Three Minutes Holding Your Nose

Normanday #32: Say this three times fast: There’s a sock in my junk drawer and junk in my sock drawer.

Last week we found a broken violin bow in Bigfoot’s junk drawer. Let’s see what else he’s got in there. Write for three minutes about…ew, it smells…

…a holey argyle sock.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day June 17 (put “Norman Would Look Great in a Pinstripe Suit” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here is the only entry from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

…the broken violin bow from Bigfoot’s junk drawer.

Cranberly

A song from a broken violin bow

What should I do with myself now?

My life is over or so it seems.

My purpose is done, I don't know how

I can move past my dreams.

My strings have snapped one by one

I am useless to the core

The violin sits with song unsung

Silent for ever more.

Picked up, I am moved into a bag

Perhaps to be thrown away?

The strings I have left start to sag

Sad I am leaving today.

What's this? Not into the trash I go

but into the hands of someone new.

He is putting strings upon my bow

Each one is perfect and true.

After I am fixed I go back home

Back to my violin friend.

We get to make music, beautiful tones,

Never to fear a musical end.

ReRunday: THE ENEMY (YA)

A Message From Bigfoot:

This Tuesday, June 12, hordes of readers will snatch up copies of Charlie Higson’s new book, THE FEAR (Hyperion-Disney), third in a series that began with THE ENEMY. It’s been almost two years since Morzant first encountered that book, and the concept of horror fiction. Frankly, the poor guy’s still trying to figure it out.

Originally posted on August 2, 2010.

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A Book Review by Morzant and Bigfoot

Zulko, humans. Morzant the Alien here.

I've studied Earth history extensively, but until I read THE ENEMY by Charlie Higson (Hyperion-Disney Book Group, 2010), I was unfamiliar with a particularly fascinating and tragic series of events that took place in London, England. Every human being sixteen years of age and older was afflicted with a dreadful disease that rotted their flesh and inhibited their vocal abilities. Those suffering from the disease were ostracized by society, turned out of their homes, and left to fend for themselves. It’s no wonder they became ravenous cannibals.

While THE ENEMY is a riveting account of courage and survival, I was disappointed to find that the book does not include a bibliography. I would like to read more about this dark period, but I haven’t been able to locate any other reference materials on the subject. In an obviously well-researched book, I’m at a loss as to why the author would exclude—

[Knock. Knock.]

MORZANT: Who’s there?

BIGFOOT: It’s Bigfoot. Can I come in?

MORZANT: I’m in the middle of a book discussion. What can I do for you?

BIGFOOT: I was walking by your lab and I…um…couldn’t help overhearing…um…you know that THE ENEMY is a fictional story, right?

MORZANT: I don’t understand. What are you saying?

BIGFOOT: I’m saying it’s fiction. It’s not real.

MORZANT: You’re saying that London never experienced a plague that wiped out most of its population?

BIGFOOT: Er…no, I didn’t say that exactly. I’m saying that particular story is totally made up by the author.

MORZANT: Why would he do that?

BIGFOOT: For fun. To entertain his readers.

MORZANT: It’s entertaining to read about humans eating other humans?

BIGFOOT: That’s right.

MORZANT: Interesting. So, there have never been any diseased, ravenous cannibals roaming the streets of London?

BIGFOOT: That’s right. No zombies in London.

MORZANT: Ever?

BIGFOOT: Nope.

MORZANT: How about in Budapest?

BIGFOOT: Nope.

MORZANT: Ypsilanti?

BIGFOOT: No. Zombies aren’t real.

MORZANT: They aren’t?

BIGFOOT: Of course not.

MORZANT: Oh. Then it would seem that Mortimer has needlessly barricaded himself in the biohazard safety cabinet. Would you mind completing this book discussion for me while I go give him the news?

BIGFOOT: Sure, no problem.

[Morzant exits.]

It was the best of times; it was the zombiest of times.

Imagine there are no adults around to tell you what to do, what not to do. You can stay up as late as you want. You can sleep in as long as you like. There is no school. You hang out with your friends day and night.

Nope. No adults bossing you around at all. True, it’s because they’re too busy trying to eat you. But, what did you expect? You can’t have it all.

As Morzant already told you, THE ENEMY takes place in London. The adults have all been transformed by a mysterious illness into cannibalistic monsters. Pockets of survivors, all under the age of sixteen, struggle to survive in a city where food is in short supply and predators—not just of the zombie variety—are everywhere.

