A Quick Start Guide To Writing Your Memoir

I’ve learned that when a person starts thinking about telling their life story, they tend to overthink it. They get caught up in worrying about things such as what others will think and who would publish it. The whole thought process results in paralysis so they can’t even figure out how to get started. But if you do your thinking in a more focused way, and then follow it up with specific actions, you’ll have your completed pages done before you know it! Here’s how to get going.

Who is the Book For?

Before sitting down at your desk, decide who you are writing for. Are you writing for a wider audience (the general public)? Are you writing for your children and grandchildren? Answering this question will take many concerns off your plate from the very beginning. For instance, if you are writing only for family members, your writing style can be more intimate and informal, almost as though you are writing them a letter. You also wouldn’t have to worry about getting an agent or attracting a publishing house because you know you’ll either print the book yourself or have a self-publishing company produce a handful of finished books for you.

If you are writing for a wider audience you will have much more to deliver in terms of story, action and writing style. But let’s keep this on the back burner for now and only think in terms of one thing: you know you have to write well. The rest you can worry about when the book is done.

What Story or Stories Do You Want to Tell?

You don’t have to do the David Copperfield thing and go all the way back to “I am born.” Contrary to popular belief, real life doesn’t always make for interesting writing. So instead of going the James Frey route and embellishing, as he did with “A Million Little Pieces” (and you see where that got him!), focus instead on the great stories that have ha1000ppened to you. I’ve heard from many people who desire to tell the story of their World War II experiences. They can do whole books just on that subject. There’s no need to do more unless you have more to say.

Joan Didion’s recent memoir, “The Year of Magical Thinking”, is all about her grieving after the death of her husband, John Gregory Dunne. It is a beautiful example of what can be done by examining just a small portion of your life. Likewise, Maya Angelou covered her life experiences in more than one book. So you don’t have to write down everything in one place. What story are your burning to tell right now? Start there!

Skip the Writing Part–For Now

This may seem counter-intuitive to your intent to write a book, but if putting down that first word or sentence is too hard, you may find it easier to talk your book out of you first. All you have to do is give yourself a rough outline of what you want to talk about and then speak your stories into a recording device. You probably tell these stories anyway more often than you realize, which is probably why people say, “You should write that down”. This will feel natural for you, especially if you enlist a friend or family member to interview you. That makes it easier than just lecturing into the air, plus the person you choose can help you to dig out certain details that you either have forgotten or just didn’t think to bring out. For instance, a curious interviewer might ask “Who was with you when you stormed that beach in France?” or “What kind of car were you driving when you first saw Mom walking down the street?” or “What were you wearing when you met Martin Luther King Jr.?”

Even Mitch Albom did this. Even though I had read “Tuesdays with Morrie”, it didn’t hit me until I saw the television movie based on the book that he had recorded Morrie during each visit. He didn’t have to work from notes or memory. I’m sure the tone of Morrie’s voice was a constant inspiration for Mr. Albom to keep going and finish the book. I’m sure your family would love to have such a recording of you. The recording could be a gift itself, even if you never turned it into a book. But this is about creating a book so…

Transcribe for an Instant Rough Draft

Have a friend or family member or hire someone to to take the words from your recording and put them on paper. Most transcription services can do this fairly quickly, depending on the length of the work. I use eTranscription Solutions (http://www.etranscriptionsolutions.org) to transcribe my seminars and they are fast and accurate. The beauty of this is that once the transcript is done, you’ll suddenly have a rough draft of your book in your hands. No more blank pages to contend with!

Shape Your Book

Now this part should be really fun. Once you have your rough draft, you can begin to shape your story like an artist with clay. Again, beware the impulse to embellish, but try to give things a beginning, a middle and an end. Keep your audience in mind. Remember, your writing doesn’t have to be fancy. You just want to make sure you’re being compelling, and that you’re getting your message across. If you have any doubt about the way something is written, read it out loud. That way you’ll be able to hear whether a phrase is awkward, if your sentences are too long or if you have fragments instead of complete sentences.

Finish It!

The best way to ensure that you’ll complete your project is to set a deadline for yourself and honor it. Otherwise you may let it linger for months or years, working on it only a little at a time. Maybe you could tie your deadline to a family event such as a holiday or a reunion. Wouldn’t that be the perfect place to present your completed memoir? If you seek to get your book published traditionally instead of doing it yourself, you may not have control over when you’ll have a finished book in your hands, but don’t let that stop you. Go as far as you can and present that work, even if1000it’s a stack of photocopied pages or a box of cassette tapes to your loved ones. They will appreciate the gift–and your effort–for years to come.

