A Farewell to Pork

11th grade English class. The assignment was to re-write a fairy tale imitating Hemingway's style.

I stood at the entrance to the three pig's house. "Little pig, won't you let me in?"

"You can't come in."

"Let me in. I'll be good."

"You can't. We won't let you in."

"Please let me in. It'll be grand."

"Won't you have some wine? Wine really is grand."

"I shall not have any until you let me in."

"We can not let you in. Let's not talk about that."

"I shall blow down the house. I really shall."

"You still can't come in. Not yet."

I took a deep breath and blew out and out and out. My breath went out swiftly, all of it. Then I breathed and it was back. Again I blew out. Then I was exhausted, and I started to cough.

From inside I heard the laughter of the pigs, and it angered me. I went to the roof to drop down the chimney, but the pigs had set a pot below me and filled it with Kummel, Cognac, and Vermouth, then set it on fire. I landed in the pot, but jumped out and fled. I felt no guilt about abandoning my supper. Although I still have several friends who eat pork, and I wish them the best of luck, it is not my show anymore.

The Wolfclan: The Hunt

Transcript: drive, docs, pub
Video HERE

Wolves have to hunt
For them it is quite a stunt

First they go and stare at the deer
This fills the creatures with fear

Then the deer begin to run
And the hunt has begun

The wolves pick up the pace
And so begins a furious chase

Then Cholk with all his might
Caught up to a deer and gave her a bite

The deer kicked Cholk really hard
Cholk went flying almost a yard

Cholk went up for a flight
It was really quite a sight

Cholk went through the air with a flash
And landed on the ground with a great big crash

Another deer stood up to fight
With hooves that shone as black as night

He kicked Kenam and gave a bellow
He was really quite a strong fellow

The wolves passed him by he was not their pick
They wanted a deer who was old and sick

Then they found the perfect prey
It would be the kill of the day

The wolves then closed in
Each one thinking of the pups in the den

If they could bring it down there would be meat for all
Even the pups who were very small

Then Bosard attacked as he leapt through the air
And bit down hard into deer hair.

The deer screamed and shook her back
Then did all the other wolves attack.

There was fighting and biting and a great deal of kicking,
As the wolves gave the deer a licking

Then as all the other deer fled
Lay the wolves' deer, who was dead

That night there was meat for all,
Even the pups who were very small

Help, I'm Trapped

This was a creative writing essay for 7th grade English. The assignment was that we were trapped somewhere, and only had three things in our pocket.

I really got into this one. I decided that one of the "things" in my pocket was actually a little ten centimeter man, and went from there. As usual, the amount I wrote far exceeded the actual assignment. I stuck with this for a few days, but I wasn't getting any of the rest of my homework done so I eventually gave up on this, and just tacked on an ending half finished.

This is my first attempt at writing humor, and as you can see the results are mixed. The jokes are really run into the ground. I'd like to think that's just how 7th graders write humor, but maybe it's just me.

Nevertheless, I like this because it is the first piece of writing I have that shows any sense of pacing. Of not rushing on to finish the story, but simply taking my time and enjoying the scene for what it is.

I'm locked in the boy's bathroom. In my pockets are a ball of yarn, a phaser stuck on stun (how I got it is a long story) and a ten centimeter person named Jim.

Jim is a nice, short, good-looking sort of guy. He's a little on the weird side, but most of his midget friends (and me) are willing to overlook that. He has a T.V. show he never misses that's called, "If Midgets Ruled the World." He carries a jackknife everywhere he goes to combat large hungry spiders.

It was Saturday the 14th. Yesterday my friend David mysteriously disappeared after study hall. (For more on that, ask him to read his, "Help, I'm trapped in English class," essay to you.) Detectives had come to search the school for clues and I was one of the many people who came to watch the excitement. Just when everyone was leaving, I had to go to the bathroom. After I did, I found that some smart aleck had locked me in. I called for help, but everybody had left the school.

I leaned against the wall and wondered what jerk had done this to me. As I thought, Jim poked his head out and said in a mocking tone, "Clean your pockets. It stinks down here."

"If you don't like it you can get out," I said, picking him out of my pocket and tossing him up in the air. He landed in a toilet. There was a temptation to flush him down, but I didn't. Instead I helped him out and gave him a paper towel to dry off with.

"You threw me in the toilet on purpose," he angrily accused.

"No I didn't," I said. "I just threw you up in the air. I didn't know where you were going to land. Honest! No hard feelings I hope."

