LLTW - June 2014

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Another good turn out for the Lowestoft Library Teen Writing Group this week, with six creative writers turning up.

This session we each wrote a 26 line story, where each sentence began with a different letter of the alphabet (in sequence).  This is a bit like an acrostic/abecedarian poem, but obviously using prose.  We had fun trying to think of words beginning with the more difficult letters of the alphabet.  I think a little cheat should be allowed with X, as we could only think of 'xenophobic' and 'xylophone', which didn't really fit in with anyone's stories, so words beginning with ex- were allowed (exciting, example, explore, extend ...).

While writing this I found that I don't know my alphabet as well as I should!  We can all recite it, but when it comes to knowing which letter follows on from another, out of context, it can be quite tricky!

Anyway, here's my story.

-----

A few years ago the world was subject to a terrible catastrophe.  Bombs were dropped on all major capital cities, killing millions of innocent people.  Catharine should have been in London on that fateful day, but a power cut has meant that her alarm hadn't gone off, and she slept in till 10am.  Dragging herself out of bed, bleary eyed, she sighed as the red lights on her clock came into focus.  'Eric should have called me,' she thought, as she reached for her phone, which was sitting on her bedside table.  From the flat next door, Catharine could hear old Mrs. Jacobson sobbing and wailing like a deranged banshee.  Groaning, she pounded her fist on her bedroom wall in the hope it would quieten down her neighbour, but the crying just got louder.  Her phone vibrated in her hand, but when she looked down she was disappointed to see that it wasn't Eric, but instead her battery was dying.  Irritability started to set in as Catharine scrambled about under her bed looking for the right charger cable for her phone.  "Just how many of these things do I need?" she mumbled whilst untangling the wires.  Kneeing herself in those nose as she stood up, Catharine grumbled and flopped back onto the bed.  Laughing, she pulled a pillow over her face.  Moments later her phone vibrated loudly.  NICOLE flashed across the screen, and Catharine knew to never ignore a call from Nicole.

"Oh my goodness, where have you been?" Nicole screamed into Catharine's ear.  "Please tell me you're alive, I couldn't bear it if something had happened to you," she continued.

Quickly, Catharine opened her mouth to speak, but, as always, Nicole carried on talking before waiting for an answer.

"Really, you should let your best friend know if you're dead or alive, if nothing else.  Something like that should be at the top of your list, you know.  Talk to me Catharine, I'm begging you."

"Uumm, my alarm didn't go off, and I feel like I've been kicked in the face, which I kind of have been, but with a knee rather than a foot, and I'm a bit confused as to why you're panicking more than usual," Catharine answered.

"Vap-a-rize dropped their bombs today," Nicole said solemnly.

"What are you talking about?" Catharine asked.  Exhaling slowly, the penny dropped.

"You must remember, they've been threatening to drop them for ages, and today, this morning, first thing, they annihilated the world's major capital cities; London being one of them," Nicole blurted out.  "Zombie apocalypse annihilation would be a day at the beach compared to this."

-----

Our next meeting is on Wednesday 2nd July, 5-6pm, at Lowestoft Library.

LLTW - May 2014

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Due to work, I was unable to hold Lowestoft Library Teen Writing Group for a few months, but with a change of day we are all back up and running.  We now meet on the first Wednesday of each month, 5-6 pm, in the library cafe.  The age limits have also been extended from 11 years old to 18 years old.  This is because I received a lot of interest from younger writers, and I wanted to be able to provide a writing community for them too.

So now the group has 7 members, which is great.  All girls though.  It would be nice to see some boys who want to take part, but I certainly can't complain.

Another change is that I've stopped giving homework.  A couple of them are taking exams now, and what with school work for the others, they're not going to have time for writing group homework too.

So we met on Wednesday 7th May, and 6 people turned up.  I know they're young, and fairly shy, but I want them to have confidence in their work and their ability to share.  Last time I asked them to bring along some work to read out to the group.  Two girls did this, and I was so pleased with what they had written and the fact that they were brave enough to read it out.

In the session I gave everyone a copy of a story plan.

I asked everyone to fill in one box and then pass their paper on to the person sitting on their right.  We carried on doing this until we had filled in all the boxes.

I ended up with this outline for a story - 

Title

Mirror Shards

Setting

A city in the shadow of an active volcano, with a corrupt government & eruption day nearing.

Main Characters

Shana - Oblivious to everything.  She thinks the volcano won't erupt.

Emmy - Determined to get Shana to realise that the volcano is going to erupt someday.

Supporting Characters

American police officer - Ignorant to the corrupt government.  Aims to help everyone he can, but isn't too smart.

Problem

Emmy has an evil twin, is taking over the world, trying to get Emmy to be evil too.  Only one thing can stop her, has no idea what it is.

Solution

Hire a vigilante spider to conquer all foes and problems.  He returns to the centre of the earth.  Can be called upon whenever Earth is in need.

Although there wasn't much time left, we all started to write the story from our plans.

Shana sits on her balcony, staring out at the mountain in the distance.  She smiles at the occasional black puff of smoke which pops out of the top.  She sees the mountain as a friend, someone she can confide in.  She knows that the mountain won't judge.  She knows it won't leave her.  Her family left her a long time ago.  They left her alone, running scared, believing that the mountain was a volcano and that it would erupt soon.  Shana didn't understand the panic.  As soon as it started smoking, six weeks ago, people started to leave the town in their droves.  But Shana didn't believe anything bad would happen.  The mountain was her friend.

