We got an early start, out of the house by 7am so we could get breakfast at the Downtowner. Now I can certainly cook breakfast, but we really enjoy the atmosphere of this tiny little diner, and the way they bring our coffee immediately and know what we're probably going to order. And the opportunities to hear all kinds of intriguing stories are endless in a place where lots of senior citizens gather!
Larry dropped me off and headed home, and I met up with my writing group friends to look over the day's sessions. I skipped the first classes and decided to go to the class on "A Woman's Voice" by Pam Cable. It was interesting but not much information I didn't already know. As with any workshop, though, there is value in reinforcement, reminders and repetition. The presenter was lively and engaging and the session went quickly. For someone who is still searching for their writing voice, the class would have been excellent. For me, it reaffirmed what I knew: be true to who I am and it will shine through in my written words.
After lunch I led my second session, this one on Appalachian Story Traditions. I covered five basic types of Appalachian stories: family, historical, ghost, tall tales and traditional folktales. I included ballads in the traditional folktales segment. The class was great fun, covering a lot of ground, allowing opportunities for me to tell a story from each category and still have time for questions and discussion. The handouts I prepared were right on target and I felt very satisfied with this session. It was satisfying to share some of what I knew with people who were so interested and who offered such good insights and ideas.
What I learned:
1) Many people don't know our traditional tales and lore. I wondered how you can write about our area without knowing its past and its stories.
2) Our traditional Appalachian folk heroes were strong, git-'er-done types who were not bowed down or victims. Most modern Appalachian stories seem to be sad endings, with characters victimized or done wrong. What happened to our Jacks and Mutsmegs? Where are they today? When did we become victims instead of tricksters?
3) Again, the Stith Thompson index is a tool that writers should be familiar with as a starting place for stories on a theme, or even for creative writing prompts.
4) I need to develop a workshop on traditional Appalachian folk heroes, so that today's writers have that archetype to build on. We need more Jacks in our stories!
Showing posts with label Jack. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jack. Show all posts
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
Jack Tales
What are Jack tales? There are many online resources, from class projects to scholarly articles, that address that very question. Some call him a fool some call him wise, I call him a survivor.
Click here for a scholarly article about Jack.
Or, if you want something on an elementary level, click here.
And if you just want a quick introduction, try here.
Any way you approach them, the Jack tales will delight you with their fresh humor, surprising twists, and old-time language.
Click here for a scholarly article about Jack.
Or, if you want something on an elementary level, click here.
And if you just want a quick introduction, try here.
Any way you approach them, the Jack tales will delight you with their fresh humor, surprising twists, and old-time language.
A Story about Jack
Jack went out hunting, and he had a good day. He'd used up all his shot and his gamebag was full. He sat down to eat his lunch--a sackful of ripe peaches.
As he sat there, he saw the biggest buck he'd ever seen in his entire life. Its antlers branched out so far they blocked the sunlight, and that buck must have stood seventeen hands high. Jack reached for his gun, and then he remembered. He was out of shot.
Now some people would have cursed their luck, stomped around, cried, or blamed someone else for not having any shot left to shoot that big deer. But not Jack--he wasn't the kind of feller to let little things like that concern him. No, sir. Jack commenced to looking for an alternative solution to the situation at hand.
And he found it, right on the ground in front of him. Peach pits. Jack gathered up the peach seeds from his lunch and rammed them down the barrel of his gun, shoved in the wadding and powder and took aim.
Jack was a good shot. No, he was a great shot. No, he was an EXPERT shot. He hit that buck square between the eyes. But the buck just flinched, shook his head and ran off into the brush.
It didn't worry Jack too much. He had a bagful of game and he was too tired to drag a deer down the mountain anyway. He went whistling on home and cooked up a fine supper of squirrel gravy, fried rabbit and such as that. He forgot about that buck before his stomach was full.
A year later Jack found himself hunting in the same woods. He sat down to eat, and there in front of him he saw a magnificent peach tree. It was loaded with ripe, juicy peaches. Jack never could pass up a peach, so he jumped up and commenced to climbing up that tree.
He just got to the top where the ripest peaches were, when that tree stood up! That was when Jack realized that this wasn't an ordinary peach tree.
Remember the buck he shot? Well, one of the peach pits Jack had shot at that buck had lodged between the buck's antlers and grown into a full-sized peach tree right there on the buck's head!
That ol' buck shook his head, and sent Jack flying off--but not before Jack shoved about a dozen peaches into his pockets. Jack went on home and made him a peach cobbler.
And if no one's shot him, that buck is walking the woods yet.
As he sat there, he saw the biggest buck he'd ever seen in his entire life. Its antlers branched out so far they blocked the sunlight, and that buck must have stood seventeen hands high. Jack reached for his gun, and then he remembered. He was out of shot.
Now some people would have cursed their luck, stomped around, cried, or blamed someone else for not having any shot left to shoot that big deer. But not Jack--he wasn't the kind of feller to let little things like that concern him. No, sir. Jack commenced to looking for an alternative solution to the situation at hand.
And he found it, right on the ground in front of him. Peach pits. Jack gathered up the peach seeds from his lunch and rammed them down the barrel of his gun, shoved in the wadding and powder and took aim.
Jack was a good shot. No, he was a great shot. No, he was an EXPERT shot. He hit that buck square between the eyes. But the buck just flinched, shook his head and ran off into the brush.
It didn't worry Jack too much. He had a bagful of game and he was too tired to drag a deer down the mountain anyway. He went whistling on home and cooked up a fine supper of squirrel gravy, fried rabbit and such as that. He forgot about that buck before his stomach was full.
A year later Jack found himself hunting in the same woods. He sat down to eat, and there in front of him he saw a magnificent peach tree. It was loaded with ripe, juicy peaches. Jack never could pass up a peach, so he jumped up and commenced to climbing up that tree.
He just got to the top where the ripest peaches were, when that tree stood up! That was when Jack realized that this wasn't an ordinary peach tree.
Remember the buck he shot? Well, one of the peach pits Jack had shot at that buck had lodged between the buck's antlers and grown into a full-sized peach tree right there on the buck's head!
That ol' buck shook his head, and sent Jack flying off--but not before Jack shoved about a dozen peaches into his pockets. Jack went on home and made him a peach cobbler.
And if no one's shot him, that buck is walking the woods yet.
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