Jim shook himself. "No, I guess not," he replied. "I just wish people would flush this toilet once and a while. May I have another paper towel please?"

"Here, have two," I said as I handed him the paper towels. "We've got to find a way to get out of here."

"Good point," said Jim. "I'm missing my T.V. show."

"It's not for three more hours yet," I pointed out.

"That's how long it might take us to get out," Jim moaned.

"Well then, let's try and get out," I said. We both tried to think of a way to get out. I looked at my surroundings. Two toilets and two sinks were there, and a box of paper towels and a box of kleenexes. A window was three meters up, but even if you got up to it, it was too small to crawl through. I looked at the window, and I looked at Jim (who was still drying himself off) and suddenly a great idea hit me.

I explained it to Jim. "No way," exclaimed Jim as he backed away from me. "I hate heights and , and I could get hurt."

"Fine," I said. "Of course if we don't hurry up and get out, you might miss your T.V. show."

"Let's hurry up and get on with your plan," said Jim excitedly with a hint of reluctance in his voice.

I should explain that my plan is to tie one end of my ball of yarn to Jim's leg. Then throw Jim on the window sill, have him open the window and jump out. He will dangle by the piece of yarn. Then I will slowly lower him down. Once he gets down, he will cut the yarn off his leg and run to get help.

I just finished tying yarn to Jim's leg and was ready to proceed with the rest of my plan when Jim stopped me. "Don't you think we should test how good of a hold this rope has on me?" asked Jim.

"It's yarn Jim not rope," I said. "But I guess you're right about trying it out."

I held a bit of the yarn and let Jim dangle. "I guess it works pretty good," I said, no sooner had the words escaped my lips when Jim's leg slipped through the knot and Jim hit the floor. "Looks like we'll have to make that knot tighter," I said.

"Another sigh that we're dealing with pure brilliance," said Jim sarcastically.

"Listen, do you want to get out or not?" I asked. I finished re-tying the yarn around Jim's leg. "Besides that wasn't funny," I added.

"There, that knot's finished," I said. "Let's try it out." I let Jim dangle and once again the knot failed us and Jim met the floor. I tied the knot again. "There," I said proudly. "I'd like to see that come undone." It came undone. I tried again. "That definitely will hold," I said. "There's no way that will come undone." Guess what happened. I then tied the knot real tight.

"Ouch! Ouch! Stop that! You're cutting off my circulation," protested Jim. "Ouch!"

"Jim calm down," I said. "We got to get it tight or you'll slip right through the knot and hit the floor."

"That part I know," said Jim. "Ouch! Don't tie that stupid, dumb, idiotic knot so tight."

"Let's test this knot now!" I said.

"I hope this works, complained Jim. Call me cranky if you like, but I'm tired of falling into the hard floor."

We tested the yarn and it worked. Then Jim said, "I don't think I want to do this."

"What?" I exclaimed. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now."

"Well, all the tests were I slipped through the yarn made me think that I could slip through the yarn three meters up."

"You're being a wimp," I said.

"I don't care," said Jim. "I'm still not going to do it."

"I'll flush you down the toilet."

"I don't care."

"I'll never give you another piece of food."

"I don't care."

"I'll put you in my pocket and won't let any part of you out."

"I don't care."

"You'll miss your T.V. show."

"On second thought I'll take a risk and try your plan," said Jim, forcing a smile.

I picked Jim up and looked at the window. I took a deep breath and threw Jim at the window as hard as I could. I missed the window and Jim crashed against the wall, then fell down and hit the floor.

Jim sat up rubbing a bruise on his head. "If at first you don't succeed, try try again," I said.

"This stuff is pretty hard on me," complained Jim. "Isn't there a simpler way to do it?"

"Well," I said, "we could wait for school to start on Monday. Of course you would miss your T.V. show twice."

"Let's try again," said Jim. "We might make it this time."

This time, instead of throwing, I picked up the ball of yarn and twirled it over my head. Jim, tied to the other of the yarn, went flying around in circles.

Once I had enough speed I let go and Jim went flying towards the window.

"He's gonna make it," I thought. "He's gonna make..." Jim didn't make it. He crashed into the wall less than two inches short of the wall. He then fell down to the ground.

Dazed, Jim got up. "I don't think my T.V. show is that important," he said. "Besides it might be a repeat."

I paused, then realized that if Jim had given up on his TV show, it would be easy to change his mind. "What if its not a repeat and they never show it again? Of, if they repeat one of the great ones, like Nomes taking over the castle. Come on, let's try again," I said.