*****

If everyone wanted to finish the story for homework they could, but they didn't have to.

Our next meeting will be on Wednesday 4th June.

LLTW - December

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I have to apologise for not posting about my teen writing group.  It is still going; I've just had a hectic few months and time has escaped me.  But I will find time from now on.

So we met on Monday 9th December, and I had two of my regular girls and a new girl.

I've stopped setting homework as they weren't doing it.  They have a lot of homework from school and college so I don't really want to add extra pressure.

As it's coming up to Christmas, I thought we would try our hands at writing a Christmas song.  I'm not particularly musical myself, but I managed to scribble down some lyrics.  I don't have a tune for them - maybe someone could help me out with that.

Oh, and it's untitled.

Wrap yourself up inside of your coat

And pull your hat down on your head

Or stay inside where it's nice and warm

And snuggle up cosy in your comfortable bed

It's winter, it's cold

Ice drips from your nose

But that's how it goes

When it's nearly Christmas

Stock up your cupboards with mountains of food

And eat it all until your gut explodes

Sitting on the sofa, watching specials on the tells

Hibernating while the gritters blanket the roads

It's winter, it's cold

Ice drips from your nose

But that's how it goes

When it's nearly Christmas

Do your shopping online to escape the queues

And have your gifts delivered to your door

Spend your evenings in your pyjamas

Wrapping presents, sprawled out on the floor

-----

That's as far as I got.  Perhaps I shouldn't give up my day job!

Anyway, our next meeting will be on Monday 13th January 2014, 5-6pm in the library cafe.  If you're interested in coming or you'd like some more information you can e-mail me at rebeccah.giltrow@suffolklibraries.co.uk   

LLTW - June

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Today was the June meeting for the Lowestoft Library Teen Writers writing group.  Numbers were low again, but I'm putting that down to exams.  So we were just two strong (plus me); one 'oldie' and one new person.  She contacted me via an advert about the group I'd put up on Streetlife, so I guess it pays to put yourself out there.  I'd just like a few more so that we can be called a group and not a duo!

Anyway, homework from last session was to write something from your pet's perspective.

Hey, hey, hello, hellooooooo?!  Wake up.  I'm awake, you need to be awake too.  Come on.  If you don't get up now I'm going to get you up.  No?  Ok, you asked for it.  One, two, three, and stretch, and push.  Have you put on weight?  Don't you dare roll over.  Well this calls for drastic measures.  Your head looks lovely and comfortable.  I think I'll just sit there until you decide to move.  Don't mind me.  I've got all day.  Oi.  No need to be like that.  There you go, that wasn't too difficult now was it?  I'll let you get dressed, but don't take too long about it.  I'll be waiting by the front door when you're ready.

***

Hello?  Come on.  I know I said I had all day, but if you take any longer you'll end up with a puddle right here where I'm sitting, and you know how much you hate indoor puddles.  There you go.  Don't forget the poo bags.  Wow it's cold.  How about we stay inside for a bit, just until it warms up?  No?  Alright then.  Off we go.  Hello!  Hello!  Where is everyone?  Wake up, it's me, Lily.  Hello!  What's that smell?  Hang on.  Wait a minute.  It's that wall.  I said wait.  *sniff sniff*  Hmm, it smells familiar but I don't know who it is.  Hmm never mind, I'll just cover it up with my smell.  Ah, that's better.  Ok, I'm done.  Let's go.  Where are we going?  Down to the beach?  Really?  Aw, I love the beach.  It's this way, come on.  Come.  On.  We're nearly there.  Let's have a race.  I bet you I get there before you.  I'm going to win.  Ha ha.  I knew it.  Unclip that lead from my collar.  That's better.  Freedom!  What have you got there?  What's that?  A stone?  Can I have it?  No?  Why did you throw it away?  I'll go and get it for you.  Found it!  What have you got there?  What's that?  A stone?  Can I have it?  No?  Why did you throw it away?  I'll go and get it for you.

*****

In the session I thought it would be a good idea to introduce some various poetic forms.  I used to love writing poetry, but I haven't properly written any in a while.

Abecedarian - a poem/story consisting of 26 words, with each word beginning with a different letter of the alphabet.  There is a little 'cheat' here, where the X word can begin with X or it can be an 'eX' word (such as 'eXpress' or 'eXcited').

A boy called Derek entered fashion groups, hollering, "I just know liposuction makes necks oblong, perhaps quite rectangular.  Square torsos, undoubtedly vex women, except young zoners.

Cinquain - a five line poem following a set pattern - 

line 1 = 1 word (noun/subject)
line 2 = 2 words (adjectives relating to line 1)
line 3 = 3 words (action/-ing verbs relating to line 1)
line 4 = 4 word sentence (feelings relating to line 1)
line 5 = 1 word synonym (of the word used in line 1)

Lily

fluffy, fuzzy

barking, sleeping, eating

welcomed heart-warming cuddles

puppy

Limerick - a five line poem (usually funny) with an aabba rhyme scheme.

There once was a woman called Becka

Who stole a London red double decker

She drove through the wall

Of the central town hall

And became known as the building bus wrecker

Etheree - a ten line poem, where each line contains the same amount of syllables as the number of the line.

Time

it flies

it stands still

it floats around

yet gets trapped by man

behind small glass windows

on wrists and on walls in rooms

where no-one goes and no-one cares

but people chase it and they want more

they should just enjoy it while they have it

***

Our next meeting will be on Monday 8th July, 5-6pm, in Lowestoft Library cafe.  Our homework is to write a review of something (a book, song, film, place).