© 2006 Sophfronia Scott

By: Sophfronia Scott -

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Author and Writing Coach Sophfronia Scott is “The Book Sistah” TM. Get her FREE REPORT, “The 5 Big Mistakes Most Writers Make When Trying to Get Published” and her FREE online writing and publishing tips at www.TheBookSistah.com

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Teaching Children A Love For Reading

Many decades of research reveal that children develop learning behaviors at a very young age from their exposure to books and other written materials. Parents who read to their children are teaching the rhythm of the language that aids with speech and word recognition, and children that are read to will speak more clearly than their peers of the same age. A love for reading books will begin from the point in time when books are introduced even if the child is an infant. Educators claim that children can even hear music and their mother’s voice in vitro. This explains why a baby will seek his mother’s face immediately after birth because her voice is familiar.

Words on the page are associated with the illustrations in age-appropriate books that are read together with the child. Instead of meaningless letters arranged in a pattern, early word recognition is tied to the pictures on the page. Inserting the child’s name, along with those of their friends and siblings, will draw the child’s interest and make them want to read even more often. When a child hears her own name, she will remember more details from the story.

Choosing one book over another can be an overwhelming task for the young reader. Some children will stay with one story until they can recite it from memory, which becomes a great game with any adult who will listen. Pictures on the page assist with the memory triggers that enhance study habits during school. Parents can shape the child’s interest by reading many other types of materials aloud to the child.

A reading environment in the home is created by following some basic practices that make books available at all times:

• Many books that are appropriate for the child’s age should be kept in a place where they can sit and read without assistance. Wide variety will make reading interesting, so the child grows interested in the new material.

• Daily time to read together will develop interest in very young children. Encourage them to read along and interject words.

• Time in the car can be made to pass more quickly when each child has some fun books to read. When waiting for an appointment, have a book on hand for the adult and the child to read independently.

• Work with the schoolteacher to find good books that will keep each child interested throughout their school years. As they have life experiences, books can enhance their understanding of new topics.

• Young siblings love to spend time with their older brothers and sisters while reading a book together. Both children will learn new words as they explore new books.

When parents embrace a child’s natural curiosity about life, a foundation for reading is built from a very early age. Seeing their parents read, instead of watching television, is a great way to challenge a child to reach for a book as a great way to fill time. Reading and speech are essential for success in life, and mastery-level language skills begin with a love for books.

Submitted by Guest Blogger, Dan Gilbert, on behalf of Primrose Schools. Educational, quality day care services from Primrose are committed to furthering each child’s development and learning, and they encourage all families to read together more often to promote early literacy. Dan has written a number of articles on topics varying from bilingual learning to teaching the importance of volunteering.

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Here are Two Stories BOTH TRUE – and worth reading. They were received in a recent email–not sure of the original author…

  STORY NUMBER  ONE

    Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago.  Capone wasn’t famous for anything heroic. He was notorious for enmeshing the windy city in everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.

      Capone had a lawyer nicknamed “Easy Eddie.” He was Capone’s lawyer for a good reason.  Eddie was very good!  In fact, Eddie’s skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time.

     To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well.  Not only was the money big, but Eddie got special dividends, as well.  For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day.  The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City block.

      Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him. 

      Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly.  Eddie saw to it that his young son had clothes, cars, and a good education. Nothing was withheld.   Price was no object.

      And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong.  Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he was.

      Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things he couldn’t give his son; he couldn’t pass on a good name or a good example.

      One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie wanted to rectify wrongs he had done.

      He decided he would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al “Scarface” Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some semblance of integrity.  To do this, he would have to testify against The Mob, and he knew that the cost would be great.  So, he testified.

      Within the year, Easy Eddie’s life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street.  But in his eyes, he had given his son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he could ever pay.  Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion, and a poem clipped from a magazine.

      The poem read:

      “The clock of life is wound but once, and no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop, at late or early hour.  Now is the only time you own. Live, love, toil with a will. Place no faith in time.  For the clock may soon be still.” 

STORY NUMBER  TWO

      World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Lieutenant Commander Butch O’Hare.

      He was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific.

      One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission.  After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank.

      He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship.

      His flight leader told him to return to the carrier.  Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet.

      As he was returning to the mother ship, he saw something that turned his blood cold; a squadron of Japanese aircraft was speeding its way toward the American fleet.

      The American fighters were gone on a sortie, and the fleet was all but defenseless.  He couldn’t reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet.  Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger.  There was only one thing to do.  He must somehow divert them from the fleet.

      Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes.  Wing-mounted 50 caliber’s blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another.  Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was finally spent. 

      Undaunted, he continued the assault.  He dove at the planes, trying to clip a wing or tail in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible, rendering them unfit to fly.

      Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another direction.

      Deeply relieved, Butch O’Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier.

      Upon arrival, he reported in and related the event surrounding his return.  The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale.  It showed the extent of Butch’s daring attempt to protect his fleet.  He had, in fact, destroyed five enemy aircraft. This took place on February 20, 1942, and for that action Butch became the Navy’s first Ace of W.W.II, and the first Naval Aviator to win the Medal of Honor.

      A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29.  His home town would not allow the memory of this WW II hero to fade, and today, O’Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great man.

      So, the next time you find yourself at O’Hare International, give some thought to visiting Butch’s memorial displaying his statue and his Medal of Honor.  It’s located between Terminals 1 and 2.

      SO WHAT DO THESE TWO STORIES HAVE TO DO WITH EACH OTHER?

      Butch O’Hare was “Easy Eddie’s” son.

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Here is another interesting article I got in an email. I keep looking for more stories for inspiration. When we look around we can see opportunities to help others everywhere. I don’t know the original author and would appreciate any information you may have about it. Write your comments below. MDP

THE OLD MAN!

As I came out of the supermarket that sunny day, pushing my cart of groceries towards my car, I saw an old man with the hood of his car up and a lady sitting inside the car, with the door open.

The old man was looking at the engine. I put my groceries away in my car and continued to watch the old gentleman from about twenty five feet away…

I saw a young man in his early twenties with a grocery bag in his arm, walking towards the old man. The old gentleman saw him coming too and took a few steps towards him.

I saw the old gentleman point to his open hood and say something. The young man put his grocery bag into what looked like a brand new Cadillac Escalade and then turn back to the old man and I heard him yell at the old gentleman saying, “You shouldn’t even be allowed to drive a car at your age.” And then with a wave of his hand, he got in his car and peeled rubber out of the parking lot.

He smiled sheepishly and quietly nodded his head. I looked under the hood myself and knew that whatever the problem was, it was beyond me. Looking around I saw a gas station up the road and told the old man that I would be right back… I drove to the station

And went inside and saw three attendants working on cars. I approached one of them and related the problem the old man had with his car and offered to pay them if they could follow me back down and help him.

For some reason I had gone about two blocks when I pulled over and took the card out of my pocket and looked at it for a long, long time. The name of the old gentleman was on the card in golden leaf and under his name………‘Congressional Medal of Honor Society.’

I sat there motionless looking at the card and reading it over and over. I looked up from the card and smiled to no one but myself and marveled that on this day, four Marines had all come together, because one of us needed help. He was an old man all right, but it felt good to have stood next to greatness and courage and an honor to have been in his presence.

Remember, OLD men like him gave you FREEDOM for America …Thanks to those who served….& those who supported them.

America is not at war. The U.S. Military is at war. America is at the Mall. If you don’t stand behind our troops, PLEASE feel free to stand in front of them! Remember, Freedom isn’t Free, thousands have paid the price so you can enjoy what you have today.

www.WritingMyStories.com

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This is taken from an email I got…I’m not sure who the original author was. I believe it is valuable to put on this site. Read it and follow the suggestions. If anyone knows who wrote the original, send us a comment and we will include a credit with the post.

“While we are here, we might as well dance”

Too many people put off something that brings them joy just because they haven’t thought about it, don’t have it on their schedule, didn’t know it was coming or are too rigid to depart from their routine.

I got to thinking one day about all those people on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to cut back. From then on, I’ve tried to be a little more flexible.

How many women out there will eat at home because their husband didn’t suggest going out to dinner until after something had been thawed? Does the word ‘refrigeration’ mean nothing to you?

How often have your kids dropped in to talk and sat in silence while you watched ‘Jeopardy’ on television?

I cannot count the times I called my sister and said , ‘How about going to lunch in a half hour?’ She would gas up and stammer, ‘I can’t. I have clothes on the line. My hair is dirty. I wish I had known yesterday, I had a late breakfast, It looks like rain’ And my personal favorite: ‘It’s Monday.’ She died a few years ago. We never did have lunch together.

Because Americans cram so much into their lives, we tend to schedule our headaches. We live on a sparse diet of promises we make to ourselves when all the conditions are perfect!

We’ll go back and visit the grandparents when we get Steve toilet-trained. We’ll entertain when we replace the living-room carpet. We’ll go on a second honeymoon when we get two more kids out of college.

Life has a way of accelerating as we get older. The days get shorter, and the list of promises to ourselves gets longer. One morning, we awaken, and all we have to show for our lives is a litany of ‘I’m going to,’ ‘I plan on,’ and ‘Someday, when things are settled down a bit.’

