…and teen non-writers deserve them, too.

Teens have taught me a bunch about writing over the last couple of decades–both the teens who have already written five novels and the ones who would rather scrub under the refrigerator than pick up a pen. For a lot of teens, writing was ruined for them by third grade. For others, dutifully writing their five-paragraph essays, their love affair with writing is made up of clandestine moments, stolen from their more “important” term papers and college applications.

The needs of these writers are simple, but those needs often can’t–or won’t–be accommodated in school. They come down to two basic principles: ownership and community. Here’s what I think most teens ask of their parents, mentors, friends and teachers when it comes to their writing.

1. I have a right to secret writing. I may keep a private journal. It may have poems or stories in it; it may have letters I never send; it may have just random thoughts. But it is not for public consumption; it is not for anyone who wants to check my spelling or penmanship; it is not even there so you can read my poetry, celebrate my talent and understand me better. When and if I want to share it with someone, I will. In the meantime, do not ask.

2. I have a right to choose what I write about. I know I’ll have assignments for school that I don’t choose; I get that. But I have a right to channel my creativity in a way that rocks my world–even if my song lyrics make no sense to you or my spokenword piece might shock Great Aunt Betty. I have a right to create my own body of work.

3. If I am part of a writing group or class, I have a right to either share my work or not share it. Sometimes sharing my work with a group is helpful and feels good. But sometimes the writing isn’t yet ready to share. And some writing will never be ready to share. I have a right to know I can write from a deep place inside of myself, or that I can experiment and the teacher will not demand to have the work read.

4. I have a right to accept or reject critique. If I choose to get feedback on my work (and I can choose not to), I am not obligated to change the work in the way the critiquer suggests. Even if the person giving the critique is my best friend. Even if it is my mom. Even if it is an award-winning author. I have a right to decide what is useful to the piece and what is not, and to base my revisions on the advice I believe best serves the work.

5. I have a right to be listened to, encouraged, and respected. If I can find a group of people who feel like my “tribe,” because they are just as strange and quirky as I am, I may show them my secret writing–misspellings and all. I may share my spokenword piece with them and hear theirs. I may write weird, experimental collaborations with some of them. I may listen to their critique and weigh it carefully, because not only are we all becoming stronger writers, these people know me. And the real reason I write is to know and to be known.

If you know a teen still looking for a “tribe” of creatives, we’d love to have them at our TEENWrite EPIC overnight May 17-18 at Camp Huston. Our 10th anniversary Summer TEENWrite EPIC camp will be July 8-12 at Fort Casey.

Filed under: being real, censorship, classes, cool people, craft of writing, friends, schools, Student Writing, Teen Write Workshops, Teenage Novelist, teenage writers, TEENWrite Workshops by katherine
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You’ve just taken Pamela Protagonista, rebel goth girl, through the perils of cheerleader camp where she has scored a victory over Amanda Antagonistella, who was not as good at karaoke as she thought. The Final Showdown is twenty chapters away and you have no idea why Pamela would go to Kennebunkport nor how she will score a train ticket without Reginald finding out. You’ve made lists and charted character arcs and rechecked the color of Reginald’s eyes, but nothing gives. You are stuck. Hopelessly.

It’s time to take your writing off the “stage” of your manuscript and do some secret journal writing–writing that no one will ever see. At least, that’s what you need to tell yourself. Your story journal will have more in it than charts and lists. It’s a kind of conversation. I use mine to do the following things:

1) Rant. “The writing is going SO badly and there are so many bills and why won’t those women at the next table TALK MORE QUIETLY? Is it all the wine they’ve had? Why do I do this? Should I be a writer at all? Maybe I should have gone into real estate.”

2) Plan. “Today I need to not only tackle chapter four, but thread Amanda’s poodle through chapters one through three. Let’s see if I can hit a word count of 2k.”

3) Play What-If. “What if Pamela hates Reginald? What if he is the cause of her isolation? What if she really wants to be a Broadway actress, but her father forbids her to take acting classes? What if she and Amanda were originally best friends?”

4) Play Why-Maybe. “Why would Pamela hate Reginald? Maybe he humiliated her.  Maybe he thought he was doing something nice, but it backfired and he’s too embarrassed to tell her. Maybe this happened at prom. Maybe he invited her and didn’t show. Why would he do that?”

5) Write fake scenes. Tell yourself these are practice scenes and you’re not really going to use them. Then you can write whatever you want as horribly as you want. Often these scenes will stay in the journal forever. But sometimes you’ll find something the book needs–something you’d never have written “on stage.”

