Walk, Write, Read, Fantasize

 

Our "good" morning started with bagels, cream cheese, raspberries and some seriously good writing. Each of you read your own work from the copies I printed from the blog. As each of you read, the others of us marked on our copies what astounded us.


We loved the action of Jacob's:  all those verbs!!! Weaving, beep-beep--beeping, stopping, flicking, darting, running, spitting, falling, spitting again and, finally, "entering the realm of a shadow..." and shivering. I showed you my goose bumps on that sentence! Shiver is right! Steinbeck, too, describes all the living things in his writing--their sounds, especially. Nice, Jacob!

We loved the sneakiness of Eleanore's: glaring at a passing sleek little city car, squeezing to let a truck pass, balancing on skinny streaking shadows of wires, depositing mail where it shouldn't go, peeking into chocolate bliss, edging around corners,  pretending you never speed-walked at all! We suggested you tell us what you think when you see chocolate! We think your piece is very direct and mechanical, too. Very fun and spunky to read. 

We LOVED the arching of your spine, Ellie and the trampling, kicking, leaning, pitching, splashing, plopping, and skies that move soundlessly above you. We suggested you toss "time" phrases, like "after a while of this..." It's just too powerful without that! Steinbeck's Jody gets self-conscious about his age...and you do too in this piece! We also thought, gee, hmmm, is anything about you listless in this whole piece? Nope. You don't walk away listlessly! No way! You might walk away looking for something else to do but you are not listless! That's a compliment, by the way.

We loved the pace of your writing, Logan: in the beginning everything seems slow (sun gleaming, old worn down light post groaning, strange alley, echoing" and then wham! the fast pace of cars, horns, guitars. We liked the "gravel flashing" because it does AND it sounds so good! We liked the quick clapping of your flip-flops because THEY DO JUST THAT!  We suggested you think about how to say you ran into a thorn bush without saying it. You can imbed information and not be specific about its presence in your writing! You know what we mean. Steinbeck slows and talks about the sun on Jody's body, just as you describe the sun on your neck. Very cool!

Cody, it's unanimous: we all love your first sentence so much! It, too, reminds us of the confidence of Steinbeck; how he writes simply, without frills. You write like that too. We talked about wanting more information on the flowers--colors! We talked about the white river and you said, "I was just thinking I should say 'milky' when I was reading it!" Yes! Bravo! When you read aloud you hear your writing as if for the first time. And finally, we thought the "real" world needed a descriptor...what is it compared to the world of the alley? You said, "bustling." Yes it is. Nice!

You took a break at the river as I organized the responses. Remember to look over them! Your friends starred and circled good stuff!

Back at the table we started to read. You're all amazing readers/listeners/margin-scribblers! "They" call the writing in the margins of books "marginalia" but I think that's a strange word so I prefer, well, "the act of paying attention with a pen."

We read about Jody's new chance at "adulthood" or maturity. He wants it, doesn't he? Remember how he positions himself on the fence just like Billy Buck and Carl? He waits and waits for Nellie to show she's carrying a colt. Jody begs Billy Buck to tell him it will all be okay, not like before with Gabilan. We notice three times the appearance of the word "unemotional;" what could that mean? We think maybe there's some foreshadowing about the health of the colt because of Jody's fear of thinking of his colt while he stood under the Cypress tree. Bad luck? Hmmmm...

And then we read how Jody lies back in the grass in his favorite spot by the spring and fantasizes about his colt; how it grows, how it becomes legend and how he and Demon are invited by the President to capture outlaws! 

Fantasy galore and yet so realistic! And Steinbeck isn't too proud to use the term, "and then..." as each section of the fantasy builds! Wow! How liberating!

So, yes, I've asked you to think about what your fantasy is...or your secret longing...or something you dream every once in a while to do! Or, Ellie, something that interests you (but add a little emotion). I want to be a rock star on stage, singing to thousands! Yep!   

Your job is to write your fantasy as Steinbeck does: coming in and out of it; building it with great detail; using first or third person.


So far the fantasies you've decided upon are...
Eleanore: Swimming in the Olympics
Cody, Logan, Jacob: Best in the big mountain comps
Ellie: still thinking (but I think traversing the US in a VW Wagon would be a GREAT one!)

Assigments:

Read the fantasy section a few times aloud and a few times to yourself. See how Steinbeck does it!

Don't read beyond the fantasy.

Write your fantasy.

Post your writing AFTER YOU'VE LOOKED OVER IT ENOUGH.

Challenge: write and write and then find TWENTY WORDS you do not need. Toss them. Tight and strong is better long and, well, long.

Respond to your friends' writing!

