3 Fiction Lesson Plans

Lesson: Telling a Story from a Picture

Objective: To have the students write a creative story that is inspired from a picture the students will receive.

Time: This unit will take 9 weeks to complete. This unit will be considered a quarter project. Students will work on this every monday during class and will be expected to write at least 10 minutes every day outside of class to complete the project on time.

Expectations:

The students will write a short story. Complete with a beginning, middle and end

Students will be able to writing using language that shows

Students will be able to give and receive constructive criticism to help their writing grow.

Students will use the picture as a starting point for their story.

Procedures:

1. Each student will receive a different illustration from a children’s book. The illustration will not be from a current book, but the illustrations will be from a story that they are familiar with (e.g. Cinderella, Wizard of Oz, etc.).
2. Discuss what is going on in our picture. What is happening at the present? How about the past? What are the characters backstory? What about the future? If we were to see more pictures, what would it show?
3. Students will create a graphic organizer that allows them further develop characters, story, plot, setting, etc.
4. Begin creating a rough draft of the story based on their graphic organizer.
5. Students will get into groups and peer edit and give constructive comments on how to make the story more realistic and how to show the story instead of telling.
6. Students will take their edits and write a final draft.
7. Students will turn in their writing and then we will read their story aloud in class and then reveal which story their picture was from. Students will compare/contrast the difference between the original and the students version.
8. Discussion about whether or not the visuals helped us in developing our writing. Was it more or less effective than a traditional writing prompt? How do you think your writing has improved? Or not?

Lesson: A Story in Pictures

Objective: To have students visualize the action in the story and focus on showing the reader what is going on versus telling.

Time: This will be a two-week unit

Expectation:

The students will be able to use pictures to visualize their story

Students will be able to think about their story and create a story that has a smooth plot arc

The students will be able to look critically at other visual stories and understand the story

Materials:

Graphic Novels

Pencils

Pens

Paper

Procedure:

1. The students will look at graphic novels and we will discuss how the story moves along only using pictures. Dialogue is used, but sparingly, the pictures can drive the story. Students will need to focus on “showing” the action and interspersing their dialogue to make their story believable.
2. Discuss the how action is portrayed, facial expressions, body movements/poses
3. Students will begin by creating a graphic organizer about a event that happened to them in the past. They will list the people involved, the setting, what happened (plot) and anything else they deem necessary.
4. The students will sketch out on paper their story. Concentrating on showing the viewer what exactly is going on. The pictures should drive the story, not the dialogue.
5. Students will share stories with peers and give/receive constructive comments about how the story is working and where it needs improvements.
6. Students will edit their work, incorporating peers comments
7. Students will then create a final copy of their story on bristol board and use special ink pens similar to those in the graphic novel/manga industry.
8. Students will share their final version with the class
9. Scan stories and send to printer to be bound as a book, which students will have the ability to purchase
10. Place in the library catalog.

Lesson: Your Characters Personality

Objective: To fully understand your character and how they react in different situations

Time: 1-2 days

Procedure:

1. We will discuss our personalities and how we react in different situations. For example, how we react when someone is harassing us, or when someone tells a funny joke. The key is to make your character act in a believable and human way.
2. Show some examples from other stories we have read in class and predict how that character would react in a situation.
3. The students will take a character from their story and try to develop it further. Students will place their character in situations and write about how they react. As guidance I will provide the first few prompts, the students will then be expected to come up with 5 other examples of situations their character reacts to.
1. Your character has just broken up with their boyfriend/girlfriend what is their reaction? What do they do?
2. Your character is sitting in English class and a friend passes a note and asks you to pass it on, What do they do?
4. Students will turn their responses in for a grade
5. Come together as a group and discuss why it is important to know our characters on a such a deep level.

What If Exercises - Week of 4/19

VI: Plot

Exercise 30: Three by Three

Carter leaves Earth

Heir to power

Vanquishes his enemy

VII: Story Elements as a Given

Exercise 40: Pyscho: Creating Terror

I pulled the shower curtain open slightly and poked my head out. I could have sworn I heard a scratching on the door. With all the steam from my shower, I wasn’t so much looking as I was listening, but there was nothing there. I shrugged my shoulders and re-entered my own personal waterfall. Sometimes living by yourself can give you the creeps.

