Will Rogers: Actor, Trick Roper WRITER!

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Howdy, Campers and Happy Poetry Friday! (My poem and the link to PF is below)

This time around, we TeachingAuthors are rhapsodizing about our favorite American writer's museum or home. Bobbi began with a post on Emily Dickinson's Museum, Mary Ann wrote about William Faulkner's Rowan Oak, And Carla, in her post titled "Listen My Children," wrote about Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's home.

Today I'm going to introduce you to a beloved place in my Southern California childhood, Will Rogers State Park and ranch house, just a 15-minute drive from UCLA.

But first, a bit about Will, gleaned from the Will Rogers Memorial Museum and Birthplace Ranch in Claremore,  Oklahoma:

“My ancestors didn’t come over on the Mayflower, but they met the boat.” (Will was "born to a Cherokee Nation family.")

He wanted more than anything in the world to become a trick roper, and did, touring the US and Europe in Wild West and vaudeville shows. If his rope tricks failed on stage, he made jokes, and those "jokes became better than ropes." He signed with Ziegfeld's Follies and become a Broadway star.

But Will was also a writer. He was, to put it mildly, prolific. "He put approximately two million words in print—six books, more than 3,600 [daily!] newspaper columns..." and wrote frequently for The Saturday Evening Post. His "syndicated weekly and daily columns were prized by 600 newspapers ...including at least one in every major city...and reached a potential audience of 40 million readers." In addition, he wrote"scores of magazine articles—in a span of only sixteen years, stretching from the publication of his first newspaper article in 1916 until his last one in August 1935."

"I don't make jokes. I just watch the government
and report the facts."

Are you out of breath yet? There's more:

He appeared regularly on radio through the 1920's and 30's, and went on to produce, direct, write and star in the 20-minute silent picture, "Ropin' Fool," in which he pioneered slow-motion cinema to better demonstrate his roping tricks. (Watch him do 3 minutes of rope tricks from that film.)

He went on to star in 50 silent films, and when "talkies" replaced them, appeared in 21 pictures in five years and becoming Hollwood's highest paid actor. (In fact, here's his IMDB)

He was a force of nature. My mom and dad loved that he spoke truth to power--so naturally, I did, too. What I knew of Will reminded me of Molly Ivins, who I wrote about right after the November election. But as I've read more, I was surprised to find that I disagree with some of his political views. Still, it seems he kept politicians on their toes--an important job of a columnist/political satirist.

For example (from Wikipedia):

Rogers thought all campaigning was bunk. To prove the point he mounted a mock campaign in 1928 for the presidency. His only campaign promise was "If elected, I will resign." Every week Rogers caricatured the farcical humors of grave campaign politics.  During this campaign he answered questions: What does the farmer need? Obvious: "He needs a punch in the jaw if he believes that either of the parties cares a damn about him after the election."  On election day he declared victory and resigned.

"Ten men in our country could buy the whole world and ten million can't buy enough to eat."

But my memories are of Will Rogers State Park, and more specifically, Will's 31-room Western Ranch House not far from the Pacific Ocean, with its long porch, and an expansive lawn (i.e. park) which stretched from the family's stable to their polo field.

Oh, that lawn. Oh, that polo field. And oh, the trails leading from the ranch to forever, which my hiking group returns to often.

And what's the first thing I always wanted to see as a five-year-old, as a ten-year-old, and today, when touring his home?  The roping calf. In his living room. His living room! 

Cool.

Here's a poem I wrote in 1995 about one of my all-time favorite birthday parties under the trees which surround the lawn of the Will's ranch house:

PARTY AT THE PARK
by April Halprin Wayland

Surrounded by shedding eucalyptus trees,
been here forever, they’ll be here forever, too.

