A Beginning, a Muddle, and an End: The Right Way to Write Writing Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgment

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  About the Author

  Text copyright © 2008 by Avi

  Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Tricia Tusa

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.

  www.hmhbooks.com

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Avi, 1937–

  A beginning, a muddle, and an end: the right way

  to write writing/Avi; illustrated by Tricia Tusa.

  p. cm.

  Summary: Avon the snail decides to become a writer with the help of his friend Edward the ant, which leads them into a series of adventures involving close encounters with an anteater, a tree frog, and a hungry fish. [1. Authorship—Fiction. 2. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. 3. Snails—Fiction. 4. Ants—Fiction. 5. Insects—Fiction.]

  I. Tusa, Tricia, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.A953Beg 2008

  [E]—dc22 2007016580

  ISBN 978-0-15-205555-4

  eISBN 978-0-547-53733-7

  v1.1212

  For Sarah, Sharon, Pam

  Writers, A.R.T.ists, friends

  Some time ago one of my young readers wrote to me about writing. Among the many wise things he said was that a good story consists of "a beginning, a muddle, and an end." It was the smartest description of a story I've ever read. I wish I knew his name. Perhaps he'll read this book. If so, I thank him for giving me a title.

  —Avi

  CHAPTER ONE

  In Which Avon Feels Low

  It was a dull, rainy morning, utterly gloomy.

  Inside his house, Avon, a rather small snail, was staring at a blank piece of paper that stood before him. Across the room, his friend Edward the ant was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, which was just as blank.

  Avon sighed. "The truth is, Edward," he said, "I've read a lot of adventures. And I've been on my own adventures. But I'm making no progress writing about my adventures."

  "I'm so sorry to hear that," said Edward. "Do you know anything about why?"

  "I'm pretty sure it's at the end of the alphabet," said Avon, "next to Z."

  "I mean," said Edward, "that when writing goes poorly, it sometimes has to do with how you are feeling. Can you tell me how you feel?"

  "Well, my spirits are ... down."

  "Avon, must I remind you? We live in a tree. You're actually up."

  "Then how can I be so low?"

  "Avon," said Edward, "would-be writers often think attitude is most important. More often than not, it's altitude."

  "I've never looked at things that way," said Avon.

  "Then it's time for you to look another way," suggested Edward. "After all, if you're looking down, it's only logical to assume you're up. But if you're looking up, you must be down. Still, I must advise you, some think it's best to be neither high nor low, but in the middle."

  "I don't think," said Avon, "I've ever heard anyone say, 'I'm feeling middle.'"

  "Perhaps you need to get a grip on yourself," said Edward.

  "Edward!" cried Avon. "How can I get a grip when I have no hands?"

  "My apologies," said Edward in haste. "I sometimes forget that we ants have a lot of hands."

  "I always thought they were legs," said Avon.

  "It depends."

  "On what?"

  "Sometimes it's better to have a leg up. Other moments it's good to be handy."

  "My mother thought I was handsome," said Avon. "I've always tried to hold on to that. Will that get me anyplace?"

  "Avon!" cried Edward. "Don't go anyplace. Go someplace."

  "What's wrong with anyplace?"

  "You'll never find it on a map," said Edward.

  "But what does place have to do with writing?"

  "Avon," said Edward, "to write well, you need to know where you are going. My guess is that your writing has lost all sense of direction."

  "It's hard for me to have a sense of direction," said Avon, "when I didn't even know I was supposed to go someplace."

  "Avon, trust me. Great writing depends on your height: low, middle, or high."

  "I'd like my writing to be right up there on the top," said Avon.

  "Nothing could be easier," said Edward. "Because living where we do, as I've said, up in a tree, you're halfway there."

  "Sounds like a plan," said Avon.

  "Perfect," said Edward. "Because when it comes to writing, it's wise to start with a plan."

  Avon brightened. "My plan has always been to write."

  "Exactly," said Edward. "Write first. You can always figure out what you've written later."

  CHAPTER TWO

  In Which Avon Starts to Write

  Avon took up a pencil in his mouth and was just about to start writing when he paused, dropped the pencil, and said, "I've always thought that it would be best if I kept my writing on the light side."

  "Writing in the dark is harder," agreed Edward.

  "Besides," said Avon, "if I wrote in the dark and came upon something good, I'd probably miss it."

  "I can see your point."

  "Are you referring to my idea or my pencil?"

  "Your bright idea."

  "I like to think I'm bright," said Avon, putting down his pencil. "But I don't think my writing is very illuminating."

