Lynn Slaughter

For the past two years, I’ve been working with a gifted teenager on her writing at the Louisville Academy of Fine Arts. She’s currently writing a novel, and the quality of her work excites me.

Our weekly sessions include reviewing her pages, as well as discussing craft articles and talking about writing-related challenges. I often ask her what she wants to know more about, and she tells me! Recently, it was “endings,” so I pulled out some articles which I shared with her. “Any thoughts on the ending for your work?” I asked.

“Well, while we were reading this, I thought of three possible endings for my novel.” She went on to share each one, and not surprisingly, given her creative facility, they were all good possibilities.

During our sessions, we also write. I bring in writing prompts, and we both work on them. When I’m at home, my work is geared toward writing my next novel for publication. But I’ve discovered a special pleasure in writing with my student in response to these prompts. I’m not thinking about publication. I’m just writing because it’s fun to create and challenge ourselves—and I enjoy  our post-writing time when we each share what we’ve written.

I also like the challenge of creating prompts. The one below was inspired by a tough time for our family, especially for our older son. We’d made a major cross-country move, and he was starting at a new high school where he’d walk down the halls and feel “totally invisible.” I actually responded to this prompt before our lesson to do some writing “just because…”

The prompt:

Jason wove his way through groups of students talking, laughing in the hallway of his new high school. He wondered if this was what it was like to be invisible. Or maybe dead. No one acknowledged him—not one glance, not one word. He’d never felt so alone, so miserable. He wanted to do something, anything, to make himself feel better. But what?

And here’s what I wrote:

He knew his mom didn’t feel any better than he did about the move. When she’d driven him to school this morning, they’d been careening down Huron Drive when she said, “Sometimes I wish we could just keep driving, you know?”

I knew. But driving off into the sunset wasn’t an option—for either of us. Mom would never abandon my stepdad, especially now that he’d lost his job and we’d had to move. And neither of us would ever leave my little brother behind.

I stood in the doorway of the cafeteria which smelled like grease and mystery meat. Seeing no empty tables, I turned around and walked outside. A few students sat on the front steps and barely glanced at me while I descended. I moved to a lone tree at the edge of the school grounds and plunked myself down. I pulled out Stephen King’s latest, a collection of short stories called You Like It Darker, and prepared to lose myself in the off-kilter worlds he created. Much more fun than being in my world.

A shadow appeared, and I looked up. A girl with tie-dye blue and pink hair and enormous glasses with striped frames hovered over me, a definite glare on her face.

“Hey,” she said, “what are you doing sitting at my tree?”

“Sorry. I guess I didn’t see the sign this was private property.”

“You’re new here, right? I don’t recognize you.”

I nodded.

She lowered herself to sitting. “Well, so you didn’t know then. This is the writing tree. Only writers hang out here. You’re not a writer, are you?”

I shrugged. “I’m mostly a reader, but lately, I’ve been working on a story.”

Her brows lifted high over her enormous glasses. “Oh yeah? What about?”

“It’s about a guy who goes to a new school and discovers he’s become invisible. Absolutely no one acknowledges his existence.”

“It wouldn’t be based on anyone you know, would it?”

I grinned. “Maybe.”

She reached her hand out, and I shook it. “I’m CeeCee,” she announced.

“I’m Jason.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason. And guess what?”

“What?”

“I see you.”

 

My son’s name is not Jason and by the third paragraph, what happened to Jason bore no relation to my son’s experience. Still, the memory of my son telling me he “felt invisible” and my wish to escape from a tough time in our lives has stayed with me and gotten my creative juices going. Hopefully, it will do the same for my student at our next session.

I can’t wait to see what she comes up with! There is such value in writing just because…