All of my cousins, aunts and uncles
spreading table cloths, taking out potato salad,

handing me hugs and presents and long kisses,
talking to everyone as they talk to me,

big arms and bodies and laughing, laughing
Cousin Bruce, Cousin Robbie, my sister, and Cousin Franklin

running after pigeons, running after frisbees, running into me
more presents and pass the plates and did you have enough?

taste Aunt Sylvia’s kugel, yes, says Uncle Raphael, taste
Fran’s chopped liver, is it time for birthday cake? asks Uncle Moish

and we all gather ‘round for two cakes for Dad and me--mine is pink
Dad says I can have a corner flower and

Mom and Aunt Cissie are putting candles in the plastic flower
holders and sticking them in the cake and then Mom lights them with a little

match, lights the last one holding the very teeny part of the match, burning close to her fingers, but she’s fast and they burst into song and I feel full and

like bursting
full of cousins and aunts and uncles and potato salad

surrounded by shedding eucalyptus trees,
been here forever, they’ll be here forever, too.

poem © 2017 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved. 

Here's a 2-minute video about Will Rogers:

"The man with the best job in the country is the Vice President. All he has to do is get up every morning and say, 'How's the President?'"

Thank you for reading this post. As some of you may remember, I am terribly afraid of making factual errors when writing non-fiction. It scares the dickens out of me. Do you ever feel this way?

And congratulations to Gail P, who won an autographed copy of Lisa Cron's STORY GENIUS (which Esther reviewed here) in our latest book giveaway celebrating TeachingAuthors' 8th blogiversary!

Thank you, Tara, for hosting Poetry Friday at A Teaching Life!

posted by April Halprin Wayland with the help of Will, who said: "Live in such a way that you would not be ashamed to sell your parrot to the town gossip."

Wednesday Writing Workout--STAND ON YOUR HEAD and revise!

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Howdy Campers!   Welcome to another edition of TeachingAuthors'

TeachingAuthors--and most writing teachers--have taught and discussed versions of this exercise over the years—and it's worth repeating.

Last week I tweaked it just a bit and the raw results in student writing was much more personal than when I've used this exercise before--their stories were notably stronger.

In my UCLA Extension Writers' Program class on Writing the Children's Picture Book, I spend one of the three-hour classes on rewriting.  I tell my students, "the information I'm about to tell you may be a tad depressng."

Then I show them a stack of revisions of my 1087-word picture book. I read an early draft, a middle draft and the final published book.  I show a PowerPoint which details the long journey to publication:

TIMELINE OF ONE OF MY PICTURE BOOKS
•    April 2000: interviewed expert on topic; wrote first version
•    April 2002: additional interviews
•    October 2004: accepted by publisher
•    January 2005: author’s revision sent to Dial
•    July 2005: editorial notes promised
•    December 2005: editorial notes received
•    January 2006: author’s revision sent to editor
•    January 2006: line edit promised “soon”
•    March 2006: line edits promised “May at the earliest”
•    May 2006: no line edits yet
•    May 2006: illustrator accepts offer
•    September 2006: considerable line edits received
•    September 2006 (about 12 days later): edited ms. sent off with new title
•    May 2007 titles still under discussion—August 2008 projected publication date
•    September 2007—book delayed until summer 2009 because illustrator is delayed.
•    April 2008—tiny edit: five small word changes
•    Fall 2008: illustrations arrive—wow, wow, WOW!
•    June 2009: book ship—yippee!
•    Summer 2009 lots of PR
•    September 2009: official launch—bricks-and-mortar and blog tour

      = 38 versions from start to finish.

After depressing them with the timeline, I did something different this time.  I read them the touching picture book, I Remember Miss Perry, written by Pat Brission, illustrated by Stéphane Jorisch (he's also the illustrator of New Year at the Pier).  It's about the death of a beloved elementary school teachers and how her students work through it by sharing happy memories of her.  It's a delicious book about a topic no one wants to talk about--the kind of book that every school needs in its library, because when you need it, you need it immediately.

I want my students to feel they can tackle any topic in a children's picture book as long as it's written honestly.  As long as it rings true.

So, here's the exercise:

1) Have your students brainstorm for five minutes, writing a list of experiences from their childhood that rocked their world. 