When anyone calls my ’seize the moment’ friend, she is open to adventure and available for trips. She keeps an open mind on new ideas. Her enthusiasm for life is contagious. You talk with her for five minutes, and you’re ready to trade your bad feet for a pair of Roller blades and skip an elevator for a bungee cord.

My lips have not touched ice cream in 10 years. I love ice cream. It’s just that I might as well apply it directly to my stomach with a spatula and eliminate the digestive process. The other day, I stopped the car and bought a triple-decker.. If my car had hit an iceberg on the way home, I would have died happy.
Now..go on and have a nice day. Do something you WANT to…not something on your SHOULD DO list.. If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?

Have you ever watched kids playing on a merry go round or listened to the rain lapping on the ground? Ever followed a butterfly’s erratic flight or gazed at the sun into the fading night? Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head? Ever told your child, ‘We’ll do it tomorrow.’ And in your haste, not see his sorrow? Ever lost touch? Let a good friendship die? Just call to say ‘Hi’?

When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift….Thrown away… Life is not a race. Take it slower. Hear the music before the song is over. Show your friends and family how much you care.

“Life may not be the party we hoped for…but while we are here, we might as well dance!”

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Not everyone is cut out to be the writer of novels, with long complex plots and characters that take on lives of their own. But almost any writer can compose a short story. Short story writing is sort of like writing a micro-novel. The writer still needs a plot, a premise and enough words to take the reader for a ride along with them. But, they won’t have the luxury of spending chapters to lay groundwork or fully develop the character’s personalities.

Short story writing requires the ability to keep the plot within the scope of the work, and then write the story within the context of the necessary word count. Word counts for short stories vary. Some are ridiculously long, five hundred words. Others can be closer to novella-length, allowing up to fifteen thousand words. But compared to a novel, they are short stories.

Like a novel, the short story will have an introduction. The writer will need to either layout their scheme for the short work or at least draw the reader in with an introduction that compels them to read further into the piece. The body of the story will take up most of the allotted word count, but it also is the place where the story itself unfolds, and thus, merits the space it is given.

The conclusion can be a summarization or a sudden, jolting finale, depending upon the tale. And while it is true that most short story writing is fictitious, there are occasions when a short story is based upon fact and thus, non-fiction. Either fiction or non-fiction, the story will still contain the same basic components. The writer well versed in the use of minimal words for maximum impact will find the art of short story writing one to which he or she is well suited and one at which they will succeed.

20ae

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Night Train…

(August, 1968, a Minnesota/San Francisco Story)

Night Train to San Francisco

When I went to San Francisco, I put my leather-bound suitcase under the backseat of where I sat and looked out the side window. I couldn’t afford a berth; it was three times the amount of the economy coach ticket. And back in 1968, when I was but twenty-years old, it didn’t make a difference: I kicked my shoes off, and as night come quickly, I couldn’t see much anyway. I tossed my black Swede jacket over me-over my shoulders, took a newspaper I found laying on the open seat next to me, turned on the overhead light and read the employment section.

“Turn off the light,” said the porter, “Everyone’s trying to get some sleep.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t want to. I’m not sleepy, Mister.”

“Well, I guess so,” he said, adding “we’ll be stopping in a few hours if you want to get off the train and stretch your feet for ten-minutes…” then he looked down at my feet, “you should put your shoes on,” he grumbled.

“No,” I said, “I’ll not put them out in the aisle, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He simply turned his head and walked away.

I got up went and went to the washroom, washed my face. I wasn’t tired; I walked about the train-although dimly lit in all compartments. (It was my second train ride I had taken one back from Seattle to St. Paul, Minnesota a year earlier where I had visited for a short while)- A few of the windows were left slightly open and the night summer’s air came in cool. The moon was like a big white button in the sky. There were lights in the distance that blurred as the iron horse raced by. We crossed into Chicago now, but soon were outside of it. I looked out the window to see the windy city but all I could see were railroad yards and freight cars lined up to kingdom come. Then suddenly we stopped-a dead stop, the porter came by again, “If you need cigarettes or anything, there’s a stand outside on the platform, be quick about it,” he said and I jumped up, crawled out from behind the two seats and onto the aisle, and then onto the landing place of the train station.

“Where are we?” I asked the owner of a stand, that was selling newspapers, magazines, cigarettes and warm quart beer, on the pier.

“Outside of Chicago, why?” he said and asked.

“No reason, give me a quart of beer.” I said.

“Will Hamm’s do?” he questioned.

“Yaw, how much?”

“$1.25 plus tax,” he quoted.

