The Final Exams
I hope you're ready to write well.
Hello, gentlemen. I trust all has gone well with teaching Mr. Burrows the fine craft of writing?
I would say Bonefish has the makings of a Scary Good Writer.
Then you wouldn't object to a test.
I would say Bonefish has the makings of a Scary Good Writer.
Then you wouldn't object to a test.
We're ready, Gribble!
Of course not. You’re ready, aren’t you, Bonefish?
Let me at it!
Very well. Here’s your final test, Bonefish. You must find the telling in a passage and change it into showing.
Scary Good Writers call that making a Movie of the Mind.
That they do, Bonefish. Now let’s see you make one.
Remember, gentlemen, failure means a permanent nap for you, Mr. Burrows, and back to the grave with you, Mr. Butt.
We remember.
Now, let me at that test.
Let me at it!
Very well. Here’s your final test, Bonefish. You must find the telling in a passage and change it into showing.
Scary Good Writers call that making a Movie of the Mind.
That they do, Bonefish. Now let’s see you make one.
Remember, gentlemen, failure means a permanent nap for you, Mr. Burrows, and back to the grave with you, Mr. Butt.
We remember.
Now, let me at that test.
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Lesson Review
I’m finished, Mr. Butt. I got rid of the telling and changed it into a Movie of the Mind.
Well then, Bonefish dear fellow, let me have it and I’ll read it to Mr. Pimm.
Big Bill Platt heard drums beating in the distance.
“I don’t like the sound of those drums,” he said. He picked up a piece of driftwood to use as a club. Ocean waves crashed on the secluded sandy beach. “I hear the islands around here are full of cannibals, Wallingford."
“That is Mr. Smythe to you,” the wealthy banker said. "How a lumberjack ever afforded a cruise on the Royal Imperial I'll never know."
“I won a contest. I would never have come if I'd have known I'd be shipwrecked with a rich snob like you.”
Smythe snorted through his nose. “I suppose you'd be happier being shipwrecked with a pauper."
“I rather not be shipwrecked at all especially with cannibals on the loose.”
Smythe giggled. It was like an ice pick going through one ear and out the other. He tweaked his scrawny mustache and said, “Perhaps your gaudy shirt will frighten them away.”
Big Bill looked at his Hawaiian shirt. “What's wrong with my shirt?”
The rich man's smoothed the lapels of his expensive captain’s coat. “What's right with it? And those Bermuda shorts - - can you get any more tacky?"
The brawny lumberjack grabbed Smyth by his skinny arms and lifted him until he was level with his blue eyes. “My wife bought me this outfit.”
“Put me down, you oaf!”
“I don't like you, Wallingford. I don't like your money-green eyes, your wimpy mustache, and your fancy sailor suit.”
Well then, Bonefish dear fellow, let me have it and I’ll read it to Mr. Pimm.
Big Bill Platt heard drums beating in the distance.
“I don’t like the sound of those drums,” he said. He picked up a piece of driftwood to use as a club. Ocean waves crashed on the secluded sandy beach. “I hear the islands around here are full of cannibals, Wallingford."
“That is Mr. Smythe to you,” the wealthy banker said. "How a lumberjack ever afforded a cruise on the Royal Imperial I'll never know."
“I won a contest. I would never have come if I'd have known I'd be shipwrecked with a rich snob like you.”
Smythe snorted through his nose. “I suppose you'd be happier being shipwrecked with a pauper."
“I rather not be shipwrecked at all especially with cannibals on the loose.”
Smythe giggled. It was like an ice pick going through one ear and out the other. He tweaked his scrawny mustache and said, “Perhaps your gaudy shirt will frighten them away.”
Big Bill looked at his Hawaiian shirt. “What's wrong with my shirt?”
The rich man's smoothed the lapels of his expensive captain’s coat. “What's right with it? And those Bermuda shorts - - can you get any more tacky?"