LLTW - May

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This afternoon, Lowestoft Library Teen Writers had their May meeting.  Only two girls came along, but they reminded me that it's exam time, so it's understandable that people would be revising rather than writing stories.

Homework from last session was to write about birth and death in whatever capacity.  So it could be the birth/death of a person, an animal, something in nature, an idea, anything that could be born and die.  One girl wrote a lovely poem, starting with a woman sitting at her husband's deathbed, going backwards through their life, taking in the birth of their child, and ending at the couple's meeting.

I haven't written anything *tut tut me* because this past month has been busy what with starting work and some other bits and pieces, but I've got an idea for what I want to write so I'll do it in the next few days and post it up here.

*****

At the start of the session, I set my phone's alarm to go off in 5 minutes and asked the group to just write.  There was no theme or topic.  Everyone just had to write what was in their head.  Even if it ended up being "I don't know what to write."  That 5 minutes went really quickly.

Silence.  Unknowing silence.  But is silence ever silent?  The rumble of the vending machine.  The chatter of library customers.  The squeak of the automatic doors as they strain to open and close.  Who would have thought that a pen gliding across a page would make a noise?  Feet shuffling, breaths taken in then expelled.  The tick ticking of my brain trying to think of something to write.  Does the voice inside my head sound like anyone?  Can it be programmed like a satnav?  Can I be Joanna Lumley or Dale Winton when I think?  But I don't think I want my internal monologue to be narrated by them.  Perhaps Ray Winstone.  People outside. I wouldn't want to have their voices inside my head.

*****

After completing the A-Z Challenge, I've been thinking about the alphabet quite a bit, and wanted to incorporate something alphabetical into the writing group tasks.  We all wrote the alphabet, and next to each letter we wrote the first work we could think of beginning with that letter.  Any word; nouns, adjectives, verbs, people, anything.

A - acrobat

B - bottle

C -cold

D - dangerous

E - enormous

F - friend

G - garage

H - hospital

I - indigo

J - Japan

K - kite

L - lovely

M - money

N - November

O - open

P - pickle

Q - queen

R - rainbow

S - star

T - table

U - undertaker

V - vagabond

W - waterfall

X - xylophone

Y - yellow

Z - zoo

Once we had our words, we used them to write a story.  I didn't manage to use all my words in the time we had to write, but I may eventually get around to finishing it!

Jerome was an acrobat.  His mother feared for his life whenever he performed.  She had wanted him to follow in his father's footsteps and take over the family business.  Jerome had never wanted to be an undertaker.  Putting make-up on dead bodies was not how he wanted to spend the rest of his days.  As a child he would spend his weekends jumping off the garage roof onto a pile of sofa cushions.  He'd only had to go to the hospital twice; once for a broken wrist and the other to get stitches in his eyebrow.  The dangerous heights appealed to him.  The risk, flying into the unknown.  He imagined himself to be a kite, soaring above the clouds, with the breeze tickling his belly, until he'd belly-flop onto the cushions and scrape himself along the gravel.  After a while Jerome started to collect bruises, watching his skin turn bright indigo, then yellow, then back to normal.  He'd even charge his friends a pound a go to prod them in the hope they'd last longer.  He made himself quite a bit of money through this venture.  One cold, November evening, Jerome treated his parents to tickets to the circus.  He was in his element.  The big top was enormous and the people were so excited.  Jerome's mother and father held their breath every time an acrobat soared through the air, but Jerome stood up and cheered.  That night he stood by his window and gazed out across the night sky.  The stars twinkled.  He knew that wishing on a star was futile, but he did it anyway.  Every night he wished he could be an acrobat.  He practised whenever he could.  He jumped off walls and tables, and jumped out of trees, and off the swings and over the climbing frames, at the park, at school, at the zoo, at the beach.  Wherever he could jump and tumble he would jump and tumble.

*****

The next meeting is on Monday 10th June, 5pm-6pm, in the library cafe.  Homework for next session is to put yourself in the mind of your pet.

LLTW April

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Today was the April meeting of the Lowestoft Library Teen Writing Group.  Only two people turned up, which was a shame.  But I guess as we are smack bang in the middle of the Easter holidays, people have plans.

Our homework from last session was to put your ipod (or mp3 player) on shuffle, write down the titles of the first ten songs, and use those titles in a story.  The titles that came up when I played my music weren't brilliant, but that's part of the risk, so I'm afraid there are a couple of cheats but I'm sure I can be forgiven for that.

1. 'Suburban Culture' by Matinee Club
2. 'Adina' by Rancid
3. 'Figure.09' by Linkin Park
4. 'Painting Hours' by Just Jinger
5. 'Another Night In The Hills' by Gavin Rossdale
6. 'The Ballad of Michael Valentine' by The Killers
7. 'Om Nia Merican' by Saul Williams
8. 'Scratch Attack II' by Buck 65
9. 'Outro' by Buck 65
10. 'Stay With Me' by Finch

I must have an odd taste in music, because not all of these songs can be found on YouTube (not that it matters; I just wanted to share them with you).

I hang up my phone after a brief conversation with my best friend, Carrie.  I drop back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling.  She sounded different.  Not that she has a normal way of sounding.  I could just sense something not quite right.  She wants me to go over to hers.  "Please," she begged.  "Please come and stay with me.  I don't want to be on my own."  I've never known her to beg for anything.  