I stepped out of the water stream, grabbed the bottle of semi-translucent shampoo off the shelf and lathered my hair up, getting a good handful of suds. Turning around I let the water droplets bounce off my head and cascade down my shoulders and back. Odd, the water doesn’t feel quite as warm and it was a moment ago and now it had...a different feel. My eyes opened up and looked down, a scarlet colored substance all over the floor of the white basin. I knelt down and reached out my hand when I saw that there were red beads of the stuff on my arm. I lifted my fingers to my nose, the substance smelled vaguely like blood. That was when I turned my head and gazed at the horrific sight of red liquid pouring out from the shower head. Panic took over, I freaked out, I scrambled to get out of the shower. I slipped on the liquid hitting my head hard on the side of the fiberglass tub. I reached up and grabbed the curtain, trying to pull myself up and out, while the blood was spraying my chest I quickly noticed that it was rising in the tub. I raised myself off the floor of the tub only little ways when I heard the plastic tear and fell back into the blood, the shower hooks spun around the their rod, making little clinking noises.

The brass doorknob violently rattled back and forth, the white door shook in its doorframe, little chips of paint littering the floor and the counter nearby. A blinding florescent light filled the room from the gap under the door. As quick at it began, it all stopped. The door stopped rattling, the green light dissipated and the blood flow from the shower head ceased. I carefully got out of the tub and wrapped my towel around my waist and walked over to the door and timidly reached out for the doorknob. If I wasn’t freaked out enough already, the lights flickered and went out, my breath started to come in ragged gasps, I could feel the blood drain from my face and my head get dizzy with nervousness. The lights flickered back to life bathing the room in 100 watts of pure daylight. I let out a nervous laugh. I’m being ridiculous getting freaked out over nothing, but then how would I explain the shower of blood.

I started to turn the brass handle when I smelled a pungent aroma from behind that tickled my neck and wafted into my nose. I looked out of the corner of my eye into the mirror, still streaked with steam. Oh shit.

What If Exercises - Week of 4/12 Part II

V: Dialogue

Speech Flavor, Or Sounding Real

“I duhn know what happen. One minuh he wah dar and da next he wah gone.”

“Who are you?” A deep voice rumbled seeming to come from everywhere all at once and yet nowhere. “Name yourself.”

Narim menacingly held his metal staff diagonally across is body, “I yearn to destroy you boy.” Raising his voice, “Let this be our final battle.”

“What is going on?” Panic welled up inside, “Why can’t I get home?” I spun around with a look of dread fixed upon my face.

“Welcome my Lord,” the Captain of the guard said as we rounded a bend and exited the mountain pass, “to Ardinor.”

The Invisible Scene: Interspersing Dialogue with Action

“This is ridiculous Captain. I told you three days ago that I am not a Lord,” I snapped the leather reigns and picked up the pace of my slowing horse. “I don’t know much about what I am, but what I do know is I am no Lord.”

The Captain turned to look at me and smiled, but there was twinkle in his eye almost like he knew something that I did not. Whatever he knew would have to wait because at that moment we exited the mountain pass. “My Lord to Ardinor.”

I pulled up on the reigns halting my horse. I gazed, slack-jawed down into the valley with the twin suns setting, seeing the dirt road snake its way across the land and to where it joined the stone bridge that provided the only noticeable entrance or exit to the city that rose above the water.

“My Lord,” the Captain again turned to me, “welcome home.” His smile widened and wrinkled the weathered skin around his eyes.

“M-my home?” I stammered.

