Skip to main content

Guest Post: The Ministry of Stories

         
Cole Beauchamp writes for a living and fits in writing fiction when she can.  She longs for the day when energy is green, sauvignon blanc is cheap and her children pick up their bathroom towels.







Yesterday I sat with four children, two boys, two girls, helping them write an ending to a story. Their questions came thick and fast: “How do you spell ‘immediately’?” vs “What would happen if a bomb fell on an electricity pylon?” vs *silence and staring at paper* vs “I want to write about a haunted house”.

We had 20 minutes to finish a story we’d started an hour earlier. And we did it. But not by me “teaching”. The premise of the session is to tease out the children’s ideas, to ask open-ended questions like “What do you want to happen next?” or “How do you think they’re feeling?” or “Can you imagine what that looked like?” And to encourage them to put pencil to paper and write it down.

It was hard at times, balancing the needs of the four. But the ratio was 1:4. How would a teacher ever do this in a class of 30? There’s just no physical way everyone could ask their questions and get answers. And writers are curious people; sometimes they need to confirm that a bomb on an electricity pylon would, in fact, cause a blackout. And the quiet girl wanted to know if it was ok if her bombs went to Devon instead of London.

On this day, a group of year 5 children made up a story about two girls during World War II. There were no zombies or werewolves or superheroes.

Not like the first time I volunteered. That was a year 6 group in July, when they were feeling their oats. I was so taken with the children on my table we ended up talking about books and their favourite writers and stories so much that when the “five minutes left” came there was some very hurried scribbling! The boy who had sat down and pronounced, “I don’t like books. They’re boring.” grudgingly admitted he did like stories

What about?”
Zombies and graveyards.”
Well this is your chance to write a book you would want to read. You’re the writer. You can make it be about anything you want.”
Okay.”
So don’t write something boring.”
And zoom, he was off. He told me proudly as he left that it was the most he had ever written. Ever.



The power of stories

It’s the power of stories, of imagination, that Ministry of Stories is bringing to the children lucky enough to get a session at this much-sought after charity. I’ve been volunteering there because it combines two things I love – working with children and writing stories.

Here’s the recipe: take a group of children, ask them what makes a good story, ask them to come up with ideas for two characters and a setting, let them vote for their favourites and write the opening paragraphs together, then set them off in small groups to finish the story themselves with the help of writing mentors.



End result: 25-30 wirobound books with the title, the author’s name, the typed up jointly created story and their own ending (with blank pages in cse they haven’t finished). Nothing makes them prouder, I can tell you.   

And all this in just two hours.


To find out more, go to www.ministryofstories.org




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Faetaera: Through The Rabbit Hole

  Larell’s heart was full to the brim.  His audience with Aurelia had been unexpected and full of wonder.  He was not surprised she was aware of his plans to send a force through to the other side.  Aurelia always knew everything going on in her world.  At times he thought he saw the weight of it bearing down upon her.  Then he wished to take her in his arms and carry her as well as the burdens she bore.  But of course he would never do this, merely imagine it.  It made him love her all the more.  She thought he did not know how she came by her information and he planned on keeping it that way.  It was the only way he knew to express his love for her without feeling foolish.   In the crystal lined chamber he felt her load more palpably than usual.   He knew it was simply his foolish love-sickness for his Queen but he let the feeling soak through him regardless.   Aurelia's lips twitched briefly as though she was amused.   She was kind in her tolerance of his ridiculous obsess

Faetaera: A Triumvirate

  A Triumvirate Brairton’s minions slipped through a barely noticeable fissure.  The tear would close shortly.  Despite the increase in their regularity the breaches rarely stayed open very long.  To the three insidious spies, the stink of the new world was almost unbearable.  But in time the triumvirate would each become so used to it they would scarcely notice it at all.  That it poisoned them they did not know.  Brairton was not in the habit of informing his operatives of fatal consequences.  Their programming precluded any thought beyond the mission they must complete.  In this Brairton had been exact and had performed the necessary rituals himself. Each had their mission branded into their being.   They would travel together for some time but then slip off to their secret destinations one by one, never to see each other again. The threesome latched on to their individual targets and began their particular brand of individual mischief immediately. Minion one skulked off to en

Aphasia - Phase 1

It was one morning of May 2021. I woke up and I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know I had a stroke. I carried on as though I was okay. I even tried to negotiate with my guest when she was leaving. I tried to talk but only mumbles came out of my mouth. She left me with a big hug. I knew something was wrong. I tried to call my cousin, Michelle. With a few grunts, I convinced her to come round to my place. In the end she came round and she was very worried. She stayed with and we had lunch together. After she left, I called my friend in Sheffield, Bev. I tried to say what was wrong with me. I couldn’t speak. She rang my neighbour, Kathy. Kathy was out with Nelson, her fabulous dog. Bev rang her so she came round. When she came to my house I was sitting in the dark. Bev said she should call an ambulance. I took the phone from her and shook my head. Before long my neighbours Lizz and Leo came to see how I was. Kathy told Leo to ring the ambulance because I took her phone. She did not know w