I have a student, OA,  who writes maturely, with clarity and
demonstrates astounding talent. He needs to be published. I am
fortunate to have him for another year and want to make his eighth
grade year a true turning point.I need a advice about how best to
accomplish this task. I want to see him entering some contests,
possibly get something published and maybe find a mentor author.

This year we are using The Mysteries of Harris Burdick, by Chris Van
Allsburg,  a great way to entice writers into creating good short
stories....

 As part of a lesson on these stories, ( and on the advice of author
DJ McHale interviewed buy one of my students a few years ago), I have
the kids write their ending well before the story is finalized.
Here is the site from CVA
http://www.chrisvanallsburg.com/harrisburdick.html
Here is the  image that OA used
http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/7A7zXFedSiMOlAJ4g9oXSg


In less than five minutes here is what my student wrote,
( Yes I know it needs some revision!  Remember he is only 12!)


               The shards of glass lay on the shack floor as the
ever-burning candle rolled into the wall. Tim struggled against his
bonds where his legs were still tethered to the mast. Tears and soot
stained his face as he reached, until his arm was numb and his back
felt like it was splitting in two. His fingers snatched only thin air.
The candle fell down the crooked step and time seemed to stop. the
last seconds of Tim's life would be thousands of fleeting, mosaic
images caught in slow motion, just as they had when he had jumped from
the ship at Tory's command. He saw the braid lashing his face, the
sting of rejection as Serra whipped around in denial. That braid, the
braid that condemned him to eternity.
        Tim's last physical feelings were the shattered glass grazing his
palm and the spiderweb pattern of blood spreading swiftly across his
hand. Once more he groaned and reached for the candle, even as it fell
promptly into the overturned barrel. The barrel of whaling oil.
        In that split second, the little shack by the sea burst into flames,
Tim's dying, broken body was cremated, and the secrets of order and
time were lost in that fateful night.
        Aboard The Maiden, Tory and Serra watched Tim's home combust. They
saw the fire, and within that fire they saw any hopes of a brighter
future and past crumble. As Tim gave his last breath, the Captain and
the Princess could feel the subsiding of the mystical presence that
once enveloped the city.
        Suddenly, as soon as the shack had caught fire, the whole smoking
scene vanished before their eyes. Everything that had happened that
night was lost in the roiling riddles of time. Their own tears seemed
to disappear, their sorrow lost with the little man that caused it.
        And with that absence, came a remnant of Tim. His tiny brown cap came
drifting in the river current, and Tory bent down to retrieve it as it
passed The Maiden. The memory of Tim would not be left to wither.


Tena

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