What If Exercises - Week of 4/12 Part I

IV: Perspective and Point of View

An Early Memory, Part One: The Child as Narrator

I love the swings. They were the first thing I ran to on the playground after our nap. A few of my other friends came with me and we sat down on the seat and tried to see who could get the highest. I was pretending to be Superman, flying high over the city. I liked how it made my tummy feel as I came down and that is when something hit me in the back and I fell off the swing. I guess I kind of flew off the seat because I was far from the swing seat. I hit the hard black cement with my face. I began to cry because it hurt. My nose hurt so bad and it didn’t feel right. I thought I felt boogers on my lip to wipe them away but it was red. I must be bleeding so I began to cry even harder. Pretty soon one of the nice ladies who are in my class came running over and held my face in her hands. Are you alright? she asked? I wasn’t, my face was hurting really bad. I didn’t want to talk so I just shook my head no. She looked at the other kids and asked what happened. My friends they pointed at the boy who pushed me from the swing. I think he got in trouble because as they were taking me inside I remember him getting pulled off the swing by his ear. The teacher lady she took me inside and tried to clean the blood off my face. She said my mommy and daddy were coming to take me to the doctor in just a little bit. She then gave me a bag of ice to hold on to my face. That made me cold and I don’t think it helped my nose much. When mommy came in she was crying, she said it was because she was worried about me. I sat there quietly with the bag of ice on my face as the teacher told her how I got hurt. Mom didn’t look happy. I thought she was going to go spank that boy. Mom picked me up and drove me to the doctor. They looked a lot at my face and took a picture of my nose. The doctor came in to the room again said my nose was broke, but I was lucky that it didn’t get hurt worse. I didn’t have to go to daycare for a few days, but I know that when I go back I am going to stay away from the swings, for now.

An Early Memory, Part Two: The Reminiscent Narrator

Sand littered the faded black top as I ran toward the swings at the far end of the playground. The sound of my friends shoes clapping on the pavement as they chased me on our daily race to acquire one of the eight popular seats. The nap I had just finished energized me, charging the muscles in my legs and giving me the strength to propel my body forward faster than my classmates. I reached out, my hand securing the chain to one of the seats. I spun around and sat down on the hard black rubber. The rubber bent into a nice u-shape giving me a secure feeling, a feeling that I am ready to launch myself into the sky. I backpedaled slowly, eyeing my runway. I ran forward and tucked my legs underneath my seat. My momentum took me up from the ground until gravity decided to reassert itself and carried me back to the ground, the chains carrying me into a beautiful arch that tickled my stomach and lifted my spirits. A smile spread across my face. I hit the highest point at the end of the curve again and this time I thrust my legs out ahead of me and leaned back, my back arched. My speed picked up as I rocketed through my curve. This was ecstasy, pure enjoyment. I was flying towards the sky, my face warming in the sun when the air when out of my lungs. I felt like I had been punched in both lungs at the same time. My arms flailed wildly grasping only air as my body continued its upward climb. I gasped for air and my eyes widened in terror when I beheld what was rushing up towards me, the sand littered black top. There was a sickening crunch as my nose made first contact with the hard surface. A warm, iron tasting liquid streamed into my mouth, tears welled up in my eyes and a scream burst from my mouth. I wiped the blood off my lips and it was quickly replaced by more. The sand from the black top merged with my mouth and clung to my tongue choking my scream and forcing me to spit blood on to the ground. Tears rolled off my cheeks and darkened the warm pavement. I was dazed and unsure of my surroundings when two soft hands cupped my chin and lifted my face. Oh my god, what happened? I sniffed and wiped more blood away. I had to breath through my mouth because my nose felt it was plugged. Are you alright? I shook my head no, it was all I could manage to do through the searing pain that was attacking my face. I made an attempt to stand up and the lady who held my face helped to keep me up. What happened, she looked directly at the other kids. Immediately all the boys and girls pointed at the rough looking boy who had replaced me on the swing. I was escorted into the daycare and given an icepack that was supposed to help take the swelling down. If anything else it hurt more to put anything on my face. In a weird way, I did feel good knowing that the boy who pushed me off the swing was going to get in trouble. Right before the door shut as we entered the building, I saw him lifted off the swing by his ear. At least there is some justice. When mom finally came to take me to the doctor she looked pissed, but scared. It is amazing how your day can start so well, everything seeming to go your way and with one simple choice the day can change dramatically and you find yourself walking out of the doctors office at the age of four with a broken nose. Weird, huh?

Fiction Week 2

IV: Perspective and Point of View

An Early Memory, Part One: The Child as Narrator

I put away my toys and went to look for dad. Mom was washing our dishes from lunch and she said dad was in the basement. I opened the door and went down the stairs to looking for him. I don’t like those steps. I’m always scared that a monster is going to reach through the back of the steps and get me. Dad was working on some white round thing in the corner. I think it had something to do with water. I sat on the bottom step and was throwing a small rubber ball against the wall and catching it as it bounced back while dad was talking to me. I was talking to dad when there was a really loud sound. It sounded like thunder and then it got really bright and hot. I just sat there on the bottom step not moving, I was also wet. Mom came running down the stairs yelling questions and asking what happened? I looked up at mom and she ran down to me and held me. She was asking dad what happened and putting her hands on my head and face. Dad came over and looked at me and told mom that the water tank blew up. I looked at my dad and he was missing hair on his face. I think that is why mom had her hands on my face. Dad carried me upstairs and sat me on a kitchen chair. Mom got on her knees and hugged me and was crying. Dad picked up the phone and called someone, whoever it was I am just glad it wasn’t me they were really getting yelled at.

