Story the Broken Pencil Wrote

That morning seemed promising. It was cold but sunny. The chill of the breeze felt less bitter as I sat cozily in the corner of the coffee-shop I used to haunt every day. I was a writer who found not just peace but inspiration as I sipped my usual cappuccino and watched people coming and going. There was so much to notice, so much to observe. Some wore worries to their workplaces, while some wore smiles. Some fidgeted in hurry, checking their phones or watches every second, as if time would stop or change in doing so. Some were calm as a gentle breeze on a spring morning.

That day was special. It showed me something I did not see every day. She stood outside the coffee-shop. Disheveled hair, torn clothes, dirty little hands and in those hands, a broken pencil. The moment I spotted her, I would have looked away but as I told you, I am a writer. So I see what others overlook. I notice what others ignore. I engage where others shun. So I persisted in my gaze.

She had apparently picked it up from the sidewalk. As she stared at it, her first impulse probably was to throw it away. It was hardly of any use to her. She did not know how to hold it properly. She glanced at it from all angles, looking at its color and the tiny pictures drawn on it. I wondered what she was thinking. Then, she threw it away and walked a few steps only to retreat and pick it up again. This time, she tried to hold it hard against the floor, which broke it in two small halves. It startled her momentarily. I know it because she looked around with a start, fearing a beating maybe. But nobody had seen her, except me. And I was out of her sight.

She tried to make a mark on the floor. Maybe she did make some mark. I cannot say for sure, for I sat far from her and although I am a writer, I have physical limitations. So I narrate only that part of the story that I saw.

So let us assume she made a mark and was not amused with the results. Or maybe she tried to make a mark but failed. Whatever happened, she gave it up. Then she started tapping the broken pencil’s two halves against each other. She seemed to be humming too, for her frail body swayed to the tune of her lips and the tap of the pencil. Her eyes lit up. She seemed happy. She got up and danced her way out of my sight, leaving me enthralled by her performance, entranced by her story.

Since I am a writer, I felt happy that even a broken pencil held a promise of joy. It did not teach her to write, but it did engrave on her face a moment of pure delight. Maybe, the broken pencil wrote on her heart a story of joy. Who knows! I however felt content, sitting in the coffee-shop that day, noticing people come and go. Yes, the story of that day was complete!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

If you liked the above post, you might also like these two short stories I wrote :

If Only Things Had Been Normal

Food for the Goddess

My First Experience on the Writing Journey by Deb Hockenberry

A few days back, Deb gave me a chance to submit a guest post for her blog. Now she is honoring my blog by being a part of it. She narrates here her childhood adventure with 'writing. Those of you who are parents will enjoy this little bit from Deb's life when she was a child. We live in different times. But we all encourage our children's creativity and help them recognize and achieve their full potential. For Deb, things worked a little differently. Do you want to know what happened when she dared to 'write'? Well, read on. 

MY FIRST EXPERIENCE ON THE WRITING JOURNEY

By

Deb Hockenberry

http://www.debhockenberry.com

Hello, and thank you for having me to your blog, Sunaina. Today, I’d like to talk about one of my own experiences when I first became interested in writing and the importance of encouragement.

My parents started me on this journey we call writing. They always read and encouraged my siblings and me to read. Thus, started my love affair with books and my journey in writing for children. It really is a journey since it’s always changing. Back to my parents. They always encouraged us to follow our dreams. I always knew I had their support.

When, I was still in elementary school. I wanted to start a school newspaper for my elementary school. That was *ahem* quite some time ago!

Remember those toy typewriters that actually worked? Well, my sisters and I got a red one that year for Christmas. The thought of writing a newspaper for my elementary school popped into my head. The following March, I finally got the nerve to actually do it. One night after supper, I crept up to my bedroom to write my newspaper. It wasn’t going to be a big deal or anything.  I’d just have things that were happening in school, around the school yard, and things about teachers. I particularly remember writing how one of my schoolmates fell in a mud puddle (it rained buckets the night before) and she looked so silly. I also put in little tidbits about who was mad at who or who was being bullied. I typed up several copies of my “newspaper.”

