As a language and literature teacher, it has always been my main concern to translate relevant theory into the classroom. And I have felt, at times, bombarded by the various approaches suggested to that end. In this series of articles, I will help you select the kind of material that will make your practice enjoyable both for yourself and, most importantly, for your students. Furthermore, since the choice of materials is of paramount importance, I will provide you with a selected bibliography, most of which I have been using for a long time, and some which I have become acquainted with ? and enjoyed ? in my recent studies in curriculum design.



I will start by focusing on a question Tricia Hedge asks in her delightful work Writing (Resource Books for Teachers series, OUP, 1989), 'Why is it that for large numbers of English language students writing seems to pose great problems? According to Hedge, it is ... (possibly) for the same reasons that large numbers of adult native speakers never achieve a high level of expressiveness in writing their first language. It is partly to do with the nature of writing itself. (p. 5) If we asume that the last sentence refers to the solitary nature of writing, the inability to converse with the reader, we must heartily agree with the statement. But a writer never writes in a vacuum, a writer is influenced by internal and external circumstances, such as having had a row with with a relative, or suffering from a head cold, to mention only two items from a long list! Certainly, the most influential factor affecting you, the (would-be) writer, is seeing yourself as a writer. This is probably because we associate the job of writing with the great minds (Shakespeare, Borges, Hemingway, you name the author), so it is of course difficult to imagine that what you write may be worthwhile, may capture the attention of a reader. Because, as readers, we try above all to feel, not to analyse. Likewise, when we write we are not aware of the literary elements we are using, all this is for the literary critic to detect. When we write we do so out of feeling, out of some impulse, out of some idea we wish to express. So, when the reader reads, their first experience is the impact of emotion, to move later on to intellect, in an act of 'intense narrative abstraction' (The Design of Fiction, Harris, Crowell, 1976, p. 5)

So your first task when attempting to write would be what we might call 'getting the cops off your back', i. e., getting rid of the voices you hear inside yourself, telling you, 'Now, look who can write!'And how do you accomplish such a difficult task? Simply by taking a slip of paper and writing down the name of the person who is holding you back from writing: it could be a (former) teacher, a friend, a spouse, even yourself! If there is more than one voice pestering you, write their names on separate slips of paper, put them in an envelope and take it out of the room where you are writing. This is the first exercise I ask my language and literature students to do when we embark on a writing project, and I guarantee it works wonders! Incidentally, when I enquire about the name(s) they have wrapped up, it is always my name that comes up on top of the list. What worries them is what I might think about their attempts at writing, they have confessed to being afraid of disappointing me. And I always tell them a writer is not supposed to please anyone but him/herself. If you write, say, a short story to please your literature teacher, it will most probably make a poor read, and you will attain an undesired end, i. e., boring your teacher to death! Why? Simply because your story will be empty of the passion mentioned above; it will be a wishy-washy piece of writing that will not involve anyone, will not knock anyone off the chair.

Take a few seconds to reflect upon a story that (has) had this effect on you. I am certain that you will agree with what Mark, Josephine and Esther Harris say in their inspiring book. 'We love the sound of a good story, its rhythms, its excellent phrases, the very words themselves. Maybe we can never know precisely what the story is ?about.? It just is.It sounds. This, too, is what the writer may have felt: it sounded right.' (p. 4). If you asked me which story I would select, I would answer What a Thought,by Shirley Jackson some years ago, and at this moment of my life anything written by Tolkien (but I find some of Tolkien's critics unreadable!). With this I mean to say that it is very difficult to answer certain questions as Which are the best stories you have read?, because both reader and writer are part of the process, and the reader does not exist in a vacuum, either. I would also like to make another point here. Although the stories I selected were written by great minds, do not worry if yours were not. You can include the Harry Potter series if you like! We should never be ashamed of our literary affections, and always avoid rigid categories and ranks; 'consensus is not the goal of literature' (Harris, op. Cit., p.p. 6-7).

Now that you have taken the cops off your back, you are ready to start. So the question at this point is,'What do I write about?' It all depends on the writer; some prefer writing about what they know, some about topics they are not familiar with, in order to expand their horizons. When I wrote my first (published) story, I did it to enter a contest, which I later won,to my surprise. Why was it surprising? Because on that occasion I wrote about people I know, and I did not expect the jury to be interested in a confession on paper. But there you are again, I suppose the decision was based on two criteria: ( a) it must have engaged them emotionally, some of them must have shared my feelings; (b) it was reasonably well-written; after all, I do teach people to write! Remember, they were not ordinary readers like you and me, they were also supposed to pass judgement.

Why is it that reading is frequently mentioned alongside with writing? They go hand in hand because you need to be a good reader if you want to write well. Just as young children learn by emulating the behaviour of significant people in their lives, we learn to write by being exposed to the writings of significant authors in our lives. I should stress the word significant here, as I never read what is not significant to me. That is the reason why I never expect my literature students to enjoy all of my literature syllabus, but I encourage them to make their own selection, which is subject to availabilty of materials when one lives on an island! In my next article I will provide you with some strategies to become an effective reader, as well as with some ideas to start a writer's workshop, which might be useful to introduce you and your students to different forms of writing.

At this point I should mention two other elements a (prospective) writer needs; one is easy to get, the other might be somewhat harder if you are a busy adult. You will then need: (a) a notebook, which in my case is small enough to carry in my pocket; what do I scribble there? Notes about interesting people and situations I observe around me, possible titles for my stories, and sentences or phrases I overhear. And (b) time.Time to record ideas as they come to you, time to plan, time to write and to rewrite. Time, that is, for the sustained effort and craftsmanship that are essential in writing well. ( The Art of Teaching Writing,Lucy Calkins, 1994, p. 186). But finding the time to write is possible if you learn to organise your daily schedule and leave no more ? and no less ? than forty minutes per day to write. That is all that is needed provided you do not have to meet a deadline and you are behind! So, let nobody persuade you that writing is an impossible task; what you should always bear in mind is that it is learned by writing, rewriting, and by perceiving yourself as a writer.