Mark Binder

A couple weeks ago...or perhaps it was last week - who knows, my days seem to melt into one big blur lately...anyway I caught wind that an author was going to be visiting my daughter's school!  Yes sir Mark Binder was going to be giving a writing workshop in my neighborhood, so naturally I was keen on going.

Of course being the overwhelmingly oblivious mind that I am, I had no idea who Mark Binder was, but nevertheless wanted to go and glean whatever I could from the experience.  Of course I had to battle my usual nemesis fear, for as I made my way down to the library the workshop was already well underway.  After a great struggle at the door I overcame fear, wrenched the door open triumphantly and made my way inconspicuously to a bench in the corner...well maybe not so inconspicuously for half the class glanced my way, including Mr. Binder who gave me a curious wave...

Being late, I missed most of the presentation and was not quite riveted to watch a bunch of fifth graders quietly writing, while Mr. Binder walked around giving aid.  Not exactly what you would call mind-blowing stuff, however after the workshop was through, I sucked up my courage and introduced myself to Mr. Binder - er well, okay maybe that's not entirely true.  I actually headed straight for the books he was selling, being very careful not to make eye contact.  He, however came right over "I'd be happy to sign a book for you."  He said with an eager smile...I bought two books:  The Brothers Schlemiel, which he assured me was a wonderful book, and It Ate My Sister , "The 100% true autobiography of an award-winning writer and professional liar." He invited me to stay for the next workshop which was with the fourth graders (my daughter's class).  This time I sat right with the students and was pulled immediately into Mr. Binder's presentation.  It seems he is not only a talented writer, but also a wonderful story teller, complete with effective sound effects!  It was wonderful to see this man in action, and to observe the gleeful reactions of his audience - just wonderful!

He spoke to the classes about re-incorporation in their writing.  He said writing a story is not just listing a series of events, but bringing information back in a meaningful way that was introduced earlier in the story.  He broke down the elements of a story, gave them a great tip about using the senses.  "If you're stuck and looking for a way to describe something, go to your senses they'll never fail!" (this is not a direct quote, but a loose paraphrase...)  It seemed a simple tip, but I realized that in my own writing I was neglecting most of my senses.  I very seldom describe how something smells for instance, but often just rely on site...tsk tsk tsk.

He then had the classes write a story where they had to focus on re-incorporation.  I was inspired by a young man who was sitting across from me.  He was doing his best not to write...here's what I came up with:
                       Ted pluncked himself into the poofy chair which let out a wheezy phhhhh, sounding  like a juicy deep fart he had once heard emanate from his father's back side, and frowned.  Misjudging the smooshiness of the chair, his behind sunk deep down and he suddenly felt like the contents of a hard shelled taco, arms and legs shooting out like shreds of lettuce.  

                       He quickly scanned the room only to realize most of his classmate's eyes were focused on him as he prised himself out with great difficulty, his legs and arms flailing like a spider caught upside down on the sticky fly tape his grandmother had hanging on her front porch.  The poof, which by the way was a rather obnoxious shade of double girl pink, was reserved for the kids who, what did Mrs. Hanson say? "had trouble focusing," which most days seemed to be Ted.

                     The class was supposed to be working on their short stories, but while the classroom was was filled with the scritch-scratching of number two pencils, Ted's dirt stained fingers were scritch-scratching his buzz cut head.  He got more use out of trying to balance his pencil on his upper lip than using it to write something that was clearly not in his brain.  He probably would have been fine except he got a little cocky.  Instead of balancing the pencil he wanted something more challenging.  He flung his number two into the air with the full intention of catching it in his mouth, only his aim was slightly off.  The pencil somersaulted into the air nearly touching the ceiling, soared down with tremendous grace and agility, ricocheted off Sara Evens head, who incidentally sat right in front of Mrs. Hanson's desk, and landed with a thunk in Mrs. Hanson's left nostril.  She was not amused.