Analogy is a very powerful literary tool. It is hard to imagine what it feels like for someone else to have lots of competing thoughts in their head, but when we read this story it is easy to visualize the surf crashing against rocks and from this to understand, at the least, that Abigail has a lot on her mind! Of course, the core of the story is the relationship between Abigail and a wild animal. Notice how Abigail describes in detail what they do together and how she describes her feelings, sometimes using analogy to help us understand the relationship. Brooke uses feeling, descriptions, and analogies (describing one thing by comparing it with another) to establish the reality of the beautiful cove where Abigail spends the summer and the reality of her experiences with Alex, the seal. You can pick out examples of each of these techniques in this short story: Feelings: “Abigail could feel the excitement in her bones.” Description: “The front door was golden yellow, elegantly crafted out of solid oak.” Analogy: “All kinds of ideas collided in her head, like the waves clashing against the barnacle-covered rock.” Project: Write a Story about a Child and an Animal Who Love Each Other Children and animals go together: cats, dogs, horses, rats, rabbits, hamsters, and mice are some of the common animals who make friends with children. Like Brooke, clearly establish where the story takes place. Use as much detail as possible to let your reader visualize the scene. Remember that, in addition to seeing, smell is often important to us, as are feelings–how the sand feels between our toes, for expample, and how we feel emotionally about where we are. At the core of the story, though, should be the relationship between the main character and an animal. Describe what they do together and how they feel about each other. Notice how Brooke keeps the seal acting seal-like. Brooke’s seal is not a human. The seal moves and acts like a seal! Your animal friend should act like the animal he or she is. Describe movements and motivations that are consistent with a cat or a dog or a mouse or a squirrel or whatever animal you choose as your character’s friend. Abigail’s Cove Written and illustrated by Brooke Hayes, age 12, from Bangor, Maine From the March/April 1994 issue of Stone Soup ABIGAIL COULD FEEL the excitement in her bones. She knew that this would be the best summer ever. Abigail was returning from Detroit, Michigan. Her father had been transferred from Islesboro, Maine. Abigail’s father, Mr. Will M. Jeffers, is an architect for the company Bradford O’Day. Abigail’s mother, Mrs. Lynn A. Jeffers, is an attorney for the firm Johnson and Murphy. The two-and-a-half-story white house sat on high ground, peacefully overlooking a stretch of land that led down to a small cove. The old country house was framed with black shutters that shone like quartz in the sun. Jutting out from the window sills were flower boxes that cradled crimson-red geraniums with soft and delicate petals. The front door was golden yellow, ele-gantly crafted out of solid oak. If you were to sit at the living room window, a breath-taking view would enve-lope you. The big stone fireplace was always aglow on cool, damp days. Abigail breathed in the salty air as her toes tingled in the cool waters of the cove. Ashley, her twin sister, was already in the water. Abigail ran into the house and tried to squeeze on her old black-and-white-striped bathing suit. It was just too small. With disappointment Abigail scurried to her mother’s bedroom, where her mother was in the midst of unpacking summer clothes. Abigail explained her dilemma and Mrs. Jeffers suggest-ed a trip to the mainland on the ferry within the next few days to buy a suit. Abigail felt her bubble of excitement and fun pop like the air dribbling from a balloon. She dragged her feet to the wharf, tripped, and clumsily fell. What a great summer this was evolving into, she thought. Just as she sat down, feeling sorry for herself, something cold and hard rubbed against her skinned shin, tickling her knee. She couldn’t imagine what it could be. All kinds of ideas collided in her head, like the waves clash-ing against the barnacle-covered rock. From out of the gray-green water popped a white head for just a few sec-onds. Abigail sat very still in amazement, hoping that this slippery creature would re-appear. With a splash he did. Abigail spoke gently to the young seal. The seal seemed to understand that Abigail wanted to be friends. He barked and wiggled with joy. The horn on the ferry blasted upon its arrival to the island, frightening the young seal back into the sea. Abigail sauntered home, retreating to her cove, wondering whether she would encounter the seal again. Abigail would not share this special event with anyone except the gentle waters of the cove. The next day, at the same time in the afternoon, she sat very quietly waiting for the seal to appear alongside of her. In no time he did. Abigail patted his sleek fur coat as she gazed into his big black eyes. She whispered to him, “Alex.” Each day Abigail would rendezvous with Alex and bring a bucket of fresh fish, their love and friendship blossoming like wild roses in the ocean air. To remem-ber this budding friendship Abigail was carving a seal out of driftwood she found in her cove. One evening, having spent a lovely day in the cove and sharing special moments with Alex, Abigail plunked herself down next to her father to watch the news. An alarming weather forecast interrupted her feelings of tranquility. A severe hurricane watch was in effect. Hurricane Chad was moving toward the coast of Maine and it was anticipated to hit Islesboro within the next twenty-four hours. Abigail’s first reaction was, what will I do with Alex? She did not sleep well