I don't really want to go and spend another night in the hills, in her spooky old house, miles away from any sort of life.  She likes the solitude.  It helps her with her art, she says.  It helps her get back to nature, she says.  I'm not so sure.  I fear that, before long, she'll be wandering through the wilderness, half-naked, ripping animals' heads off with her teeth.  I pack an overnight bag and get in the car.  I watch the remnants of my familiar suburban culture disappear into the distance in my read view mirror and I focus on the long stretch of road ahead of me.  My car stumbles along the bumpy, dirt track that leads to her house.  

I find Carrie sitting on the porch, cross-legged, eyes closed, mumbling something that sounds like 'Om Nia Merican'.  I can't work out if she's meditating or has actually gone mad.  I walk past her into the house, and dump my bag on the sofa, which will fold out and become my bed in a few hours.  My duvet and pillow are already on the armchair.  Adina, Carrie's cat, weaves her way around my ankles.  I bend down to stroke her.  

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Carrie says, standing in the doorway.  She holds up a bandaged wrist.  

"What happened?" I ask.  

"Scratch attack number two," she says.  

"What was number one?" I ask.  

She turns around and lifts up her top.  Her back is covered in blotchy, pink ridges.  I suck in a breath of air.

"Don't ask," she says.

I don't want to know.

"Do you know what I've been doing all day?" she asks.

I shrug.

"Painting.  I've been painting.  Hours upon hours of sitting in front of a canvas.  And do you know what I've come up with?" she says.

I shrug again.

"This," she says, dramatically pulling a sheet away from a picture.

"Oh," I say, squinting at it.  I want to be nice about her work, but I don't really understand it.

"It's called 'Figure.09'," she says.

"Are there Figures.01 to .08?" I ask.

She nods, and looks defeated.

"So what was the urgency in me coming to stay?" I ask.

"I don't know.  I've just been getting stressed over these paintings.  I needed a break and someone to take my mind off everything," she says.

"Well, here I am," I say.

She smiles at me and takes my hand.  We walk upstairs and she pushes open the door to the room she uses to store her completed pieces.

"Just wait in here a minute, there's something I want to show you," she says.

I reach a hand around the door frame and turn on the light.  I've never liked going into dark rooms.  You never know what's hiding in there.  I walk over to her easel and look at the self-portrait.

"This is amazing," I tell her.

She's not there.  I sit on the windowsill and look out into the night.  The door slams shut behind me.  I turn to look and hear the lock click.

"Carrie?" I shout.  There's silence.  "Carrie!" I shout again.  "What's going on?"

A piece of paper slides under the door.  There's no way out Robert, is scrawled in blue crayon.  I lean up against the door.  I can sense she's on the other side.

"Carrie," I whisper.  "Please."

"I'm sorry," she says.  "It has to be this way."

"What way?"  I shout.  "What way?!"

The lights go off and a record player starts up.  It's 'The Ballad of Michael Valentine'.  On repeat.

*****

Today was a bit of a mess.  Firstly, the room we normally use had been double booked by the teen readers so there was a bit of sorting out to so there.  Secondly, as World Book Night is coming up, The Friends of Lowestoft Library have set up a tree where people can write about their favourite books on the leaves.  So I asked my writers to write a leaf.  They wrote about 'Matilda' by Roald Dahl, and 'Alice in Wonderland' by Lewis Carroll.  I still have to write my leaf.  I'll stick them to the tree when I'm at the library tomorrow.  

The book leaves took a lot longer than I thought it would, especially with only two people in the group.  So that only left us with about 20 minutes to do a writing task.  This month has been quite busy, and today zoomed up without warning, so I hadn't particularly planned anything for the writing task (tut tut me, I know, but I promise I will sort something better out for next month).  I just cut some pictures out of a magazine and asked them to choose one to use as inspiration.  As we only had a short amount of time, we didn't really come up with much.  Hopefully next month will be a bit more organised!

I picked a picture of a family camping.  Sorry for the bad quality of the image, I took a picture of it with my phone and they don't always come out very well.

Dad and Uncle James were fighting with the tent poles; as soon as one side of the tent was up, the other side fell down.  Mum and Aunt Jane were standing over the barbecue, turning suspicious looking sausages, black on one side, pink on the other.  My cousin, Ed, was sitting on a tree stump, pulling out blades of grass and eating them.  His sister, Joanne, was running around in circles, swinging her doll by its hair.  I was looking through the tool box in the back of James' van and planning on how I would kill them all in their sleep.

*****

Hmm, a bit of a morbid month for me there.  And I'm afraid it's going to continue as the homework is about life and death, to write a piece where something/someone is born and something/someone dies.  It can be a person, an animal, a plant, an idea.

We will be meeting again on Monday 13th May, 5pm-6pm, in the Library cafe.

LLTW - March

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The Lowestoft Library Teen Writing group met today, even though the snow has been falling pretty thick and fast.  But we all managed to make our way into the library to do some writing.  Our main topic of conversation was a video about a man carrying a sloth across the road, to the sound of 'I Believe I Can Fly' by R Kelly.  In between lulz and giggles, we did get some writing done.