One group has been hiding in a grocery store since the outbreak, but they’ve eaten all the food in the store and scavenged as much as possible from the surrounding neighborhoods. Just as it becomes clear that they will have to permanently leave their refuge, they meet a boy who convinces them to journey to Buckingham Palace. He promises them that they will be safe there for all time. Joining forces with another group of survivors, the kids set off on a dangerous trek.

This is a page-turner. You will grow to care about the characters. You will bite your nails as they traverse ominous alleyways and enter seemingly abandoned buildings. You will become increasingly anxious as you realize that none of them—not even your favorite—is safe (curse you, Charlie Higson!). And, probably most importantly, you will get queasy if you try to eat a snack while reading this book. Seriously, folks. Wait an hour after eating before wading into this one.

Suspense, gore, surprises, nods to classic zombie films, and the hint of a sequel…this book has it all.

[Morzant returns.]

MORZANT: Thanks for covering for me.

BIGFOOT: You’re welcome. How’s Mortimer?

MORZANT: Relieved. In fact, he’s eager for me to start reading him the next book. It’s another crazy story made up by some writer with an overactive imagination.

BIGFOOT: What’s the book?

MORZANT: I can’t remember the whole title. Something-Something-Black-Death.

BIGFOOT: Uh, that one might not be fict—er…nevermind. Enjoy.

MORZANT: We’ll see. What passes for entertainment on this planet astounds me.

BIGFOOT: What passes for entertainment on Zeenton?

MORZANT: Combinatorial mathematics, of course.

Three Minutes with a Random Object

Normanday #31: One cryptid’s junk is another’s writing prompt

I’m going to pull a random object out of Bigfoot’s junk drawer for you to write about. Isn’t it thrilling? I could pull anything out of this drawer. Okay, smarty pants, you’re right. I couldn’t pull an elephant out of Bigfoot’s junk drawer. Ha, ha. Are you done being funny? Okay then. This week write for three minutes about…drum roll please…

…a broken violin bow.

A broken violin bow? Seriously? Who keeps a broken violin bow in their junk drawer? Oh, well. Get to it, writers!

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day June 10 (put “Norman is a Musical Genius” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here’s the only entry from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

…the best way to cool off on a hot summer day.

Bigfoot

Eight ways to stay cool on a hot day:

1. Soak your feet in partially melted mint chocolate chip ice cream.

2. Read SNOWFLAKE BENTLEY while standing in front of an open refrigerator.

3. Bob for ice cubes.

4. Antagonize Mrs. Franklin while she’s watering her begonias.

5. Make friends with a peacock and convince him you’re impressed by his impersonation of a ceiling fan.

6. Visit Antarctica.

7. Chill a watermelon and wear it as a hat.

8. Pretend to be a fish stick inspector so you can hang out in the frozen food section at your local grocery store.

ReRunday: YOU (YA)

Originally posted on November 30, 2010.

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Tuesdays with Morzant:

A Book Recommendation

by Penny C. Monster

MORZANT: Zulko, humans. As you may know, Norman interrupted my previous two blog postings for no other reason than to rattle my chain with his books about frogs. He was quite successful in doing so. That’s why this week I have sequestered myself and this week’s guest in an undisclosed location. Norman won’t be able to disturb us and he and that copy of THE CELEBRATED JUMPING FROG OF CALAVERAS COUNTY I saw him carrying around this morning can go jump off a—

PENNY: Morzant?

MORZANT: Oh, sorry. I’m happy for the opportunity to talk with you today, Penny. You had a book you wanted to tell me about? Something for my studies of Earth literature?

PENNY: It’s a book I think you will be very interested in. In fact, after I tell you about it, you are going to want to rush out and find a copy so thatyou can read it right away. Can you guess what the title of the book is?

MORZANT: THE HISTORY OF TRANSATLANTIC COMMUNICATION?

PENNY: You are not even close.

MORZANT: Ah, I wasn’t thinking. I forgot that you usually read fiction of the supernatural, macabre, or thriller variety. Is the title THE PRESCIENT MURDERER CREEPS AT MIDNIGHT?

PENNY: I’d totally read a book with a character who foresees the murders he’ll one day commit. But you are wrong again. This book doesn’t have any supernatural parts. Would you like to take another guess? I’ll give youa hint. It’s a unique book. You might even say it’s you-nique.

MORZANT: Oh, no. Norman got to you, didn’t he? He sent you here to tell me about THE CELEBRATED JUMPING FROG OF CALAVERAS COUNTY, didn’t he?