Tell them to jot down whatever comes to mind, writing quickly. They don't need to worry about neatness or spelling or complete sentences--they're making notes for themselves.

Here are some possible topics:

When did you do something that made you feel grown-up?
Maybe you helped paint the kitchen.
Maybe you did something that helped someone older than you solve a problem.

When did something scary happen to you?
Maybe your dog ran away.
Maybe your parents separated.

When did something joyous happen to you?
Maybe your family moved into a nice home for the first time.
Maybe you learned how to skateboard or read.

2) Give them just five minutes to circle one of the things on their list that they want to write about and then write a brief outline of the whole story. 

3) Tell them to change one thing about this story.
Tell them: BE WILD!  
Tell them: STAND ON YOUR HEADS AND BALANCE SAUSAGES ON YOUR TOES! 
They might change:
~ Point of view.  Instead of first person, try third person.  Or perhaps the family dog tells the story.
~ Time period.    Instead of the present, try setting it in ancient times, in the 1920s, in the future.
~ Place:              Instead of on a farm, try setting it underwater, in a volcano, on an island, in New York.
~ Characters:      Instead of people, try ground hogs, lightning bugs, elevators, a jar of pickles or cows.
~ Plot:                Instead of the cricket finding his home at the end, perhaps he gets even more lost.  Or instead of the bully getting her comeuppance, throw a party for her and see what happens.

As I said, this is the first year I've read my students that book before we launched into this exercise; the stories were more heartfelt than in the past.

They tried riskier subjects, subjects that were closer to their skin--and every idea was worth pursuing.

I hope you try it--either in your own writing or with students.  Then let me know what happens!

And, hey--thanks for reading this!
April Halprin Wayland

P.S. : Don't forget to enter our current book giveaway for our own Jill Esbaum's Angry Birds Playground:  Dinosaurs. See Jill's post for details.   Entry deadline is TODAY!

Memory Poet-Tree: a Wednesday Writing Workout

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Howdy Campers! Welcome to...

My mother says that everyone remembers the trees of their childhood.

I recently attended the annual FOCAL (Friends of Children and Literature) Luncheon hosted by the Los Angeles Public Library Children's Literature Department. Each year, FOCAL gives an award to an outstanding children's book with California content.  This year's award deservedly went to my friend Joanne Rocklin for her wonderful book, One Day and One Amazing Morning on Orange Street (Abrams).

This book bubbles over with the voice of middle graders.  It's a wonderful and truly amazing work, as the avalanche of great reviews and awards attests.

Joanne's acceptance speech was thoroughly Joanne: full of enthusiasm, aware of her audience, bursting with love.

I had such a great time, I bought one of the centerpieces, made by
Ray Moszkowicz's art students at Palms Middle School:

 Each detail of this inspired centerpiece references her book.

Joanne's memories of her beloved orange trees inspired my poem that day (I write a poem a day); I thought perhaps a memory of a tree in your life might inspire you, too.

I wrote about our Meyer Lemon tree and how incredibly generous it is.  See for yourself:

I want to share my lemon tree poem with you...but here's my dilemma: dozens of my poems have been published in poetry anthologies...but recent contracts specify that poems can never have been published--even on a blog.  ACK!

But wait! I see that I've blogged on this topic before... so let's use a poem I've posted previously:

WINNING
by April Halprin Wayland

I sit under this tree
to sit under this tree.

Not to win anything.
Just me and tree.

If the wind happens to drop
a sweet plum in my lap, though,

I would never say no
to a plum.

poem © 2013 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved

 

Now it's your turn. 
1) Close your eyes. Think of a tree from your childhood...or any tree of significance to you.
2) List details of that tree that cover all five senses, or write snippets of your memories of the tree.
3) Or you may want to simply plunge in, and see what memories sprout from your pen or keyboard.
4) Consider putting your poem (or was it a story that emerged?) into a form...or not.
5) Consider sending your poem to someone who would remember that tree.
6) Leave a comment about this exercise.  :-)

Don't forget to enter to enter our Book Giveaway to win
Brenda Ferber's Valentine's Day picture book,  
The Yuckiest, Stinkiest, Best Valentine Ever (Dial)
 All the details are in Esther's post below. 