"Okay," said Jim. "I threw Jim at the window once more. The handle that opened the window was sticking out. Jim grabbed it. He then pulled himself up to the window sill.

He pushed against the handle and tried to open the window. He pushed against the handle so hard he fell off the window sill. I took my phaser and threw it at the window. The window broke and Jim was able to get out. (I had to throw him again).

He got help and I got out.

The True Story of Little Red Riding Hood

This was in 6th grade. We had been studying legends and fairy tales, and our assignment was to re-write one of the standard fairy tales.

This version of "Little Red Riding Hood" I wrote was heavily influenced ( slash plagiarized) from the Musical "Into the Woods" which my mother had taken me to see earlier that year. But, aside from the idea of Little Red Riding Hood being a chubby candy eating glutton, I think there's enough of my own ideas in this to still call the story my own.

This story was voted the best by my classmates, and so we used it for our skit at the inter-scholastic "Legends and Fairy Tale Conference" (or something like that.) The teacher re-wrote it as a play, and my classmates drew pictures of this story to use as a slide show.

I am the "so-called" big bad wolf in the story of Little Red Riding Hood. Let me tell you the real story.

One day when I was feeling bored, a chubby little girl was skipping through the woods eating as she went. "Where are you going little girl?" I asked.

"I'm just going on a picnic," she said as she flung her red cape around her shoulders.

At this point I was so bored I was willing to do anything. "Can I go on the picnic?" I asked.

"Sure, the more the merrier," chimed the little girl. We went to a nice quiet river and began to chow down. The little girl must have had eyes bigger than her mouth because she packed enough food for days. She ate all the candy and nothing else. I ate nothing because it was all people food, and I just waited patiently for the picnic games.

After the girl polished off the last of the candy, she shook my paw, thanked me for coming, and started back to her house.

"Isn't your mother going to be mad when she sees all you ate was candy?" I called out.

She froze. "You're right," she said. "As long as I'm in the area, I'll drop the rest off at Grandmother's house."

"One more thing," I added. "Aren't we supposed to play games? I didn't come all this way just to watch you eat."

"If you're so big about games," she said, "then we'll play 'Who can get to Granny's house first'. I'll go this way, and you go that way, and the first one who gets to Granny's house wins."

It was a dumb game, but I was so bored I was willing to do anything. I ran like the wind, and would have won but on the way I saw three houses, a straw house, a stick house, and a brick house. I went to the straw house and...

...Well, that's another story altogether. Anyway, to sum it up, I ate two pigs, and almost got cooked myself after a narrow escape. The point is, because of this little detour I came to the house last.

Meanwhile Little Red Riding Hood had gotten to the house first and went inside. Her Grandmother had recently had plastic surgery done on her. But the surgeon was an amateur, and he had equipment problems, and the results were poor grandmother ended up looking very weird. Because of this she was not feeling well and was lying in bed trying to recover.

Little Red Riding Hood went into her grandmother's hut. "Oh, grandmother, what big hands you have," said Little Red Riding Hood.

"The better to hug you my dear," answered the grandmother.

"Oh, grandmother, what big eyes you have."

"The better to see you my dear."

"Oh, grandmother, what big ears you have."

"The better to hear you my dear."

"Oh grandmother, what a big mouth you have."

"The better to eat you my dear." Then they both laughed, because Grandmother had been joking.

Just about this time I arrived. When I walked through the door, Grandmother saw me and jumped out of bed in a fright and ran around the room screaming. Little Red Riding Hood, upon seeing this, thought that maybe Granny had really lost it after all, and hadn't been joking about eating her.

A Woodsman heard the commotion, and ran into the house. Seeing everyone running around, he naturally assumed the wolf was to blame, and cut my stomach open. Two little pigs came running out of my stomach, and I blacked out.

Little Red Riding Hood thought I would be hungry now that my lunch had run out of my stomach, so she filled up my stomach with rocks so I wouldn't be hungry.

I awakened to see the woodsman with his axe standing over me, so I decided to play dead. Fortunately they bought it.

When Little Red Riding Hood got home, she ran to her mother and said, "You'll never guess what happened. I was bringing food to Granny's and--."

"I thought you were going on a picnic. You were bringing food to Grandmother's house? Why how sweet," her mother interrupted.

"And I met this wolf after we went on a picnic--"

"Picnic?" Her mother asked.

"I mean after I met him he wanted to play a game, so he went one way and I went the other and I got there first, but Granny had turned into a wolf and I said, 'Grandmother, what a big mouth you have," and she said, 'The better to eat you my dear.' I thought she was kidding at first but then..."
And she told the rest of the story.