I didn’t sell my masterpiece since it was the first issue. I figured that as it gained in popularity, I could sell it for a nickel.

It seems that the girl who fell in the mud puddle didn’t like my newsletter one bit and took it to the office. I was told to go down to the principal’s office. Naturally, I was shaking in my shoes. Back then, being called to the principal’s office meant one thing: you were in trouble!

The principal really put the fear of writing into me that day. She yelled at me for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only two minutes. She wanted to know if my parents knew about this. I told her yes. She asked if I was selling them. I said no, which was the truth. Then, she talked about my having to go before the school board. This frightened me TO DEATH!

I have no idea if she called my mother. She probably did and both of my parents probably got quite a good laugh out of it! But, they never said anything about it to me. They always encouraged my siblings and I to develop our talents.

Needless to say, this experience frightened the urge to write out of me for quite a few years. When it came back, I started forming a talking animal story in my head and telling it to my siblings and the neighborhood children. I also made up little fairy tales and told them those too.

It really never dawned on me that I wanted to write stories for a couple of more years.

Every summer, my mother would suggest that my siblings and I visit the neighborhood public library. This was one of my favorite things to do, so Mom didn’t have to twist my arm! My wanting to write books dawned on me on the walk to the library. I know this sounds strange but it did. I decided to ask the librarian, who I knew from church, if there were books written that could tell me how to do this. The closer we got to the library, the faster those butterflies flew around in my stomach. Would Miss Austin, the librarian laugh at me? Would she tell people in church and they would scoff and laugh?

Finally, we arrived at the library. At first, I went into the children’s section of the library with my brother and sisters. Then, I told one of them I was going to talk to Miss Austin for a minute. I figured that talking to her in private would help. I didn’t want to take the chance of my brother and sisters laughing at me too! I walked up to her desk.

She asked if she could help me and my mouth went so dry I couldn’t speak. I did manage to gulp. Then, she asked me again and I told her what I wanted. She didn’t laugh. Instead she had the biggest smile on her face I ever saw! She told me to follow her and led me into the adult’s part of the library.  Back then, there was no way kids were allowed in the adult’s section. This was a big deal! She sat me down at a table by myself and asked me to wait there while she got the books I wanted. While she was looking at the bookshelves, I looked at the room. There were many adults sitting at tables like the one I was at reading. Some were looking questioningly at the kid in the room. I looked at all the huge books in that room. It was opposite from what the children’s library was like.

Finally, Miss Austin came back carrying an arm load of books about writing. She placed all of those books on my table. She said there were books there about writing for adults and children. Then she said I could stay as long as I wanted. I still remember some of those titles today. Writer’s Digest Market Book,  

The Writer’s Handbook, and Children’s Writer’s and Illustrator’s Markets.

I forget how long I was in there. It was long enough to make by brother and sister ask where I was, though. But I received a whole new shot of encouragement that day. I realized that this could be done and no-one would laugh.

I’m still on that journey today. Now, I have my siblings support as well. In fact, two of them have tried their hand at writing. But if it weren’t for the encouragement of my parents and that kindly librarian, I wouldn’t be writing today.

A Little bit on who Deb is and what she does....

Deb has always wanted to write for children. She loved making up stories and telling them to her younger brothers, sisters, and neighborhood friends. If no – one was around, she told them to her pets – and she still does!

Finally, she decided the time had come to write these stories down. But she knew that in order to do it properly, she needed to study. So, Deb took two courses in writing for children from the Institute of Children’s Literature. She also belongs to the ongoing children’s literature workshop called The CBI Clubhouse.

Deb was born in Pennsylvania. When she was in her early teens her family moved to Central Pennsylvania. She enjoys living there, there’s always something to see!

She likes watching the mountains wake up after a cold dreary winter. She enjoys watching the pale green leaf buds popping out on the trees and slowly changing into bright green leaves. She especially loves the fall when the trees change their colors. Then the mountains are dotted with the most colorful reds, yellows, and oranges you ever saw! When she’s not writing Deb enjoys reading and reviewing books, watching movies, television and doing crafts. You can learn more about Deb by visiting her website at http://www.debhockenberry.com.