And thanks for coming to today's Wednesday Writing Workout!

poem and lemon tree photo © 2013 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved

Fall Is for Thanksgiving

In kindergarten, the calendar takes on special significance.  My daughter knows that there are seven days in a week and 12 months in a year; yet somehow, when fall rolled around, she felt sure that it would instantly be Halloween.  We have been engaged in a countdown since approximately September 1st (my daughter, taking after her mother,  is exceptionally fond of candy), but as October progresses, her excitement seems strangely to be building toward Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving, I must admit, was always my least favorite holiday.  As a child, I did not like to eat (hard to imagine now), and in my half-Italian family I was expected to stuff myself with manicotti and turkey, scrapelles and sweet potatoes..  As a grown-up, I do not like to cook, to say nothing of cleaning up.  After dismal high school and college teams and years living in team-less Baltimore and LA, I'm not a football fan.  Thus one of my very favorite Thanksgivings was spent alone in LA, snuggled under a quilt with a book, a TV dinner, and a Mrs. Smith's pumpkin pie.

Lest you should feel sorry for me, please don't.  I was most thankful for a roof over my head, for heat and warmth, for pumpkin pie, and most of all (of course) for my faraway family.

When I moved back to the East Coast shortly therafter, my parents quickly made up for lost time by asking my great-aunt, my grandmother, and my great-uncle to move in with them.  I thought they were slightly insane, but I had no idea how blessed I would be as a result. 

My great-uncle Dutt (yes, that is his real name -- not Dutch, not Duck, not Butt) served in India during World War II at the ripe old age of 28.  His wife, Ruby, was in the first professional women's softball league (reference A League of Their Own) and was also, he told me, a seasoned dirt biker circa 1930.  I never meant Aunt Ruby, but I can imagine that she and Uncle Dutt were the perfect pair.

At age 85, Uncle Dutt insisted on carrying my suitcase atop his head.  In his 90s, he ran the Swiffer daily, made his famous no-bake apple pie, cleaned grapefruits by the jar for my husband and mother, and dispensed Mardi Gras beads to strangers.  At the age of 94, he had outlived his siblings and his contemporaries.  His hearing and memory began to fail.  Yet he rarely stopped smiling.

Like his sister before him, his memories of his childhood were the most keen, the most present, and he told the stories many times over -- his time in the one-room schoolhouse when he spelled 'to got she' instead of 'together'; his older brother getting locked in the coat room overnight when he misbehaved and his teacher forgot him; his father secretly feeding families during the Great Depression.

As we get older, as everything fades away, we become like children again; and so it is childhood that we never, ever forget.  Those stories are precious to us, and telling them helps us to feel human, to feel important, to feel alive.

Uncle Dutt had a stroke this week, and he can no longer tell his stories.  I give thanks that I can hold them in my heart, and I will never forget.  -- Jeanne Marie

Writing Workout
Interview a relative or a neighbor about a favorite childhood memory.  Ask the basic questions: Who, what, when, where, how?  Follow up and find out what you need to know to make the story complete in your own mind -- setting, background information (number of siblings, historical context, etc.), and especially a sense of why this event is so important to the person relating the memory. 

Finally, go home and write your story.  Make sure to share it with your subject when you're finished.  Did you relate the details accurately? 

Don't forget to enter our latest contest to win an autorgraphed book from author Candace Ryan.  See April's post for details.

Strength Training Your Stories! (And a poem about being lost for Poetry Friday!)

Happy Poetry Friday!

Today's poem is lost at the bottom of this post.

As Carmela has mentioned, on March 18th, from 1:45-3:45 pm, we Teaching Authors will be at the Illinois Reading Council presenting a workshop with DePaul University professors Roxanne Owens and Marie Donovan called Flabby to Fab-y: Writing Workouts to Shape Up Your Curriculum.