Well, you know how mothers are. The mother drew her own conclusion from the story, and told all the rest of the mothers. And that's how the story you know came to be.

The True Story of Little Red Riding Hood: ESL Listening Story Time

Fortunately

This was an assignment for 4th grade. The teacher read a book to us, and then asked us to write a story in the same style, alternating between fortunate and unfortunate sentences.

It's hard to make a linear story when every second sentence has to be a disaster, but that's part of the fun as well. This was yet another story in which I far exceeded the required length, and spent a lot of time writing on this. Looking back it hardly seems very literary, but I was very proud of it at the time.

Fortunately the Lone Wolf found a mate.
Unfortunately a hunter came.

Fortunately the lone wolf got away.
Unfortunately his mate was shot.

Fortunately the lone wolf found a cave to hide from the hunter
Unfortunately the hunter found him

Fortunately the lone wolf dodged the hunter and ran out into the woods
Unfortunately he got caught in a bush and the hunter found him

Fortunately the hunter had run out of bullets for his gun
Unfortunately he had a knife which he grabbed from his pocket

Fortunately the lone wolf bit his hand and the knife fell into the bush and the lone wolf stood guard over it
Unfortunately the hunter pushed him aside and grabbed his knife

Fortunately when he did this he freed the lone wolf from the bush
Unfortunately the lone wolf ran in a cave and the bear who lived in the cave attacked the lone wolf

Fortunately the lone wolf ran out of the cave
Unfortunately the lone wolf stopped to rest and the hunter snuck up on him and grabbed him

Fortunately the lone wolf struggled free
Unfortunately the hunter threw his knife and gave the lone wolf a wound on his leg.

Fortunately the bear came out of his cave and scared the hunter away.
Unfortunately the bear attacked the lone wolf next

Fortunately another hunter came on the scene and shot the bear, and was going to help the lone wolf with his wound because he liked wolves.
Unfortunately he was attacked by a gang of robbers before he had a chance

Fortunately he killed one.
Unfortunately one killed him.

Fortunately the robbers were going to help the lone wolf with his wounds because they liked wolves too.
Unfortunately before they had a chance to, a bunch of police men arrested the robbers.

Fortunately the police men saw the wolf and were going to help him because they also liked wolves
Unfortunately the hunter was sneaking up on the limping wolf with his knife. (He had grabbed his knife as he ran away from the bear.)

Fortunately the police men saw him and told him not to kill the wolf.
Unfortunately he didn't listen to them

Fortunately a police man ran down and took the hunter's knife.
Unfortunately the hunter tackled the police man and took back his knife and killed the police man with it.

Fortunately the rest of the police men saw this and they arrested the hunter
Unfortunately while all of this was happening, the lone wolf had limped back into the forest.

Fortunately he wasn't hard to find and the police men found him and drove him to the vet
Unfortunately when they got there they learned that the vet had been killed

Fortunately a new vet came in ten minutes later
And fortunately he healed the wolf
And fortunately he returned the lone wolf to the wild.

The Three Little Giraffes

This was a creative writing assignment in second grade. The worksheet said, "Once upon a time there were three little giraffes. The first giraffe built a home in a haystack. The second giraffe built a home in a __________. The third giraffe built a home in a __________________."

Our assignment was to fill in the blanks, and then write the rest of the story on the next page. For whatever reason, my imagination really took off on this one. I filled up the next page, and then had to ask for another piece of paper, and then another one, and then another one. Eventually I filled up eight pieces of paper, which was far and above the original assignment.

Once upon a time there were three little giraffes.

The first giraffe built a home in a haystack.

The second giraffe built a home in a leaf pile.

The third giraffe built a home in a wood pile.

But little did they know a bunch of pirates were looking for giraffe soup. They found the giraffes.

Then the first giraffe hit them on the head with a pan.

The next giraffe was strong and beat them up.

The third giraffe was too fast.

In the night the giraffes heard the pirates plan. In the morning they made their own plans and outwitted the pirates.

The next time the giraffes did the same thing, but this time the pirates heard the giraffes plan and outwitted the giraffes. But they forgot that the third giraffe was fast and as a result all the giraffes were able to get away.

That night the giraffes did not listen to the pirates plan but they knew that the pirates would listen to their plans, so they held their planning session at a different time.

The first giraffe said, "We will have to murder the pirates. They think that giraffes are not strong. So they do not think it is necessary to use their wea--"

"Don't say that word," said the second giraffe. "If the pirates somehow knew we are having our meeting at a different time, we could be giving them ideas to use their you know what. So don't say the word. Just say 'You know what.'"

