EHREET

lVriting Sma[

mffiid is a fifth grader. After returning from vaca_tion, he wrote this entry in his writer,s notebook:1Cape Cod is the BEST. I had tons of fun therea-nd I CAN'T WAIT TO GO BACK!I!!"

David and I talked about what he,d written."If you liked the Cape thar much, you,ll p-Uably end up writing more entries about it,,, I said.X gave him a challenge: I suggested ,h";;;;;J;rime he wTote about Cape Cod, h. try ro il..*exactly what it was that made it so terrific.

David did wricod Notice *.:,#"'l'J r:##T:,Ti;entry and the firsl one he wrote.

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A4ost nrghts we ote dinner right on the beach.WeA stoy up late and tH fott asleep still weoringmy bathing suit ln the morning the firstthing tfett.when I woke up was my cot lickingthe salt offthesoles of my feet.

That last salty detail really snaps Cape Codinto focus.

Muyb. the single most important lesson youcan learn as a writer is to unite small. Use yourwriter's notebook to jot down the important littledetails you notice or hear abciut. These detailsmake writing come alive. I have learned the hardway that I almost certainly forget them if I don,ttake a few minutes to write them down.

A single detail can sometimes give a windowinto a person's whole life. After my aunt Marydied, my relatives gathered to help clean out herhouse. Among Aunt Mary's belongings, my motherfound several half-finished sketches of birds andplants. This surprised us; I don't think any of usknew my aunt had tried her hand at d.rawing.

This is exactly the kind of small de tail I record

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\^/RITING SMALL

irr my notebook. My aunt Mary lived a long life,rrnd she was always good to me. But the sight ofthose unfinished drawings started me thinking.She never got married, and she spent many of herlclult years living with and caring for her elderlyrnother. I wondered if maybe some of Aunt Mary's

dreams had been unfinished, too.

The world is jam-packed with millions of details

to notice; in your notebook you'll only have roomfor a tiny fraction. Try to select the ones that cap-

ture what's really important.

Actober I

Boy, does Corol miss Colorado! She watches eyery

Denver Bronco football game onTV (even though

they're not very good this yeor). She's been living

here in New Hompshire for two years but she sti/l

keeps her cor clock set on Rocky Mountain time.

Iwice she's let me borrow her car but I always

have to remind myself to subtact two hours to

figure out whot time it really is.

That one detail-Carol keeping the clock inher car set on Rocky Mountain time even though

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she lives in the Eastern time zone_tells meexactly how homesick she is. The following entryfrom my notebook is also about homesickness:

Oaober 2

Bonnie told me o story:,,l tought. for twelve yearsin the islond of Guam, in the South pacific. Andevery yeor around the first of November a boxwould arrive in the mail. lt alwoys felt. tight os ofeather when I picked it up, but I knew whot itwos;leoyes. Colored outumn /eoyes. My sister,wholived in Pit*burgh,used to send me a box of lovelyfall leaves every yeor.l'd open the box, dump themout" and spread those /eaye s oll over the livingroom.They looked so beoutiful. And then Id stortto cry."

I wanted to capture the picture of those color_ful autumn leaves being strewn all over the livingroom floor in Guam, a fopical island where theleaves never change colors. That image tells mebetter than anything how much she,s missinghome. In the next entry, I write about somethingthat happened to me, a small event from a rypicaisummer day:

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August 29

Tocloy hosjust been "one of those doys." Cutting

tlrc lown,l almost ron over o tiny tood. Luckily I

xw o little grey head sticking out from the gross.

I wos plenty hot, hungry, ond in a bod rnood, but I

stopped the lawn mower ond picked up the tood

even though it didn't much like it.l corried it into

the woods. The uitter repoid the fovor by peeing

on my fingers!

Writing.just "one of those days" wouldn't tellnro very much about this day when I reread these

words a few months from now. I took a moment tor ccord some of the small details that gave this day

rts special feeling.

You can train yourself to notice the details

rrnrund you. Use all your senses-the smell ofvour grandmother's kitchen, the funny faces yourlrig sister makes while putting on her makeup, the

w:ry your cat's shadow looks different in the early

nrorning than it does at noon, the differencelx:tween how your dad's cheeks feel from morn-irrg to night.

I often find myself using too many general

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words in my writer's notebook: good, nice. Thesewords don't give much of a picture as to exactlywhat was going on. \Atren this happens, I stop andtry to "crack open', these words by using specificexamples.

Not-"My Grandpa is really nice,, but *MyGrandpa pulled out his chest of war stuff and letme try on his old uniform.,,

Not-"FIis mother is super neat,, but ,,Sheirons everything, even her ten and twenty dollarbills!"

Not-"My Uncle paul does lots of silly stuff,but "Uncle paul drinks his coffee out of.a glassmeasuring cup. On the way to the beach he stopsat the fruit stancl so he can buy corn and eat itraw."

You can do this yourself. Reread your writer,snotebook and look for places where you are usingvague, general words: fun, coor. circle those words.Ask yourself: \Alhat are the details underneaththese words? \{lhar little things will bring to lif.ewhat I'm writing about? Write these dehils inroyour notebook. you don't even have to use com_plete sent list will do.

In one.junior high class, Anthony was writins

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rrr lus rrolr:llook about how lonely he used to feel

,r, .r Lirl. I asked him to think about what details

lr,' r orrld use to help a reader picture this lonely

lrl lir rg.

"l'm in my playroom and the light is off,". \ r r t lrony wrote. "I pick a toy out of the toy box. AtIrrst ['m not sure what I'm holding but when itpirts closer I can see exactly what it is-the hollow

lrlrrstic telephone I use to call all my imaginary

Ir it:nds."

Write small. It makes a difference.

-]oe, my car mechanic, came to the U.S. froml'irkistan. This fellow is a wizard under the hood.

l{ccent$ I tried to describe him in my writer'srrotebook. I could have written: 'Joe really knows

ta,rs."Bwta sentence like that is much too general

rrnd obvious to be any good. Instead, I decided to

lircus on his hands:

Joe has the most omazing hands.When I go to

shoke his hond aft.er he's fnished a job he smiles

and backs owoy, apologizing thot his hands are

too dirty. And he's right; they ore filthy, totally cov-

ered with grime with darker dirt under his finger-

norls. ltt ,,ke his palms ond thick fingers have

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been soaking for yeors in dirt, motor oil, ond whoknows whtot else. lt. would toke a whole bar ofheovy-duty soop, maybe two, and still t doubtthose honds would ever come clean. But I lovethose hands; I'm glod they,re filthy tike that. Cometo think of it, I'd get owfuily nervous talking to omechanic I could oduolly shoke honds with.

Details like these will breathe life inro yourwriter's notebook. Keep your eyes open and payattention. to little things that reveal importanttruths: hands, gestures, objects, anecdotes. Havefun with it. The small details or momenm thar endup in your writer,s notebook don,t have to bedeadly serious ones, either.

January 22

Watched Adam ptoy bosketbatt this morning andsomething funny happened.There was a scramblefor a loose bott. Adam came up with it" and storteddribbling like crazy, but he wos heading towardthe wrong basket! Lucky for him a kid from theother teom ran in front of him and started guord_ing Adam so Adam couldn,t score on his ownbosket! I was laughrng so hard my stomach hurt