Poetry Friday: Teaching Voice

It happens at every writers' conference. An audience member asks the guest editor or agent what he looks for in a book. He says, "Voice."

"How would you define voice?" is the follow up question. Answers range from a succinct non-answer, "I know it when I hear it," to a rambling response while the agent squirms in her seat.

Voice is difficult to define, yet as readers we do have an ear for when a character's voice sounds true to itself.

Voice is also part of the 6+1 Writing Traits curriculum. So how do you teach it?

This school year, I brought back a lesson in portrait poems, using fine art images and magazine clippings for inspiration. The full portrait poem lesson is here.

Since I last posted the lesson, I've used PF blogger Amy LV's "Face Poem" as an additional model. 

The students get really into it! First, we look at an image and talk about the facts we see. Next, we spend time imagining -- what's this person's story. (One of my Northfield third grade classes imagined that the grandfather in Amy's picture was a time traveler and the baby he held was himself.) Last, we read and discuss the accompanying poem.

When it's time to write, we follow the same steps. Facts first, then imagination. I can't explain why it works, but it does.

My intern from St. Paul's School for Girls, (hi, Alissa!) and I were whispering about the poem, "A Quote from Gaga" in the back of the classroom. How does a third grader step outside of her own experience and write in the voice of a superstar?

A Quote from Gaga 
by Madi M.
Grade 3

Stylist! Stylist!

Where are you?!

I need a new outfit

For my photo shoot.

I need you to shop

‘Til you drop!

I need a new motorcycle

As a prop.

I need bright red lipstick

and shiny black kicks.

I need long black gloves,

And please, no doves.

My hair needs to be teased

And I need stockings to cover my knees.

The table is out of forks

And I need my black shorts.

I need my hair dyed

And none of this will be denied.

Did you just say, “No?”

Well!

You’re not invited to my show!

Hah!

Mackenzie brought an unusual image with her. The opening lines describe the magazine clipping she used. Then, the poem led Mackenzie into a fantasy scenario.  What an imagination. This poem is written in third person (both first and third were options for the portrait poems).

Untitled

by Mackenzie D.

Grade 3

Putting her hand in a green

glowing ball, wanting to have done

this all her life.

Touching it, feeling a hard

but soft thing, making the whole thing glow.

The light shining down

making the ball brighter.

Lines seem to burst out, but

go back in.

Sparks shooting out like a fire.

Her shirt’s already green, but it

seems as if the glow makes it greener.

Everyone crowding around her now,

wanting to do the same.

She gets bigger and bigger as

she takes her hand out,

then she gets smaller.

I will post more portrait poems over the next few days. Thanks again to Northfield Elementary and its families for giving me permission to share the students' amazing work.

And thanks to wonderful Toby for hosting today's Poetry Friday round-up.

National Poetry Month Issue 4

Spring is a time to welcome simple gifts. After winter's blankness, I'm pleased to see the flash of red that means Brenda and Bob, our resident cardinal couple, have returned to nest in the backyard.

Today's featured Maryland poet is Mary Westcott. Her sonnet, "Slow Music," is featured in Life in Me like Grass on Fire. It is an ode to the simple gifts a pet cat offers.

Mary sent me her poem, "A Child's Wishes" for readers to share with elementary students. It's a list poem, but notice that the wishes are for simple things -- Sun, Moon, rain -- that we realize, by the end of the poem, are remarkable gifts we've already been given.

A Child's Wishes
by Mary L. Westcott

I'd wish for the sun
As my lamp, the clouds
To shade my fears,
The moon to climb
On when I need to stretch.
I'd like the rain to wet
The grass each day,
Slippery on my bare feet.
I'd like a butterfly
As a friend to walk beside
Me on the forest path.
She'd flutter like an eyelash,
A third eye, a witness
To the bright and beautiful
Future.

Posted with permission of the author.

Mary has been volunteering for 10 years at Maryvale Elementary School in Rockville, MD. She works with ESOL students on their reading and writing. Mary gets to teach the third graders poetry!

Early Elementary Writing Exercise
Let's structure this list poem for young writers. We'll use some of Mary's phrases as line starters for the children to fill in:

I'd wish for the sun as my...
the clouds to...
the moon to...
I'd like the rain to...
I'd like a butterfly as...
She'd flutter like a...
A witness to...

Happy National Poetry Month. I'll be back with another Maryland poet tomorrow.

Voice -- I Know It When I Hear It

How many times have you been to a writers' conference and heard an editor or agent say:
Most of all, I'm looking for manuscripts that have a strong voice.

Someone in the audience always asks:
What do you mean, "voice?"

And the editor/agent says . . . I know it when I hear it.

As authors, we get pretty cozy with our characters. Sometimes the lines become blurry. Does that sound like me or my character talking?

This weekend, I had a great visit with the Northern Virginia Writers Club. We did a short writing exercise on voice. I designed this one to help tune authors' ears.

Let's start with a poem by Marge Piercy. This one is part monologue, part character sketch.

My mother gives me her recipe


Take some flour. Oh, I don't know,
like two-three cups, and you cut
in the butter. Now some women
they make it with shortening,
but I say butter, even though
that means you had to have fish, see?


You cut up some apples. Not those
stupid sweet ones. Apples for the cake,
they have to have some bite, you know?
A little sour in the sweet, like love.
You slice them into little moons.
No, no! Like half or crescent
moons. You aren't listening.


You mix sugar and cinnamon and cloves,
some women use allspice, till it's dark
and you stir in the apples. You coat
every little moon. Did I say you add
milk? Oh, just till it feels right.

You can read the rest of the poem at the Writers Almanac.
 

Ponder or discuss.
 
At NoVA Writers, we talked about how the character of the mother is revealed through her speech -- both what she says and how she says it. We decided that this mother probably gives her child advice on everything with this blend of impatience and caring.
 
Now you're warmed up. On to the exercise.
 
1.  Choose a character from your work in progress.
2.  Give him or her a task. It should be something habitual -- work-related, a favorite hobby, a chore.
3.  Choose a second character to watch.
4.  As character one goes through the task, she explains what she's doing and how she's doing it.
 
Take ten minutes to write this as a short monologue. Notice Piercy keeps the second character's voice silent.
 
The NoVA group had a lot of fun with this. Some of the responses were:
 

a young wizard mixing a potion
an old wizard teaching an incantation
a woman dusting her collection of wedding cake toppers
a coach explaining good soccer form
a dog on its walk
 
Here is mystery/thriller author Austin Camacho's fabulous response to the exercise (he wants you to know this is a first draft):
 
You see, dear, it's all about the touch.
 
When you walk up to the mark, he's got to be moving. He stops, you stop. Wait for it. Watch his eyes. There's this moment, this one sweet moment when he's about to stat or stop and he's thinking about what he's doing, and really THINKING, not feeling.
 

THAT'S when you slide up to him. Your eyes are on something else when you touch him. A little bump, right? Not hard, just enough so he feels THAT, not your two fingers slipping into his hip pocket.

 

You can find more of Austin Camacho's work at www.hannibaljonesmysteries.com

 

Many in the NoVA group reported that they didn't know their characters felt this way, or knew how to do the task, until they got writing.

 

Why does this exercise work? As in Piercy's poem, you are asking a character to explain something he or she normally does automatically, without thinking. Forcing her to put into words how she lifts a wallet -- that reveals character.