I paid the fellow, then the train started to move, and I found myself running to just make the train, jumping onto its step with one hand on the beer and the other on the railing. And there I stood in-between the two cars, and drank the quart down whole within a matter of minutes. Found a trash can, throw the empty bottle in it and went back to my original seat. An old lady was sitting in the seat next to mine, and I moved on over and round her, to the window side and fell to sleep. When I woke up the train had stopped again, we were someplace high up, it was cold and when I moved my jacket, the old lady pulled her arm back, as if it was searching for something, where it didn’t belong. I gave her a nasty look, one that perhaps said, it wasn’t safe for her anymore here, and when I’d come back she’d had gone.

“We’re going through cold country,” said the porter. We were in the mountains now. I put on my jacket, my shoes and reached under my seat to check if my suitcase was there, it was, and it was, thus, I moved out to find another quart of beer, rushing from one vender to another, then finding a little store on the pier, that was connected to the inside station and halfway out ontothe platform. And I could feel the cool air in my lungs, I let a Luck Strike, and walked into the store casual, knowing I was only twenty, still not old enough to drink, or buy alcohol, but I usually didn’t have a problem with that. Hence, I walked inside the small story, two Negros were sitting about on wooden stools, their shoeshine box in front of them “Youall wants a shoeshine boy?” asked the Negro with the black teeth, and open mouth.

“No, just a quart of beer,” I rambled.

The storekeeper was asleep behind the counter in the corner, his head against a cushioned pillow.

“Hay, Ollie, wake up, yous got a customer,” said the middle-aged Negro with the black teeth. When he smiled he opened up his mouth wider showing off his damaged gums, and spit into a spittoon, tobacco he was chewing, his eyes were as red as Merlyn Monroe’s lips; his head was the shape of football, towards the backend, he was wearing a brown fitted knitted cap, and his ears looked were the cauliflower type, as if he was at one time a boxer, perhaps forty-five, the other fellow was sleeping on his forearms and knees, back bent.

I went back to my seat on the train and she was gone altogether with her things, and so I drank the six-pack of beer without fret. And fell to sleep sometime between the fourth and fifth beer, because when I woke up, there were two half cans on the floor and one full one. I found my way back to the washroom carefully, as not to wake up the few folks still sleeping. The bathroom now smelled vulgar, pee and vomit were all over the seats, and no toilet paper.

Thereafter, I could smell the breakfast seep all the way down from the dining car, three cars up. I looked out the window at the plateau countryside. It was forty-shades of green, and lots and lots of telephone poles, and fine looking horses grazing, small hills, patches of forest here and three. Seeing all this appeared as if I had never left Minnesota, but there wasn’t one cornfield, not one, but it was nice looking country anyhow.

No: 640 (6-23-2010)

(Washington High School, St. Paul, Minnesota (1965…)

Hallway Monitor

Hatless, his youthful face clutched upon the noon atmosphere of the High School, or perhaps it was something in his daydreaming he was trying to figure out, leaning against the wall, a hallway monitor for Washington High School, during lunch periods, insuring there was no trouble-a senor (1965). Gayle Johnson saw him first. “My Gosh,” she said smiling at him, “isn’t he handsome,” she told her two schoolmates (often told her school mates, she had a crush on him).

And one could imagine young Chick Evens looking like that.

Also, one could imagine Gayle getting that look back from Chick, and, helping that uppermost purpose which two people-being both of them fine-looking in similar calm and ease-likened to Greek gods, as only youth could define, to both entering their dreams, was like a consecration.

After a moment, both their gazes returned to earth, and he acknowledged effortlessly to her greeting, “Hello,” she said. Her speech was tender, her eyes were large and very Midwestern, slumberous-absorbing, near paralyzing, deep blue with a soft white haze, around its oval shape, long eyelashes, peaceful mouth, and he had a compulsion to swallow her up right then and there, and he most likely had, after she left through those cafeteria doors down several stops and on into the lunchroom, leaving him to drift back into his day dreaming. These were eternal moments, of the school itself.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked her once at a High School dance.

“I suppose,” she said, looking around, as if to let her girlfriends know, look here.

He liked her very much, but there was nothing of a beggar in him. In his calm way, and beliefthat if it was meant to be, it would be. Perhaps just those smiles, served his appointed ends-that’s to say… how would it be with them two? He had probably never thought of it past those High School doors. He probably figured what she probably figured; it would all take care of its own. But it never did.

