Caleb Berg

How Stories Work-Writing Workshop #10: Dystopias

An update from our tenth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop led by contributors Liam Hancock, 13, and Madeline Kline, 13, held on Saturday June 19, plus some of the output published below For this week’s workshop, we had two special guests. Madeline Kline, 13, who is a part of William’s workshop, and our very own Liam Hancock, also 13, led the workshop on the topic of dystopian stories. The two young writers delved into a thorough definition of Dystopian Fiction, plus several recent popular examples of the genre. Many people reading contemporary fiction are likely familiar with this genre, as high-profile series like The Hunger Games and Divergent are bestselling examples. Maddie and Liam went through several examples, and challenged the writers present at this workshop to create their own story in the same vein. The Challenge: Either create a dystopian world or change an existing story to incorporate some of the dystopian elements discussed. The Participants: Madeline, Simran, Sophie, Svitra, Emma, Aditi, Olivia, Sinan, Harine, Sena, Emi, Noa, Josh, Isolde, Sasha, Samantha, Audrey Svitra Rajkumar, 13,(Fremont, CA) Past Memories Svitra Rajkumar, 13 Rose was running. Although she didn’t know what she was running from and where she was going, she just couldn’t stop running. Her heart pounded like it was going to burst out of her chest. She bent down gasping for breath and trying to make sense of her surroundings. Her brain was working slower than usual and her head felt dizzy from all the continuous running. She stared up at the bright blue sky. It was an unreal blue, like the color of the ocean except burnt. The ground beneath her began to crack and split apart, and soon she was falling. Rose felt as if she had been falling for hours but the scream couldn’t make it out of her mouth. It was stuck halfway up her throat. If you thought about it, falling was actually very peaceful before you reached the ground. How did she even get here in the first place? She couldn’t remember. Where was here? Add that to the extremely long list of things she didn’t know yet. Rose peered at the vivid orange clouds in front of her. The sun was starting to set and she still hadn’t seen any sign of a surface. She was tired of falling, looking at the same scenery. Though it was exotically beautiful it had also become quite boring. She missed the company of her friends and family. Rose wanted to leave this alternate world that she was stuck in. She closed her eyes and the brilliant hued clouds faded from her vision. It was dark. Rose couldn’t see anything. At one point she wondered if her eyes were even open. Was this a dream? Her memories flooded back to her, but they didn’t feel like her own. She felt around with her hands and touched a switch sort of thing. Rose flicked it upward but nothing happened. She waited for a few minutes but the room remained dark. Suddenly, the room filled with a warm glow, and she cringed away from the abrupt brightness. She was in a completely different area. Maybe even a different dimension… Was this a dream of some sort? Rose began to take in her new surroundings. She peered upward at the tall ceiling and the many sparkling chandeliers that dangled from it. Aditi Nair, 13, (Midlothian, VA) The Gift Aditi Nair, 13 A clattering drip-drop of rain frightened even the slightest bit of light. The wind whispered through the crowd, enveloping each individual in fear. They stood, open-eyed, awaiting the announcement–the moment of destiny. Avery was among the citizens. She spotted others brushing off the slightest bit of dust from their clothes, or as some called it, rags. When people from High Lethamade an appearance, they always had to look their best. The town square was usually a lively place with smiles and laughter, but it seemed as if even the weather wasn’t cooperating. “You are all gathered here for one reason, to make Letha a better place, a better home,” the tallest man on the podium elucidated. His eyes hid behind chestnut locks of hair, and everyone could sense the annoyance and lack of energy just from his voice. All knew the lies that he told. Letha was not complete; it was broken and empty. Split between the rich, poor, and the in-between. High Letha would have been a nice place to live if the denizens kept to themselves with humility. Avery rolled her pale blue eyes. It did not matter if the man who spoke forgot his line or if he messed up a little, but if she made the slightest wrong gesture, that would be her death wish. The Board could not stand differences, and no one went against their word. No one. “… living amongst the shadows of both the Rights and the Lefts, you should know where you stand. Thank you all, and I will now let my friend from The Board speak,” he concluded. His speech catalyzed a wildfire of murmurs. Avery nervously scanned the people around her. Everyone was talking about her sister, Aura. Aura was a Left. A rebel. The Board gave her the gift of dance, but her heart was in music. Anyone who went against or ignored their gift was deemed a criminal. Aura was a sweet and loving girl, but no one liked a Left.“ Hello, everyone. Glad you made it to this place. Avery Zecker, please come up to the podium for your gift,“ the member from The Board announced. The whispers halted; it was as if the world paused right before her eyes. Desperately grabbing onto the only sliver of hope, she prayed to receive the gift of Knowledge. “We, The Board, present to you a gift; the gift of prophecy.”

