Rewriting a fairy tale and style as if you are one of the characters in the tale, but using Holden’s style and voice.

Rewriting a fairy tale and style as if you are one of the characters in the tale, but using Holden’s style and voice. (character from The Catcher in the Rye).  The voice is comprised of diction, details, imagery, syntax, and tone. 

(Any fairy tale but NO Cinderella)

Stay true to Holden’s era. Mimicking Holden’s voice, do not modernize the curses or update the slang or overdo it. If Holden didn’t use the word, you can’t use it. 

(attached some of Holden’s Characteristics and an example below)

Not to short, since it’s a story. 

0 Look at the list below to help you think about Holden’s style. Talk like Holden . . . but dig deeper than just the words. Create a piece of writing that moves as Holden’s language moves — avoiding, contradicting, digressing. Characteristics of Holden’s Style 0 use of slang (“lousy, crumby, curse words ( “damn,” “as hell”) repetition of certain phrases (“kills me, vagueness (“and stuff”) exaggeration (“in about a thousand magazines") contradiction ("I’m quite illiterate, but I read a lot.”) avoidance (“My hand hurts me…l don’t care much.”) digression (everywhere!) 3! H U H moron") I really mean it")

The Pumpkin and the Mice To tell you the truth, I don’t feel like telling you about my lousy childhood with my step-family. I mean, if I told you too much, they’d probably kill me; I really mean it. So, I’ll just tell you about that one night that started off lousy as hell, but changed everything. I was sitting around in the front yard feeling lonely and depressed. My step-sisters and step- mother just left for some big party, looking phony as hell. Even all the makeup in the world couldn’t cover their pimples; and their dresses were so big, all that fabric could probably be used to furnish a house. A huge house. I don’t know how long I was sitting down, but I felt someone tap my shoulder. You probably aren’t going to believe this, but it was a witch. I knew this because of the lousy looking wand she was holding. She introduced herself as a fairy but I think she looks more like a witch, if you really want to know. The old witch turned some crumby pumpkin into some sort of carriage. It still looked pretty crumby, if you asked me. She then turned some nasty mice into coachmen. Mice. I wanted to run out of there like a madman, but I sat in the lousy pumpkin instead. I didn’t want to make the old witch feel bad. I would never point out how bad she was at magic, she probably already knew. When I walked into the palace, I made sure I was wearing my tiara backwards. I didn’t care if it looked funny, I just liked it that way. Right when I started to walk around, I feel some moron nudge me. No kidding, you start walking around trying to enjoy yourself and some moron ruins it. I look up, and for Chrissake, it’s the prince! You could tell how mad he was about himself by the way he stood, leaning to one side confidently. "Shall we dance?" he asked. I’m quite clumsy but I dance a lot. I also really like men. I’m not oversexed or anything, I just really like to be around them, is all. Plus, he’s the goddamn prince. The whole world stared at me while we danced. His firm grip was hurting my hand…but I didn’t care much. I started to concentrate on his suit, and I felt really bad. The tailor who made it probably thought some normal guy would be wearing it. He would have never known the prince would be the one wearing it. This made me feel real bad, I mean it. Then, to top things off, my tiara suddenly turned back into a dish cloth. I could never catch a damn break. I let go of his hand and ran off. There were people everywhere! I stumbled and lost one of my shoes. The sight of the prince running after me killed me. Even in all the chaos, I couldn’t help but laugh. I mean, imagine this big shot of a prince, running after me. I couldn’t help but horse around, running straight into groups of people just to see the prince’s frustration grow. I had to stop once my dress turned back into rags, though. I watched the prince’s face disappear, after riding away in my shrinking pumpkin. I felt real depressed once I got home. I couldn’t stop thinking about the prince. I didn’t want to do anything, not even use the bathroom. That’s how I got when I was worried, I wouldn’t do anything. What I didn’t know at the time was that I’d be seeing the prince again, really soon. He’d be my ticket away from all these phonies; but then again, he’s probably a phony too.

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