Category: The Early Years
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The Story of “Joey Balone”
In honor of the Curiosity rover landing on Mars earlier this week, I thought I would share the story of “Joey Balone” from the Little Betsy files. I’m pretty sure I meant “Joey Baloney”.
This was written at the beginning of third grade when I was 8. It might be a little hard to read from a .jpg, so I’ve typed the full text after the photo, preserving the original spelling for full impact.
And away we go!
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A Fateful Decision
I have a pack of papers my mother gave me of things I wrote and drew in elementary school. It’s nice. Not only does reading them make me laugh, but reconnecting with little Betsy has helped me understand things I didn’t know before.
For example, I thought I remembered when I decided to be a writer. I was in my early twenties, driving in to work, thinking about Bruce Springsteen. I often thought about Bruce Springsteen in my early twenties (don’t judge me). I was thinking about how he decided he wanted to be a rock star and how, having made that decision, he just went for it. I remember thinking, “well, I can’t play the guitar, but I like to write. I think I’ll be a writer.” And I started trying in earnest to write books and stories.
Later, when I was no longer in my early twenties and Bruce and I had gone our separate ways, I thought youthful infatuation had been a pretty stupid reason to make a life-altering decision. Doubt grew. Maybe I wasn’t a writer after all? Then I realized I really did like writing anyway, so what the hell. And I kept at it.
But I always thought my decision to be a writer had been because of Bruce Springsteen.
Now, looking through my elementary school papers, I can see that my love of writing came long before my infatuation with Bruce.
There are so many stories in that pack of papers – way more than I remembered. Little Betsy was creating many different worlds with her number 2 pencil. Yes, the stories were probably the result of homework assignments, but she – I – was happy to write them. You can see that. You can also see the freedom there. I didn’t care if they were good or bad. Of course I was going to write stories. Of course I was going to draw pictures. Of course I could do that and I wanted to do that.
Now I can see that Little Betsy was always a writer. She just forgot for a while. And the decision that I made on the way to work that day was a decision that had always been there and was just waiting for me to find it again.
If only I could explain the saxophone lessons….
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The First Synopses
When I was a kid in first and second grade, we had to write essays every Monday about what we had done on the weekend. Our Weekend Stories, as they were called, were a few paragraphs written on ruled yellow paper and illustrated appropriately with a drawing such as the one to the left.I realize this dates me. I believe that first graders today are writing essays about what they did on the weekend using their i-Pads and posting them on their blogs. They photoshop the digital pictures they took with their cell phones at various weekend athletic events and insert them with appropriate special effects.
But I digress.
I remember finding it kind of frustrating to write my Weekend Story. First I needed to think of something to write about. And we never seemed to do ANYTHING exciting. There were only so many times I could write “I played Barbie with my sister.”
Then I had to summarize. I mean the WHOLE WEEKEND had to fit into a few sentences! And, honestly, the less sentences the better as far as I was concerned. Writing neatly was hard (it still is).
Looking back at my Weekend Stories now, I believe they were my first attempts at the art of writing a synopsis. For example:
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Herman, The Unhappy Loaf Of Bread
Happy Day Before Thanksgiving everyone! And in honor of our nation’s day to feast until we drop, I am happy to present my first published work – Herman, The Unhappy Loaf of Bread. This was written and illustrated by me when I was in 6th grade, and it was supposed to be for the 1st and 2nd graders. A few of the stories written were bound in hardback by the elementary school (Herman was one of them). It was even in the library for a while! (although nobody ever checked it out – I’m trying not to be bitter). I think you’ll find it to be not only a tale of awesome self-sacrifice for the greater good, but proof that I’ve been carbo-loaded since I was a wee little girl.
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Poetry: The Early Years
My friends, everyone must start somewhere. And thus it was with my humble self. I did not spring full grown from my father’s head. Little Betsy took her tottering steps towards a writing future just as every other writer does.
In proof of this fact, I offer up the following limerick, which was published in my fifth grade newsletter to great fanfare. If I remember correctly, which is kind of chancy at this point in my life, I was the absolute Queen of the Limerick in fifth grade. This one’s the best, though. Well, okay, it might not be the best, but it’s the only one I remember. And I thought I’d share it with all of you. (more…)
