An update from our sixteenth Weekly Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop, plus some of the output published below The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers. Every Friday, we meet for an hour-and-a-half via Zoom to respond to a new writing challenge, write together in our virtual room, and then share what we have written with one another. Our session on July 17 was joined by young writers from across the US, as well as in France and the UK. This was also the second time we have had a participant lead the Writing Workshop; Stone Soup contributor Liam Hancock, 13, led us in a very fascinating presentation about mixing genres of writing. Thank you, Liam! Our discussion started with a brief definition of “mixing genres,” or “cross-genre,” which is when a piece of writing uses more than one genre. This was followed by a clip from the 2009 movie-adaptation Coraline, and more information about the book (which is by Neil Gaiman). Liam talked us through identifying different genres in Coraline, and for the most part, we all agreed that it was a mix of horror and fantasy. After this, we learned a little bit about nonsensical poetry, and how it can be an example of mixing genres. The poem we analyzed was Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll. Next, we looked at a few portraits, and thought about how people can represent mixing genres. Finally, we listened to an excerpt from a jazz song performed by Bessie Smith, Sobbin Hearted Blues, and talked about how music can also include cross-genres. Altogether, cross-genre was a very fun topic to learn about and gave rise to some great discussions! Read on to experience some of the powerful writing created in the workshop! The Writing Challenge: Write a story, poem, or play which mixes genres. The Participants: Liam, Heather, Ever, Nami, Sophia, James, Aditi, Kanav, Simran, Ma’ayan, Sasha, Shel, Charlotte, Suman, Vishnu, Araliya, Tilly, Abi, Anya, James, Michele, Sneha, Sonal, Enni, Ally, Abi, Madeline, and more… Anya Geist, 14Worcester, MA The Boy in the Basement Anya Geist, 14 A little boy Was in the basement Of a house so old and crumbly The doors were rotted The windows cracked The floors creaked and groaned And every night When the moon shone upon A scraggly tree out front The winds would blow And wrack the house In ghastly shivers and chills The little boy did not mind, though For unlike you might think, His basement was not moldy and gross It did not brim with fungi Nor be as cold as ice Nor house the same dreariness as everywhere else The basement was small With concrete walls And a flickering light overhead But the boy had painted the walls Had painted the ceiling, the floor In a flowery garden Meadows stretched As far as he could see And clouds dotted the sky The boy’d rest Upon a drawn willow tree And slowly close his eyes As he rested As he drifted into sleep Dreams would come -But were they dreams? Or was he truly transported To the fields which made up his life? Heather Sierra, 10Mountain View, CA Mio Heather Sierra, 10 Mio Akiyama had always been the odd one out. She tried to blend in, at home, at school, but no matter how hard she tried, she always stuck out. It wasn’t that she looked different, no. She looked nearly identical to the other girls in her class. She had long, black hair, and gray-brown eyes. That wasn’t it. And she wasn’t poor or rich either, somewhere in between. It was that Mio was left handed. . . and because of her friend, the only friend she had that made her stick out from the crowd. Mio stood on the porch of her two-story house, clutching her schoolbag. She watched carefully, hoping she wouldn’t be spotted by any of the other kids at her school. No! Mio thought, seeing two girls walking down the concrete street. One had short, brown hair, laughing. The other had long black hair, and was gripping the other girl by the arm. Mio, embarrassed at being seen, ducked back into the house. I guess I’ll. . . wait. Mio decided. “Mio!” Mio heard a voice, her friend Ritsu’s. Oh no, not now! Mio cracked open the door of her house to see Ritsu. “Hi.” Mio said shyly. “Hi!” Ritsu grinned. She had short, brown hair; her bangs held up with a yellow headband, “C’mon, hurry. We ’ll be late for fifth grade! Move it! Move it!” Ritsu grabbed Mio’s left hand and jerked her down the street, chasing the two girls up ahead. Wham! Mio and Ritsu crashed into the two girls up ahead, the two that Mio had intended to avoid. “Ow-meow!” one of them mewed. Cat? Are they cats? No way! Mio thought. She opened her eyes from where she’d bumped the laughing girl’s back. Instead of the uniformed girl she’d just seen less than ten minutes ago, she saw a brown striped tabby. How could this have happened? Mio thought. “Ritsu! Come back!” Mio yelled, spotting Ritsu up ahead. But when Mio squinted closer at her friend, she only saw another cat, this time a black one. Mio shuddered, breaking into a panicked run. She arrived at school, and leapt into her classroom, only to find the the striped tabby and a black-and-white cat there. Those two girls! They’re those cats! Mio realized. “Oh, it’s you.” a voice sneered. Mio whirled around to find the striped tabby. “H-how c-can I u-understand y-you?” Mio stuttered nervously. She glanced frightened around her classroom. It was normal, like the one she’d had the year before. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just desks and bookshelves. The tabby didn’t answer Mio’s question, but continued, “Mio Akiyama, what are you doing here without your protection?” Mio turned away shyly, but turned back. Ritsu wasn’t her protection! “M-my p-protection?” Mio asked, quieter than she’d wanted. “Haha, Ritsu.