They then asked the third giraffe if he knew what the "you know what" was, and he said no. So they huddled close together and they whispered, "It means their weapons."

"Anyway," continued the first giraffe, "they think of us as weakling giraffes. So they do not think it is necessary to use their 'you know what.' But when they find out how strong we really are they will use their 'you know what.' So we will have to murder them."

"I object," said the second giraffe. "When the pirates went to our houses we all got away some how. We must tell each other how we did it."

The first giraffe said, "I hit them on the head with my pan."

The second giraffe said, "I beat them up."

The third giraffe said, " I ran so fast they couldn't catch me. Now let's go to sleep."

"No," said the first giraffe. "We have to figure out what we are going to do."

"Well," said the second giraffe, "I could beat them all up, while you," he pointed to the first giraffe, "will sneak up to the captain and hit him on the head with your pan and kill him. Once their captain is dead, the pirates should give up. But if that isn't enough for the pirates, then the third giraffe can use his speed to rescue you from the rest of the pirates."

Well, it all worked out fine until the first giraffe had done his job. The pirates were furious, but the third giraffe didn't notice at first and so the first giraffe jumped into the river to escape.

The second giraffe noticed and he stopped fighting to yell a warning to the third giraffe. Then he gasped, "They're using their weapons."

By now the first giraffe had been picked up by the current and was being swept away. The third giraffe was running alongside the river trying to help him. Then the third giraffe was shot by a pirate gun and fell to the ground dead.

The second giraffe saw what happened, but he couldn't run as fast as the third giraffe, so he couldn't get away from the pirates he was fighting. So the first giraffe got washed away.

That night it was hard for the second giraffe to sleep. Meanwhile the first giraffe was swimming for his life. Then he saw a whirlpool ahead. He began to swim with all his might against the current. When he saw it was no use, he began to yell for help. Then a storm began. Lightening hit a tree and it fell into the river. The first giraffe grabbed the tree and pulled himself to the shore and slept there.

The next day the first giraffe woke up and saw a forest. And he saw a lion. He ran away and the lion ran after him. As they ran, more and more lions joined the chase. Soon the first giraffe was surrounded by lions. From the trees a monkey reached down and pulled the first giraffe up to safety. Then the monkey stuck his tongue out at the lions. Then the monkey said, "Hello."

And the first giraffe said, "Hello," back.

Then the monkey said, "Let's go have some tea."

And the first giraffe said, "Let's". So they went to have some tea.

Meanwhile the second giraffe was having a terrible time fighting the pirates. Since he started fighting that morning, he had only killed nine pirates. There were still 10,027 pirates left.

All of a sudden they all charged him at once. And from behind one of them grabbed him around his neck and held a knife to his throat. A voice then came and it said, " We only have one giraffe for our soup. You will be the next. Walk or you will die."

The second giraffe was brought into the pirates boat. The pirates led him down the stairs, down a a long hallway, and then they jumped down a hole. Then another long hall and down another hole. The pirates left by jumping out, and they left the second giraffe in the hole.

The walls started closing in and the second giraffe couldn't jump as high as the pirates. But he was strong. He held back the walls and climbed up to the top. Then he ran back to his house.

Meanwhile the monkey and the first giraffe were having tea. The first giraffe told the monkey his story. "To get back," the monkey said, "all you have to do is follow the stream back to your house. I will come with you."

So they went to follow the stream and they went all the way back to the second giraffe's house. Then all three went to fight the pirates. The monkey went up into the trees and threw coconuts at the pirates. The pirates couldn't climb the trees, so they were beaten by the Monkey.

The End

Battle of the Frogs

This is another example of a title that I’m not really sure about. It was something cheesy like that though.

Our final project for 8th grade English was to write a novel. I had known this was coming ever since 7th grade, and given my love for writing, this was something I looked forward to for a long time. However very few of my school assignments ever turned out to be very good.

The best kind of story idea is the kind that comes to you out of the blue one afternoon on the walk home from school, and then is promptly written up that night or the day following. The worst ones are the ones thought up under pressure. “I’ve got to think of something for a story in English class…Okay, what about this….”.

Perhaps because it was the spring, and the frogs were coming out of their winter hiding places, I had the image in my mind of a battle between the frogs and the snakes. Gradually a story began to take shape. There was a pond in the woods where the forest creatures lived. The snakes always tried to catch a frog and eat it if they could, but both sides accepted this as the pattern of nature. Then, the snakes started acting strangely. Instead of simply eating the occasional frog, they started engaging in a coordinated extermination effort. The frogs had to band together and defend themselves.