No: 639 (6-23-2010)

Dedicated to: Gayle Johnson

The Trombone Player & Rosa

St. Louis Cathedral (New Orleans, summer of 2000)

Rosa didn’t like but two things-so I discovered quickly on in our marriage, one, being put into the spot light (which she’d get used to in time)-she was shy in that way, and second, being too far away from me or separated from me for any lengthily time, matter-of-fact, once she said: “I didn’t get married to be alone,” and I simple was sitting on the edge of one of the two twin beds in our hotel room in Guatemala, she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the other twin bed across from me, some three feet away. So when we were in New Orleans, near St. Louis Cathedral, over by the benches, Jackson Park to one side of us, the Cathedral on the other, here was this tall black trombone player, a young pleasingly plump, man, with a long wrinkled blue t-shirt on, blue trousers just past his knees, dirty-brownish tennis shoes, gray socks, in the middle of the sidewalk, playing for loose change, it was a warm summer’s day, in 2000.

On my part I knew she didn’t like strange company, but I asked her nonetheless, to go put some loose change into the big five gallon container by the trombone player’s side, and stand by him so I could take her picture, and she hesitated, looked at me, as if a snake was going to bite her, “I want a picture, dear,” I said. And so she did as I asked, and the trombone player played on. He was young and when he played his trombone, he was very agile, his back arched around Rosa’s side not touching her but nearly, bending his head, the same way as his spine, to her head, and nearly touching her new blue leather hat, as she stood nearly frozen as an ice cube, or perhaps better put, a wooden Indian, as I readied my camera to take her picture. And the belly of the tall black Negro, this nearly charcoal black figure next to her, his shadow to her side swallowed her up whole. He bent his knees, and threw up the trombone as if into the air, touching and rubbing against his neck, as if he needed to feel its cool shiny brass, to blew the life notes out of its other end, as Rosa put on her captivating smile. Life was indeed good. You could almost feel the trombone player drawing deeper and deeper and deeper into the inner swirls of his stomach for air-and blasting it through the mouth piece.

To tell the truth, I think this happening broke the back of the shy rival in Rosa, forever driving that shy bone into limbo. She would in time, go on television over fifty-times and talk, and translate, and do magazine and newspaper interviews, and go up on stages with several hundred people and talk with her husband on the art of poetry. Nothing suddenly, but that one day was the awakening, she knew now she could do it. Something rattled inside of her that day, and forevermore victory, in the long run, it was colossal. Matter-of-fact, she’d go on her own radio show, and talk, and talk, and talk.

No: 637 (6-21-2010)

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Dad arrived home on his horse just before dark one evening c 1935 with his khaki handkerchief wrapped around his head and dried blood and dust all over his shirt. He was working about ten kilometers from home at the time. While yoking the team early in the morning, he reached across to put the key in the off side bullock bow when his foot slipped, and he fell on the sharp horn of the bullock. It pierced the skin and flesh of his jaw near the middle of his chin, and opened up his face right along his jaw bone almost to his ear.

The bone was exposed and the cut which was about four inches (100mm) long sagged open more than an inch (25mm). As he was working alone he took out his trusty old hanky and tied it around his face as best he could. He then completed his usual number of snigs for the day, and after unyoking and paddocking the bullocks he headed home. Kev was married and lived about a kilometer from us, and as Dad had to pass his place he called in to show Kev what had happened. Dad then rode home and Mum had to clean him up as best she could.

I was eight or nine years old at the time and can assure you the wound was not a pretty sight. After he recovered from the shock, Kev followed Dad home in his ute, and took him to the Doctor in Gympie who sewed it up. I forget how many stitches he used to pull it all together, but it was plenty. Dad was back at work a few days later. Those old timers were pretty tough.

If you have enjoyed this sort snippet of real Australian History. Visit here to read more excerpts of my life. I have put together a book of Australian short stories and it can be found at http://www.myreallifestories.com

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Learning to write well always begins with action verbs. I start my students out with a series of exercises in which they must write a short sequence of story using only single action verbs.

Most children use unending linking verbs – “he was walking,” instead of “he walked.” This is the difference between “telling” and “showing.” To be a good writer, my daughter must train herself to write with strong and interesting action verbs.

She will begin her short story project with a list of action verbs printed off the Internet. She will obtain a copy of Katherine Langreish’s Troll Fell, open it anywhere, and start copying word for word. I will have her spend some time doing this, circling the action verbs and underlining the participle phrases. If you want to learn to write well, I suggest you do the same.

To learn to write well, practice copying the best writers word for word. Let the flow of their word choices and patterns sink into your subconscious mind.

When you write, you will write in your own style. But if you have copied great writers, you will possess something more to draw from than the linking verb drivel of modern speech.

I will then assign my daughter to write a short story on any topic she chooses. I will briefly explain what a short story is, but she already knows that, having read many. I require three drafts. She must write the first one herself with little teaching from me. Once it is written, then I will teach her how to write a short story.

