Deeper

A bird tapped at my window,

trying to crack open a sunflower seed.

I stared at it

in search of a deeper meaning

but found none. Should I be surprised?

Can any creature but man have a purpose?

The bird stood up and looked me in the eye.

In that glint I saw

it searching for a deeper meaning.

Finding none, it turned

and flew away.

This poem should generate some 4th grade conversation, shouldn't it?

This year’s little writing community is comprised of brave kids from all walks of life: athletes and cheerleaders, artists and chess players, karate kids and dancers. And, intrinsic to all of the students is a love for reading and writing. Yes! 

These fine young authors seem to be starving to get at the page. Class goes like this. I explain the lesson, make a few suggestions and then…POW!...they blaze away at their journals as if their pencils are on fire. I just stand back and watch them go. You have to love that Manor Elementary Badgerdog enthusiasm.

Want to see this whole Baderdog experience is for yourself? Come by the Texas Book Festival this weekend and attend a reading at 10:30 in the Capital Extension Room E1.012 and hear for yourself. You'll be amazed....I promise!

Arrooooo!!!

Like I said earlier, Sportscasters assume that the reader is a sports fan, hence the lingo load. Now, books written in this slant can be quite successful. Though lots of readers love them, they're just not my cup of Gatorade.

For example, highly successful Mike Lupica is a well-loved author and ESPN sports caster, so the voice comes by naturally. The lingo is his schtick. It is a big part of who he is. While his books are very, very popular, his Sportcaster-ness fouls out in his prose from time to time. Here's a line to consider from Mike's Travel Team.

In this scene a twelve-year-old Danny is watching a girl his age play basketball. As she bounds around the court in her budding-cuteness, Danny thinks that she was out there, "...scoring all the points, getting all the rebounds, passing like she was ready at twelve to go play for the women's teams at UConn or Tennessee or one of those colleges where the women's team was better and more famous than the men's" (97). Can you hear the sport casting author speaking rather than hormone-charged, adolescent Danny? I don't think that, while inhabiting a moment like this one, the mind of a twelve-year-old boy would go directly to collegiate rankings. I think he'd keep his eye on the girl with the ball and the feelings she is generating inside of him. In this instance, Lupica's Sportcaster author voice intruded upon the character's voice. Mike trumped Danny. Lupica's voice was louder, sending Danny to the literary showers. Yerrr out! I'm talking now.

There...now maybe I can get some sleep tonight!

Rather than being cliched fables about winning and losing, there is a definate purpose for athletic scenes in a these novels, stemming from the innate nature of what the character brings to the page. The athletic arena is the back drop for these stories, rather than the theme's totality. Sport is the cat gut that ties the emotional arc to the story simply because the character happens to be an athlete.

And, boy....does the athletic playing field give a writer the equipment needed to tell a dynamic story.

Over the course of the next few posts, let's look at one of my most favorite sports novels, The Moves Make a Man by Bruce Brooks.  Let's put my Gamer theory to the test. Does Brooks approach the story through the lens of character? Is his work packed with cliche's? And, if so, how are they used? To propel the trajectory of the story or to impress the reader with his razzle-dazzle knowledge of the game? Hmmm...I wonder.

Sport is the backdrop, the field onto which the story unfolds rather than being the story itself.  Gamers do not rely on over-used clichés. Their language is engaging, fresh, and alive!

William Zinsser encourages writers of sports novels to, "Hold the hype and give us heroes who are believable" (184). Not some flat, undeveloped, fair-weather fan athlete or some game-dominated, redundant, sportscaster slanted plot line. No! Zinsser goes on to say, "Sport is now a major frontier of social change, and some of the nation's most vexing issues...are being played out in our grandstands and locker rooms." (185). Real stories about real issues with well-developed, complex characters. Good stuff, wouldn't you say?

Oh sure, there is plenty of game action in stories told in this slant. Of course there is. That's the world in which the character resides, isn't it? A skilled Gamer takes the essence of athletic arena...the referees and locker rooms, doing some pine time and putting up the winning point, injuries and elation...and lets the characters take the lead to create a great story.

A Gamer's story is much, much more than just a sports story. It is a story about life!

Reference: Zinsser, William. On Writing Well. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1998.

In  the blog Nathan states, "I think what's behind the difficulty of pure sports novels is that sports already provides so much human drama and narratives and story lines that a straightforward novel about sports is almost redundant," to which I'd like to add that the author's perspective on how the story needs to be told has even more to do with redundancy. Sports books that primarily focus on game action rather than compelling elements of craft strike out swinging in my score book. These types of stories are written in a writing style I term 'The Sports Caster.'

In his book On Writing Well, William Zinsser explains that there is a "weariness" about this game-centered approach to writing (180). He goes on to say that what keeps sports writers from writing well is,"...the misapprehension that they shouldn't be trying to. They have been reared on so many clichés that they assume they are required tools of the trade (181)." Could the game-centered, cliche' laden, bombastic voice of the sports caster be a source of redundancy to which Nathan made reference to? I think so.  

Perhaps this lack of freshness in a sports novel is what Nathan is alluding to when he states, "Thus, in order to give readers something that they can't already find just by following the NFL or NBA or curling, an author has to bring something new to the table, whether that's by introducing suspense or fantasy or literary merit or a real-life behind the scenes look." In other words, an author must bring a story that is set in the arena of the game, fully complimented by the drama that surrounds competition, rather just a story about the sport.