The brawny lumberjack grabbed Smyth by his skinny arms and lifted him until he was level with his blue eyes. “My wife bought me this outfit.”
“Put me down, you oaf!”
“I don't like you, Wallingford. I don't like your money-green eyes, your wimpy mustache, and your fancy sailor suit.”
Suddenly, a spear stabbed into the sand between them.
“We'll settle this later," Big Bill said, dropping the rich man. “Right now we have to avoid becoming lunch."
Well done, Bonefish. You certainly did make a movie in my mind. I could see all it happening right before my eyes.
And I owe it all to you, Mr. Butt. You taught me how to write scary good.
But it was you who put those lessons into action, dear fellow. You put the hard work.
So did you.
Excuse me, gentlemen, but before you continue the love fest, I have a surprise, another challenge for Mr. Burrows.
And that is?
Bonefish must write a story.
Not a problem. Bonefish has been trained in that fine craft.
But there is a catch. This story must have only fifty words in it.
Fifty words?
Fifty words only. Do you accept the challenge?
Such a lesson combines all we learned and forces us to revise with ruthless precision. I like it.
So do I. Now, where’s my pen?
Well done, Bonefish. Let’s show Gribble what you can do.
“We'll settle this later," Big Bill said, dropping the rich man. “Right now we have to avoid becoming lunch."
Well done, Bonefish. You certainly did make a movie in my mind. I could see all it happening right before my eyes.
And I owe it all to you, Mr. Butt. You taught me how to write scary good.
But it was you who put those lessons into action, dear fellow. You put the hard work.
So did you.
Excuse me, gentlemen, but before you continue the love fest, I have a surprise, another challenge for Mr. Burrows.
And that is?
Bonefish must write a story.
Not a problem. Bonefish has been trained in that fine craft.
But there is a catch. This story must have only fifty words in it.
Fifty words?
Fifty words only. Do you accept the challenge?
Such a lesson combines all we learned and forces us to revise with ruthless precision. I like it.
So do I. Now, where’s my pen?
Well done, Bonefish. Let’s show Gribble what you can do.
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I’m all done, Mr. Butt.
Marvelous, Bonefish. I shall read your story to Mr. Gribble.
Babe the pig guided the sheep into the pasture. The farmer looked out the window and smiled. He glanced at his wife tightening her apron. She nodded. The farmer hitched his pants and tramped outside to get Babe. His wife trundled into kitchen to find an apple for Babe’s mouth.
Marvelous, Bonefish. I shall read your story to Mr. Gribble.
Babe the pig guided the sheep into the pasture. The farmer looked out the window and smiled. He glanced at his wife tightening her apron. She nodded. The farmer hitched his pants and tramped outside to get Babe. His wife trundled into kitchen to find an apple for Babe’s mouth.
Well, what did you think, Gribble?
I'm leaving.
But where are you going?
My work is done here. You can go back to your classroom and start teaching again. You’ve done the impossible. You’ve made the worst writer in the world into a Scary Good Writer. Well done, Mr. Butt. You're a new man.
Hurrah! And I owe it all to my top student.
Where is he, Mr. Butt? I’d like to meet him.
It’s you, Bonefish, you delightful dumbbell. You did it.
I sure did, didn’t I?
You did indeed, my fine fellow. You are now officially a Scary Good Writer. Now, let’s go get that pizza I promised you.
I'm leaving.
But where are you going?
My work is done here. You can go back to your classroom and start teaching again. You’ve done the impossible. You’ve made the worst writer in the world into a Scary Good Writer. Well done, Mr. Butt. You're a new man.
Hurrah! And I owe it all to my top student.
Where is he, Mr. Butt? I’d like to meet him.
It’s you, Bonefish, you delightful dumbbell. You did it.
I sure did, didn’t I?
You did indeed, my fine fellow. You are now officially a Scary Good Writer. Now, let’s go get that pizza I promised you.
So long and thanks for becoming a Scary Good Writer