Flash Contest #15: Write a Story or Poem Inspired by a Renoir Painting: Our Winners and Their Work!
Flash contest #15: Write a story or poem inspired by a Renoir painting. The week commencing July 6 (Daily Creativity Prompt #76) was our fifteenth week of flash contests, with a prompt that took us back to the scene of Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s painting, Dance at Le Moulin de la Galette. Our entrants wrote a story or poem inspired by Renoir’s painting this week. We received more entires than we expected, and, as always, enjoyed reading all of the writings that were submitted. It was fun to see how differently many of you approached imagining going into the scene in the painting: the judges read everything from mystery stories to poems written from the perspective of the lamps in the trees (a couple of our Highly Commended choices)! One of our winning writers this week also sent an updated version of the painting, apparently made for her by Renoir himself, to go with her story (thanks, Ruby!). Well done to all of our entrants, and particular congratulations to all of our Winners and Honorable Mentions! See below for all of their names, and keep reading to experience the writing created by our winners. Winners “The Brendon Disappointment” by Lucy Berberich, 11, Oxford, OH “Paris in a Painting” by Fern Hadley, 11, Cary, NC “Let There Be Cake!” by James Hou, 10, Short Hills, NJ “Summer Day” by Samuel McMullin, 10, Portland, ME “A Taste of Bal du Moulin de la Galette” & its illustration “Travelling back to Moulin de la Galette,” by Ruby Xu, 10, Annandale, VA Honorable Mentions “Lost Lisette in a Crowd” by Joyce Hong, 10, Oakville, ON “Allia T. and the Case of the Disappearing Violinist” by Naomi Kap, 11 “An Atypical Guest at the Moulin de la Galette” by Amruta Krishnan Srinivasan, 9, San Jose, CA “Mama’s Mask” by Michela You, 11, Lexington, MA “The Journal Entry of a Pessimistic Person” by Charlotte Zhang, 11, Portland, OR Lucy Berberich, 11Oxford, OH The Brendon Disappointment Lucy Berberich, 11 The music is loud and joyous, and the smell of popcorn and drinks in the air made the occasion all the more bright. The young Wendy Brendon, dressed in a dark magenta gown, is sitting at a table, swinging her legs back and forth to the music, eyes dancing with glee. She was only thirteen, but she’d already attended several festivals like this one. They never failed to brighten her mood, though. Wendy was a cheerful young girl and almost never had a frown on her face. This day was no exception. She was grinning eagerly, taking in everything around her like it was all a new sight. Her parents were dancing off to the side, giving her a sideways glance every now and then, wondering if she was going to do something other than sit and stare. She hadn’t planned on it. She just enjoyed watching. All the happy people, dancing, laughing. It was nice just to see them, even if she didn’t join in herself. As the wind picked up a bit, Wendy felt her hair blowing around her head, the little hat that sat atop it tilting and threatening to fly away. She knew if she let her outfit get mussed up her mother would be livid. Mama Brendon was quite strict and cared an awful lot about her daughter’s appearance. Wendy wasn’t a beauty queen, no boy ever looked twice at her, and Mama Brendon was always trying to find out why, what the reason was for this. Papa Brendon couldn’t care less, and was always taking Wendy out to the market or to work with him to let her get away from her mother’s hovering. Perhaps part of the reason Wendy loved these events was because her mother was distracted and didn’t have time to fuss over her. Her parents were quite the big-shots in the town business. Her father owned a huge company that ran quite a lot of the town, and her mother was a member of almost every club, board, and organization in the vicinity. They were well-known, and were always getting invited to things. Her parents didn’t enjoy them like she did; they just didn’t want to decline and seem impolite. Her parents were obsessed with being polite. So the fact that Wendy never even got up, or danced, or took part in the events at all was quite a disappointment to her parents. She was so carefree and all around un-ladylike that she was ridiculed and looked down upon by most of the residents of the town. Not that it mattered to Wendy. She wanted people to like her, sure. But she wanted them to like her for her, not because she acted like her mother, or, god forbid, her elder sister, who was the perfect child. They didn’t get along, and Wendy didn’t want to be anything like her. Maria was shallow. She had no personality, no ambition, no goals, nothing that she strived for. Wendy didn’t want to be like that, a doormat for people who treated her like garbage because she was “the weaker sex”. That wasn’t who she was, or who she would ever be. She wanted to enjoy life to the fullest, experiencing all the things that men could experience. So for the time being, she’d act the way she wanted to act. Grin from ear to ear, eat whatever she wanted, talk the way she wanted to talk. She was going to be who she wanted to be. People, her parents, her sister, and everyone, would just have to learn to deal with her. Simple as that. Fern Hadley, 11 Cary, NC Paris in a Painting Fern Hadley, 11 I gaze at the painting blankly. Is this meant to be a powerful piece of artwork? I ask myself. Because I’m not feeling its power. Confused, I wonder if I can call myself an art lover if I don’t understand art at all. Making an effort to understand the painting, I study the image before me. My eyes,