Want support and accountability in your writing? YA Novel Writing: Captivating the Teen Reader begins April 8 at Bellevue College. To register, go to the Bellevue College Continuing Ed website.

Filed under: adult writers, advice, Bellevue College, classes, craft of writing, motivation, YA Novel by katherine
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Written by the Scenes and Dreams class (One more Teenage Novelist class to go).  Anyone care to continue the story?

The cobblestone walk was hard beneath my bare feet. I knew this road; it was an old one leading out of town. Shabby Victorian buildings lined the way. Moss and ivy crawled up the faded pink wall of the house on my left. Was this the house Emers had been talking about? There was a sound of breaking glass; I turned my head towards it and in a few small steps, I was up on the broken porch.

“Ehh! What are you doing here! This is private!” The voice seemed to come from inside the house.

I was confused. This property was so dilapidated that nobody could be living here; the holes in the roof were as big as bomb craters.

“Excuse me? Who are you?” I called tentatively. “Emers sent me. Do you know him?” I opened the old oak door, which creaked ominously, like a bad horror movie. Well, this was certainly sketchy

Before I could even take a step inside, he appeared. “Did you say Emers?” He was old and wore a white lab coat made out of gears, which were covered in strange stains. He had goggles on his head, which pressed down his bushy, white hair. “Sorry for the harsh welcome,” he held out his hand, “My name is Dr. Hiram Myers.”

Run, run, run, was my initial thought. But I shook his hand anyway. Emers had mentioned Dr. Myers once. He was a brilliant inventor, but all of his inventions usually managed to blow up–which explained the holes in the roof. I was definitely going to need a Red Bull. “Can you help me with something?” I asked him. “Emers wanted me to get some kind of medallion here. I know that’s kind of a cliché. Creepy house, mad scientist, mysterious medallion–”

Dr. Myers waved his hand dismissively. “Emers is dead,” he said.

Filed under: Bellevue College, classes, Dystopian, Steampunk, Student Writing, Teenage Novelist, teenage writers, weird by katherine
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Here we continue our series and allow writer Chandler Cook to have a crack at plumbing the depths of awfulness. This one has shades of Peter Shaffer… 

Horse Horse Heaven
By Chandler Cook

        There once was a boy named Ted. Ted liked horses. Ted liked horses so much he loved horses. Ted loved horses.

        The horses were Ted’s god.

        “Who’s there?”

        “It’s me horses, I love you.”

        “We love you too Ted, kiss us.”

        Ted kissed the horses. He braided their hair and put flowers in them. Ted’s head was filled with horses, he thought about them all day long in his brain and he never wanted to be away from his horses, especially the pretty brown one Ted called Queen Horse because she was royalty of Horse Land and she liked to be called that so Ted called her that and Ted was happy because the horses were happy and so was his best friend Mabel who was a cloud shaped like a horse.

        But Mabel wasn’t really happy she was actually a bear who just looked like a horse cloud. Mabel was angry because Ted never told her jokes anymore.

        “Tell me a joke” Mabel said.

        “No,” Ted said, “I’m worshipping the horses,” he said, “especially the pretty brown one called Queen Horse because she likes it.”

        “You’re a horse now Ted.”

        And Ted was a horse. Ted galloped to the horses and told them he was a horse then they said he was a horse and he was a horse so he was a horse.

        Ted was a god now. Ted was an angry horse god because Mabel didn’t believe in horses and neither did his mother who he hadn’t seen since he became a horse.

        Ted killed everyone because he was mad at Mabel. Mabel was a bear so she ate Ted and then Ted was dead.

        The End.

        P.S. Ted came back to live with Mabel and they had babies.

Filed under: awful writing, Bellevue College, classes, Student Writing, Teenage Novelist by katherine
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Here is the second in our series–in which we see more of the awfulness a writer can achieve if she truly applies herself.

Night of Endless Sadness
by Sapphire Hotlips (also known as Marie Guenette)

Filed under: awful writing, Bellevue College, classes, Student Writing, Teenage Novelist by katherine
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Filed under: awful writing, Bellevue College, classes, craft of writing, Student Writing, Teenage Novelist by katherine
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Next week is our Spring Teen Write, from April 9-10th. I have kept this event somewhat “under the radar” and didn’t send the dates to the general list, because it filled up quite quickly with current Teen Writers. It does look like I may have a few spots after all, so I wanted to make you aware of it. This is a very popular event, and participants come back again and again. Newcomers are always warmly welcomed – this is a great group of teens! If you want one of the spots, let me know ASAP—we only have 24 beds. (Forgive me if you get this mailing twice—I started with the Call & Response list and some of you are already on my mail list.)