Thanks, everyone!
Carolyn

NEVER ENDING WALK

I walk along the street kicking rocks and trampling would chips with my cold feet as the day has yet to be warm, I dodge a couple of tall flowers by ducking and weaving in and out of their twisted stems. I lean my head back as far as my spine would allow and look at the sky as it moves soundlessly through the air, after awhile of this I turn to throwing rocks in the river pretending I am a major league baseball pitcher who just tossed a fast ball, ending up running down the street, through alleys, up stairs, past big trucks sprinting for the sheer joy of it. As I come to a slow I pass an old broken car and fence with fallen peace's of it scattered all over the ground, I spot a puddle and deiced that the only way for me to be satisfied with the puddle even being there is if I plopped rocks and sticks in it making splashes of cold water fly through the air and hit the ground like bombs. At first it seemed as though I would never grow tired of this game but then I remembered that I wasn't two anymore and moved along listlessly looking for something to do.

Elmo

Nature Stroll

Walking down the street, I took the steep dirt exit weaving through the pinecones, as I made my way down toward my back yard. I heard the annoying “ beep beep beep! ” of some machine backing up down by the highway, and the “chic chic chic!” of the grasshopper as I stepped to near. I stooped and flicked an ant from my shoe. I hear my brother’s music to entertain himself as he sweeps the porch.

Suddenly, I see a squirrel dart over a rock with something suspicious in his mouth. I chased after him to see what the mysterious object was. The squirrel ran up a tree and as he did so, chirp-squeaked and dropped from his mouth a half-mutilated pinecone.

I kept walking, trying to only step on rocks. I spat at a thorn bush and almost fell off my rock. I weaved through the rest of the thorn bushes, not daring to spit at another one. I entered the realm of a shadow and shivered.

Street Walk

A sleek little city car whizzed by and I thought , 'Slow down! Kids live on this street!' I glared at its proud tail lights.

As I walked across the street toward the mail box, I saw a big truck coming down the ally. I squeezed to the mail box to let it pass.

Walking back across the ally, I looked for a place to put the mail. I found a cooler that was inside the  garage below the hanging brooms, across from the paddle board and next to a bag of cocoanut based potting mix. I delivered the mail to the cooler and hoped that no body would see.

I continued my slightly delayed walk down the street. The streaking shadows of the wires above zig-zagged across the cracked pavement. I balanced on their skinny shadows all the way to Dorinda's chocolate shop on the corner. I peeked inside the top half of the dutch door and saw a dimly lit room with an assortment of truffles in a small glass case.

I edged around the corner because it was a nerve-racking place to be, standing in the direct path of those cars that come, unaware, down and around the blind corner.

I wandered along the sidewalk of the main street looking at the cute houses with the healthy gardens, and the not-so-cute houses with the mustard colored weeds growing in their parched driveways.

I turned back onto my street, speedwalking to my home pretending I was Olga Kaniskina,  2008 Olympic speedwalking Gold Medalist; and then I casually walked through the front door, acting as if I was Olga-free.

Eleanore

Alley

It is a crisp fall morning. The warm sun is gleaming on my neck and the old worn down light post is groaning as if he is about to fall down. Everything is silent except for the faint roaring of the river and the quick clapping of my flip-flops. I start walking up a strange alley that smells of ski wax. Everything is echoing and I can't make out the sounds. It sounds like....... I'm.... underwater! Everything is a blur. I reach the end of the alley and shoot back to reality. Cars are zooming, semi trucks are honking their horns , a crazy old man is playing the guitar. I keep walking, but for some reason I don't "feel" like I'm walking. I look down at my feet and I am hovering 6in. above the ground! I start "gliding" down the street. I am watching the gravel flash by below my feet when...... I feel dozens of little prickles all over my face and body. I slam into a thorn bush! I look down and I'm no longer hovering, I'm back in the alley and everything is a blur....

Fall By The River

In early mourning, on the first day of fall, with a chilly wind, the crab apples had started to fall off the lush green trees, into the dry yellow grass.  I walked by the brick and wood houses and past the colorful flowers, toward the end of the road.

  Wondering if I'd see a animal of some sort, like a bird or a chipmunk or even a lizard on one of the big gray rocks.  I looked down at the peaceful river, through the branches I could see that the river was a dark blue unlike a week ago when it was white.

  It was like I was in my own little world, with downtown truckee (where all the shops, cars and people were) only 15 feet a way!  Then a truck pulling up the road brought me back to the real world.

                                                                          Cody Nern

The Promise

Before we started reading the "The Promise,"

we listened to each piece of writing you'd done throughout the last week, writing that focused on the connections you'd made to the text.

Well. Wow. Speechless. 

Such good writing. 

I hope you find it in you to post your writing here!

Cody, you wrote about a scene: the first time Jody sees Gitano's rapier on his lap. It reminded you of the first time you saw your dad holding his machete. I asked you how seeing your dad and that machete affected how you "saw" your dad. You said, "I realized that we could be like the villagers in Costa Rica now; that it would be the key to being more like them." 

