Thank you so much for leaving your ideas. This is going to be so much fun!
Magic is what writing is all about. Finding words to cast that magic is what we can do together. Writing activities don't have to be long or difficult. They need to be joyful. They need to inspire you to "spice" up what you write.
Together, we can find ways to say the same thing in lots of different ways. Then, whenever we want, we can let what we do spill over into our own pieces.
We can help our children learn to think outside the box, just like we do.
We can let our imaginations "run wild" together!
So, here we go! What word or phrase could replace the word "lazy" in the following sentence:
He looked lazy.
Example:
1. like a slow moving train
2. like a sleepy elephant
Your turn. Think outside the box. Help me get rid of the word LAZY. We can start a new thesaurus! Leave as few or many words as you like. Please invite other bloggers to join us. Bloggers are writers. Let's fill our very own thesaurus to the brim!
*Please come back more than once if you think of other ways to show "lazy"
Showing posts with label writing for children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing for children. Show all posts
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
More Lists?
Do you want to create more word lists that you can store for future use or do you want to do something else? I've got tons of ideas and writing activities that we can do. Lists can be fun, easy, and extremely useful later on.
You tell me. What do you need? What do you want? I've got it! For now, please leave me a list of three things that you'd like to do when we write together. Think of it as a game. Writing is fun. When it stops being fun, we need to move on.
Please indicate what your goals are at the top of your list. If you're an aspiring writer, say so. If you're a teacher or homeschooler ready to head back to the classroom, I need to know that too.
If you just like to write for the fun of playing with words you've come to the right place. Let's IGNITE TO WRITE!
I'll sit tight until I hear from you! My mind will be whirling patiently.
You tell me. What do you need? What do you want? I've got it! For now, please leave me a list of three things that you'd like to do when we write together. Think of it as a game. Writing is fun. When it stops being fun, we need to move on.
Please indicate what your goals are at the top of your list. If you're an aspiring writer, say so. If you're a teacher or homeschooler ready to head back to the classroom, I need to know that too.
If you just like to write for the fun of playing with words you've come to the right place. Let's IGNITE TO WRITE!
I'll sit tight until I hear from you! My mind will be whirling patiently.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
KABOOM!
Happy 4th of July!
If you've been writing with me since January, you know all about braindropping. If you haven't, please take a minute to go back a look at the original post after you have fun with a mini version of a firecracking writing activity right now!
I braindrop with people of all ages. With young children (or when I'm short on time) we do it orally. I say a word and then rely on spontaneity. "Quick! Say the first word that comes to your mind when I say, summer," I tell the kids.
If you're really doing this game with a group of people, you play the same way. Never slow down. Quick! Quick! Quick! If you get to a person who doesn't have an immediate word, that person should say: "I can't think." Move to the next person faster than a race car that's in first place on the last lap. This is what makes braindropping fun.
Okay. Quick! What's the first word that comes to your mind when I say, "July 4th"? My word is the title of this post! Maybe I'll interject a couple of other words as we get on a roll!
If you've been writing with me since January, you know all about braindropping. If you haven't, please take a minute to go back a look at the original post after you have fun with a mini version of a firecracking writing activity right now!
I braindrop with people of all ages. With young children (or when I'm short on time) we do it orally. I say a word and then rely on spontaneity. "Quick! Say the first word that comes to your mind when I say, summer," I tell the kids.
If you're really doing this game with a group of people, you play the same way. Never slow down. Quick! Quick! Quick! If you get to a person who doesn't have an immediate word, that person should say: "I can't think." Move to the next person faster than a race car that's in first place on the last lap. This is what makes braindropping fun.
Okay. Quick! What's the first word that comes to your mind when I say, "July 4th"? My word is the title of this post! Maybe I'll interject a couple of other words as we get on a roll!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Journals - Great for Kids and Grown-Ups too!