Weekly Writing Workshop #15, Friday July 10, 2020: Writing With Alliteration
An update from our fifteenth Weekly Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop, plus some of the output published below The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers. Every Friday, we meet for an hour-and-a-half via Zoom to respond to a new writing challenge, write together in our virtual room, and then share what we have written with one another. Our conversation on July 10 was attended by young writers from across the US, as well as in France and the UK. Our topic was “writing with alliteration” and how alliteration can enhance what we write. (Alliteration is where the words in a sentence start with the same letter. For example: Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.) We started off by reading a few tongue twisters, since most tongue twisters rely on alliteration. Next, we listened to the opening measures of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, since they contain a rhythm that repeats itself over and over again, similar to alliteration. We also thought about using alliteration in a more precise way, and how we can put it into certain places in our writing to give off a specific effect. To see how this worked, we all found a story or poem that we had written and tried to add alliteration to it. After sharing out a few examples, we then set out to create a new piece of writing which used alliteration. Read on below to get a feeling for some of the powerful writing we were given a glimpse of in this session! The Participants: Allie, Rhian, Liam, Enni, Nami, Maddie, Simran, Sophia, Peri, Shreya, Kanav, Ma’ayan, James, Raeha, Janani, Heather, Gracie, Ally, Abi, Lena, Simone, Charlotte, Sneha, Tilly, Anya, Madeline (x 2!), and more… Araliya, 11Sandy Hook, CT Ted the Terrifying Tiger Araliya, 11 Ted the terrifying tiger Tiptoes through tangled trees His twitching tail thumping. His terrible teeth terrifying turtles. Who tumble away. Anya Geist, 14Worcester, MA Raindrops That Rattle the Water Anya Geist, 14 rain drops rattled the water sending rolling hills of ripples far, far out into the lake. the water itself was a grinning sort of grey not gross, but fresh and free. kids sat on the dock, on the raft watching rainwater splatter down onto the worn wood and then the monumental clouds the monoliths, the master of rain shirked off, sliding out of the sky the water was blue and kids burst into it soaking themselves as their splashes were the new rain drops that rattled the water Peri Gordon, 10Sherman Oaks, CA The Waterfall Place Peri Gordon, 10 A waterfall dove down into a rushing river, vivid in color, reflecting the calm cerulean sky. The land was lush, and lagomorphs would launch into the air and back down again. The waterfall watched as it steadily streamed down, down, down until it reached the beautiful body of the river. Surrounding the river were ponds, perfect pools of water in which ducks would float as gaggles of geese grazed the surface. It was a pleasurable area, precious as a pearl, picturesque as a painting. There was never a cloud in the sky, nothing but blue, with the exception of rare rainbow beams. Sophia Hou, 10Short Hills, NJ Penelope Pricklebottom Sophia Hou, 10 Penelope Pricklebottom was a particularly peculiar porcupine with prickly purple spikes. Penelope pondered, passing time under a pine. The sky shimmered and the sun sat high. She smelled something, sugary and sweet. Perhaps a papaya, parsnip, or pistachio pie? Piano prodigy Penelope Pricklebottom surmised she had perfect performances, others simply said a single word: pompous. Kanav Kachoria, 11Potomac, MD The Dry Desert Kanav Kachoria, 11 Everyone knows about the dry desert. Its soft sand and drifting dust flings into the air making the sky so unclear to see. It rarely rains in the dry desert, as there still is not even a wet wonderful cold drop of water since 10 years ago. The torching temperature can reach up to 115 degrees some days, maybe even higher! The rattling snakes and small scorpions raid the desert. You don’t want to come close to them, as they will make you suffer severely stabbing pain everywhere in your body. It’s a whole different world out there, so beware beware of the dry desert. Madeline Kline, 12Potomac, MD Art Contest Madeline Kline, 12 The first one I pass Flower field with towering trees The second one I pass Dreary day with boring books The third one I pass Cantankerous child throwing torturous tantrum over delicious delicacies After I pass more And time for awards Blue ribbon goes To Cantankerous child Because torturous tantrums Are relatable realitiesmmmm Madeline Nohrnberg, 13Cambridge, MA Silver Swans Madeline Nohrnberg, 13 Seven silver swans Silently swim seaward Swooping softy, Steadily, swiftly Out into the opaque open ocean Gracefully gliding home.