*****

Homework from last time was to write a story; you wake up in a white room, on a white bed, wearing white.  What happens next ...?  *dun dun duuuuuun*

It's all a bit hazy to start with.  I remember waking up to a loud noise, it was something like a high pitched bell ringing.  When I woke up, I couldn't see anything.  My eyes couldn't adjust to anything.  The ringing kept going and going.  I managed to pull myself up and sit on the edge of the bed.  My head felt heavy and empty.  I couldn't remember how I got there or where I was before.  I shouted for the noise to stop but I couldn't hear my voice.  I stood up and leaned up against the wall next to the bed.  The noise stopped.  I slid down the wall and sat on the ground.  The noise started again.  I quickly stood up and the noise stopped again.  I had to keep telling myself to stay standing even though I wanted to fall back on the bed and sleep some more.  "Hello?" I shouted.  Silence.  "Is there anyone there?" I called out.  Silence.  I rubbed my eyes and looked around the room.  There were no windows and no doors, or so I thought.  There was a bed in the middle of the room, covered in white sheets with a white pillow.  My eyes hurt.  The room was so white, it was almost blinding.  I strained my eyes and looked hard.  Apart from the bed and myself, there was nothing else in the room.  "Hello?" I shouted again.  Silence.  I looked down at myself.  I was wearing a white top and a white pair of trousers.  I wasn't wearing anything on my feet.  I knelt down and looked under the bed.  The noise started again.  There was nothing under the bed apart from soft, white carpet.  I stood up and the noise stopped.  I walked around the bed.  I stood on the bed and turned around.  There was no way of getting in or out of the room.  I stood at the foot end of the bed and walked backwards.  I leaned against the wall and pounded my fists against the solid mass behind my body.  I heard a click and I stumbled backwards into a long corridor.  The bedroom door closed.  I stood, scared, in the middle of the passageway, looking left and right and left and right.  I couldn't hear anything, other than my breathing.  I wanted to scream but I couldn't.  I chose a direction and ran.  I kept running.  The corridor kept going.  There were no doors or windows or corners.  I stopped when I was out of breath and pounded my fists against the wall.  A door opened in front of me.  I walked towards the room and saw a group of people sitting on the floor in a circle. Everyone was wearing white clothes apart from one woman who was wearing red.  She looked up at me and smiled.  "Hello, come in, we've been waiting for you," she said.

*****

Today in the session we talked about super-hero and supernatural powers/abilities, and then we wrote about them.

Day 14 of being invisible.  I think I'm getting used to it.  It's still a shock every time I walk past a mirror and I'm not there.  It's not that I'm vain, but I would like to see myself.  I've forgotten what I look like.  I still get dressed every morning, even though I'm not sure I need to.  But I still do, just in case I happen to become visible when I'm out.  I haven't told anyone yet, about being invisible.  I'm not really sure how people would react.  At least I can still talk to people.  I'd hate to be inaudible as well as invisible.  Mum's still been phoning me up every day, as usual, just to check I'm alright, as mums do, and although I've not lied to her, I've not been entirely honest with her.  Maybe I'll go round and see her tomorrow.  Not that she'll be able to see me.  I need to talk to someone about it all.  It's kind of getting me down.  I'm bored.  I don't know why I'm invisible or where it came from, and even though I'm getting used to it, I would like to go back to normal now.  Unless ... No, I couldn't.  Or could I?  No, that's just childish.  But it would be fun.  Hmm, ok, so tomorrow, maybe I'll use my powers for playing tricks.  If I'm invisible for too long I'll use it for good.  But tomorrow, to ease my boredom I'll have some fun.  I'll ... I'll ... I'll ... I don't know, go into shops and move things around, or get on the tube and tap random people on the shoulders, or, heh, go to the gym and peep in the men's changing room.  That will be fun.  I don't think I want to go back to normal.  Not just yet.

*****

The homework for the next meeting is to put your music player on shuffle and note down the titles of the first ten songs that are played, and incorporate those titles into a story.

Our next meeting will be Monday 8th April, 5pm-6pm, in the library cafe.

LLTW - February

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After a very long break, due to crazy snow, Lowestoft Library Teen Writing Group met for the first time in 2013 (I still want to write 2012).  When we last met in December, I set homework to write something about New Year's Resolutions.  One person did that.  It was inspired by the television programme, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  I haven't really watched it, so I didn't get all the references, but it was a well written piece so I enjoyed it.

I wrote a poem, and although it sounds like I swallowed a rhyming dictionary, these are resolutions that I would like to keep.  I'm not the kind of person to keep resolutions, but I guess all I hope for is to have a more positive outlook on life.  Anyway, here it is.

I resolve to be

more assertive

and less dismissive

more ambitious

and less evasive

more conclusive

and less abrasive

more decisive

and less passive

more progressive

and less obsessive

more talkative

and less explosive

more impressive

and less elusive

more supportive

and less selective

more innovative

and less offensive

more positive

and less apprehensive

more intuitive

and less sensitive

more appreciative

and less repetitive

more communicative

and less vegetative

more informative

and less tentative

more cooperative

and less argumentative

more festive

and less unproductive

more attractive

and less combative

*****

As we didn't have a January meeting, I e-mailed the group their homework for this month which was to write something about the local area for the Lowestoft Library Writers' Group anthology.  The general consensus was that the local area is 'boring'.  However, one poem was written by one of the teens, so that will be going into the collection.