Many of you know that a few weeks ago I lost my scrappy little dog, Kelly. One of the first things I did was to write about him. Why? Because writing is a way to clear my mind. It's a way to get my feelings uncluttered and down on paper. Writing is therapeutic to me.
I chose to share my writing but the beauty of most journals is that they are not intended for an audience. They are, however, a good way to get rid of anger, take a close look at fear, or simply follow a vacation with words that won't be forgotten. Journals are a very good way to learn more about who you are and how you react to different situations.
Obviously, I love journals. Journals can be written in thousands of ways. Every journal can be unique to its author. It can start from writing prompts like: The most important thing that happened today was____________________.
or simply Guess what?
Writing prompts usually get the mind engaged but they're not necessary. Sometimes you'll discover that something you wrote and planned to keep to yourself is worthy of publication. You'll want to share what you wrote.
Journals are fun. Writing is fun. With journals, anything goes!
Do you already keep a journal? Has it helped you or your writing in general? If you have children, I've got loads of ideas for journal writing that are creative and quick. Let me know if you'd like any of them!
I chose to share my writing but the beauty of most journals is that they are not intended for an audience. They are, however, a good way to get rid of anger, take a close look at fear, or simply follow a vacation with words that won't be forgotten. Journals are a very good way to learn more about who you are and how you react to different situations.
Obviously, I love journals. Journals can be written in thousands of ways. Every journal can be unique to its author. It can start from writing prompts like: The most important thing that happened today was____________________.
or simply Guess what?
Writing prompts usually get the mind engaged but they're not necessary. Sometimes you'll discover that something you wrote and planned to keep to yourself is worthy of publication. You'll want to share what you wrote.
Journals are fun. Writing is fun. With journals, anything goes!
Do you already keep a journal? Has it helped you or your writing in general? If you have children, I've got loads of ideas for journal writing that are creative and quick. Let me know if you'd like any of them!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The Story I Promised You...
As I promised, I'm going to share the story I wrote with you. I'm trying to recall all the specifics, but I'm having a little difficulty. What I DO remember is that I wrote the story for an educational publisher. I think I wrote it for 5th graders and I think that I was given some specific vocabulary words that I had to use. It's probably floating around as a leveled reader in lots of different schools.
Writing leveled readers is probably my favorite kind of freelance. Just knowing that lots of kids are going to read (and hopefully want to write) because of an idea that came from me is amazing.
Message in a Bottle
Ribbons of color filtered through the bedroom window casting a delicate pink glow across my room. The early morning sunshine did nothing to shake my need to crawl back under my covers, but I could hear Catherine clambering up the porch steps to the front door. "Coming," I yelled as I scrambled to get ready. Catherine always came early to meet me when we went to the beach. She said the prettiest seashells were always gone by mid-afternoon. I grabbed my sunglasses and tote bag and trudged downstairs, wiping the sleep from my eyes. About halfway down the doorbell rang again. "Hold your horses!" I screamed, I’ll be there in a sec!"
Patience was not one of Catherine’s virtues and this morning was no exception. As usual, she couldn’t wait for me answer the door, and like always Catherine opened the door and marched precociously inside. She looked more like she was more prepared for a month at Camp Katydid, than just one day in the sun. "Come on Liz," she whined as I eyed a donut on the counter, decided against it and grabbed an apple instead. I followed her out the door, silently chuckling at her weighted-down walk. It was a gorgeous day outside. The sun wasn’t scorching yet; it was pleasantly warm, and the breeze made it a perfect day for the beach. I swung my leg over my bike and rode up the street.
We got about two house down the when I sensed crazy old Hattie Thompson before I actually saw her. I tried to look preoccupied as I rode by, but I made the mistake of taking a sideways look to see if Ms. Thompson noticed me. Unfortunately, she caught my glance and I was forced to acknowledge her presence. I tried to avoid Mrs. Thompson whenever I could because she was the craziest crankiest woman I ever met and frankly, she scared me a little bit. In fact, she gave me the creeps.
