Saturday, February 19, 2011

Bedtime story

Image by Clint McKoy
My grandfather, whom we called Papaw, was good at many things including growing green beans, teaching dream interpretation, baking cinnamon bread and playing competitive senior-citizen tennis. But for us grandkids, his greatest talent was telling bedtime stories.

Papaw’s real name was Bob and so, of course, all the heroes of his stories were called Bob. Cowboy Bob. Garden-boy Bob. Spy-boy Bob. Fish-boy Bob. They all started the same way, with young Bob’s mom packing him a sandwich in a paper bag before he answered his call to adventure, Cowboy Bob jumping on his horse and Fish-boy Bob jumping into the lake. I never did get how that boy’s sandwich stayed dry all the way to lunchtime.

But now it’s up to my husband and me to defend the logic of our own bedtime stories, should our son question us. As part of the next generation of storytellers, I’ve discovered a few very grown-up truths about bedtime stories:

1. They are not planned in advance and retold on the night. Bedtime stories are actually made up on the spot. Did you know that? Because I didn’t.

2. There are facial muscles that you must absolutely not scrunch up when asked for a story about a green mail-delivering elephant, in order for it to sound not like a made up story, but rather like a series of well-known facts.

3. Bedtime stories may not all have a satisfying ending. But that’s OK, because your audience won’t be awake to hear it.

4. You’re lucky if you are still awake to hear it.

Now, when my husband tells our son a bedtime story it sounds something like this:

“There was once a little red train who wanted to explore outside the train station where he grew up. So one morning he went chugga-chugga chugga-chugga down the longest track he could find. He didn’t know where it was going but he just kept down it as fast as he could. Soon the little train was going really really fast because he was actually speeding down a really steep hill and then suddenly CRASH! He fell off the tracks, but luckily just at that moment, whoosh-whoosh a big dragon swooped out of the sky with huge big wings. And the dragon picked up the little red train and put him on his scaly back and together they went flying over the countryside till they reached the sea. And the sea was full of pirate ships, hundreds of them! And the little red train was so amazed that he leaned over to get a better look when the next thing he knew – SPLASH! – he fell straight into the cold blue sea…”

You get the idea. It’s action-packed adventure with colors and sound effects. It might as well be scratch-n’-sniff. That’s how my Papaw’s Boy-Bob stories were too.

On the other hand, when I tell our son a bedtime story, it goes more like this:

“Once upon a time, there was a fuzzy little rabbit who lived in a hole in a tree with his mother. It was oh-so-cozy in there and he felt so safe and warm. There was always plenty of yummy food to eat, like carrots and beets, which are both very rich in antioxidants and should be consumed daily, as you already know. And every morning, Mama Rabbit would make a nice cup of green tea – the cancer-combating properties of which are widely known – with a spoonful of honey. Mmmm. He didn’t think there was anything more a little rabbit could desire from life.

But then one morning, he woke up with a start and said to his Mama, ‘I just had the most amazing dream!’ When Mama Rabbit inquired further – because with a hook like that you just can’t resist asking a question – he told her that he’d dreamt about making friends with a wolf. A wolf, of all creatures! Because you should know that rabbits and wolves are – evolutionarily speaking – a bit at odds with each other, if not sworn enemies.

‘It could be a premonition,’ said the little rabbit’s mother. She was talking about his dream, of course, the one about the rabbit and the wolf forming a forbidden bond.

Now just as the little rabbit was drinking his green tea, there came a rapping at the door. It was an adventurous little hedgehog looking for new friends.

‘Hey little rabbit, come out and play with me,’ said the hedgehog.

And the little rabbit tentatively went to the door, opened it just a little and whispered, ‘No!’

‘Why not?’ said the hedgehog, ‘We can play in the woods and collect pinecones.’

‘But my Mama says there are wolves in the woods and I’m afraid.’

‘I bet you don’t even know what a wolf is,’ said the hedgehog with a rather haughty air. ‘If you knew what a wolf was, you wouldn’t be so apprehensive.’

The little rabbit felt ashamed and in fact he was blushing under all that fur. ‘My mama once told me a story about a wolf broke into a farm and ate a chicken.’ But, of course, this story just demonizes the wolf, who is actually a victim of human reduction of the wolves’ natural habitat and their food source. But that’s a whole other story. Anyway…

The hedgehog answered very knowingly. ‘Look, don’t worry. If a bear comes then I’ll prick it with one of my quills.’

‘Quills?’ said the little rabbit. ‘My mama once told me a story about a quill…’

The little rabbit hasn’t even left the house yet and my son is already asleep. In fact, you might even be asleep. But I have to admit the soporific effect of Act One Scene One is entirely unintentional. Because I’m busy here trying to build a story from the ground up: setting the scene, building characters, creating tension. And all these things take time.