PENNY: What? No. The book is called YOU (HarperTeen-HarperCollins, 2010).

MORZANT: Thank Hermit’s crab cakes. What’s it about?

PENNY: It’s about you. You are in the tenth grade. You like math. You are one of the “Hoodies” and a jock named Jake makes your life even more miserable than it already is. You are angry all the time. You have a bit of a temper. Your parents keep hassling you to get a job. The only really good thing in your life is the girl you like, Ashley. But you don’t know if she likes you.

MORZANT: Aside from the part about me liking math, none of that information about me is accurate. I do get miffed at Norman sometimes, but I’d hardly say I’m angry all the time. And I don’t know a girl named Ashley, but if I did she would probably like me, don’t you think?

PENNY: Then a new kid comes to school. He’s strange. And he’s got a smart-alecky comment for every situation. His name is Zack.

MORZANT: Are you sure it isn’t Norman?

PENNY: No. It’s Zack. And he’s taken a special interest in you, though you can’t figure out why. When he introduces himself to you, he already knows your name is Kyle Chase.

MORZANT: No, I’m Morzant from the planet Zeenton. I like math and food that is unusually stretchy.

PENNY: When you’re reading this book, you are Kyle Chase.

MORZANT: What are you talking about?

PENNY: It’s written in the second person. That’s why I said it’s you-nique.

MORZANT: Second person? What does that mean?

PENNY: Well, a story written in the first person is all about what I did. I went to the grocery store. I bought a bunch of bananas. The bananas were rotten, so I had to throw them away.

MORZANT: That’s disappointing. You should have returned them for a refund.

PENNY: No, you don’t understand. That was just an example of how a novel written in the first person sounds. The narrator gives a firsthand account of the story’s events because the narrator is the one who experienced those events. If the novel is written in the third person it would be like, Penny C. Monster went to the grocery store where she bought a bunch of bananas. They were rotten, so her friend Morzant suggested she take them back to the store for a refund. Get it?

MORZANT: Maybe I do. What is second person then?

PENNY: Second person would be like, you went to the store. You decided that you would buy papayas because last time the bananas were rotten. Later, at home, you remembered you’re allergic to papayas.

MORZANT: I’m not as well-read as you, but I have never encountered such a narrative. It seems as though it would be strange to read a novel written in that way.

PENNY: I know. I thought the same thing. But it wasn’t weird at all. I really felt close to the main character and related to him.

MORZANT: You mean you?

PENNY: Yeah. Right. Me. Uh, you. The story sucked me in. I cared about what happened to me. I mean you. I mean the main character of YOU. There’s also a bit of a mystery. The book opens with you surrounded by broken glass and lots of blood. You—the reader, not the character—get the idea that something horrible happened, like maybe somebody even died. The rest of the book is a flashback leading up to that moment. Not til the end do you—the reader, not the character—know what happened. And, even though I know how YOU ends, I’ll probably read it again. I really like YOU.

MORZANT: And I like you, too, Penny. Thank you for bringing this book to my attention. I will indeed study it.

Good-bye for now, humans—

PENNY: Just one more thing, Morzant.

MORZANT: Yes?

PENNY: Norman asked me to give you something.

MORZANT: It’s THE CELEBRATED JUMPING FROG OF CALAVERAS COUNTY, isn’t it?

PENNY: Sorry. I have trouble saying “no.”

MORZANT: It’s okay. It’s getting so it doesn’t feel like Tuesday without a frog book.

Good-bye for now, humans. I hope you enjoyed this post and that you will be sure to read YOU as soon as you possibly can. See you next time!

Three Minutes Slurping Popsicles

Normanday #30: You could fry an egg on the sidewalk today. You shouldn’t, but you could.

Write for three minutes about…

…the best way to cool off on a hot summer day.

Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day June 3 (put “Norman is on Fire” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published children’s or young adult writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

…the last day of school before summer vacation.

Cranberly

Woo-hoo! It’s the last day of school before summer vacation!

Woo-hoo! It’s breakfast on the last day of school before summer vacation!

Woo-hoo! It’s the next to the last bus ride on the last day of school before summer vacation!

Woo-hoo! It’s announcements in homeroom on the last day of school before summer vacation!

This day is just zipping by.

Woo-hoo! It’s a fun lunch with all my friends on the last day of school before summer vacation!

Woo-hoo! My teacher ran out of material and let us watch a movie for class on the last day of school before summer vacation!