"Hi, Ms. Thompson," I stammered in as friendly a tone as I could muster, "How’ve you been?"
"Slow down on that bike before you fall off and end up on my grass," she snarled. I assumed that was the end of the conversation, at least I hoped it was, and began to pedal off, when once again, I sensed old Hattie’s eyes boring a hole in my back. "Always say goodbye," Hattie singsonged, "Always say goodbye." "Don’t answer her," Catherine whispered, "You know she’s loony as a bat. Pedal f-f-faster…. Let’s get the heck away from her!"
We rode like there’d be no tomorrow, the muscles in my calves began to knot up like baseballs, and sweat began to trickle down my face and drip on the handlebars of my bike. I looked over at Catherine and couldn’t help laughing out loud. Her once triangle-white sunscreened nose was now void of protection, but the ooey gooey white stuff was running down her face and she looked like a clown ready for the performance of her life. The tension broke.
We left our bikes on the bike rack, rusted from years in sea mist and sand, and started walking along the shore. Shell collecting isn’t exactly for me, I’d prefer kicking a soccer ball any day, but since Catherine is my best friend, I strolled with her at a leisurely pace.
Before long, Catherine was ahead of me, bent over searching for seashells. I was in a relaxation mode, listening to the gulls and splashing water, when a dark green glass bottle hit my ankle and broke my concentration. "Oh great," I thought, "She’s finding shells and I’m finding old trash." I grasped the old bottle by the neck and was about to fling it back into the sea, when I noticed a slip of paper inside. I stuck my finger in the neck of the bottle as far as it would go, squeezed the paper between two of my fingers and as gently as possible, pulled it out.
By now, I had Catherine’s attention…I’m sure she thought I’d found the most extraordinary conch shell of the day…. and she came to inspect my treasure.
"Lizzy," she asked in a tone that usually implies she wants what I have, "What did you find?" I didn’t reply. "Liz?" For a minute I couldn’t talk, in fact, I couldn’t move. Catherine grabbed the paper out of my hand and read it out loud, "My darling Hattie, today is the day I’m leaving to fight the Nazi’s, we both agree it’s important for me to go. My heart aches because I can’t find you to say goodbye. Know that you will always be with me in the air that I breathe and the moon that I sleep under at night. When I come home, we will make our life together. Since I’m going to put this note under "our rock" I have do doubt that one day you will read my words. Goodbye Hattie Thompson, wait for me. Forever yours, Jonathan." The tattered yellow note was dated September 5, 1944.
I stood stone still and dumbfounded. Catherine was the first to break the silence as she shrieked, "This note can’t be to the crazy old Hattie Thompson we know, can it? No one could have ever loved her like this, Liz, it’s not possible…is it?!" "Let’s go find out," I whispered. sounding only a little braver than I felt. Catherine took longer than usual to gather her paraphernalia, but she did it, and then somewhat begrudgingly unlocked her bike from the rack.
It seemed like it took us twice as long to get back to Hattie’s house as it did to leave there…in fact it seemed like an eternity. Now instead of muscles knotted like baseballs, my legs felt as though they were made of heavy lead, and my mouth was so dry I could spit cotton. I didn’t ask Catherine how she was feeling, somehow, words just didn’t seem right.
As we approached Hattie’s paint-chipped house, I had an overwhelming sense of trepidation. I could see her old face peering from behind the lacy curtains that kept the sunshine, and everything else, out. Before we had time to think, Hattie flung open her door. "Now what," Hattie growled in her usual way, "Didn’t I tell you girls to stay away?"
My hands were shaking like a washing machine out of balance as I reached out to hand her the crumpled up note. "We think this m-m-might be yours," I stammered. Hattie started to turn on heel and slam the door, but something made her change her mind. Her withered hand took the note from me, and as she begin to read, tears fell from her eyes and softened her wrinkled face.