Homeschooling
Writing Activity: depicting an obsession, with “The Horse’s Reins” by Nicholas La Cortiglia, 10
Lots of girls dream of horses. And there are lots of stories about horse-loving girls. What makes this story special, The Horse’s Reins, by Nicholas La Cortiglia, is how Nicholas, through attention to detail, makes Julie into a full-as-life character, a girl with an obsession, but a girl who is also a normal child within a family. Nicholas gives substance to Julie’s horse obsession by showing us that the she is surrounded by images of horses – prints on the curtains, horse stickers on the VCR, horse posters, and, very importantly, her own drawings of horses. Through all these details we are left outside of the time frame of the story to imagine Julie drawing horses and looking for horse images when she goes shopping and talking about horses with her family and friends. Nicholas is also good at relationships. Julie doesn’t live alone. We see from the beginning when her mother calls her to breakfast that she lives within a family. When Julie loses the peaches, she thinks of her father and, when she sees him, very simply and realistically says, “Sorry.” The weather plays an important role in this story, as it often does in fiction writing. The storm brings dangers that develop tensions and emotions that would otherwise remain untested and unexplored. Project: Write about a Character Who is Obsessed with an Interest. Some children love horses, others trains, others collect rocks, others just junk. Some children read all the time, while others play football. Show us through details how your character is fully involved with his or her interest. To make your portrait more interesting, confront your character with a problem that would make sense in the context of your character’s interests: the football player might lose a very special game, the rock collector might lose a very special rock, the child who reads all the time might become obsessed, not just with books in general but with a particular character, and start pretending that he or she is someone else. As you both imagine and write your story, keep in mind that your character has friends and lives within a family. In addition to showing your main character and his or her obsession, show how this character interacts with family and friends. “Don’t let go!” Julie yelled. The Horse’s Reins by Nicholas La Cortiglia, age 10, Cincinnati, Ohio Published in the January/February 1994 issue of Stone Soup IN A QUAINT little farm at the edge of town, in Kansas, there lived a family of four: Julie, the youngest, and Jeremy, the eldest, along with their fa-ther and mother, Frank and Clara. One morning in July, the air was brisk, Julie Harris climbed out of bed on account of the rooster. She glanced at her model of a teak horse that was propped up against her row of horse books. Julie loved horses. She would do anything to have a real one. Her room was filled with horses. At one end of her room she had a VCR that her grandparents had given her for Christmas. She had stuck horse stickers all over it! Over by the window, that overlooked the river, she had horse curtains! All over her walls were horse posters, pho-tographs, drawings, and pictures! Julie strode toward her dresser and opened the draw-er, revealing a numerous amount of horse clothing. She had T-shirts, sweatshirts, sweaters, and blouses, all that had some kind of horse picture on it. She picked one out and slipped it on, as well as her jeans. She walked into the kitchen, snatching a book off of her shelf on the way. She sat herself down at the breakfast table and began to read. “Oh, for goodness sakes, Julie! Stop reading! C’mon, eat your breakfast!” Mrs. Harris scolded. Julie set the book down and began eating. After finishing, she put her plate in the sink and walked to the door to go outside. No sooner did she open the door than a ray of sun-light burst into her face. She squinted and looked around. The orange-beaked woodpeckers tapped their beaks on a tree. Julie could hear the mockingbirds singing a sweet tune. The chipmunks scampered about, cracking twigs and crunching leaves as they went. The sun continued to shine. It shot straight into the old oak tree that wilted over the lawn. The light seemed to shoot in a million directions when it reached the branches. She quickly chose a spot on the grass to sit down and began playing with her toy horses. Her father came walking past her. “Julie, stop playing around! Make yourself useful, go pick some peaches or something!” “All right.” Julie walked into the garage and got a peach bushel. She began skipping along the bank of the creek. Sometimes