How Stories Work-Writing Workshop #9: Dreams, Visions, Hallucinations

An update from our ninth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday June 12, plus some of the output published below We began this week’s workshop with an excerpt from the first two paragraphs of Colm Tóibín’s novel, The Master, in order to highlight how dreams are an essential function in writing used to tell us, or, rather, to foreshadow elements of character and or plot. We went on to distinguish the logic of dreams from the logic of reality, noting, in particular, how within art and literature dreams can be used to introduce a sense of unreality, reveal a character’s fantasies or inner desires, show how characters are haunted by past events, foreshadow future events, create a mood, create symbols, represent a theme, or show how real life is influenced by dreams. We then looked at a few representations of dreams/visions in art (Moses at the burning bush, Moses looking at the top of Mount Sinai, Ezekiel’s vision of a strange winged being in the heavens, and Ezekiel’s vision of bones reconstructing themselves in the desert) in order to demonstrate the full spectrum of feelings dreams can convey. Next, we close read two paintings according to their representation of dream logic—Rousseau’s The Sleeping Gypsy and Fuseli’s The Nightmare—noting how the former portrayed a more neutral, poetic vision, while the latter portrayed the potential for darkness and horror in dreams. Finally, after our discussion of these paintings, we moved into the realm of literature with a reading of two Mark Strand poems—”Clear in the September Light” and “Eating Poetry”—and James Tate’s poem “The Cowboy.” The Participants: Madeline, Svitra, Aditi, Liam, Harine, Sena, Sasha, Emi, Isolde, Audrey, Simran, Helen, Zhilin, Josh, Julia, Lucy The Challenge: Write the opening to a longer story that begins with a character dreaming. Isolde Knowles, 9New York, NY Dream Isolde Knowles, 9 I walk around the strange world. The people of it all have different reactions to my existence. Some notice me, some just continue on. The people here are blurred and foggy. They are graying and any color they barely have is muted. As if they are on the verge of disappearing. I keep on going. Until I find someone different. Their colors are bright. When they notice me their colors change. Their skin goes bright yellow, their hair is now a startling purple and their eyes are pink. Suddenly they pivot and run through a shortcut which I will swear on my life hadn’t been there before. I start to jog and then run towards the shortcut. I am a foot away when the shortcut closes up, turning into a solid wall. I groan in defeat until I notice an alleyway. I follow it, and suddenly I’m chasing the strange person again. The terrain seems to be evolving to help the runner by creating paths and ramps for them, but only hurdles and hills for me. I run and run until I fall down panting as the runner disappears. I wake up in a cold sweat. Sena Pollock, 14,Madison, WI The Worst Rehearsal Sena Pollock, 14 I am in the dark and the dark likes me. I have forgotten the song for the talent show, so I make up my own. It goes like this: “I am in love with a squid, I will live in the sky, I have flowery eyes.” I will sing this and they will love my act. I shove the dark away and sing: “I am in love with a shark, I will live underground, I have a candy bar in my pocket.” I don’t pay attention when the dark comes even closer. “I am a stiiingraaaay, I will drive a plane, I will kill the rain.” Wait, this is a happy song, no killing. “I am a fist- no, no fists either, I am a fish in the lake, I like to eat cake, a rabbit I will bake- no, none of that, think happy!!! I am eating pie, I will surely die- WHAT IN THE WORLD IS WRONG WITH MEEEEE!!!!!!! Why can’t I think of anything happy?!?” I look and the dark is hugging me like a long-lost friend. The dark says, “Come with me and I will give you everything.” I say, “NO! I will sing in the talent show and win and they will all love me.” “Your life is empty without me,” says the dark, “You need me.” “What’s in it for you?” “We will have fun together,” says the dark, “we will have the most fun and your life will be complete! I know that you do not believe what they say. And you are right, their praise is hollow. Come with me and have a real life.” “What do you mean!!! My life IS real!! I AM happy!” I say, trying to convince myself as much as the dark. “You are lying to yourself,” says the dark and I know that it can see my innermost thoughts. “All right,” I say, feeling at the moment that this is what I truly want. The dark shouts with glee as we fly off a cliff I hadn’t noticed before. “CRASH AND BURN!!!!” The dark screams as we fly into an unknown future. Svitra Rajkumar, 13,(Fremont, CA) In Another Dream Svitra Rajkumar, 13 Rose was running. Although she didn’t know what she was running from and where she was going, she just couldn’t stop running. Her heart pounded like it was going to burst out of her chest. She bent down gasping for breath and trying to make sense of her surroundings. Her brain was working slower than usual and her head felt dizzy from all the continuous running. She stared up at the bright blue sky. It was an unreal blue, like the color of the ocean except burnt. The ground beneath her began to crack and split apart, and soon she was falling. Rose felt as if she had been falling for hours but the scream couldn’t make it

Flash Contest #32, June 2021: Write a first person story based on a grandparent’s/older friend’s memory—our winners and their work

