Thanks to Gus Kihn, a 7th grade student in Chesterfield, Missouri who sent us the drawing below. In case you can't tell, it says "I love writing. I love the way it lets me peek into new worlds."

Amen, brother.

Starting today, The Slate (a web site devoted to news, the arts, politics, health, sports, food, and pretty much anything they feel like writing about at any given moment) will be host to a new, exciting venture in novel writing. Walter Kirn, author of the 1999 smash hit Thumbsucker, is going to be writing a new novel called The Unbinding, and it will be written exclusively for the web and take place in real time.

According to the article on Slate, The Unbinding is "a dark comedy set in the near future, [it] is a compilation of "found documents"--online diary entries, e-mails, surveillance reports, etc. It will make use of the Internet's unique capacity to respond to events as they happen, linking to documents and other Web sites. In other words, The Unbinding is conceived for the Web, rather than adapted to it."

Sounds like quite an interctive story! As of 10:58 this morning, the beginning of the novel has yet to be posted. Actually, scratch that, they just posted it! To read the first installment of The Unbinding, click here.

The novel will be updated roughly two times a week from now through the month of June.

Happy reading!

Later this month, the editors of Writing will be interviewing the phenomenal fantasy author Ursula K. LeGuin for an upcoming issue.

Have you read The Earthsea Cycle series, Gifts, or any of her other books? Do you have a question for the author about one of her books? Are you curious about her writing influences? Do you wish she could give you a specific piece
of writing advice? 

 Submit your question(s) for her to us by March 19. We'll add the top five questions to our list and mention your name in our September 2006 issue!

PS: Ursula K. LeGuin will be a guest judge for our 2006 Writing contest. Stay tuned for details in April!

You see it when you walk to a train station or drive underneath a freeway overpass. Massive multicolored stretches of intricate figures and designs. What is it? What does it say? What does it mean? Who put it there? How did they do it? Why did they do it?

It has been called graffiti. It has been called mural art. It has been called vandalism. It has been called a crime, and people have been arrested for it. It all depends on where it is, who made it, and who is looking at it. Nowadays, many cultural critics and art proponents call it Aerosol Art. But, whatever people call it, they have to admit how amazing it is.

Now, some businesses and popular culture merchants have co-opted the graffiti style to sell products.

All in all, Aerosol Art has become a case study in how the counterculture is absorbed by the culture. In some cases, the art form is no longer a rebellion, but a sales tactic. However, that doesn't mean that the artistic spirit is dead. On the contrary, creative public art can be a part of every day life and still rebel against materialism.

If you ever have the opportunity to choose your own research project, consider investigating Aerosol Art: that mysterious writing on the wall. Everyone sees it, but not everyone knows what it is. People dismiss it as the work of gangs, but if you stop to realize how huge an undertaking these murals are, you'll quickly see that they are the work of artists. (In some cases, misguided, misanthropic artists, but artists.)

Now when you see those giant spray-paint murals, be inspired by the human ability to create art in adverse conditions. But please ... don't spray paint anything because you read this blog.

For an interesting starter interview about Aerosol Art, go here.

To see some examples of urban youth practicing Aerosol Art, go here.

Short Story by Adam Holland, Grade 8

          A lone woman, mounted on horseback and carrying a heavy spear, rode over the hill. She looked out over the battlefield. She could see the opposing army at the other end of the field. The field was beautiful. Flowers were blooming on it, the grass was green, and butterflies fluttered about. The woman, the Queen of Jeremiah, raised an eyebrow. In moments this field would be trampled and covered with the dead. She almost felt remorse. Almost.
          She tapped the spear butt against the ground three times, and her army approached behind her. The infantry was in the first line. Behind them, the cavalry, two monks brought for good luck and healing, and a pair of massive siege towers. 
     

          "Attack!" roared the Queen. The lead member of the cavalry bounded over the first line of infantry and charged forward. As he moved, the other army sent forth infantry. The Queen rode into battle, cleaving the infantryman to the ground. The battle was on. 

          The King of Mathew watched the massive battle from the wall. Things did not look well. His strategy seemed somehow flawed; the opposing army was tearing through with ease. The siege towers were getting dangerously close to the wall. He quickly moved into the tower on the wall, spreading a map of the field before him. He had marks where his armies were positioned. Things seemed to be going as planned, and yet...
          Then he found it. The flaw. The area he had left uncovered, where his enemies could break through. He ran back out to the wall, hoping he could find some way to relay the information to his army. But it was too late. Even as he reached the wall, one of the siege towers reached them, a bridge crashing down on the wall. Several foot soldiers stood in the tower. "It is over," one of them called. "Surrender!"
          The King ran back toward his tower, only to see a pair of swordsmen emerge. He turned to the stairs down from the wall, but a knight and the Queen of Jeremiah blocked the staircase. He was trapped.

          "Checkmate," said Jeremiah, leaning back in his chair with a smile. Mathew frowned.
          "Shoot. The rook again," he muttered, seeing his mistake clearly now.
          "Don't be a bad sport, Mathew," said Jeremiah playfully to his friend.
          "I'll get you one of these days," returned Mathew, still trying to be angry, and failing.
          "Actions speak louder," said Jeremiah, folding the pieces into the box and folding the checkered board.
          "You watch," protested Mathew. "You can't keep using that bloody rook forever."
          Shaking his head, Jeremiah slid the board into the Chess set and rose to his feet.