water trickled over her shoes. Julie soon reached the stretch of fruit trees that encircled a small pond. Her father had planted the trees when they first moved to the farm. Julie started to climb up the tree. Branch by branch she climbed higher and higher, until she was mid-way up. Julie scanned the tree. She reached out and pricked a very small peach off of the branch. Then she spotted a very big peach that stood out from all the rest. But it was just out of her reach. So she stretched as much as she could. But just as she was about to grab it, her fingers slipped and she fell out of the tree. She landed on the meadow and couldn’t help herself from rolling into the pond. She bolted out of the pond, gasping for air. The bushel and the one peach had sunk. Julie trudged home, picking seaweed off of her on the way. When she got home her father was disappointed. “Oh, no! What happened?” “Sorry, Father,” was all Julie could say. She made her way to her room and changed clothes. After dinner it was soon time for bed. In her sleep she had a wonderful dream that
Writing Activity: increasing tension with first person narrative
This story, told from the point of view of the first person, is short but wound tight, like a spring. The story flows from beginning to end, concluding in a climax, Piper has succeeded in doing something that is very difficult – getting the reader of a short story to so identify with the character that we, too, feel the relief of the ending, we, too, feel overwhelmed by what is happening and a sense of exhilaration as we read the last words! How does Piper do it? She does it by immediately making us feel our own body – “My palms are sweaty. My whole body is tense, waiting. I’m up next.” These are the feelings we can all relate to, whether or not we have ever participated in a music competition, and the direct language makes us relate to the feelings immediately. Piper creates an almost dream-like state in which we are acutely aware of our body but also of external events, like the leaves falling. She creates a psychological place where we hear sounds differently – “My name dives down upon me, echoing as it comes.” This is a work of great creative power, on in which the experience of tension and tension released is thoroughly imagined and then translated into powerful word-images and word-feelings. Project: Write a short short story about a tense moment. Start your story, as Piper does, when you are already in the midst of the tension. Use the first person, the “I” and the “me” voice, to help your readers identify with the moment. Think of your story as a spring being wound tighter and tighter to finally, suddenly, at the end, in a tremendous release of tension, unwind. Tension has its physical effects, like sweaty palms and difficult breathing, and it also creates dream-like states where we get focused on certain sights and sounds. Write the first draft of this story in one sitting. After first imagining a super-tense situation, let the feelings pour out, like a flood. Think of this as a story written in one breath. From Stone Soup, January/February 1994 Will They Like Me? By Piper Dorrance, age 12, Danville, Pennsylvania MY PALMS ARE sweaty. My whole body is tense, waiting. I’m up next. At ten years old, my six years of fiddle-training are being put to the test. The Ligonier Highland Games, more specifically, the Fiddle Competition, has begun. Winning last year gives me a speck more confidence, but it also means I have more to lose. As I wait, the cold morning air blows itself out and the warm air of the afternoon replaces it. It is a sunny autumn day and the brassy- and rusty-colored fallen leaves dance crazily to the music of the fiddler in the soft breeze outside of the sturdy gray pavilion. I look longingly out and wish that I could be out dancing with those leaves instead of sitting still, waiting for the last note of the person ahead of me. That note comes. I get ready, setting my fiddle on my lap. My name seems to be floating above my head, hover-ing, waiting to strike. My name dives down upon me, echoing as it comes. I take a deep breath and get up. I mechanically walk up the steps to the stage, almost in a trance. I look down. The ground is miles away and the silence, oh the silence! It gives me chills. The judge looks at me and goes back to her work. She finishes. Her papers are put aside and a fresh one passed to her. She looks at me and motions for me to start. I let go a long, deep breath. I walk up to the microphone and adjust it. I open my mouth and somehow my song titles come pouring out. The silence roars over me and tears me apart. I raise my instrument up to my chin and play like I’ve never played before. My air is slow and full of love. My march pounds out a booming pace. And last, but not least, my strathspey runs along merrily with a dancing melody. I am done! Never in my life will I forget this moment! A great clapping soon covers over me. It feels sensa-tional! The judge is clapping and my teacher beside her is doing the same! My parents are clapping! Suddenly, my cousins are there clapping too! People I don’t even know are clapping! They liked me! They really liked me! © 1994 Children’s Art Foundation