I was, however, at the stage in my life when I regarded it as a moral principle that every story of mine had to include wolves somehow. The frogs initially wait to ask the wolves for help because they are too proud. Eventually they give into their pride and ask the wolves for assistance, and the wolves kill all the snakes. The moral: sometimes it’s okay to ask for help.

I should mention that my 8th grade teacher had us all make an outline of our stories before we began which included a title, plot outline, character descriptions, and a thread. Although I understand now that he was just trying to give us tools to experiment with, I wish he would have made clearer that this is just an example and that not all stories have to be plotted out this strictly.

I was not in the habit of having themes in my stories, and I even asked in class if all stories needed to have themes. “All superior stories do”, he answered. So I tried to shoehorn a kind of moral into the story about the frogs asking for help.

Also, despite my teacher’s attempts at explanation, I really had no idea what the hell a thread was. I eventually wrote in my outline that the thread was after every killing, the snail Jake shows up to mutter some mysterious words of advice to the frogs.

My best friend Josh, who saw my outline, was absolutely appalled. “Not everything has to include wolves, you know,” he said. “You had a really cool idea going until you changed the whole plot to include wolves. And that moral really sucks.”

I knew he was right, but probably would have gone ahead with it anyway if I hadn’t gotten another idea.

In art class we were making our final clay projects. Usually these were carefully supervised constructed projects, but the final year we were allowed to either make a clay pot, or some sort of structure. Because art was one of those subjects were I could never do anything right, I decided to keep it simple and just make a pot. However I soon got bored with it, and added fingers at the bottom. The art teacher wasn’t terribly happy about this turn of events, but I thought it was fun to imagine a hand was emerging from the bottom of the pot. Why a hand was coming out of the pot I couldn’t say. It just seemed cool.

As I continued to work on the pot, I began to imagine its back story, and think of a way to incorporate it somehow into my frog story.

The hero of our story, young Jumpy, is hopping around the banks of the pond when he sees a discarded pot lying on the ground. Suddenly a hand begins to emerge from the pot. And then gradually a whole body, vaguely human in shape, but covered with snake like hairs. It’s none other than the dreaded snake devil, and under his leadership the snakes begin their diabolical plan to kill all the frogs in the pond.

If you’ve spent your whole life in Christian schools, as I had, you get to the point where you begin to see religious parallels in everything. Now that I had a snake devil character, it seemed that the story practically rewrote itself as a parallel story. The snakes were demons, the snake devil was Satan, the frogs were humans, the wolves were angels, and the Alpha Wolf was God/Jesus.

The frogs (humans) are of course incapable of defeating the snakes (demons) on their own. But if they can only bring themselves to ask for help from the wolves (angels) the wolves will come in and save them.

The alpha male off course takes on the snake demon in a dramatic fight. The alpha male kills the snake devil, but appears to die himself as a result of wounds from the fight. And of course is later resurrected. You know how these kind of stories work as well as I do.

A classic example of how things go wrong when you’ve got a good story, and you are looking for some way to force a theme into it (I think my English teacher was full of crap). But I was pretty proud of how clever I was at the time.

And now that I had my outline finally completed, I was ready to start on the actual story itself.

Of which I only got a couple pages written before the end of school. The English teacher ended up just grading us on our outlines, and didn’t actually demand a finished novel.

Since I was in love with my own cleverness at the time, I planned to finish this on my own time, but my enthusiasm quickly faded out.

Influence on Later Works
This actually marked a thrice-fold transition in my writing.
1). The rebuke of my friend must have made an impression. Maybe an unconscious one, because I don’t remember making an outward decision, but this was the last of my wolf stories. I did use Jot as a minor character in my Fabulae story, but he died pretty early on.

2). For a while afterwards I thought it was cool to write stories centering around frogs. I had a lot of ideas about frog stories, none of which ever got beyond the outline phase (see “Invasion of the Frogs”)

3). For about a year after this time I accepted my 8th grade teachers outline formula as gospel. “Invasion of the Frogs” and “Dishon” were both designed according to this formula. After I got bored with the outline in my Dishon story, and decided I had more fun writing when I didn’t know what was coming next, I ditched the structured outline. However I continued to be nagged by the feeling that all superior writing must have a theme or a moral. This is one of the reasons why parts of Fabulae became so preachy. Subtlety is not one of the strengths of a 15 year old.