Living Life Twice

  Young writers are inexperienced at writing memoir, but there are some significant actions teachers can take to significantly support and enhance the writing they produce… Memoir is detection, the sifting through a million lived moments in order to identify the most memorable ones.  The memoir writer rebuilds a part of their life, piece by piece to share with a reader.  The spark for the memoir might come from the colour of a favourite pencil, the secrets held safely by an old teddy. A first pet.  It might involve adventures in your neighbourhood, the sounds, shapes and smells of your first house, that special tree, your first disappointment, an incident, an accident. A place that holds a story. Just as home is the place we know best, our families are at the centre of the stories we often hold dear. Some of the experiences the writer is having right now may remain with them forever as memories. The challenge for the writer is to capture them in their writing…  ...

A student once asked me an interesting question  during a share time ‘What was writing like, when you were in Grade 5?’ Well, it was actually like this… Writing Time With Miss Dungeon In Grade 5 Our teacher Miss Dungeon Would ask us to write She called it- Composition She gave each of us a book A book she called A composition book Every Thursday Straight after lunch Was composition time We all knew this because Miss Dungeon Would stand in front of the class And using her very loud voice That made the windows rattle Announce OPEN YOUR COMPOSITION BOOKS With pencils poised We would sit silently Waiting Waiting Anticipating Until Miss Dungeon Standing at the front of the room Giant like on a raised platform Looked over her spectacles and announced the weekly writing topic- Autobiography of an Ant START WRITING NOW No smile No Frown START WRITING NOW… A few kids began writing Some stared out the window Some froze at their desks And the rest of us stared at the blank white page of our c...

  A memoir is not a review of an entire life. It is merely a piece of that life – a snippet, a chunk, an event that has taken place during that person’s life. It's the snapshot, not the album. The events are told from that person’s point of view. Imagine a pie, and that pie represents your entire life. Well, a memoir is a slice of that pie, not the whole pie... 'The writer of a memoir takes us back to a corner of his or her life that is usually vivid or intense.' Zinsser,W (Ed). (1987). “Inventing the Truth: The Art and Craft Of Memoir' A memoir incorporates a sequence of feelings, thoughts and observations surrounding the chosen event. Often the writer comes to a personal reflection on this event. How does this event reflect my life? What feelings, thoughts and observations are keys to this event? In teaching students to write a memoir piece, it is important for the writer to narrow the topic before commencing the task of committing words to paper. To begin, it may pro...

  Fragments of Song and Lingering Lyrics  I took a moment to view a You-Tube video of a concert held on the forecourt of the iconic Sydney Opera House in 2016 and at one stage the camera panned out from the stage and onto the vast audience assembled in that great open space.  Breasting the stage, the audience smiled, waved and danced their way through a collection of treasured songs from the legendary 'Crowded House.' They sang every word of every song loudly and proudly. Judging by their appearance, their ages seemed to predominantly range from 18-35 years old. Anyway, they were younger than me, without doubt. As I watched, my thoughts turned to a time in my life when I truly believed I knew the words to- all the words, to all the songs. Well, not all the songs, but certainly all the popular songs of that time. I took quite some pride in being able to recall lyrics with such consummate ease. It seemed to come so naturally. I listened. I remembered. I recalled. Many of us...

I wrote this poem almost 30 years ago. It celebrates simple pleasures.  Simple Pleasures The memories of this splendid Saturday Etched indelibly on mind With all the colours intact Browsing through the bookshop Walking and talking The touch of your hand A bicycle ride on a wintery afternoon Simple pleasures  We shared. My feelings so close to the surface spill over Warm and gentle I don't feel vulnerable I feel loved. When your eyes fix upon me They journey straight to my heart I am carried to where you are just as love will always do Simple pleasures  Have become my greatest delight It is being here  Now  With you  When you say simply I love you. It pleases me to report I have retained this vision of celebrating simple pleasures from that time forward. It is important to note those small yet significant moments that float across our days. Moments observed and shared. And so it happened, yet again...  Yesterday, first ...

Writers must be readers –avid readers. They must also carry within them an enduring love of words and remain keenly interested in how other writers write as well as noticing what they write. For these reasons I scour book shops for books about writing and writers. It is where I found, ‘Writing The Memoir’ by Judith Barrington. A book which aims to provide a practical guide to the challenges and dilemmas in crafting a writer's own true stories.  In the book, the author makes the point that in order for the reader to care about what you make of your life, there has to be an engaging voice embedded in the writing –a voice that captures a personality and breathes life into the words. The author further states that memoir requires that the reader feels spoken to. A sense that a conversation is taking place becomes central to the success of the writing. This is such pertinent advice for those of us who teach writing.  It is a reminder that voice remains a critical element of...

Quite some years ago I found myself talking to a group of enthusiastic grade one students who were keen to commence their writing pieces. As they stood up from the carpet to return to their seats to commence their writing, I realized that the spark of imagination that would fire my own writing ideas had suddenly snuffed out. The students all seemed fired up and ready to create the miracle of meaningful marks on paper. At that precise moment, I was bereft of writing ideas In that moment my mind found itself completely blank. I couldn't conjure up a single thing to write about. I was trying to will my brain into action. A kind of Writer’s block had descended upon me like a damp, foggy mist. It was rare for this to happen to me, but suddenly I found myself having to deal with it. I had so wanted to sit among these enthused young learners and write for those initial minutes of their independent writing. A small boy stood beside me at this critical moment and said, 'I’m going...

I was recently given a special notebook as a gift. A notebook clearly designed to celebrate music in all its forms. The deliberate and intentional focus of this small notebook, challenged me to think about how I would respond as a writer. I began to think about my personal history with music and it was immediately apparent that music has been a constant in my life. Music has left its mark on me for as long as I can recall.  Throughout this notebook pages are periodically marked with musical quotations. One in particular set me to thinking. The quotation, attributed to German writer and poet, Heinrich Heine simply states, ‘When words leave off, music begins.’ From personal experience this maxim has always been borne out. Words and music locked in an embrace. At times they have co-existed, working in splendid synchronicity and feeding off each other’s special energy. During my writing history I have written three musicals along with the lyrics for more than twenty song...

Sometimes the tiniest reference can spark a strong memory. It comes rocketing back to the present on the most tenuous of connections. A conversation yesterday with some Grade 5/6 students about childhood memories lead me to this memoir piece today… At the ripe old age of eleven I formed a gang. This was not a gang in the sense that we stole old ladies handbags, smoked cigarettes , or terrorized the neighbourhood writing graffiti on walls and fences. Oh no. This was a gang in the form of a secret society. We thought we were something like an undercover agency. We had secret oaths written in blood and initiation ceremonies, we held secret meetings held in what we considered a secret headquarters. We gave ourselves the name –terrible Terrors. Now, it all sounds rather exciting. However, the reality was a lot more ho hum. Our secret headquarters was in fact an unused chicken pen in my parent’s backyard. The secret oaths we designed were actually written in red indelible pencil...