"Come on Catherine," I said, "Let’s go." The moment seemed surreal but as we began to pedal away something made me turn around to look back. Old Ms. Thompson was still standing where we left her, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and I could swear I saw a twinkle in her eye. "Goodbye, Liz," Hattie singsonged, "Goodbye."
"Hello Ms. Thompson," I whispered.
Writing leveled readers is probably my favorite kind of freelance. Just knowing that lots of kids are going to read (and hopefully want to write) because of an idea that came from me is amazing.
Message in a Bottle
Ribbons of color filtered through the bedroom window casting a delicate pink glow across my room. The early morning sunshine did nothing to shake my need to crawl back under my covers, but I could hear Catherine clambering up the porch steps to the front door. "Coming," I yelled as I scrambled to get ready. Catherine always came early to meet me when we went to the beach. She said the prettiest seashells were always gone by mid-afternoon. I grabbed my sunglasses and tote bag and trudged downstairs, wiping the sleep from my eyes. About halfway down the doorbell rang again. "Hold your horses!" I screamed, I’ll be there in a sec!"
Patience was not one of Catherine’s virtues and this morning was no exception. As usual, she couldn’t wait for me answer the door, and like always Catherine opened the door and marched precociously inside. She looked more like she was more prepared for a month at Camp Katydid, than just one day in the sun. "Come on Liz," she whined as I eyed a donut on the counter, decided against it and grabbed an apple instead. I followed her out the door, silently chuckling at her weighted-down walk. It was a gorgeous day outside. The sun wasn’t scorching yet; it was pleasantly warm, and the breeze made it a perfect day for the beach. I swung my leg over my bike and rode up the street.
We got about two house down the when I sensed crazy old Hattie Thompson before I actually saw her. I tried to look preoccupied as I rode by, but I made the mistake of taking a sideways look to see if Ms. Thompson noticed me. Unfortunately, she caught my glance and I was forced to acknowledge her presence. I tried to avoid Mrs. Thompson whenever I could because she was the craziest crankiest woman I ever met and frankly, she scared me a little bit. In fact, she gave me the creeps.
"Hi, Ms. Thompson," I stammered in as friendly a tone as I could muster, "How’ve you been?"
"Slow down on that bike before you fall off and end up on my grass," she snarled. I assumed that was the end of the conversation, at least I hoped it was, and began to pedal off, when once again, I sensed old Hattie’s eyes boring a hole in my back. "Always say goodbye," Hattie singsonged, "Always say goodbye." "Don’t answer her," Catherine whispered, "You know she’s loony as a bat. Pedal f-f-faster…. Let’s get the heck away from her!"
We rode like there’d be no tomorrow, the muscles in my calves began to knot up like baseballs, and sweat began to trickle down my face and drip on the handlebars of my bike. I looked over at Catherine and couldn’t help laughing out loud. Her once triangle-white sunscreened nose was now void of protection, but the ooey gooey white stuff was running down her face and she looked like a clown ready for the performance of her life. The tension broke.
We left our bikes on the bike rack, rusted from years in sea mist and sand, and started walking along the shore. Shell collecting isn’t exactly for me, I’d prefer kicking a soccer ball any day, but since Catherine is my best friend, I strolled with her at a leisurely pace.
Before long, Catherine was ahead of me, bent over searching for seashells. I was in a relaxation mode, listening to the gulls and splashing water, when a dark green glass bottle hit my ankle and broke my concentration. "Oh great," I thought, "She’s finding shells and I’m finding old trash." I grasped the old bottle by the neck and was about to fling it back into the sea, when I noticed a slip of paper inside. I stuck my finger in the neck of the bottle as far as it would go, squeezed the paper between two of my fingers and as gently as possible, pulled it out.
By now, I had Catherine’s attention…I’m sure she thought I’d found the most extraordinary conch shell of the day…. and she came to inspect my treasure.
