Vad vill du det ska finnas för stämning och känsla i din text?

Du kan skapa en kuslig stämning för scener i din berättelse genom att visa läsaren bilder som påminner om mörka oroande saker.
Då ger du läsaren känslan utan att berätta om den direkt.
Eleverna i min klass fick uppgiften att skriva meningar som gjorde att läsaren förstod stämningen utan att känsloordet nämndes. De kastade sig över uppgiften och tyckte det var kul. Det verkade inte svårt, men så är de ju vana genom alla filmer, att se en berättelse i bilder lika mycket som att höra den …
Så här skrev några av dem utifrån de olika känsloorden:

sorgsen:

  • Jag såg en död fågel på marken.
  • Min mamma dog i min famn.

spännande:

  • Jag kände att jag var inte ensam. Men det var jag.
  • Jag vaknade upp av att någon stod och stirrade på mig, men när jag kollade så var ingen där.
  • … och när jag hade min bokhylla mot väggen, så kändes det som att någon var där bakom.
  • Jag ligger i sängen så hör jag att någon kastar sten på mitt fönster, så jag går och kollar, så står det en man och kollar på mig.
  • … när man har varit nyfinken och upptäckt svåra konflikter
  • … frasenerande hemligheter som döljer sig vid skuggorna

glad:

  • Jag var hemma hos farmor. Det var bra.
  • Jag gick upp från sängen och det var soligt väder, jag skulle till stranden för att bada.
  • Ta en skrattfullig humor och släpp loss hjärtat.

En stämning du själv hittar på:

  • Jag var ensam hemma och hörde ljud från köket.
  • När jag satt ensam nere i mitt rum, så kändes det som att någon tittade på mig med sneda läskiga ögon.

I elevernas texter dyker det ibland upp nyskapande eller ord som missuppfattats i sin ljudbild, här har de fått vara kvar eftersom de skapar sting och salt i texten. lyssna bara på de härliga orden “skrattfullig” och “nyfinken”.

You can create a creepy mood for scenes in your story by showing the reader images reminiscent of dark disturbing things.
You give the reader the feeling without telling it directly.

The students in my class were given the task of writing sentences that made the reader understand the mood without emotional word was mentioned. They pounced on the task and thought it was fun. It did not seem difficult, they have the habit through all the movies they see, to see a story in images as much as to hear it …
Here are some of what they wrote based on the different emotional words:

sad:
I saw a dead bird on the ground.
My mother died in my arms.
exciting:
I felt I was not alone. But I was.
I woke up and someone was staring at me, but when I checked it was nobody there.
… And when I had my bookshelf against the wall, it felt like someone was behind it.
I lie in bed, I hear someone throwing stones at my window, so I go to see,  it is a man and he looks at me.
… When you’ve been curious and detection difficult conflicts
… Fascinating Spirit secrets hidden in the shadows
Happy:
I was at home with grandma. It was good.
I got up from the bed and it was sunny weather, I was going to the beach to swim.
Take a laugh fulling humor and unleash the heart.
An atmosphere you will choose yourself:
I was alone at home and heard noises from the kitchen.
When I sat down alone in my room, it felt like someone was watching me with slant scary eyes.


Sometimes innovative or words distorted in its sound,pops up in the students’ texts on this level, they can create peppar and salt in the text. just listen to the beautiful words “skrattfullig” and “nyfinken”.

 

into my heart/ in i mitt hjärta

oak tree

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.

A.E Houseman 1859 – 1936 “”A Shropshire Lad”

In till mitt hjärta blåser dödens vind
långt bort från fjärran land:
men vilka är de, minnets blåa berg,
och vilka torn och gårdar är det där?

Det är mitt land av det jag mist och fått
De lyser klart, jag ser,
de lyckans vägar där jag gått
och dit jag aldrig kommer mer.

