ChapterOneIn Which Avon Feels Lowit 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, Ive read a lot of adventures. And Ive 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 its 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, its altitude. Ive never looked at things that way, said Avon. Then its time for you to look another way, suggested Edward. After all, if you're looking down, its only logical to assume you're up. But if you're looking up, you must be down. Still, I must advise you, some think its best to be neither high nor low, but in the middle. I don't think, said Avon, Ive 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 some-times forget that we ants have a lot of hands. I always thought they were legs, said Avon. It depends. On what? Sometimes its better to have a leg up. Other moments its good to be handy. My mother thought I was handsome, said Avon. Ive always tried to hold on to that. Will that get me anyplace? Avon! cried Edward. Don't go anyplace. Go someplace. Whats 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. Its 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. Id 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 Ive said, up in a tree, you're halfway there. Sounds like a plan, said Avon. Perfect, said Edward. Because when it comes to writing, its 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.Text copyright © 2008 by AviIllustrations copyright © 2008 by Tricia TusaAll rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or tr Excerpted from A Beginning, a Muddle, and an End: The Right Way to Write Writing by Avi All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