*****

On Thursday it's Valentine's Day, so I thought we could use this meeting to spread the love.  Everyone wrote a list of things they loved (food, places, television programmes, celebrities, etc.), and then chose one thing to write a love letter to, explaining why they loved them.

things I love

sleeping

my bed

sushi

walking barefoot on the sand

heavy snow

snow fall

hot chocolate with squirty cream

second hand book shops

puppies

channel 4 comedy

kinder eggs

crinkle cut foods

cover versions of songs

warm summer evenings

music that takes you back to happy times

Russell Brand

converse chuck taylors

Tim Burton films

80s children's telly

ice-cream

Dear Second Hand Book Shops,

I have to confess my love for you.  The musty smell that hits me as I open your doors, that follows me around as I browse your shelves, that rests inside my nose to remind me of you when I've left your walls behind.  It's a smell I can't experience anywhere else, and I wouldn't want to.  It's comforting and soothing.  Your hidden surprises never cease to amaze me.  Sometimes I come in just to browse, sometimes I have a definite intention, but I have to run my fingers along the spines of your books, and more often than not I pick up something just because of the cover.  You house so much history, so much life, and so many stories.  Books with inscriptions, creased pages, bent spines, annotations, a past, and a prospective future in the right hands.  You're a magical place, and I wish I had more time and more money to spend with you, but all I can give you now is my heart.  Treat it well, as I have treated your precious books.

Yours forever.

*****

Our next meeting will be on Monday 11th March, 5pm-6pm, in Lowestoft Library cafe.  Our homework for next session is to write a shot story: You wake up in a white room, with white walls, on a white bed, wearing white clothes.  What happens next?

LLTW December

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So the month of sniffles and sneezes is upon us, and because of this we only had three people at the writing group this evening.  Unsurprisingly, none of them had done their homework, but I don't blame them.  They've got coursework and homework to do, but I'll keep setting the homework just in case they find some time to be creative.

**

The homework I set last month was to write a story using at least four of the following words: light, plastic, death, paint, tortoise, map, cabinet, follow.  I randomly chose these words by flicking through a dictionary.  Here's my offering.

Ruby hated staying with her aunt.  She was a grumpy woman who didn’t believe in having fun.  She had a strict rule that children should be seen and not heard, and if they could not be seen that would be a bonus.  She lived in a huge house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields.  Ruby’s parents insisted that she stay there for a month each summer, while they took trips alone to various, exotic places around the world.  Ruby begged and pleaded to go with them, but they never listened.

As the car ambled up the long and bumpy driveway, Ruby held back her tears.  Her aunt stood at the front door, arms folded, with a scowl on her face.

“You’re late.  I can’t be standing around here all day waiting for you.”

Ruby picked up her suitcase and dragged it into the hallway.  She turned to wave to her parents but they were already driving away.

“I’m sorry Aunt Sibyl.”

“Up you go to your room.”

Ruby’s aunt shut the door, filling the house with darkness.  Ruby took a deep breath as she stood at the bottom of the stairs.  Her room was at the top of the house, exactly eighty-four steps from where she was standing now.  Her aunt walked away, not even offering to help with her bag.

Ruby sat down on her bed and opened her suitcase.  She took out her favourite toy, a stuffed tortoise that her parents had brought back from Australia one year.  She hugged him close to her chest and cried.

Feeling better, she walked downstairs and found her aunt sitting in the living room.

“What do you want?”

“Can I please play outside, Aunt Sibyl?”

“No you may not.  You may sit in here with me quietly, or you may go to your room.”

Ruby sat on the window seat and looked out across the garden, as the breeze danced through the leaves on the trees.  Oh how she wished she could go climbing or exploring or make daisy chains or catch frogs or chase squirrels.  She glanced at her aunt who was reading a book.

“I think I’ll go to my room.”

Her aunt didn’t look up.  Ruby walked out of the room and climbed the stairs.  She sauntered along the second floor landing, looking at the paintings on the wall.  She stopped in front of a picture of a woman who seemed to be staring at Ruby, no matter where she stood.  Ruby didn’t like this woman.  She turned and ran into the nearest room, shutting the door behind her.

Ruby tiptoed across the room to a large cabinet and pulled one of the drawers towards her.  She flicked her thumb through the papers until she came across something that piqued her interest.  She pulled out the yellow piece of paper and unfolded it.  It was a map of her aunt’s house and garden.  Perhaps this summer was going to be exciting, for a change.

**

I thought I'd try some poetry with the group this month, by introducing them to the haiku.  A couple had heard of this type of poetry before so it wasn't completely alien to them.  We wrote 12 haikus, based on each month of the year (at least we tried to - I didn't realise how much teenagers like to talk).

January

It's my birthday month

So cold and icy and grey

Now I'm feeling old

February

Red hearts and flowers

Apparently equal love

So say the card shops

March

Is there any point

In March; it doesn't do much

And nothing happens

April

April is Easter

Chocolate eggs and bunnies

Daffodils and sheep

May

Blossoms cling to trees

Fall like wedding confetti

On greying paths

June

June starts the summer

Sun fights with rain but loses

So hides for a month

July

Sun burn to sun tan

After painful raw red skin

And blistery peel

August

Proper summer time

Beaches and ice cream and sun

Long into the night

September

School buses fill road

And daytime streets are empty

As the nights draw in

October

Leaves crunch underfoot

In auburn and amber shards

They fall to their death

November

Black skies the back drop

Full of fireworks exploding

Remember the fifth 

December

It's Christmas, it snows

December the best ever

Waiting for Santa

**

Homework for next session is to write about New Year's Resolutions.  No date has been set for January, as I will be away.  Once I know what's going on, I'll let you know.

LLTW November

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Yesterday was the third meeting of Lowestoft Library Teen Writing Group.  Five girls came along; four regulars and a new girl.  Slowly, their confidence is building and they're becoming more talkative, which is nice to see (even though the conversation does go off at odd tangents sometimes - one topic we touched on yesterday was what would happen if a goat mated with a chicken.  The result would be a delicious, bi-meated animal, that laid eggs and also produced milk.  One animal; one meal!)

