, they know me. One teacher said that when she wrote my name on her whiteboard as "Miss Howe," the kids asked "Is that Priscilla?"

We had a good time in the storytelling session. Trixie and the baby puppet came out briefly, and the kids asked if I had other puppets. I promised to bring them out briefly in the writing sessions.

I did three writing sessions (one was with two classes at once). I began with a quick show-and-tell of three more puppets (the Gunniwolf, Mavis the monkey and Trixie's little sister Roxie). Then on to the writing. I read aloud a folktale, written in a slightly archaic way, and then told it. The difference in the kids' attention was startling. We talked about the two versions, what makes a good story, about the importance of imagination in writing and telling stories. In the storytelling session, I had given them an idea of one story structure, so now I gave them another. Then I introduced the idea of writing practice, and gave them an abbreviated set of rules for writing practice from Natalie Goldberg's book Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life. Here they are:

1. Keep your hand moving.
2. Don't think.
3. Don't worry about spelling, punctuation or grammar.
4. Be specific.
5. You're free to write the worst junk in America.

The students wrote these down and I explained what they meant. The goal is to stretch the writing muscles, not to have something perfectly written. I gave them a topic and set the timer for three minutes. Ready, set, write!

When they were done they read aloud in small groups. Then the whole class heard a few of them. After this, we did it again, this time for longer. More kids wanted to read aloud.

We didn't have much time, so we rushed on to one more story structure game. It's a game where we write a story line by line, folding the page backwards after each line and then passing that paper to the next person. I prompt the kids for each line: "Who was it?", "Where was he/she?", "What did he/she do?" and so on until the story is done. After each line, the paper is passed to the next kid. They're not supposed to look at the previous lines, so when the paper is unfolded, it's a completely ridiculous story. Some of them make a strange kind of sense.

The kids were great. Though some occasionally got stuck on the timed writing, generally they dove right in. I love the intensity in the room as they're writing, writing, writing, occasionally shaking a cramp out their hands. The more they do this, the more easily the words will flow out of their minds onto the paper. They seemed to like the last game, though we could have used another 15 minutes for them really to enjoy it.

Tomorrow is a storytelling day at three other schools.