It is always better to make an attempt at doing something before you learn the finer points of doing it well. Just as you can’t steer a parked car, so you can’t teach someone who is not already personally involved in the subject.

However, I do have rubrics that I will use to show my daughter the exact requirements I want to see for each of her three drafts.

Teaching short story includes the history of the short story, and Edgar Allen Poe’s explanation of what a short story is. (He invented them, after all.) It includes a study of several great short stories and how they are constructed. It includes the development of character and suspense.

Once my daughter has successfully completed the third draft of her short story and published it on the Internet, we will switch the focus to great children’s stories.

She will copy Beatrix Potter’s “Peter Rabbit” word for word at least three times. She will underline all the action verbs. I will pick two or three other great children’s stories for her to copy as well.

We will look at the principles of writing children’s stories as well as the history of stories written for children.

Science and math in a short story writing project? Let’s just say we have that part on hold. Maybe some small and relevant task or study will come to view before we finish the project.

I will also attempt to connect my daughter with a real children’s book writer so that she can correspond back and forth about her work.

Again, she will write three drafts for her children’s story (or more). I will create a rubric for each draft so she will know what is expected.

When she has finished her final draft, she will fit it into an Adobe InDesign document, merging her story with the sketches she has also developed.

We will publish her illustrated children’s book and offer it for sale on the Internet.

She will log around 100 hours in her project account book as well as keep a journal of notes on the things she learns about the writing of short stories.

My daughter will have both of her “published” stories to keep for years. People she will never meet will read and enjoy them.

This is project-led learning.

If you need further information about project-led learning, contact us through http://www.YguideAcademy.com/ProjectLedLearning.html We would love to help you develop your project ideas into meaningful learning experiences.

Help your child build his or her own business with Micro-Business for HighSchoolers, a nine month course that guides step-by-step in the creation of a real-world business, while learning a whole lot. This course could easily become a central part of your child’s high school education. Check it out at http://www.YguideAcademy.com/MicroBusiness.html

Copyright 2009 by YGuide Publishing, Inc.. Freely use without changes, including links.

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Back with more news for you today. It’s amazing how much good information there is on this stuff out there if you know where to look. Three in particular that I found really valuable were…

Learn to Write Children’s Book characters that touch the heart!

Another reason you want to learn to write characters for children ’s good that the characters can stand alone.Although there is no story without characters, there are also signs of a story. A beautiful example is the Wizard of Oz Toto …

Some Of The Most Practical Book Advertising Ideas — US Business …

Many authors host a forum where fans can discuss the writer’s stories, make suggestions, and ask questions. Just as writing a new and intriguing novel takes imagination and persistence, so does advertising one’s book. … It also helps direct the book as a product straight to the audience it’s meant for; Cooking magazines for a cook-book, and a children’s journal for youth-targeted fantasy. From inside the bookstore, authors and their tales can immediately reach book …

YoungWriters.ME » Blog Archive » Advice to Aspiring Writers. a …

Advice to Aspiring Writers. a Speech at the Awards Ceremony for the Libros International Children?s Writing Competition. 20 July 2007. Lіkе thе students whο entered thіѕ competition, I ongoing prose whеn I wаѕ quite young. I wrote a lot οf poetry іn mу early … Yου come асrοѕѕ something уου rесkοn іѕ worth recording аnԁ уου write іt down. Sometimes іt mіɡht bе a review οf a book οr a concert. Yου mіɡht bе doing research οn ѕοmе topic аnԁ need a рƖасе tο keep notes. …

Hope you enjoy the read as much as I did and please if you have something to say, use the comments form below to let everyone know your thoughts.

Have a great day!

3 Really Great Ideas For Writing A Sibling Eulogy

When we are kids, it is natural to fight with our brothers and sisters. It’s just the way things are. As adults, we often still fight with our siblings. However, for many of us, our relationships with our brothers and sisters intensify as we get older.

Our siblings are, in many ways, the only other people who experienced the same things we did as children. We have the same family, and often, similar characteristics (that’s probably why we fight).

The death of a sibling is a confusing time. For some, it’s like losing a piece of themselves. For others, it’s a sign of their own mortality. Some people see the death of a sibling as breaking a connection to their past and, some view such a loss as a lost opportunity to be closer.

No matter what you’re feeling, you’ve been called upon to eulogize your brother or sister. Your eulogy can take many forms. You can use it as a chance to share family stories—funny or serious. You can use it as an opportunity to share your feelings about your brother or sister with the world. And, you can take this chance to make everyone aware of how special your sibling was.