översättning Lisbeth Nordin

Jag hörde först några rader av den här dikten i en engelsk deckare, då den ene polisen reciterar den sista strofen när han plötsligt stöter på sin barndomsvän i Oxford.
När får vi höra en svensk polis citera Ferlin eller kanske Lars Forsell, då mörkret sveper in över Stockholms mörka trottoarer och de skötsamma gått och lagt sig i miljonprogrammens fågelholkar?

I heard the first lines of this poem in an English detective story, when one police recited the last lines, as he encountered a childhood friend in Oxford.
When will I hear a Swedish police quote Ferlin or maybe Lars Forssell in a detective story, when darkness sweeps across Stockholm sidewalks?

Ring klocka ring, /Ring out wild bells

Ring, klocka, ring i bistra nyårsnatten
mot rymdens norrskenssky och markens snö;
det gamla året lägger sig att dö . . .
Ring själaringning öfver land och vatten!

Ring in det nya och ring ut det gamla
i årets första, skälfvande minut.
Ring lögnens makt från världens gränser ut,
och ring in sanningens till oss som famla.

Ring Out, Wild Bells är skriven av Alfred Tennyson och publicerades 1850.

 

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
the flying cloud, the frosty light:
The year is dying in the night,
Ring out wild bells, and let hom die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
T he year is going, let him go,
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Alfred Tennyson  1850

Twas the night before Christmas.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

e spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

Clement Clarke Moore (1779 – 1863) wrote the poem Twas the night before Christmas.

The story in three squares/berättelsens tre serierutor

Finally I have made my way through some of the classic literary masterpieces,
thanks to the slim paperback
“90 Classic Books for People in a Hurry” by Swedish cartoonists Henrik Lange.
Here, each book is stripped down to the essential of each story with the magic but invisible narrative form:
the beginning,
the  middle
and the end.
In this way, every novel is told by a black and white comic strip with only threee boxes.
Yes, there is a fourth initial box, but it contains only the title of the novel.

It’s a great way to use when you  write,
to really get clear view on the story.
How does it start?
What happens in the middle?
How does it end?

And yes, the book made me laugh a lot.

Äntligen har jag tagit mig igenom några av de klassiska litterära mästerverken,
tack vare den tunna pocketboken
“80 romaner för dig som har bråttom” av serieskaparen Henrik Lange.
Här är varje bok nedbantad till  det väsentliga i varje berättelse med den magiska men osynliga berättarformen:
början, mitten och slutet.
På det sättet kan varje roman berättas med  tre svartvita serierutor.
Ja, det finns en fjärde inledande ruta, men den innehåller bara titeln på romanen.

Det är ett utmärkt sätt att använda  när man själv skriver,
för att riktigt tydligt få syn på berättelsen.
Hur börjar det?
Vad händer i mitten?
Hur slutar det?

“Writing is thinking on paper” “Att skriva är att tänka på papper”

thinkingonpaper
I love the sentence: “Writing is thinking on paper.” It says it all, so we could stop here,
but of course I had to look him up, William Z, and here is some other of the things he thinks about.

“But the secret of good writing is to strip every sentence to its cleanest components. Every word that serves no function, every long word that could be a short word, every adverb that carries the same meaning that’s already in the verb, every passive construction that leaves the reader unsure of who is doing what. … these are the thousand and one adulterants that weaken the strength of a sentence.” William Zinsser

Do we agree?
Sometimes we do. Sometimes we don’t. But we consider it.

“Att skriva är att tänka på papper”. Det skulle kunna räcka med den meningen, men jag läste lite mer om William Z och han säger också detta om skrivandets hantverk:
“Men det goda skrivandets hemlighet är att stryka ner varje mening till dess renaste beståndsdelar. Varje ord som inte har en funktion, varje långt ord som kan ersättas med ett kortare, varje adverb som har samma mening som verbet redan har, varje passiv mening som lämnar läsaren osäker om vem som gör vad … det är de tusen och en tillägg som försvagar en mening.”    William Zinsser

Kan vi hålla med om detta? Ibland, och ibland inte. Vi begrundar.