Young Writers Society

The Farm of Derris Hill

The sun never set on Derris Hill
I’ve gone and lived my whole life on Derris Hill
Sun is always happy on Derris Hill
I never going to leave Derris Hill

I sit in the old oak tree and begin to write. The words flow so easily onto the ripped piece of paper I found blowing in this warm summer breeze. I slowly brush a piece of my red hair out of my face and pick up the pencil I wrote with. I don’t know if it was a poem, but I was one lucky farm girl to even know how to read and write.

I look out through the leaf-covered branches on the tree and look upon my home, Derris Hill Farm. The farm was off in a distance, and somewhere ducks quaked their silly songs. The creek in front of the tree babbled and flowed under the sun, and little fish swam through the water.

My tree was one of many in a forest outside the farmlands, but it was the closest to the farmhouse. My tree was a good fifty feet from the edge of the forest, and somehow separate from all the other trees. In that way the tree was like me. It was all alone, but content to be that way.

I jumped down from my spot and went to the stream. I put the piece of paper in the pockets of my apron and picked up a stick and some leaves. I inserted the stick into the biggest leaf and out of the other one I made a sail. I set the little boat in the water and watch it flow over the clear creek, as if it was flying on water.

I looked at a calm part of the water to see my freckle covered face and what my mom called a button nose. She swore I was the prettiest little girl around. But what did she know. My eyes were my best feature, blue like the spring sky, or a blue jay in summer air.

I took the piece of paper out of my pocket. I used my hair ribbon to tie a bunch of sticks together to make a little raft. I stick my pencil strait up in the middle and attached a leaf-sail to it. Finally I rolled up my poem and put it around the mast on the little raft before putting it onto the clear waters.

I hear my mother call me, and I run back to the farm, not knowing where my little raft might go.

-------Tell me what you think. There might be a second or third part to this either on the litttle girls life or the person who finds the raft. It could even be a guy wo finds it then goes to find the person who wrote it. hmmmmm......--------------

'Ello!

So, one thing I noticed was almost all the beginning of your paragraphs began with "I" than a verb. "I," and a verb. This mistake is actually quite common amoungst those who are new to writing First Person POV or the group whom are comfortable in chosen POV but lack the experiance simply because they have not been taught in variation. And this where the beginning of your paragraphs lack: Variation.

Rather than write sentences with verbs, try experimenting with adjectives as you progress. Also, it may help if you are able to visualize how your character acts. Coughing, growning, being reclusive; these are but examples how you can master the First Person POV. Also, First Person is an excellent tool for allowing the reader and writer to draw close bonds with the cast in your story. How? Enter the mind- soul- of your MC. If it's difficult, it's probably because your MC has not yet come into their own. Hence, not quite developed.

Cheers!