How squawking chickens helped me discover the power of storytelling.
The neighbor's chickens were squawking.
It was early in the day and I was procrastinating, uncertain what to write about in a letter to my inlaws.
I'd stared writing letters to my inlaws because I wanted some way to convey how much I cared about them. I was young and far too shy to call. If they called to say hello to my husband, I was happy to talk, but initiating a conversation was difficult. They lived an hour away, so stopping by to drop off a batch of cookies or a plant for the front porch was out of the question.
So I started writing to them.
Writing letters was a hobby. From the day I wrote my first thank you note to my grandparent who lived five states away, I've been smitten. People love getting mail and I love sending it.
But this day I didn't know where to start.
While I was gathering my stationery, stamps, and favorite pen, I heard the neighbor's chickens. At least two of them were sounding an alarm, and it was loud. So loud that I stopped to peek out the kitchen window to be sure they were safe inside the coop.
When I settled in to write, I had the first line:
The neighbor's chickens are squawking.
It was a great first line and the beginning my understanding of the power of descriptive writing and storytelling.
I described the coop and what we could see:
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The chicken coop sits on the low end of the backyard just over the property line. We can see them from the back porch and like to sit and watch them—we call it chicken TV.
One chicken goes in the coop, they all go in. One comes out, they all come out. And peck, peck, peck. There's Ziggy (the hen with orange feathers), and Jimmy (the speckled one), and three others, and they spend a good part of the day circling in and out of the coop. Peck, peck, pecking. In and out, in and out. Peck, peck, pecking.
And when they lay eggs, they squawk. One echoing the other. One egg, squawk; two eggs, squaaawk; then all together — SQUAWK, SQUAAAWK, SQUAAAWK!
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When I finished, I realized the chickens not only proved good fodder for letter writing, but I had written a story. And the chicken letter was a big hit, giving us plenty to talk and laugh about when we visited a few weeks later.
It was the first time I realized how powerful (and useful) stories can be. And that?
Well, that's something to squawk about.
It was early in the day and I was procrastinating, uncertain what to write about in a letter to my inlaws.
I'd stared writing letters to my inlaws because I wanted some way to convey how much I cared about them. I was young and far too shy to call. If they called to say hello to my husband, I was happy to talk, but initiating a conversation was difficult. They lived an hour away, so stopping by to drop off a batch of cookies or a plant for the front porch was out of the question.
So I started writing to them.
Writing letters was a hobby. From the day I wrote my first thank you note to my grandparent who lived five states away, I've been smitten. People love getting mail and I love sending it.
But this day I didn't know where to start.
While I was gathering my stationery, stamps, and favorite pen, I heard the neighbor's chickens. At least two of them were sounding an alarm, and it was loud. So loud that I stopped to peek out the kitchen window to be sure they were safe inside the coop.
When I settled in to write, I had the first line:
The neighbor's chickens are squawking.
It was a great first line and the beginning my understanding of the power of descriptive writing and storytelling.
I described the coop and what we could see:
------
The chicken coop sits on the low end of the backyard just over the property line. We can see them from the back porch and like to sit and watch them—we call it chicken TV.
One chicken goes in the coop, they all go in. One comes out, they all come out. And peck, peck, peck. There's Ziggy (the hen with orange feathers), and Jimmy (the speckled one), and three others, and they spend a good part of the day circling in and out of the coop. Peck, peck, pecking. In and out, in and out. Peck, peck, pecking.
And when they lay eggs, they squawk. One echoing the other. One egg, squawk; two eggs, squaaawk; then all together — SQUAWK, SQUAAAWK, SQUAAAWK!
-------
When I finished, I realized the chickens not only proved good fodder for letter writing, but I had written a story. And the chicken letter was a big hit, giving us plenty to talk and laugh about when we visited a few weeks later.
It was the first time I realized how powerful (and useful) stories can be. And that?
Well, that's something to squawk about.