1. Traditional Brother Eulogy: Describe a humorous spat between you and your brother as children—a tussle over a favorite toy or jealousy over who got the bigger piece of cake, for example. Describe a time when, as children, your brother showed you some kindness or did something nice. Describe a time when you realized that your brother was a good person as an adult. This is an opportunity to discuss your brother’s adult life as a husband, a father, a career person or military person. Name ways in which you and your brother were similar. Use examples.

2. Traditional Sister Eulogy: Share a story from your1000childhood. Describe a time when, as children, your sister showed you some kindness or did something nice. Share stories about your adult lives. These can be humorous or serious. List her accomplishments including family, charity work, career, interests, etc. List some of the positive influences your sister had on others.

3. Traditional Sibling Letter: Writing a letter to your sibling is often a popular choice. Write it like you would you was speaking directly to them. Mention things that stand out from when you were a kid. Mention the lessons that they taught you through your life.

Losing a sibling is very difficult, to say the least. It brings death to a complete realization for many of us. No one can know you as well as a sibling since they were there with you growing up, every step of the way.

By: Hal Stevens

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Hal is the author of several critically acclaimed eBooks specifically written to help people deal with end of life issues. His eBooks include topics such as: cremation, writing and delivering a eulogy, eco-friendly green funerals, funeral planning, organ donation, and buying and selling cemetery plots. To find out more about his CemeterySpot family of free services and resources, to learn more about his books, and to get a free gift, please visit: www.cemeteryspot.com.

Technorati Tags: How to Write Children\'s Stories, Writing Children Stories

Back with more news for you today. It’s amazing how much good information there is on this stuff out there if you know where to look. Three in particular that I found really valuable were…

Cremain of Boyzone Member Backs London

He also mentioned a children’s story book named The Tree of Seasons which cost Stephen three years to write. He said, “Actually, Stephen has already almost finished the ending of the story. But it has a little should be completed. … at the funeral, friends and relatives of Stephen suggest that present people donate money instead of flowers. As a result, 10000 pounds have been donated to Caudwell, a children`s charit in which Stephen is the publicity ambassador. …

Cremain of Boyzone Member Backs London | rool

He also mentioned a children’s story book named The Tree of Seasons which cost Stephen three years to write. He said, “Actually, Stephen has already almost finished the ending of the story. But it has a little should be completed. … As a result, 10000 pounds have been donated to Caudwell, a children`s charit in which Stephen is the publicity ambassador. This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 13th, 2010 at 8:51 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. …

Off Science – Burger Blurb

There are many reasons to write a science fiction blog. Perhaps the best reason is that the field is far from saturated, on the contrary there are few if any fantastic science fiction websites. There is some free science fiction out … Time travel offers a great topic for science fiction short stories. Time machines, paradoxes, disasters, are all rich fields offering many unique stories. But what makes a great time travel story? It’s always about something you never …

Hope you enjoy the read as much as I did and please if you have something to say, use the comments form below to let everyone know your thoughts.

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How to Write Short Stories for Children

Every person during his/her childhood has heard a lot of stories and fairy tales. Most of them are fictional barring a few that are based on actual events. It is not at all difficult to write short stories, all that you need is a good command over the language and a bit of creativity. Apart from these there are certain things that need to be taken care of like the beginning of the story, the ending etc.

If you want to try writing short stories for small children then here are few tips that will make your story the best.

An appealing and an interesting beginning will arouse the curiosity of the reader which will keep them glued to the story till the end. But before you start writing the first paragraph, you must decide on several story elements. Consider choosing the following before you write the first paragraph:

1. Setting (This is where the story takes place.)

2. Time (Commonly most short stories cover a day or up to a week. If your short story covers a month, you will probably need a shorter time period.)

3. Major conflict (that is the main problem that the characters will solve.)

4. Characters (it is advisable to have 2-4 characters in your story. The plot tends to get complicated if you have more than 4 characters)

5. Ending (There should be a resolution and all of the loose ends should be tied up.)

Once you have decided on the basic story elements, the next thing is to decide on the major element of the story i.e. the target audience. In the case of short stories it is the children whom we target.

After choosing the major story element you can start writing your story. If there are any conversations between the characters which are referred to as dialogues then just keep in mind that each time a different character talks, you need to indent and start a new paragraph. To come up with better dialogues it is suggested to put yourself in the shoes of the characters you are creating as this will help you come up with realistic dialogues.

Read the stories of other writers to get an idea of how to go about writing short stories. Consider reading some folklore stories, which are available on the internet.

Although you read stories of other authors it is really important to have your own style of writing. The story you write should be different from the ones you have read, in other words the story should be unique. This way you can attract more child readers and at the same time make a good name as a popular author in a short span of time.

For more information and for help with poetry publishing visit kids stories where there are many authors willing to help.

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