But I do realize that the story is a little heavy on the adjectives and adverbs and could do with a little less dialogue and a bit more action. I am also well aware that the use of speculative “if” sentences and stories (and dreams) within a story may be slightly beyond the reach of my two-year-old’s comprehension. However, I do think the nutritional titbits and doses of realism are well-placed. And even though he may struggle with the difference between “afraid” and “apprehensive”, it’s never too early to start understanding the nuances of your own feelings, right? I mean, how else is he ever going to relate to others?

And how else – when he’s a father himself – is he ever going to get the kids to sleep?

Saturday, February 5, 2011

My new résumé

Heddi Goodrich, Writer
47c The Best Street in the Worst Neighborhood
New Zealand
(photo may be a bit out of date)
  • Excellent timing: Being born in the pre-PC year of 1971 uniquely qualifies me as a writer: how else could I have developed such good penmanship?
  • Self-starter: My former business partner, my brother, will attest to the fact that our very first business – selling popcorn and organic apple cider from a makeshift cart – was a big hit on the streets on Brookline, Boston.  
  • Persuasiveness: Vacationing in Jamaica at the age of four, I managed to persuade my dad and stepmom to take us every morning to the local café for their specialty breakfast smoothie (ingredients: milk, banana, mango,  ganja). Later on, I convinced my parents that going alone to Italy on an exchange program at sixteen was a really good idea. And that in Italy there were no men whatsoever, only women. My skills of persuasion lend themselves even to crackly telephone communication, resulting in me heading off to Spain, Bulgaria, Istanbul on my own, and the Ukrainian countryside around Chernobyl (sorry, Mom, did I not tell you?). 
  • Humility: I refrain from boasting about how many countries I’ve been to. It just makes people jealous.
  • Fast learner: Without the help of a map, within days I learned my way around the mother of all labyrinths, Venice, when my stepmom and I started the highly lucrative business of buying the city’s hand-crafted papier-mâché Carnival masks, slightly sturdier than eggshells, wrapping them in newspaper and shipping them across to America.

  • Three years’ primary schooling at the Rudolf Steiner Waldorf School, Washington, D.C. (USA). Subjects studied: eurythmic dancing, theater, playing the recorder, Norse mythology, locating and capturing fairies
  • High school diploma from Blaire High School, Silver Spring, Maryland (USA)
  • High school diploma – because one just isn’t enough these days – from Liceo Linguistico Settembrini, Poggiomarino, Naples (Italy)
  • Masters in Foreign Languages and Literature from L’Istituto Universitario Orientale di Napoli (Italy)
  • Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults, Languages International, Auckland (New Zealand) Score: A (the first they’d given in years, a CELTA “A” is a language-nerd badge of honor)


1983: Wrote and self-published my first epic novel: hand-written, hole-punched and bound with red yarn.
1985: Completed the first of a revealing 12-volume diary series called Oh-So-Wise for Her Years
1991 – present: Freelance proofreading / translating
1996: Wrote a 50,000-word Masters thesis in semiotics that would bore you to tears if I went into any detail
1996: Worked illegally as a waitress in the main café in Piazza San Domenico Maggiore, Naples. (OK, maybe not so relevant, but cleaning the toilets there taught me the aforementioned humility and signaled a real high in a long string of restaurant and coffee shop jobs.)
1996 – present: Various English-teaching jobs (they blend together after a while) in Italy, the US and New Zealand, some of them legal
1999: My heart got badly broken: although not technically a career move, the event did inspire me to move to New Zealand and eventually write my memoir.
2001: Wrote four excellent poems. Heartbreak is good for that. So is poverty, wandering through forests with inappropriate footwear and skinny-dipping in stormy seas.
2007: Wrote my 189,000-word memoir about living in Naples, The Third Person (since renamed Lost in the Spanish Quarter)
2008: Edited my memoir way down to 183,000 words
2009: Sleep-deprived, while nursing a three-month-old, wrote and published two scathing book reviews for The Dunedin Star
2010: Began a literary blog called "Confessions of a Wannabe Writer", giving new meaning to the word “wannabe”

  • Strong people skills. I deal with people all the time. 
  • Fluent in Italian, Neapolitan, Spanish and Bulgarian  
  • Some Russian, five or six words in Maori 
  • Translating / interpreting  
  • Faking accents
  • Driving, including defensive driving.
  • Typing. I do it a lot. I’m really good at it. 
  • Teaching résumé writing

  • Yoga  
  • Cooking (Italian, Mexican) and bread-baking 
  • Cats
  • Collecting (and occasionally reading) National Geographic
  • Speed diaper-changing