Writing and Walking
I had no idea what to write in this week’s post, but I’ve come to realise and believe that each week, something will pop into my head. I guess you can call it confidence, this feeling it will eventually and definitely come and I started relating that to stories. There will always be those we struggle with more than others. Maybe the words won’t flow, the story seems flat, it’s not powerful enough or sometimes you know it’s not right, but you can’t work out why.
This is why we all need an honest writing buddy, a writing group or a trusting editor to guide and point us in the right direction. Often it’s simple, maybe a change in point of view, a slashing back or a change of pace and someone else, looking at our writing with fresh eyes, can pinpoint this immediately. Sometimes it takes much longer to get the nuts and bolts in place and the planets aligning.
I believe we get too close to our stories sometimes – know them too well, have read them too often that we can no longer see their shortfalls or problems.
I have absolutely no pattern or plan in the way I write. Sometimes the idea builds easily into a story structure – conflict stares me in the face and the beginning, middle, end and storyline build around it. Other times an idea needs to sit, simmer and just be until I feel it calling me back ready to run away with it.
The best thing for me is to walk – idea or draft story literally on a piece of paper in my hand. Doing this I find that hiccups and problems seem to solve themselves – sounds crazy but they sometimes drop into the top of my head.
I’m off now for one of my walks – hiccup story in hand and I’m sure that on my return the answer will be there, knocking on my door. Walk and write, it works, I promise.
School Visit with the Preps on Flame Stands Waiting
Just over 5 years ago, a week or so before my first picture book ‘Queenie One Elephant’s Story’ was about to hit the shelves, my old school friend, also the Librarian at a nearby primary school, suggested I visit her school to deliver my first author presentation to the kids.
My palms were sweaty, my knees shook and I recall being terrified of the Year 6 boys in particular. I ‘survived’ through the younger groups, each one becoming a little easier, then came the Grade 6’s. Two boys I’ll never forget, stood apart from the rest of the class, leaning on the bookcases, their body language screaming out loud and clear – ‘We’re too old for picture books.’
As I told Queenie’s story, little by little those two moved closer and at the end of the session, it was these boys who came up and told me what a wonderful story it was.
So 5 years and I think hundreds of presentations later, yesterday I went back to visit my friend at the same school, this time to read ‘Flame Stands Waiting’ to three classes of brand new preps.
I read the story to wide-eyed 5 year olds and showed them my power-point photo collection of carousels from all over the world. Then to the beautiful strains of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s ‘Carousel’ they followed me up and down, round and round in a circle pretending they were a carousel horse called Flame. Apart from anything else, it’s wonderful exercise and the preps were a delight.
Although I had some photos of the children and me in action, facing away from the camera, I’ve decided not to post it as a few little faces turned towards the camera and I don’t have permission to use their photos. Instead, I’ve included a photo of me with ‘Flame Stands Waiting’ and the horse I call Flame.
Me at Luna Park, Melbourne with 'Flame Stands Waiting'
School Visit to Rainbow
Last Wednesday two fellow authors, an author/illustrator and myself, traveled to the small Victorian township of Rainbow in the Victorian wheat belt area to talk to the students at the Primary School, the Secondary School and the kindergarten. It was a celebration and sharing of books, story and artwork with the wonderful children, teachers and the wider community and a privilege for us to spend a few precious days enjoying country town life.
The Tree in the Park
I took this photo of the Dogwood in our backyard which reminded me of a poem I wrote when I was 15. It’s as it appeared in my school magazine . . . just a few years ago.
Oh, big tree, so cold and bare,
Why do you sway in the cold winter air?
Why do you stand so tall and so strong,
Adding sounds to the winter throng?
Your branches are long, your trunk is wide
It measures ten feet to the other side.
You sway all day, and all the night,
No other tree reaches your magnificent height.
But soon the spring will come again,
Your boughs will be covered, all blossoming,
The birds and the bees will shelter thereon,
While whistling and humming their merry song.
When September winds make the blossom fall,
The leaves appear on the tree so tall,
The branches are covered from trunk to limb
And the green leaves flutter enjoying the wind.
The summer sun makes green leaves brown,
And many fall upon the ground,
Butterflies, moths and thistle-tops fly,
Above the tree, high into the sky.
But soon the sun must slowly fade,
The tree will cease to provide much shade,
For, you see, the ground is covered,
With large flat leaves of many colours.
So once again the tree is bare
As its branches sway in the cold winter air,
It stands so straight, so tall, so strong,
Its branches creaking, through winter long.
Corinne Fenton
The Dogwood in our backyard
Used to be Footsteps
Footsteps
used to be
along the tracks
beside the creek
all about the woodpiles.
Footprints
used to be
in the dirt
on the grass
under the willow tree.
Where they once walked,
played and wandered
part of them
will always be
a wisp of memory . . .
used to be footsteps.
Sugar Maree
Cinnamon William
Corinne Fenton