  "Perhaps if we put our thoughts together, we'd come across something enlightening."

  "Oh good!" agreed Avon. "I'll try to come up with one idea."

  "And I," said Edward, "will try to come down with one."

  "Then I hope," said Avon, "we'll meet in the middle."

  After a few hours had passed, Avon asked, "Edward, did you think of anything yet?"

  "Not a thing," said the ant.

  "Perhaps," suggested Avon, "it would have been better if we had put no time into it. That way we could have come up with something timeless."

  Edward said, 'Avon you're so slow that in the time it takes you to say now, you might as well have said then. And by the time you notice the time is coming, it's generally past."

  "I suppose," said Avon, "that's reaching a logical conclusion."

  "Careful, Avon! If you've written a conclusion, you can't go any further."

  "Not to worry. I don't want to write a conclusion, just a story."

  "Let's agree then," said Edward, "that in regard to this story you're writing, if you're about to come to a conclusion, you'll head off in another direction. You might even find your own voice."

  "It must be strange," mused Avon, "to be strolling about and suddenly come upon your voice just sitting there." />
  "I can only hope," said Edward, "it doesn't speak a foreign language. By the way, Avon," added the ant, "this story you're going to write, is it a long or a short one?"

  "I suppose that depends on how long it takes me to write it."

  "Avon, the longer it takes to write a story, the shorter it takes to read."

  "But I would never cut short my reading," said Avon.

  "There's an old writer's saying: Never take shortcuts in your writing, but once you've written, it's wise to make lots of short cuts."

  "But the short of it is, I'm still not sure how to begin," said Avon.

  "You might start off on the right foot by writing something."

  "Edward," said Avon, "considering I don't have feet, that would be quite a feat." But with much excitement, he picked up his pencil again and wrote: Something.

  With much pride, he showed it to his friend. "What do you think?"

  "Well, Something isn't nothing."

  "Is it a start?"

  "It could be an end."

  "How can you tell the difference?" Avon asked.

  "Look closely: Does it have anything to the left of it?"

  "No."

  "To the right?"

  "No, again."

  "In other words," said Edward, "it could be the beginning or the end of your book."

  "Could it be that middle we were trying to reach?" Avon wanted to know.

  "Let's hope not. Because if it is the middle, you'll have to put in words on both sides. On the other hand, if you wrote it as the beginning, you would only have to write the words on the right side."

  "And if it's the end?" asked Avon.

  "You'd need only to fill in the left side."

  "Then let's forget about the middle," said Avon. "But which side will it be, the beginning or the end?"

  "The writer always gets to decide."

  "I think it would be more hopeful if Something was the beginning."

  "Excellent! Then you only need to write on the right side."

  "Edward!" cried Avon. "Think how many words you've saved me!"

  CHAPTER THREE

  In Which Avon Gets a Lesson in Punctuality

  Avon considered what he had written. Something, he decided, was a good beginning. But having begun, he did not know what to write next.

  "Perhaps," he said, "my problem is that I don't know the correct way to write."

  "There are many choices," said Edward. "You can go across the page, right to left, or left to right. Or, you could go up to down, or for that matter, down to up. Why, you could even write diagonally."

  "But I wouldn't want to write down to anyone," said Avon.

  "It would be depressing," agreed Edward.

  "I want my writing to be elevating," said Avon.

  "Living in this tree should give you lofty thoughts," Edward pointed out.

  "True," said Avon, "and I like the idea of my writing being upbeat."

  "So much better," agreed Edward, "than being beat-up."

  "What about writing in circles?" asked Avon.

  "Writers do that far too often," said Edward.

  "But I'd like to be a well-rounded writer," said Avon.

  "On the whole, yes," agreed Edward, "especially since it's not good to be considered square."

  "And I'd like my book to be timely," said Avon.

  "True," agreed Edward. "With as many deadlines as writers face, they need to be punctual."

  "Then perhaps," said Avon, "I should begin my book with Once upon a time. Would that be punctual enough?"

  "Avon," said Edward, "it's not being punctual that you need to worry about, but punctuation. Many writers think that when they write, it's the words that matter. Not at all. It's punctuation that's most important. All teachers of English should insist on that."

  "They usually do," said Avon.

  "They should," said Edward. "Listen to this." He put one of his legs over his heart and proclaimed: 'Avon! Don't forget all I said. You must not! Speak the truth about what happened! Things will be better, I think. To lie about the truth, it never helps!"

  "I agree with every word," said Avon.

