I have been asked to lead a creative writing group, and because I do so much (including my own creative writing) , I’m pondering on whether to or not… it would be to adults and it would be only once a month, and I think it would be actually quite interesting and stimulating. I’m sure it wouldn’t be actual teaching as such, but more guiding and leading. I thought back to the sort of lessons I taught when I as in school and I think some of them would be transferable… for example, a modern fairy tale.
Here is the beginning or one I wrote as a piece to stimulate my students to produce either own modern tales:
A Modern Fairy Tale
Bianca was fed up. Her dad had just told her he was getting married again, and what was worse it was to Miss Knightstone 2005. Miss Knightstone, aka Queenie, was stuck-up, ambitious, selfish, self-seeking…. Bianca ran out of words to describe her. It wasn’t as if her dad couldn’t have married anyone. He was wealthy, he was good-looking and he loved Bianca. Well he used to love Bianca until Queenie arrived.
The wedding was over and instead of becoming closer, Bianca and her parents were becoming more distant. One evening Bianca overheard Queenie on the phone. To her horror Bianca discovered that Queenie was planning to send her to boarding school – worse still, the boarding school was in Iceland.
Bianca was given the tickets for her flight. She couldn’t believe it, the airline was Cheapair. Their slogan was ‘Now you’re here, now you’re gone!’ The company had an appalling safety record, she would be lucky if she made it! As she was getting ready to go Bianca overheard Queenie talking to one of her friends.
“Yes it’s a wonderful school, Miss Dour’s Academy for Young Ladies. Yeah, I know Cheapair is rubbish! I hope the plane crashes, get her out of the way. If she survives the flight I’ll have to think of something else to get rid of her. I’ve contacts over there. A nice walk on a winter’s day might be just the thing, you never know, she might slip down a glacier. It would be an awful accident! But then I would be in line to inherit everything!”
Bianca left home without even a farewell to her father. She stood at the motorway services, cold and miserable. It was late at night, she had no money, no food, and only the fear of Queenie stopped her from phoning home. She was so cold. She had to find somewhere to sleep.
She wandered round the carpark and then she noticed a large caravan hitched to a lorry. The door was open a crack and an inviting light shone through. Bianca crept up the steps and opened the door. There was no-one in but the caravan was warm and welcoming. She went in and sat down, hugging her coat around her. It was a child’s chair but she just about fitted. She slipped into a doze.
She woke with a shock to see a group of small boys staring at her. To her further shock she realised they weren’t boys but people of restricted growth.
“Who are you?” she gasped.
“We are the Seven Dancing Brothers of Zo-Zo’s Circus. This is our caravan. The point is, who are you?”