I set three pieces of homework last session.  The main part was to bring along a page of a story they had previously written.  I will be using these in a future activity.  Secondly was to think of a name for the group.  No-one could think of anything, and I'm always pretty unimaginative when it comes to names, but I guess I'll have to put my thinking cap on for this one.  Lastly was to write a character profile.  No-one did that; myself included.  I have no excuse, other than I've been spending so much time getting my NaNoWriMo novel written that I haven't had much time to write anything else.

So we got down to the business of writing, and the task was a game of consequences.  There are various versions of this game, but as we only have an hour to write, I limited it to six sections.  Each person writes one section on a piece of paper, folds it over, and passes it to their right.  Everyone then writes the second section, folds it over, and passes it to their right.  This is repeated until all sections have been written.

• Man - who is he?  name/age/job/hobbies/appearance

MEETS

• Woman - who is she?  name/age/job/hobbies/appearance

AT

• Place - where is it?  building/event/institution
• He says
• She says
• What happens in the end

Everyone ended up with the piece of paper they started with.  Mine looked something like this:

Man

Ted is 40 years old.  He's overweight but not to the point of obesity; he just gets out of breath walking up stairs.  He's unemployed and spends most of his time playing World of Warcraft and eating Pringles.

Woman

A student of art, she is profound and unique.  She favours fashion, but hides it and paints instead.  Her name, Emma, is that of her grandmother's.  When she paints, it covers her hands and face and sticks her brown hair together in clumps.

Place

The man meets the woman when he was working.  He was a vending machine workman and he got stuck whilst trying to dislodge a Twix bar from the twirly thing.  She saw him and freed him.

He says

When they first meet he doesn't speak to her with spoken words, but in a letter, and signing it as your mystery man.

She says

The woman frowns.  "You're mental," she announces.

What happens in the end

They both went their separate ways, promising to meet up in a fortnight.  But alas!  The man got hit by a train on his way to the meeting, killing him instantly.  So they never saw each other again.

We then spent the rest of the session each writing a complete story based on or inspired by our own series of events.

**

On a miserable Wednesday morning, art student Emma skived off college to sit in a graveyard and contemplate the meaning of life.  She gazed at the headstones, imagining the lives of the people she stepped over.  She stood by Alfred March who'd died when he was only 24 years old, in 1876.  She ran her fingers through her long, brown hair, picking out flecks of dried paint and dropping them to the ground like confetti.  At lunch time she wandered into town, and paced the streets trying to decide what to eat.  Bored of sandwiches and fast food, she wanted something different, exciting.  Passing through the shopping centre, she rummages in her bag for her mobile phone.  Oblivious to her surroundings, she bumps into a man.  "Oh, I'm sorry," she says, looking at the large man in the navy blue overalls.  He smiles at her.  "Are you ok?" she asks.  The man shakes his head.  He moves his body to the side and Emma notices that his hand is stuck inside a vending machine.  "Do you want some help?" she asks.  He nods.  "I'm Emma, by the way," she says, smiling at him.  With his free hand the man points to a security badge hanging around his neck.  Emma lifts it up and reads it, "My name is Ted.  I'm an official vending machine repair man.  I can't speak but I can hear.  Thank you for your cooperation."  Ted smiles at Emma.  "Nice to meet you Ted.  Now let's see what we can do here," Emma says.  She leans inside the vending machine and untangles Ted's sleeve from the twirly contraption that holds the chocolate bars in place.  She notices that his wrist is bleeding.  She takes a tissue from her bag and holds it tightly on the cut.  "There you go.  You should get that cleaned up though," she says.  Ted smiles and bows his head in thanks.  He takes a Twix from the vending machine and passes it to Emma.  "Oh thank you," she says.  He smiles and nods.  He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a five pound note.  He slides it into Emma's hand.  "I can't take this," she says, surprised.  He holds her fist closed around the money and bows his head in thanks again.  "Are you sure?" she asks.  He nods.  "Thank you," she says.  As she walks away, she looks at the five pound note.  Wrapped up inside is a small piece of paper.  She reads the note.  "I have loved you for years but I've never been able to tell you until now, from your secret admirer."  She turns and walks back towards Ted.  She taps him on the shoulder and he smiles when he turns around.  She passes him the note and says, "I don't think this was meant for me."  His face flushes red.  He drops his face into his hand with embarrassment.  He takes the note from her and stuffs it back into his pocket.  He shakes his head and smiles.  "You're mental," she announces.  Ted nods.  Emma laughs.  Ted takes a notepad from his bag and scribbles; 'I'm going on holiday next week, but would you be free to meet the week after, maybe for a coffee, just to say thank you for helping me and for bringing back my note.'  He adds his phone number to the bottom.  "Sure, why not?" Emma says.  Ted grins and bows his head.  "Have a good holiday and I'll see you in a couple of weeks," she says.

Emma sits in the coffee shop at a table by the window.  She checks her phone every five minutes, wondering where Ted is.  After waiting for half an hour, she picks up her bag and leaves.  Driving home, she turns on the car radio and listens to the news.  Earlier this morning, Ted Winston, a 40 year old vending machine repair man, was killed after three angry youths pushed him off a busy train platform into the path of an oncoming train.  He died instantly.

**

The homework for next session is to write a story of no more than 500 words, about anything, but it must include at least four of the following words:

• light
• plastic
• death
• paint
• tortoise
• map
• cabinet
• follow

I randomly opened a dictionary to various pages to find these words.