Teen Write Acting/Writing Workshop

The Red Beret: Characters in Conflict
(Teens – middle and high school and college-age)
April 9-10 5:00 PM Friday – 7:00 PM Saturday (start time will “slide” between 5-7 because of distance, ferries, etc.) , Camp Robbinswold on Hood Canal. $100
NOTE: The April TW is very nearly full. Register ASAP if you would like to participate.

Love to act?
Love to write?
Done one, but never tried the other?
Are you ready for an adventure?

Embark on the Hero’s Journey.
Draw a card. Follow it. Hidden objects/other characters guide or thwart you.
You are live and outside. This is not like any RPG you’ve ever done!
Parallel universes: How a 17th century count finds an ally in a Martian spy.
Act the scene, then write it. Oh, what curious tales come to be!

ALSO COMING UP:

Summer Teen Write – (August 23-26, Camp St. Alban’s, Belfair, WA)
4 days, 3 nights of extended adventure!

Katherine Grace Bond has written or contributed to more than 20 books, including the bestselling Legend of the Valentine (Zonderkidz), a children’s story of the Civil Rights Movement. Her additional publishing credits include fiction, poetry, essays (and even a comic strip!). A certified K-12 teacher, Katherine has worked with child, teen and adult writers since the early 90’s, believing that creative communities save lives. To this end, she teaches at Bellevue College, The Attic Learning Community, Sky Valley Education Center, at writing conferences, and for numerous homeschool groups. She is also the creator of Teen Write, an acting/writing camp modeled on the Hero’s Journey. She is at work on a YA novel-in-verse.

Workshop Registration for all classes
Workshop__________________________
Name___________________
Birthdate ________________
Parent/Guardian Names _________________________________
Address_______________________________________________________
Phone _______________________cell______________________________
E-mail__________________________________
Emergency Contact____________________________Phone_________________
MD__________________________Phone________________________
Allergies____________________________________________________
Medical Conditions___________________________________________
Medications needed during camp/workshop___________________________________
Other pertinent information_________________________________________
How did you hear about us?__________________________________________

If under 18:
I give my permission for my child, ____________________ to attend a writing workshop with Katherine Grace Bond. Portions of the course may be held outdoors on or off the workshop site. I understand that Katherine Bond will make every reasonable effort to provide a safe environment, although I am fully aware of the special dangers and risks inherent in participating in the activity. These could include physical injury, death and other consequences arising or resulting from the activity.

In the event of an accident or illness, I understand that every reasonable effort will be made to contact me, the parent immediately. However, if I am unavailable, I authorize Katherine Bond to secure emergency medical care as needed.
__________________________________
(Parent signature)

Please send check, payable to Katherine Grace Bond, to:
Katherine Grace Bond
c/o Dawn Pontious
22721 87th Ave. SE
Woodinville, WA 98077 Questions? Dawn@KatherineGraceBond.com
_____$50 deposit holds your spot. _____Payment in full (amt._____) due 2 weeks before workshop

Filed under: classes, Teen Write Workshops by katherine
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Filed under: adult writers, classes, friends, giving by katherine
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Listening to NPR this morning, I was caught by the phrase, “A woman discovers the true meaning of her name.” I asked the teens in my Young Writers Workshop at Bellevue College to write poems about that – but to write them in a language other than English. Everyone wrote in Chinese except me. I wrote in French. (My moment of victory was hearing a student exclaim, “I need to go home and study my Chinese today.”) Much hilarity ensued as they composed poems they understood (in varying degrees), but I did not.
Writing in French put my head in a completely different place. Without a dictionary handy, I had to rely on whatever vocabulary remains in my memory. I didn’t have the luxury of nine different synonyms for a word. In French the word “means” is “veut dire” – “wants to say.” A whole new world of possibility opened as I pondered what my name wants to say.
I’m going risk foolishness by reproducing my poem here without looking at the dictionary or grammar book – it may be that my phrasing is a little quaint, but I think the poem wants to be here, nonetheless.

Ce Que Mon Nom Veut Dire

Mon nom veut dire courage
passion
pureté.
Mon nom veut dire ce qu’un oiseau dit
quand il vole dessus une temple,
ce qu’une enfante dit quand elle imagine
des âmes dans des dessins de craie.
Mon nom veut parler des escaliers,
d’ascension,
du baptême,
des flammes.
De nuit en nuit mon nom s’inquiet.
Il marche la longue des corridors
en conjurant des images de nœuds.
Le matin il se réveille.
Dans la fenêtre un oiseau,
ses ailes en feu,
chant la rythme de mon nom.