Ellie, you wrote about irony and character: Gitano's quiet refusal to ask for food at the farmhouse table. He waits, instead, for food to be passed to him. You said you thought it was ironic because Carl thought he was being the powerful one, but really it was Gitano, in his quiet way. We talked about when in your life you might have used a quiet power to, well, overpower someone. 

You are going to think about it.

Logan, you wrote about character and theme: Jody's connection to his horse and your connection to Rubicon. See the fabulous entry below. We talked a bit about how getting older makes you see new things in routine or old experiences.

Eleanore, you wrote about theme: the intersection of life and death at the spring above the farmhouse. You did a great job of chronicling your own experience with life and death's intersections. When you finished, Logan, you exhaled, "It's so true!" 

...So we talked about life and death. 

Lots of different personal stories. 

And yes, when we look at it, 

life and death happen together all the time. 

Only as we grow older do we see that truth and how it affects us.

 

THEN...

We marveled at the master, Steinbeck.

A few of us even admitted 

we'd give our two front teeth to write like him.

We read the reason he won the Nobel Prize for Literature: 

"for his realistic and imaginative writings, 

combining as they do sympathetic humour 

and keen social perception." 

THEN...

We opened the book to "The Promise," read the first page and a half about Jody's walk home from school and saw firsthand why

 Steinbeck won the Nobel Prize for the reason above.

Then you all went on your own walk to try your hand at writing about a simple walk like Steinbeck can. 

 You carried a pencil and your notebook. 

Cody's first sentence:

"In early morning, on the first day of fall, with a chilly wind, the crab apples had started to fall off the lush green trees into the dry yellow grass." 

Here Cody is writing more and more and more!

Eleanore's first sentence:

"A sleek little city car whizzed by and I thought, 'Slow down! Kids live on this street!' I glared at its proud tail lights."

She wrote more here and switched some sentences around and we all counted her s-sounds! 

Logan's first sentence:

"On a crisp fall morning, the sun gleaming on my neck, the old worn down light post groaning as if he were about to fall down, everything was silent except for the faint roaring of the river and the quick clapping of my flip-flops." 

We just had to hear that again...read it again!

He questioned his tenses 

(all writers question themselves as they read!)

and still we loved it so much!

Ellie's first sentence: 

"I walk along the street, kicking rocks and trampling wood chips and dodging tall flowers by ducking."

Love all the edges to those words! 

Talk about "hard" writing! So great! 

Like a handful of pebbles that writing. No fluff anywhere!

Look closely...down the street...there she is, twirling!

Busy at work writing about her walk/twirl.

Thank you all for such a great day...again.

What writers you are. 

I love hearing the words you write as you read them...

and the thoughts you think as you think them!

Assignment:

1. Work on your "Walk" piece.

2.  Try writing 10 or 15 minutes every day.

Try it. 

3.  Re-read the walk section 

up to the part I said would make you laugh. 

Stop after Mrs. Tiflin opens the lunch box.

 

4. Post your writing on the blog before Thursday!

We want to read you! 

Carolyn

Rubicon

"Jody curried and brushed until a pile of dead hair layed in the stall, and until the pony's coat had taken on a deep shine. Each time he finished he thought it might've been done better"

Those two sentences reminded me exactly of when I was brushing Rubicon, I couldn't stop brushing! I kept on brushing, and brushing until there was a pile of dust and dead hair on the ground, but yet I was still brushing. Finally Jennifer threw a HUGE western saddle in my arms, and it almost weighed me to the ground!

I don't think I have ever connected to a horse like this before. My grandma has two horses and I have gone horse back riding a few times, but never have I connected or communicated like this to a horse before. I lead the horses and I felt Rubicon taking big breaths looking at the veins popping out of Rubicon's muscular legs. For crying out loud, I scooped poop for 45 min!

When I was brushing Rubicon I looked into his dark black eyes and noticed a small dark blueberry colored fleck in his eye. This reminded me of when Jody came down for breakfast one day, he grabbed three eggs and noticed a small fleck of blood on one of his eggs and he carefully scraped it off.

My First Piece of Writing about The Red Pony (revision #3)

I have never connected to or loved horses much.

My aunt has a horse and rides him quite a bit.

I have gone on a trail ride for a field trip once.

I took once a week lessons for two weeks.

And my friend is OBSESSED with horses! 

All these connections and I have never loved horses!

But today I was with a horse. 

I held the lead rope while Rubicon circled around me. I had been told to send energy to him down to my hand, through the rope and to him to tell him to walk, trot or gallop. 

For him to slow and eventually stop, I breathed out slowly and heavily.

It calmed us both.