Our June Flash Contest was based on Creativity Prompt #156, provided by sagacious ’20—21 Intern Sage Millen, challenging participants to interview a grandparent/older friend about a memorable moment from their childhood and to write that memory as a first person story. This clever prompt afforded those who participated with the opportunity to get closer to the elderly than ever before, allowing them to literally inhabit the perspective of their interviewee. These submissions followed no similar narrative arc, though each and every one did provide a unique window into various cultures of the past. Submissions ranged from tales of a smoking car radiator stuffed with gum to a mishap with homemade firecrackers in Taiwan to a poetic vignette about a car crash, plus much, much more. Thank you to all who submitted this month; it was a pleasure to read your work. In particular, we congratulate our Winners and our Honorable Mentions, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners “4 Blocks” by Katherine Bergsieker, 13, (Denver, CO) “Nature’s Lullaby” by Mariana Del Rio, 12, (Strongsville, OH) “Still Life in Which Everything is on Fire” by Arishka Jha, 12, (Redwood City, CA) “A Love that Lasts a Lifetime” by Pranjoli Sadhukha, 11, (Newark, OH) “Rocket Trouble” by Natalie Yue, 9, (San Carlos, CA) Honorable Mentions “My Friend Tommy” by Tilly Marlow, 12, (Bristol, UK) “The Burning Finger Fix” by Nimay Shah, 11, (Portland, OR) “The Stubborn Fever” by Nitya Shah, 11, (Portland, OR) “Across the Fields” by Ava Shorten, 11, (Mallow, ROI) “The Secret Fruit Patch” by Emily Tang, 12, (Winterville, NC) Katherine Bergsieker, 13, Denver, CO 4 Blocks Katherine Bergsieker, 13 “No, I know, and then he said…” “Oh my goodness, really?” My car is filled with laughter as my friends and I drive home from a baseball game. The sweltering St. Louis heat is unbearable, so we decided to come home early. At sixteen years old, I recently received my driver’s license (!), and though inexperienced, I am perfecting my driving skills in our neon orange station wagon. “Alice, I swear I told him that I wasn’t interested..” And soon we were all cracking up, howling with the laughter that comes with hanging out with your two best friends. Tears slipping out of my eyes, we manage to squeak like mice and then choke, causing us to laugh harder. The only things around me are my friends and the aged leather seats of my car. Suddenly, bang!! The force of something harder than life, harder than death, harder than I could ever possibly imagine, pushes me out of my seat belt. Tumbling to the bottom of my car, I am down by the gas pedal, crumpled like a rag doll. The laughter stops, and for a moment it is so quiet you could hear a fraction of a pin drop. “What was that?” I whisper, and peer up from above the driver’s seat. I’m ready to make accusations—who did this, what happened to my car, what even is this? And then I realize it’s no one’s fault but my own. I step out of my car and see the hood of my beautiful, loaned car smashed against a cherry red convertible. “The… c-c-ar is…” I can’t bring myself to acknowledge the destruction of my annihilated car lying in front of me. “Sarah? Alice? Can you come out of there?” Slowly, each of my friends emerge from the car, gasp, and shudder. Finding her ground quickly, Sarah asks, “Is anything broken?” My eyes scan over the car and over the engine and over a piece of metal jutting out from the side. Wait. What? I kneel down and examine the radiator (my driver’s ed class made me memorize all the parts of a car). It’s full of holes. The force from the car accident caused my radiator to tear. “Radiator’s torn,” is all I have to say for Alice, the world-record holder in gum chewing, to get an idea. She hands us each two packs of gum. “Chew.” She spits hers out and gently places it in a hole in the radiator. “Look… we can have the gum patch the hole.” “Why do we need to patch the hole in the first place?” Sarah asks. “We have no other way of getting home,” I reply, the gravity of the situation dawning on me. Soon after sorting out all of the insurance issues with the convertible driver, we’re all chewing gum and patching the holes… first 5 pieces, then 20, then 50. Little wads of pink gooiness stick to the burning, broken radiator. Once we’re ready to start driving, I hop into the driver’s seat and press the gas pedal. I thought it wouldn’t work. I wasn’t half wrong. I thought we were screwed. I wasn’t half wrong. But I was wrong about thinking that it wouldn’t work. Because it did. In a way. The engine whirls to life and we cautiously begin the wild trek back home. The gum serves as a patch and oh my goodness, it actually works. Until we remember that radiators get hot to the touch as they work. So anything on the radiator at the time would melt. Newton would be proud. Alice is not. We stop and chew more gum. Sarah stays optimistic. I face the trepidation of knowing how my parents will react to our childish idea to patch a radiator with gum. Advance 4 blocks, add more gum. 4 more, more gum. When my house finally comes into sight, I breathe a sigh of relief. “Lily Smith! What a disgrace! What happened to you?” my mom calls from the porch, looking up from her knitting. I exchange knowing glances with Sarah and Alice before hopping out of the car. The radiator, and the gum, and the car accident, and the laughter, and how while it was horrible, it was kind of sort of barely worth it. “Well you know how Alice loves gum, right….” Mariana Del Rio, 12, Strongsville, OH Nature’s Lullaby