Wednesday, February 4, 2009

A WriteShop StoryBuilder Assignment

Using the StoryBuilder cards from WriteShop (read a review here), I gave my daughter, age 12, the following assignment:
  • Randomly select one card from each category.
  • You will write about the events leading up to the situation described by the cards.
  • First, plan what you'll write for 5 minutes.
  • Next, write for 15 minutes only.
Her selected cards were: explorer, fearless, a strange disease and mansion.

Below are the results. I'd love to read more and find out how this story turns out. If you would too, feel free to leave an encouraging comment to be forwarded to the author!

*woof* I tumbled down from the rope again. I had been practicing swinging from vine to vine so I could go on a trip with my grandfather to Africa. One of my grandfather’s many friends had a strange disease that could not be cured. However, it was rumored that deep in the jungle, where great cats and bugs roamed, a flower stood in the middle of the jungle that could cure any disease, no matter what it was. There was one catch though, the flower only worked if it was picked when it was blooming. And it only bloomed once every 20 years, in the month of June. The last recorded blooming had been in 1905, and since it was now the beginning of June, it should bloom in about 2 weeks.

“Joshua,” I heard my grandfather call, “meet me in the parlor!” I dashed out the door of the training room and through the rest of the mansion. Racing up the steps, I buttoned on my jacket and ran my fingers through my hair. I knocked on the parlor door twice and then entered.

“Yes, Grandfather? You wanted me?” I looked around the parlor. My grandfather, wrinkled but looking young, and with a twinkle in his eyes, was sitting in his favorite red chair, the one that was big and soft and overwhelmed you when you sat in it. In the chair next to him, sat a stranger, someone I did not know. Who was this man?
“Joshua, I’d like you to meet Mr. Cunningly, the friend we are going to the jungle for.” I backed up a couple steps, hoping the disease wasn’t catching.

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Cunningly choked out, while Grandfather handed him a glass of water, “you can’t catch it.”

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