Leading a Writing Group - Session 12
I had a fun idea for the kid's writing group - nail bending.
Pole barn nails are fun to bend. Just wrap some leather around both ends so you don't draw any blood, grip hard, and bend.
I knew that the kids wouldn't be able to bend the nails. But, I thought with my help that we could probably make a dent or more. I've done it before with women that couldn't quite get the nail to bend, I just grab ahold of their hands or wrists and help.
Unfortunately, the difference was just too much in this case. So, it was a little bit of a letdown, a little bit of a frustration. In a couple of weeks I'll probably get them some easier metal to bend so they can get the feel for it. They still had fun trying, and it's a great way to use up their energy.
We went over the concept of foreshadowing. That's where you mention something lightly early in the story because it's going to be important later.
The prompt was, of course, strength. Some version of great strength, or super strength, or a trial of strength. Something to do with strength. That was my tie-in with the nail bending.
One story had a poetic style to it. It was about a five-year-old trying to help.
One story was about a person sneaking into the White House as a hacker.
One story used the second person point-of-view and seemed like a video game narration.
I had set the writing timer for 23 minutes. When the alarm went off I wasn't at a great ending point, so I said "Hold on, I'm gonna try to wrap this up in another sentence or two." But, the eight-year-old said I should just stop in mid-action, and it was a decent suggestion, so I did.
And there we have a made-up form of trial by combat that I invented.
Pole barn nails are fun to bend. Just wrap some leather around both ends so you don't draw any blood, grip hard, and bend.
I knew that the kids wouldn't be able to bend the nails. But, I thought with my help that we could probably make a dent or more. I've done it before with women that couldn't quite get the nail to bend, I just grab ahold of their hands or wrists and help.
Unfortunately, the difference was just too much in this case. So, it was a little bit of a letdown, a little bit of a frustration. In a couple of weeks I'll probably get them some easier metal to bend so they can get the feel for it. They still had fun trying, and it's a great way to use up their energy.
We went over the concept of foreshadowing. That's where you mention something lightly early in the story because it's going to be important later.
The prompt was, of course, strength. Some version of great strength, or super strength, or a trial of strength. Something to do with strength. That was my tie-in with the nail bending.
One story had a poetic style to it. It was about a five-year-old trying to help.
One story was about a person sneaking into the White House as a hacker.
One story used the second person point-of-view and seemed like a video game narration.
I had set the writing timer for 23 minutes. When the alarm went off I wasn't at a great ending point, so I said "Hold on, I'm gonna try to wrap this up in another sentence or two." But, the eight-year-old said I should just stop in mid-action, and it was a decent suggestion, so I did.
- - - - - - -
His ribs were on fire, he sucked in painful air, and exhaled exhaustion.
In Steven's right hand he clamped down on the stick. His left hand was balled into a fist, his only weapon.
He looked into the face of the man across from him, Simson. The face of a man that deserved a beating.
Last month Simson had offered to buy Steven's farm. Steven had said no. Simson wasn't the type of man that took no for an answer. The next week one of Steven's pigs was found dead. He couldn't tell what had killed it because the other pigs had gotten to it, but it had been healthy the day before.
Then, yesterday, Steven's barn had mysteriously caught fire in the middle of the day. The neighbors brought their buckets and the whole barn hadn't burnt down, but it would have to be mostly rebuilt before winter.
So today Steven had challenged Simson to a trial. A stick was placed between the men, each grabbed hold with one hand.
Now, they were in the middle of a circle of witnesses. Steven needed to win that stick. He threw another punch deep into Simson's ribs. Simson groaned and hunched over a little more. Steven pulled on the stick, but Simson's grip was like a clamp, and his other fist flew at Steven's head. Steven twisted and raised his shoulder and the blow glanced off.
- - - - - - -
His ribs were on fire, he sucked in painful air, and exhaled exhaustion.
In Steven's right hand he clamped down on the stick. His left hand was balled into a fist, his only weapon.
He looked into the face of the man across from him, Simson. The face of a man that deserved a beating.
Last month Simson had offered to buy Steven's farm. Steven had said no. Simson wasn't the type of man that took no for an answer. The next week one of Steven's pigs was found dead. He couldn't tell what had killed it because the other pigs had gotten to it, but it had been healthy the day before.
Then, yesterday, Steven's barn had mysteriously caught fire in the middle of the day. The neighbors brought their buckets and the whole barn hadn't burnt down, but it would have to be mostly rebuilt before winter.
So today Steven had challenged Simson to a trial. A stick was placed between the men, each grabbed hold with one hand.
Now, they were in the middle of a circle of witnesses. Steven needed to win that stick. He threw another punch deep into Simson's ribs. Simson groaned and hunched over a little more. Steven pulled on the stick, but Simson's grip was like a clamp, and his other fist flew at Steven's head. Steven twisted and raised his shoulder and the blow glanced off.
- - - - - - -
And there we have a made-up form of trial by combat that I invented.
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Read more of what Jeff deems worthy of attention at: http://www.JeffreyAlexanderMartin.com
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