Exciting!  I am v-v-v-v-v-vibrating in anticipation of this adventure beyond my Southern California borders!  (I'm also packing winter underwear and mittens.)

In keeping with our workshop's title, here’s a “strength training” exercise which will surely help you and your students generate ideas and get that first draft down.

 (Okay...you're going to have to use your
writerly imaginations here.
Suddenly I can't upload images...
even ones I've used before.

So the cartoon I drew of a girl
bench pressing a giant pencil
is something you're just going to have to
conjure up on your own.
I know you can do it.)

This exercise comes from my friend, poet and prolific children's author Janet Wong.  Janet teaches this exercise to help kids and adults alike find content for poems.  But it could just as easily be used to jump start stories.

WRITING WORKOUT--Generating Ideas

She calls it her "Mind Walk" exercise.

Janet says,   “I write the numbers 10 to 5 on the board, in descending order, and I talk briefly about one memory from each of those years of my life.

As I talk about the memory, I jot down 3-5 words next to the year. I talk about my skateboard accident and stitches (7 years old), spitting milk on the table at a birthday party when someone told a funny joke (9 years old), riding an elephant (10 years old), getting in trouble for taking a nickel to show my underwear to the boy next door (5 years old)-various things.

Then I give the students 1 minute to jot down some memories.  This is easy for them because most of them have started thinking of memories while listening to my stories-you can see them practically bursting to tell someone about the time they broke an arm, or whatever.

At the end of the minute, I call on people to share their memories aloud (and this is another time when people get ideas).

I ask if anyone still has no memories; if hands go up, I then ask a bunch of silly questions: Have you ever cut your own hair, and it turned out awful? Have you ever vomited in public? Have you been embarrassed by your parents? Have you ever cheated, or lied for a friend-and gotten caught?

I then talk briefly about rhyme, repetition, and rhythm, and tell them to write their poem.

I tell them, "If you're stuck for a beginning, you might want to try something like this, writing "I am x years old" and describing what happened in the present tense, as if it's happening right now. A couple of them will take this route.

This exercise produces interesting results because it invites people to shock others and also reminds them of funny/strange things that they might otherwise never have the opportunity to remember. Such as: the woman in her mid-20s who put Nair hair-removing cream in her "friend's" shampoo bottle when she was a teen; the teen girl whose dog bit off her bird's head when she was 6 years old; the boy who accidentally set fire to a house with firecrackers at age 5, etc.”

Thank you, Janet!

So...what are YOUR childhood memories?  Write down ages 5-10 and unearth a few embarrassing or a silly or a tender or scary ones.  Then, risk all by writing a story or poem about one of them.  When you're done, as Esther Hershenhorn encourages, read your work aloud.

Do it!  And then...will you do me a huge favor?  Will you check in when you've done it?  Will you drop us a line in the comment section?  We live for your comments! 

Here’s a poem that came from one of my childhood memories:

LOST AT THE SAN DIEGO ZOO
by April Halprin Wayland

 I reach up to hold your hand.
 It isn’t yours.
 All of a sudden
                          there you aren’t.

 A forest of legs, legs,
 footsteps, footsteps:
 families clattering through the zoo
 to the elephants!  To the lions! 

 They’re all scared of the snake house,
 pushing past me
 boarding the fat tram—
                                     but nobody is you!

 My face is hot.  My buttons are tight.
 You are lost in this jumble of giant Strangers.
 Where are you? 
                       Where are you? 
                                              WHERE ARE YOU?

A navy-blue uniform
takes my sweaty hand,
gives me cold water,
turns on a microphone:

“Will the parents of a lost youngster
please come to the Zoo office.”
I’m sitting on the desk
sucking a cherry lollipop.

I’m not crying
       but those wet things
                                    keep running down
                                                                from my eyes...
Then,
 you come hugging!

This poem has been accepted for publication in Cricket Magazine.  Copyright © April HalprinWayland

Remember to breathe.  And remember to write with joy ~

Photo and drawing by April Halprin Wayland