"Lizzy," she asked in a tone that usually implies she wants what I have, "What did you find?" I didn’t reply. "Liz?" For a minute I couldn’t talk, in fact, I couldn’t move. Catherine grabbed the paper out of my hand and read it out loud, "My darling Hattie, today is the day I’m leaving to fight the Nazi’s, we both agree it’s important for me to go. My heart aches because I can’t find you to say goodbye. Know that you will always be with me in the air that I breathe and the moon that I sleep under at night. When I come home, we will make our life together. Since I’m going to put this note under "our rock" I have do doubt that one day you will read my words. Goodbye Hattie Thompson, wait for me. Forever yours, Jonathan." The tattered yellow note was dated September 5, 1944.
I stood stone still and dumbfounded. Catherine was the first to break the silence as she shrieked, "This note can’t be to the crazy old Hattie Thompson we know, can it? No one could have ever loved her like this, Liz, it’s not possible…is it?!" "Let’s go find out," I whispered. sounding only a little braver than I felt. Catherine took longer than usual to gather her paraphernalia, but she did it, and then somewhat begrudgingly unlocked her bike from the rack.
It seemed like it took us twice as long to get back to Hattie’s house as it did to leave there…in fact it seemed like an eternity. Now instead of muscles knotted like baseballs, my legs felt as though they were made of heavy lead, and my mouth was so dry I could spit cotton. I didn’t ask Catherine how she was feeling, somehow, words just didn’t seem right.
As we approached Hattie’s paint-chipped house, I had an overwhelming sense of trepidation. I could see her old face peering from behind the lacy curtains that kept the sunshine, and everything else, out. Before we had time to think, Hattie flung open her door. "Now what," Hattie growled in her usual way, "Didn’t I tell you girls to stay away?"
My hands were shaking like a washing machine out of balance as I reached out to hand her the crumpled up note. "We think this m-m-might be yours," I stammered. Hattie started to turn on heel and slam the door, but something made her change her mind. Her withered hand took the note from me, and as she begin to read, tears fell from her eyes and softened her wrinkled face.
"Come on Catherine," I said, "Let’s go." The moment seemed surreal but as we began to pedal away something made me turn around to look back. Old Ms. Thompson was still standing where we left her, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and I could swear I saw a twinkle in her eye. "Goodbye, Liz," Hattie singsonged, "Goodbye."
"Hello Ms. Thompson," I whispered.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Start It!
Stories are so much fun. Often, I'll write the ending of a story before the beginning. Why? Because it gives me direction. It gives me someplace to go. Does my ending always stay the same? No. But it can.
Writers: Give it a try. I've written the ending of a story (one I actually wrote ages ago) below. You write the beginning and middle. A short paragraph or two to will fill in the gaps and give the ending some meaning.
After you're done, I'll tell you what the story was really about and who I wrote it for...actually, you do some writing and on Thursday I'll post my original story in its entirety. It will be fun to see the different directions we can go!
As usual, parents, you can talk this through with your kids. Let them help you. Make it a joint effort. Share the fun and love of writing together.
Here's the ending for you:
My hands were shaking like a washing machine out of balance as I reached out to hand her the crumpled up note. "We think this m-m-might be yours," I stammered. Hattie started to turn on heel and slam the door, but something made her change her mind. Her withered hand took the note from me, and as she begin to read, tears fell from her eyes and softened her wrinkled face.
"Thank you," she said.
It was as simple as that.
Writers: Give it a try. I've written the ending of a story (one I actually wrote ages ago) below. You write the beginning and middle. A short paragraph or two to will fill in the gaps and give the ending some meaning.
After you're done, I'll tell you what the story was really about and who I wrote it for...actually, you do some writing and on Thursday I'll post my original story in its entirety. It will be fun to see the different directions we can go!
As usual, parents, you can talk this through with your kids. Let them help you. Make it a joint effort. Share the fun and love of writing together.
Here's the ending for you:
My hands were shaking like a washing machine out of balance as I reached out to hand her the crumpled up note. "We think this m-m-might be yours," I stammered. Hattie started to turn on heel and slam the door, but something made her change her mind. Her withered hand took the note from me, and as she begin to read, tears fell from her eyes and softened her wrinkled face.
