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The Diary Of A Young Pianist

by klaus


This is a beginning of a story. I wanted to see what you think. I have more written, so if you want more, don't be afraid to ask.

The Diary of a Young Pianist.

Hi. I’m Eric Tyler. I live in Dublin, with older sister (Diana) and my parents Mick and Teresa. I’m 11 and considered (by my principal, school and family) a musical prodigy. I have to admit, I am quite good, if you don’t mind me saying. This is my diary (yes a diary, a boy’s diary!) of a year that nearly changed my life, one might say.

Well, I suppose began one faithful day last June, which possibly is day that started this adventure, and earned me my nickname of course. Oh and by the way, sorry if my handwriting is messy.

Eric Tyler’s Diary!

Keep Out!

That means you Diana!

June 14th 2004.

Today started off, and every Monday does. You find yourself clinging to the sheets, as your mother tugs you away from them, muttering: “Hurry up, Hurry up! You’ll miss the bus if you don’t get up! C’mon it’s ten past eight!” The funny thing is, that they always lie. Not once have you missed the bus. Not once do mothers tell the correct time. They say it’s 8.15, when it’s 8.00. Or it’s 7.30 when they say it’s 7.45! It’s madness! Well that’s got nothing to do with today. Well Diana and me arrived at school. By the way, if someone finds this diary, I’m in fifth class, and my sis is in sixth. We joined our classes in our separate classrooms and our teachers arrived. We did are assigned work while Peter O’ Kay, the class clown sat at the back, flinging small pieces of rubber, at his annoyed classmates, who each let out a small grunt as the rubber collided with his or her head. After the bell rang, signalling it was past 12, there was a small knock on my classroom door. The teacher rose from her desk, where she was correcting English homework. She disappeared for a moment. The class let out a sigh of relief, slumped back in their chairs, and began whispering to each other. The minute the doorknob move slightly, the whole class jumped back into action, sitting up straight, lips sealed and continued with their work. The teacher returned smiled politely. She stood up at the top of the classroom.

“Eric Tyler,” She announced, ”Principal’s office,” All eyes were on me. I put my pencil, and walked out of the classroom out into the deserted corridor. The corridor, was usually crammed with people, but now it was empty. I reached the principal’s office, and knocked twice on the door.

“Come in,” Mr Murray’s voice boomed. With a shaking hand, I opened the door.

“Please Eric, take a seat,” He nodded toward a seat. I could tell something was up, by the tone of his voice.

“You wanted to see me sir,” I was beginning to feel nervous. The only time I was in the principal’s office before was in junior infants. I suffer from hay fever. I was outside playing, when suddenly I sneezed, and found that I couldn’t stop. The principal brought me to his office to get my phone number, and ring for my parents. But back to today. I sat down in a chair, opposite Mr Murray.

“Well, as you know, the end of the year, tin whistle concert is coming up…” I nodded. Every year, classes from 3rd-6th play a variety of tunes on their tin whistles for the rest of the school, and parents.

“Well, I was wondering if you would like to give us a piano recital afterwards?”

“Piano recital?”


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416 Reviews


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Sun Jan 09, 2005 5:51 pm
Nate wrote a review...



Like Sam, I like the idea of this as well, but it needs work.

Firstly, you need to go back and proofread this. There was one part where "are" should've been "our" and another part where "and" should've been "as." Also, you're missing words in places such as in:
" with older sister (Diana)"
You're missing "my" after "with."

As regarding the diary thing, you should just change it to journal. I work with a lot of kids around that age, and there are actually plenty of boys that keep journals (though they don't tell their friends), but they never call them a dairy as that evokes notions of Barbie and ponies.

Also, what you may want to do is to look in your dairy and see how you write entries (if you don't have a dairy, then start one and then see how you write entries), because right now this sounds more like a story than a dairy.

In any case, I look forward to reading more!




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Fri Jan 07, 2005 10:32 pm
Sam wrote a review...



OK I love the idea! My dad's a music professor at the University of Nebraska...needless to say, we're all into it! *lol* I'll crit hard...only 'cause I like it!

"Hi. I’m Eric Tyler. I live in Dublin, with older sister (Diana) and my parents Mick and Teresa. I’m 11 and considered (by my principal, school and family) a musical prodigy. I have to admit, I am quite good, if you don’t mind me saying."

OK this is going to sound really self-centered and conceited...but I'm in the G&T (gifted and talented) program at school for writing. I have an IQ of 150. Like this kid, except his thing is writing. Let me tell you, it completely S-U-C-K-S to have people always come up to you and say "Woah Sam this is sooo awesome," or "Yuck, Geek Girl, go away," or always have people wanting to copy off your assignments and projects. I am telling you this kid is not going to be going around bragging about 'ooh I'm the next Mozart I play really well' without a frown or a little bit of embarrassment or shame or even just pure annoyance. (whew, got that off my chest! sorry, I know I'm not supposed to vent in critiques.)

"This is my diary (yes a diary, a boy’s diary!) of a year that nearly changed my life, one might say."
OK I love the part about 'yes this is a boy's diary!' If you look at like the Dear America books (I'm probably making no sense 'cause you're Irish) they're all diaries by girls, right? I think there's like 2 that aren't... the only thing to change in this paragraph would be the last couple words. Quoting Incandescense, it's like you're 'interrupting this program to give you the obvious sentence of the day'. If you just leave it as This is My Diary, it sounds more clean and crisp and ready to go. (I'm glad he's 11...so am I...I'm like the baby or something!) 2 paragraph- delete all except for the messy handwriting thing, I love it. *lol* You need to leave a little bit for the reader to guess at, you know? We know something's going to happen eventually, unless this is the most boring book in the world (which I know it isn't.)

*playing the part of dumb american* What exactly is fifth class? Sixth class? Is it like grades? My australian penpal calls them years...just a question! (and later, junior infants?)

last bit about the piano recital- it's OK, it's just that a principal doesn't give and entire RECITAL at the end of a stupid tinwhistle concert away, even to a prodigy. Make it like "Hey, wouldja like to play a song for us at the end of this thing?" :D

OK, this story is a little bit rough around the edges, and needs some revisions, I'll give you that. But I completely LOVE the idea, and would really like to read more! :D





Reading is one form of escape. Running for your life is another.
— Lemony Snicket