Our next meeting is Monday 10th December, 17:00-18:00, at Lowestoft Library.

LLTW October

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A month ago I held the first Teen Writing Group at Lowestoft Library.  Five absolutely brilliant girls came along, and I was extremely impressed with their writing.  Two of the girls gave me pieces of their work last month, and asked me to have a read over it for them.  I did, and I really enjoyed them.  I can't say that they were pieces that reflected my usual tastes, but they were very well written and their vocabulary was diverse and interesting.  I made a few suggestions on each piece, but overall they were good and didn't need much improvement.

I set a piece of non-compulsory homework, to write 200-500 words about a place they knew and liked, and how it made them feel.  Only two girls did this, but I enjoyed them and was glad they gave it a go.  I can't really complain too much about the others not doing it, as I only wrote mine this morning.  And here it is.

***

My Place

I used to call it ‘my place’.  I thought I was the only person who knew about it.  I’d spend hours there watching and thinking.  Sometimes I still do.  I used to feel like I was sitting on top of the world, sitting on top of a collapsed World War II pill box, sitting on top of a high sand dune, looking out across Kessingland beach, towards the sea, over the horizon.  The concrete was never cold, even if the air around it was.  It became more comfortable the longer I sat there.

It’s quiet.  It’s far enough away from the dog walkers and runners and kite flyers and families and couples and soloists to be able to enjoy the quiet.  There is a rustle of grass behind me if it’s windy, or a squawk of a seagull, or a crash of a wave against the sluice rocks, but those are sounds I can deal with.  Those are the sounds I come up here to listen to.  Those are the sounds that tell me the world isn’t just made up of cars and shops and people.

My shoes are normally full of sand that creeps through the fibres of my socks and rests itself between my toes.  It tickles and itches, even after emptying a flow of golden grains into a pile next to me.  I trace my finger through sand, swirling patterns of yellow on grey.

I stretch my legs out in front of me and slowly drop my body back.  If I shut my eyes, everything disappears.  It’s just me and the rock.  And my thoughts.  I think about school and friends and work and other things I don’t particularly want to think about.  These thoughts slot themselves back into place like a defragmented hard drive.  Nothing else matters here other than a reorganised mind; a sense of calm, relaxation, solace.

***

Five girls came along to the session today.  Four girls that came last month and a new person, which was nice to see.  One of the girls who was at the last session was at the dentist today, but hopefully she'll be at the next one, along with the new girl from today. 

I gave everyone (including myself) six pieces of paper.  On three pieces we wrote things we likes, and on the other three we wrote things we didn't like.  My LIKEs were Roald Dahl, Rainbows, Walking My Dog In The Rain.  My DISLIKEs were Celery, Thunderstorms, Jeremy Clarkson.  When we had all written our likes and dislikes, we folded the pieces of paper up and put them in the middle of the table.  I mixed up the folded pieces of paper and everyone chose six at random.  The six I chose were: LIKE Roald Dahl, E4 (the television channel), Bright Eyes (the band), Wolves and DISLIKE Silence, Young Children.

We wrote a story, using those things, and out character or characters had to like the 'like' things, and dislike the 'dislike' things.  This is how my story turned out.

***

Sam turned on the television.  He flicked through the channels until he settled on E4.  He turned the volume up to 20.  He didn't like the quiet and he didn't like silence.  He didn't really like the programme he was watching either but it was better than the other drivel on the other channels.  His mother was addicted to thos dreadful DIY shows where they told you how to decrease the value of your house by painting your living room lime green and fuchsia.

Emma, Sam's three year old sister, sat on the floor in front of the television chewing on the corner of a book. Normally he let Emma get on with whatever she was doing, but today she was really getting on his nerves, always shouting and clapping and squeaking every time she saw an animal on the television.  When she got super excited, she'd bang the book on the screen, getting in the way of his viewing pleasure.  He hated her.  No, actually he hated young children, all young children.  He didn't see the point in them.  What did they do apart from make noise and a mess?

She put the book down and Sam noticed that it was he favourite Roald Dahl book.  Now he really, definitely, 100% hated young children.

He picked up the book and hit Emma around the head with it as he walked past.  She giggled.  He turned around and hit her again, harder.  She cried.  He laughed.  He wrapped his book in a teatowel and took it upstairs.  He collapsed on his bed and hugged his book to his chest.  'I never touch any of her things,' he thought to himself.  'Why does she have to touch my stuff?  Why does she have to chew my stuff?'

He pulled his iPod from his bedside table and squished the buds into his ears.  He hit the shuffle button and shut his eyes.  The familiar sound of a guitar filled his ears, strumming the opening chords to 'First Day Of My Life'.  He let his head sink back into his pillow as Bright Eyes soothed Sam's anger.  'This is the last day of your life,' he sang to himself in his head.  'I hope one day a wolf will come and eat you.'

***

Our next session will be Monday 12th November, 5pm-6pm, at Lowestoft Library.  The homework is three-fold.  Firstly, I want them to think of a name for the group.  Something interesting, something that stands out.  They informed me that the teen reading group is called Readers Of The Lost Ark, which I think is amazing.  I hope they can come up with something just as good for the writing group.  Secondly, and this is the only thing they must must must do, to bring along a piece of writing that they have already written.  It doesn't matter what it is; it just can't be any longer than a page.  I am going to use this for a future activity, but I won't say any more on that subject just yet.  And finally is to write a 300-500 word character profile about someone they personally know.