An Early Memory, Part Two: The Reminiscent Narrator

I had just finished playing with my He-Man toys and put them back in the box so that my dad would not get mad at me. One of the things that I learned at an early age was to put my toys away otherwise I could pretty much guarantee that I would not be seeing them again. I walked into the kitchen with a bounce in my step and questioned mother about where dad was. She was cleaning dishes from our lunch. Mom said that dad was down in the basement fixing the water heater, apparently our landlord hadn’t been around to repair it so dad was taking the initiative. I remember walking down the wooden steps that had no back on them, they creeped me out. I was always terrified that some slimy hands with sharp claws were going to shoot out, grip my ankles and pull me through the opening just like one of those horror movies where the person is never to be seen again. After I rushed down the steps I picked up a small ball that bounced easily and tossed it against the wall, watching it ricochet off the floor, the wall and then back to me. I repeated this over and over as dad asked me what I was up to. I told him that I was playing with my He-Man toys and I wanted to come down and see what he was doing. He was over by the water heater, using a wrench and turning something. I am not really sure what happened next, but it got really bright and hot fast. A loud noise ripped through the basement and mom came tearing down the steps as dad dove for the ground coming towards me quickly. Somehow the water heater exploded and both were looking me over making sure I wasn’t burnt. Dad and I escaped with just singed hair and we both were eyebrow-less for quite a while. We sat there and hugged for a few moments in our now wet clothes. Dad carried me upstairs and sat me down in the kitchen on a dining chair while mom, proceeded to smother me with more hugs. Dad picked up the receiver on the wall and dialed the landlord. It was great to hear someone else getting their butt chewed out by my father. I am very much aware of my fathers temper and I was relishing the moment. I could easily picture the person at the other end of the line holding the phone three feet from their head and still being able to hear my dad clearly. With the potential for getting killed in the basement I was not the least bit sorry for that landlord because my dad had called him numerous times to come and fix it and he never did. Now it ended up costing him a lot more.

V: Dialogue

Speech Flavor, Or Sounding Real

“Flo-duh? What is a Flo-duh?

I craned my neck back and shielded my eyes from the twin suns. The massive crystal pillar seemed to touch the sky. I slowly brought my head down and looked over at the group gathering nearby on the cobblestone plaza. “You’re joking, right? You seriously want me to talk to this...rock?”

Sinn let out long spine tingling maniacal laugh. “Foolish miscreant; nobody mocks Lord Narim Sinn and lives, boy. Instead of being a merciful Lord and killing you quickly, I am destroy your entire existence and everything you hold dear, beginning with with her.” Lord Sinn pointed his staff directly at Kimmy.

The bright blues eyes stared up at me. “Dad, you like?” I nodded my head yes. “‘Kay. I go get more.” A streak of blonde hair dashed from the room and a smile spread across face.

“How could you?” She yelled, the blood reddening her cheeks. “Am I not pretty enough? Is there not enough sex?” Suddenly, her voice lowered, almost to a whisper, which was worse than the yelling. “I have put everything into this relationship and here you are fooling around with other women.”

The Invisible Scene: Interspersing Dialogue with Action

“You are not actually thinking about going, are you?”

I slammed the drawer shut, frustrated that the conversation even got to this point. “Yes, I am.”

A hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around. Kimmy looked intently at me. “This is insane. You sound insane.”

“I am not insane,” I yelled. I took a deep breath and let my shoulder slump, the weight of the past almost too much to bear. This time I speak softly, “I have to go, I know this is real.” I pick up my black duffel bag from the floor and begin step around Kimmy. I hesitate at the door, “I’m sorry.”

Kimmy lets out an exasperated sigh. “This is nuts, I must be nuts,” she turns around an expression of annoyance masks her face before transforming into one of trust. “C’mon, I need to gather some stuff before we go.”

A boyish grin spreads across my face.