References: Zinsser, William. On Writing Well. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1998.

Blog: Nathan Bransford: Literary Agent for the Curtis Brown, Ltd.

Yesterday I attended the Badgerdog summer camp's city-wide reading. I was floored by the resonance of the young readers' literary voices, the truth mined in their words, and the confidence required to speak one's own heartfelt thoughts into a microphone reverberating over a crowd a unfamiliar faces. I sat in my straight-back wooden chair in quiet awe, admiring their brazen tenacity. These kids were astute, profound, and some were very funny.

One of the many things that Badgerdog does right is to believe that each kid has a voice, something of value to share, and the way to discover their treasures is through reading and writing. Badgerdog establishes a safe community in which a student is encouraged to try new things, to say what is really tucked in the folds of their heart, and to enjoy the work of others. Badgerdog is a blessing to many, myself included.

Read about BADGERDOG, won't you?

One style of writing sportlerroman is what I have termed the voice of The Fair Weather Fan. A true fair weather fan likes sports all right. However, should inclement weather arise rather than risking getting wet, they are more than happy to give their tickets away. Fair weather fans tend to maintain a sort of 'take-it-or-leave-it' attitude. There is a distance between them and a deep, passionate connection with the game. The same attitude is prevalent when reading novel  written in the Fair Weather Fan approach to the story. (Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of very popular and quite successful novels written in this slant. It is just harder to plausibly pull it off.)

Many times these writers gloss over aspects of athletics in the story. They tend to refer to athletes as merely 'jocks' rather than developing the athletic aspect of their character. I wonder if, perhaps, these authors have not had the knee-scraping, bone-crushing, stinky-sock-smelling, crowded-locker-room innate connection with sport themselves. Or, if they felt that developing the aspect of an authentic sports experience might detract from their original story's intent.

One very popular book that is written in the Fair Weather Fan voice is Nancy Werlin's Impossible.There is no doubt that Werlin knows how to weave an intricately woven, fascinating plot. Oh, my goodness.

In Impossible, the protagonist is in track. She jumps hurdles. Though we don't actually see her sprint down the asphalt, we believe this author when she tells us because Werlin's writing is just that good. We don't agonise over big team meets or whether she will place in the top ten hurdlers. Werlin glosses over the aspects that are intrinsic to a passionate, committed athlete. The protagonist has been cast as an athlete because she needs needs to be strong and focused, demonstrating her competitive resilience during the dramatic climax of the story. Though she's not at the track at this pivotal plot point, it is game time! She has to deliver. All or nothing. Do or die.

Though distant from the trials of the track, Nancy Werlin pulls off the Fair Weather Fan slant successfully. She uses sport as a complimentary literary element, a sort of invisible characterizational thread holding protagonist together...something innate, or maybe dormant, within her. Werlin's athletic protagonist taps into her connection to sport as a strength just when the story line needs her to.

I maintain that the reason the Fair Weather Fan slant works in this case is because the reader is solidly in the hands of a skilled writer. Not so in all cases.

I've written a couple sports novels and wrote my VCFA critical thesis  about the these critters. Truthfully, my research began to take shape when I came across the fine work of a great guy named Chris Crowe. (Actually, a dear friend and VCFA classmate, Carol Lynch Williams, introduced me to Chris and his philosophy regarding these stories.) With Crowe's book More Than a Game: Sports Literature for Young Adults in hand, my foot was placed squarely on the reference starting block, ready to run.

Chris has been passionate about upper middle-grade and YA sports novels for years, books he calls the 'sportlerroman', novels in which the protagonist is an athlete.  Like an literary equipment bag, these characters pack their unique connection to sport and carry it with them throughout the story. Athleticism and everything that goes with it is part of their character. Yet, the best of these novels have to do with so much more than just game action. Oh, yes. These are coming-of-age stories in which a character uses their connection with the game to find their way in the world. 

I learned so many things writing that thesis. For example, I discovered three distinct ways that an authors approach writing a sportlerroman, ways that I feel are predetermined by the author's connection to sport. I traced the history of the female athlete as conveyed in story, discovered how a character's connection to sport moves the plot trajectory, and many other fascinating things. In short, I hit a home run with this topic.

Hey, why don't we chew the fat about sportlerroman, like Amy and I did? What do you say? Sound good?   

Kiteley suggests two ways to build the absent character. One is by examining objects such as letters, pictures, personal objects, and even their penmanship. The other is hear-say, listening to the words of others as they express their perception of that person. Great tips.

This morning I used both of his techniques. My protagonist was in dialogue with someone who knew of his father. Both characters were studying an old photo. The questions my boy asked this man gave me chills. He and I learned facts contrary to those my boy had grown up believing. And, it seems that my protagonist is developing a voice of his own. Interesting...

Funny...as I begin to understand his father's past, I can see my protagonist's character more clearly. Thanks, Brian.

Reference: Kiteley, Brian. The 3 A.M. Epiphany: Uncommon Writing Exercises That Transform Your Fiction. Cincinnati: Writer's Digest Books, 2005.