Eleanore

P.S. I am working on my next piece of writing for Friday; obviously this isn't it. :)

The Red Pony Retreat

Connecting to The Red Pony

 

We had a goal:

Connect to horses--their smell, feel, look, habits, lives.  

We wanted to know them physically 

before we read about them on the page. 

On the way out to Sierraville, 

we talked about our pets, 
the animals we love or have loved.

We talked about John Steinbeck, 
a man who won the Nobel Prize for literature, 
who wrote The Red Pony while living with his dying mother, 
and about how much of this book is childhood memory.

Rubicon and Foxy were our first "red ponies" of the retreat. They live in Sierraville with Jennifer Blide who spent her afternoon helping us connect to them. 

We learned to whisper to them, respect them, clean them, love them, try to keep them inside the fences, 

let them sense our body's talk.  

Here we are...

Scooping poop

Cleaning stalls

Meeting Rubicon--

we learned to let horses sniff us before we reach out to pet them.

Hauling poop and learning how to handle the gates!

Holding up a horse's leg (it's harder than we thought)

Being reminded to stand in a safe position matters, too!
(Cody and Logan both moved seconds after the photos were taken!)

After chores, we got to love the horses up--privately--by 

leading them on both short and long ropes. 

Later, as you wrote about the afternoon, you all described this intimate time as your best moments of the day.

Foxy liked getting VERY close to Cody.

 Rubicon and Jacob having a conversation.

Eleanore felt the connection to Rubicon: when she exhaled, he slowed; when she stood strong and tall, he ran. 

You can see Jennifer
showing us how to talk to horses with our energy.

He's a natural...and still only eleven!

I bet one day he'll own one.

After a good hour and a half with the horses, it was time to ride...the rope swing. 

We all loved it, especially the birthday boy.

And then...writing time on the ranch...

Everyone found a comfortable place and wrote about one moment he/she wouldn't forget about the afternoon

Remembering the blue flake in the brown eye--
how very Steinbeck, Jacob!

We drove through an enormous rainstorm on the way home to Truckee. 

"Ding ding ding!" A little foreshadowing, would you say? 

And then reading time...

We had a few breaks--a run around the block in the dark (well, almost all the way around), dinner, dessert, brushing teeth--but for the most part, we read and read and read 
and talked and talked and talked. 

We read the first two stories, The Gift, and The Great Mountains.

We talked about themes, craft, ourselves, what growing up can mean and how it finds us straddling two different worlds--childhood and that place beyond called adulthood. 

We talked about what kinds of dads we like 

and are grateful we have.  

We dared ourselves to take one moment to look at our parents one at a time, and see them as not connected to us at all -- just people. Who are they aside from our parents? 
Jody does this with Carl, remember?

We talked about how Steinbeck is so raw. 
Eleanore said, "Steinbeck tells the truth." 
Yes he does, down to the fluid of a horse eye on a vulture's beak.

We talked about some old people we know and how we treat them. 

We talked about how sometimes, the most confident writers repeat themselves. Green, green, green. No need for "emerald!"

We talked about how we refer to the events, characters, etc. in novels, we need to use present tense. Time stands still on the pages of a novel. The red pony is always alive on page 29. 

We talked about how kids want to live meaningful lives. Jody feel significance when he has Gabilan to care for.  
And when their significance 
(their chance at having that meaningful life)
is taken away, 
desolation and boredom and anger can devour the day.

We talked about the west and how it can symbolize mystery and newness and moving on. And even Death. At least in this book.  

We talked about places that held or hold mystery for us. How did we approach them? How did we conquer them? 

We talked about compassion. 

How Billy Buck has it. How Carl Tiflin does not. 

He can't quite stomach weakness enough to show compassion. 

How sometimes the "eyes" tell it all. 

We learned that writing in books is like going to Sierraville to be with horses before reading about them: it helps us connect. 

We learned how the spring is life and the cypress is death...over and over again. 

We liked each other's insights, written and spoken. 

We read into the night...then slept...sort of...

Then sang happy birthday to Logan, slid down the stairs, ate a fabulous breakfast and read some more--in our sleeping bags.

 Thank you all for this time together. For sharing your ideas and for being game to read, write and talk for two straight days!

Your assignment before our next meeting:

Re-read the first two chapters. 
Because this will be the second time through, you'll sail!  Remember to add to your margin notes (and stars and asterisks).
Read some of your favorite paragraphs to your parents.  

Find another passage you connect with and then write about that connection. It can really be about anything...anything. 

Find the connection and write.  
Remember: the connection can be loose. 
I might read about Jody's pile of eggs and think about why I'm a vegetarian!

OPTIONAL: 

After you write and your writing feels complete, you may post your passage and response onto the blog for us to read. 

If you do not want to use the blog, no worries!

FINALLY (not optional):

  Please send me your thank you note for Jennifer. 

You can email it or drop it off!

Thank you again!

Carolyn