  "Every word?" asked Edward. "Because you might want to put it this way: "Avon, don't! Forget all I said. You must not speak the truth about what happened. Things will be! Better, I think, to lie. About the truth ... It never helps!"

  Avon was astonished. "They seem like the same words!" he cried.

  "They are."

  "But they mean the opposite."

  "Avon! Be careful. A good writer will never say mean things. But the best mean what they say."

  "But if you've reached the mean," said Avon, "you're back in the middle."

  "Which is the reason," Edward pointed out, "why punctuation is the secret to great writing. A writer who isn't punctual is never quite in step with the time."

  Avon became alarmed. "But, Edward, you know snails can never be in step. We have no feet or, for that matter, shoes. We just sort of slip along."

  "Sounds like slipshod writing."

  "That's not a very neat idea," Avon said. "I'll have to do better."

  "Exactly," agreed Edward. "In writing, telling what you're going to write is never as exciting as the doing."

  "Why?"

  "It's the way good writers pay their dues."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  In Which Avon Chooses a Profession

  Avon spent much of that day gazing at the sheet of paper before him, staring at the one word he'd written: Something.

  "Edward," he finally said, "do you remember when you told me about the need for writers to be punctual?"

  "That was a short time ago."

  "All the same, I've been thinking about it. Since writing is so hard, perhaps instead of becoming a writer, I should become an author."

  "Avon, you can't become an author until you first become a writer."

  "Why is that?"

  "A writer is someone who tries to get the words right. That's why they are called writers. But an author is someone who has written the words wrong. Any critic will tell you that."

  "Is it hard to write right?"

  "If a writer isn't right, he's bound to be left behind."

  "I'd still like to try."

  "What will you write?"

  "That's my biggest worry. I'm afraid I've not had an exciting life."

  "Then write about what you haven't done."

  "Is that allowed?" asked Avon.

  "You should know that the number one rule about writing is: Write what you know. So if you know what you haven't done, write about that."

  "What if you don't know what you've not done?"

  "Then you go on to rule number two."

  "Which is?"

  "Write about what you don't know."

  "Is there a third rule?"

  "Yes, stories do usually have three rules. Rule number three is: Write about what you don't know as if you did know about it."

  "Any fourth rule?"

  "Absolutely: Make sure that when you're writing about what you don't know as if you did know, conceal the fact that you don't know what you're doing."

  "Is there a fifth rule?"

  "A crucial one. It's: Always leave your readers guessing."

  "Guessing what?"

  "Let them guess about which parts you know, which parts you don't know, and which parts you don't know but are writing as if you did know."

  "What if they guess right?"

  "I told you, the one who is righter becomes a writer."

  "What if they're wrong?"

  "That's the moment you become an author."

  "Sounds like it takes a lot of work to be a writer."

  "You're never wronger than when you decide to become a writer."

  "Edward, I hope you're not offended, but I'm not so sure wronger is a word."

  "You're probably right."

  "Or wrong."

  "Whatever works," agreed Edward.

  "Edward," said Avon with a sigh, "maybe I shouldn
't be a writer or an author. I had no idea it would be so hard."

  "Be a reader then."

  "Is that easier?"

  "Actually, it's much harder."

  "I don't understand," said Avon.

  "Avon, what's writing? Scribbled letters on paper. It's the reader who has to make sense of it."

  "I know writers used to be paid by how many words they wrote," said Avon, "so I suppose the more they wrote, the more cents they made. Which to me makes very little sense."

  "Actually," explained Edward, "it depends on what kind of writer you are. What kind were you intending to be?"

  "A writer who attracts readers."

  "Then for heaven's sake, don't write writing. Write reading."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  In Which Avon and Edward Do Nothing

  By the next day Avon had still written only one word: Something. After much thought about what else he might write, he announced, "Edward, I think I need a break."

  "All very nice for you to say," objected Edward. "As you've constantly reminded me, you don't have arms or legs. Nothing much for you to break."

  "I've got a shell."

  "Breaking out of your shell is a good thing. Breaking a leg is not. So I'll just as well avoid breaks, thank you."

  "Well then, instead of a break, could I take some rest from my writing?" asked Avon.

  "Avon," said Edward, "you can't write the rest unless you have written some."

  "Some what?"

  "Whatever you wanted to write more of."

  "But I've written only one word," said Avon.

  "Look at it this way," said Edward. "If what you're writing will have only two words, then you've written half."

  "What could I write that has only two words?"

  "A very, very short story."

  "Could you give me an example?" asked Avon.