What My Name Wants to Say

My name wants to say courage
passion,
purity.
My name wants to say what a bird says
when it flies over a temple,
what a child says when she imagines
souls in chalk drawings.
My name wants to speak of stairs,
of baptism,
of flames.
Night after night my name frets.
It walks the halls
conjuring images of knots.
In the morning it wakes.
In the window a bird,
its wings on fire,
sings the rhythm of my name.

Filed under: classes, craft of writing, Katherine's Writing, Poetry by katherine
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Sometimes I hear myself saying that my life is “stressful” or “overwhelming.” My task list marches relentlessly through my Outlook calendar and I think I am unhappy about this. Last week, though, I began to pay attention to my life – to try and notice why I do what I do:

Monday: Come home from Spokane, where we have spent three days celebrating Pascha (Easter) with our friends at St. Gregorios – a community of Orthodox Christians whose backgrounds include Indian, Ethiopian, Armenian and many others. Hearing the Lord’s Prayer in multiple languages made me cry. Remember we are family.

Tuesday: Attempt to catch up and prep for the rest of the week, but indulge myself by writing a poem I don’t have time to write. Apprehensive because my calendar looks like a mosaic, but experiencing little joy flickers because of the poem. Afraid I am heading into a whirlwind and will be hit by flying pieces of mosaic.

 

Wednesday:

Morning – Teach Care and Feeding of the Novel at Sky Valley Education Center. Circle up with my teens and listen to them read their chapters and respond to each other’s work. Marvel at their ability to not only write, but encourage. Love it that my son is in this class.

Realize that the staff day at Sky Valley is tomorrow and I have forgotten to put it in my calendar.

Afternoon – Read the first, experimental chapter of my new project to my critique group, the Diviners. Receive incisive, but heartening feedback. Contemplate how privileged I am to have had fifteen years with these outstanding authors.

Evening – Assess students, plan, email, plan, assess, email. Ask for prayer. Fall into an exhausted heap near midnight.

 

Thursday:

Morning/Early Afternoon – Attend Sky Valley staff meeting, which is a blast. Talk with amazing teachers, watch a fascinating film on the brain (I am totally inspired), continue student assessments.

Late Afternoon –Teach Care and Feeding of the Novel at The Attic Learning Community. The sun is out (!!!), so we spend most of it outside acting — throwing the characters from our various books together in earthquakes, elevators and fields of rattlesnakes. Then everyone curls up and writes. Enjoy their faces, bent over their work, deep in concentration.

Evening – Finish assessing. Plan, plan, plan for tomorrow. Midnight or 1:00 – in bed. So tired I want to cry.

 

Friday:

Morning – Begin new Un-Writing class in Woodinville for elementary age homeschoolers. Some are a bit nervous at first. After wantonly tearing pages out of magazines for collaging “Secret Journals,” we head into the woods to figure out where our characters live. One of the boys exclaims excitedly, “This is completely different from what I expected!” I experience several hours of personal gladness from this comment alone.

Afternoon – Go with a beloved and brilliant writer-friend to a scary medical appointment. Since I can’t stay the whole time, another writer comes to take my place, tag-team style, as I am leaving. Awed by how writers are a tribe – for life.

Friday Evening through Saturday – Teen Write “Dangerous Liaisons” overnight at Carnation Tree Farm. Rejoice at having teens here from six of my different groups. Watch both characters and new friendships emerge over 24 hours as teens in capes and unusual hats rove the ponds and trees creating scenes together. I play a bestselling novelist who inserts her book title and Amazon ranking into every conversation. Watch the faraway looks in their eyes as they all settle in to write. Listen to them laugh and cheer each other as they read their stories on Saturday. Grateful that my husband, daughter and middle son are here helping, while my youngest is embraced as a participant.

 

Saturday:

Evening – Talk with Roger Thorsen, who owns the award-winning farm, about the June Play’s The Thing kids’ acting/playwriting workshop there. Feel suddenly delighted and energized for it.
Go to Poetry Night at Duvall Coffeehouse and hear my friend, Denis Streeter read from his first chapbook, Unfoldings. He is fantastic! Supportive friends and poets new to the Duvall reading, listen, eat good food and read at the open mic. I even read a few from my laptop, as I haven’t had time to print anything. Drop the last of my Teen Writers off at home.

Night – Realize that throughout the whirlwind, I have been entirely happy.

Filed under: classes, motivation, Teen Write Workshops by katherine
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