Well hello there!
I’m still trying to rhyme a story.
It struck me that it might be useful to write it out non-rhymily, instead of just having the pictures in my head – it might help me find some new words, or give me a bit more background to play with.
It’s written from the point of view of a little boy who is given a guitar, but doesn’t know how to play it. So he goes around trying to find someone who can play it.
Hmmm, it’s always little boys in my stuff – must be the latent tomboy in me…
So, here we go… it’s probably going to be full of notes, asides, questions and random ideas, so may not make sense…!
I’ve got a guitar! It was a present from… an aunt or uncle? With a silly name? It might be blue. But the only thing is, I don’t know how to play it. So I’m off to find someone who can play, and hopefully they’ll be able to show me how to play too.
Here’s our pet dog out in the garden – he’s a big, black, shaggy old dog. I wonder if he knows how to play guitar? I’ll ask him.
The dog looks at the guitar, and has a good old sniff at it. Its strings might go “twoing“. He shakes his big old shaggy head and says “No, I can’t play guitar – my paws are way too big.”
So off I go in search of someone else. Our pet cat jumps onto the garden table from the top of the fence. She’s a little stripey thing, not much more than a kitten really. I’ll ask her.
The cat twists and twines her way around the guitar, her tail looping the loop around its neck. She butts the strings gently with her nose. The strings might go “twing“. She sits down and washes a paw, and says “No, I can’t play guitar – my claws would get caught on the strings.”
I think this might be helping – ‘twing’ and ‘string’…
I decide to go back in the house and look there. High up in the corner of the bathroom, our big, fat, friendly, leggy, house spider is busy repairing a tiny tear in his web. I’ll ask him.
The spider abseils down a thread and lands on the guitar. He disappears inside it, then comes back out and walks up and down the strings. There’s not a sound. Rising silently on his thread back towards the ceiling, he whispers “No, I can’t play guitar – my legs just aren’t strong enough.” Something about sticky web? Not strong enough to pluck? Careful with the rhymes there… this is intended for children…!
Wandering into the kitchen, the resident fly is lazily tapping out a rhythm on the window with head… Or timing himself doing circuits round the light fitting? I’ll ask the fly.
The fly zooms gently round my head as I ask, then lands briefly on the body of the guitar and has a little walk round. He flies into the sound hole and buzzes echo-ley (?!) round the inside. Then he flies out suddenly and disappears out the open back door. I guess he can’t play guitar either.
I sigh, and sit down on the back door step with my guitar on my knee. I’m never going to find anyone who can play guitar.
Just then, there’s a knock at the front door, and footsteps in the hall. Someone ruffles my hair and says “Hello!”. I look up, and there’s my Uncle Jon. He asks me what’s wrong, and I tell him sadly that I have this lovely new guitar, but I don’t know how to play it, and can’t find anyone that can. I’m rather upset.
But guess what? Uncle Jon picks up the guitar, leans back against the kitchen wall and starts to play!
At last! I’ve found someone that can play guitar!
Well, I think that’s helped a bit! I’m probably going to keep coming back to this story version, adding bits, changing bits, and giving it a nudge here and there. But I think putting it down non-rhymily is going to be a big help with the rhymey version, hurrah!
I do have a few pre-rhymed bits so far, so I’ll jot some of them down here so you can get the rhythm and sort of see what I’m aiming for…
‘Oh no,’ she purred, ‘No, not those things,
my claws get caught up in the strings.’
The mouse tee tumpty tum instead,
and shook his teeny tiny head.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t play at all,
my tiny paws are way too small.’
It was my favourite Uncle Jon,
Who asked me what on earth was wrong.
‘I’ve searched all day both near and far
to find someone to play guitar.’
‘I’ve asked the dog, the cat, the mouse,
The spider that lives in the house.
I’ve even asked a little fly,
And now I think I’m going to cry.’
Right, back to rhyming!