Woo-hoo! It’s the final school assembly on the last day of school before summer vacation!

Everyone is pretty rowdy.

Woo-hoo! It’s the 2:30 bell on the last day of school before summer vacation!

Woo-hoo! It’s the last bus ride home on the last day of school before summer vacation!

Woo! Woo! I’m home. It’s summer vacation! Yay!

....

I’m bored.

Tren Rewy Steb

My desk is a scrapbook of memories. I clean it out on the last day of school before summer vacation. In it is a piece of broken pencil, the purple one my aunt sent me. It had my name on it which is why I kept it even though I sharpened it down to a stub that doesn’t have my name on it any more. This piece of blue plastic broke off of something, but I can’t remember what. Those corners of green construction paper are leftover from the Christmas trees we made for the hallway bulletin board. Under each tree we put a drawing of the present we dreamed of getting. I can’t remember what I drew. I remember Taylor drew a skateboard with a skull and crossbones. He got one with lightening bolts instead. I was meant to take home this pink page that listed all the things I needed to bring to school the day of our field trip to the zoo, but I forgot, just like I forgot a packed lunch and money for the gift shop. And this folded-up page is the spelling test I failed. I didn’t forget to take it home. I stashed it at the bottom of my desk where I wouldn’t be reminded that I don’t know how to spell encyklopeedya, tomorough, and vaccume. What’s this crunched up sheet under it all? Oh! It’s the essay I wrote the first day of school about how I spent my summer.

Bigfoot

Take back these books that have strained my arms and my back all year: the dense physics book; the hefty history book (I dropped it on my toe during the Revolutionary War, a mistake I never repeated); the social studies book filled with weighty issues to ponder; the beefy health book; the pesado Spanish book; and the English lit book filled with short stories that frankly could have been shorter. Ah. That’s better. Light as dandelion fluff, I float into summer.

ReRunday: Briar the Psychic Beagle, Interview

Originally posted on September 21, 2010.

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Tuesdays with Morzant:

Getting to Know a Reader

Hi, there. Briar here in Morzant’s lab. Morzant is supposed to interview me today, but he’s going to be late because his toaster is about to burst into flames. I’d hate for you to have to wait, so I’ll get things started by answering the questions I predict he’d ask if pumpernickel weren’t so combustible.

Here we go.

Yes. No. In the year 2027. One time when I chased a squirrel up a tree, but never since. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. Excess orange rinds. Huey, Louie, and Dewey, in that order. Walla Walla, Washington. Peanut butter cookies. Sometimes rolling on a dead fish can help. CLIFFORD THE BIG RED DOG. Working on my own graphic novel. I’m not sure. A large meteor.

Well. That didn’t take too long, did it? I sense Morzant has put out the fire. If you’d like, I could share my most recent vision with you to pass the time while we wait for Morzant to join us. In the vision, I saw a giant armadillo buttering a piece of burnt toast. He offered me a bite, then grabbed it away and started lecturing me on the importance of cleaning toast gunk out of the toaster. I was sure that could mean only one thing—oh, here he is. Morzant, I mean. Not the giant armadillo.

[Morzant enters.]

MORZANT: I’m sorry I’m late. My toaster caught on fire!

BRIAR: I hope it’s okay that I started the interview without you since I knew the questions you were going to ask.

MORZANT: Your ability to predict future events is astounding. The scientist in me wonders how your psychic ability works and why, when you knew in advance the questions I intended to ask you, you didn’t also know about the piece of pumpernickel that had wedged itself dangerously in my toaster’s heating element.

BRIAR: Actually, I did. I had a vision where a giant armadillo—

MORZANT: You knew?

BRIAR: Yes.

MORZANT: Forgive me, but why then didn’t you come warn me about my impending toaster crisis rather than come to my lab to conduct your own interview?

BRIAR: Oh. I didn’t think of that.

MORZANT: No harm done. Aside from the scorched ceiling tiles and melted countertop. And incinerated pumpernickel, of course. Let’s continue the interview, shall we? Where did you leave off?

BRIAR: I answered all your questions.

MORZANT: Even the one about what causes Bigfoot’s photography impediment?

BRIAR: Yes, I said— uh-oh. Morzant? I think you’d better get back to your ship.

MORZANT: Why?

BRIAR: You won’t believe what the giant armadillo just told me about your blender.

MORZANT: Good-bye for now, humans. This concludes another interview. Please come back next week when I hope I can offer you a delicious pumpernickel smoothie.