"Thank you," she said.
It was as simple as that.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Question for You!
I'll get right to the point here. We've been writing together since January and I'm happy as a clam. Since writing is as natural to me as picking up the phone and talking to my best friend, this blog takes me no time at all. I love writing with you and I love the new blogging friends that I've made.
Since this is an interactive blog, I need to know what you'd like to do for the summer. Do you want to keep on just doing what we have been doing or would you rather do something else? I am willing to do anything (well almost anything) you'd like.
For those of you who truly do want to get published, we can work on that. For those of you who need to talk about igniting the spark of creativity in your children, we can do that too.
The reason that I'm saying all this is that soon I'm going to have a webpage up. It will direct people to my blog and it will offer services for a fee. I am not going to charge any of you anything. But since my freelance work is so down, I need to turn Ignite to Write into a business.
We'll see how all that goes. When you're creative, you're creative. Writing is what I love. Writing is what I do. I just have to figure out a new way to make it work financially for me.
Nothing will change for you at all. I would just like your feedback. Your visits to my new website will be greatly appreciated. It will help to encourage advertisers for me. That's all I will ask from you. As soon as my new website is ready please check it out. I'll make it interactive so it will hopefully be almost as much fun as this blog!
That's it. Thank you for making my life so interesting and this blog so much fun!
Jan
Since this is an interactive blog, I need to know what you'd like to do for the summer. Do you want to keep on just doing what we have been doing or would you rather do something else? I am willing to do anything (well almost anything) you'd like.
For those of you who truly do want to get published, we can work on that. For those of you who need to talk about igniting the spark of creativity in your children, we can do that too.
The reason that I'm saying all this is that soon I'm going to have a webpage up. It will direct people to my blog and it will offer services for a fee. I am not going to charge any of you anything. But since my freelance work is so down, I need to turn Ignite to Write into a business.
We'll see how all that goes. When you're creative, you're creative. Writing is what I love. Writing is what I do. I just have to figure out a new way to make it work financially for me.
Nothing will change for you at all. I would just like your feedback. Your visits to my new website will be greatly appreciated. It will help to encourage advertisers for me. That's all I will ask from you. As soon as my new website is ready please check it out. I'll make it interactive so it will hopefully be almost as much fun as this blog!
That's it. Thank you for making my life so interesting and this blog so much fun!
Jan
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Finish It!
Many people think that writing for children is easy. It is and it isn't. When you are writing for children who are learning to read, less is more. With that being said, I told you I was going to write a story for you to end. What I didn't tell you was that you need to end it in five sentences or less.
My story was inspired when I recently traveled to the zoo...the animals gave me ideas galore.
My story was inspired when I recently traveled to the zoo...the animals gave me ideas galore.
PROVE IT!
I looked once and then twice. "I think that tortoise is dead," I said to Sandy and Julie.
The girls looked at me as though I'd lost my mind. "Okay and you're going to prove it how?" Julie chuckled.
I looked around for a zookeeper. No one was in sight.
I glanced around the tortoise's lush habitat as I walked closer and closer to the gigantic creature.
"How can you tell if a tortoise has a pulse?" Julie asked.
Julie was having a good time with this for sure.
"I'll let you know in a minute," I said.
I bent over and began to lift the tortoise's head out of his dish and........
Writers: Go ahead and finish the story. An easy way to do this is to write the first thing that came to your mind when you read my last sentence. No more than five sentences will be plenty to give my story an ending. It needs one! Give it a try.
Parents: Make sure to let your kids know this story is FICTION and that no one really climbs a fence at the zoo..... then, LET YOUR KIDS FINISH THE STORY! Playful fun writing activities leads to amazing creativity!
The next time you go to the zoo, encourage your kids to do some journal writing or make up their own creative story. Wallow in the love of language and the joy of writing!
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