An update from the eighth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday June 5, plus some of the output published below Memory—fragmentary, incomplete, unreliable, contradictory, a key to explaining the present or future. “For me, there has been no difference in remembering something and creating something. When I wrote my fictional novels they always had a starting point of something real. Those images that are not real are exactly the same strength and power of the real ones and the line between them is completely blurred. When I write something, I can’t remember in the end if this is a memory or if it’s not – I’m talking about fiction. So for me it’s the same thing.” -Karl Ove Knausgaard This week, we began workshop with a light analysis of a few tenth century Chinese landscape paintings, thinking about the techniques at play, how they made us feel, and the words we may use to describe them. After a few minutes of thought, we connected how these paintings, specifically their relatively barren space, the emphasis on blank space over detail, and an inability to tell what’s what, enacted the function of memory. Most important to our discussion of memory in this week’s workshop was the fact that memory, often times, is in fact creation, as brought up in the quote by contemporary writer Karl Ove Knausgaard above. Jumping off from this concept, we moved towards a discussion of memory in the films The Tree of Life by Terrence Malick (a conflation of memory of the past and memory of the future) and Citizen Kane. We watched two clips from Citizen Kane, from the beginning and the ending, in order to show how Kane’s memory before death, that of him sledding, represented a key to understanding his character and the tragic function of memory. The next segment of the workshop was devoted to a discussion of artwork, beginning with a few landscape paintings by Pieter Bruegel the Elder in which the details were not cast in great focus, another function of memory in art. We then took a prolonged look at two surrealist paintings: Magritte’s Memory, and Dali’s The Persistence of Memory, both of which seemed to portray the obfuscation of memory. The final segment of the workshop focused on literature, more specifically the tradition of the “I remember” text, beginning with an excerpt from Joe Brainard’s memoir I Remember, and ending with Mary Ruefle’s essay “I Remember.” The Challenge: Write your own “I Remember” piece. You may write it as fiction or nonfiction, as poem, short story, or essay. The Participants: Josh, Georgia, Emma, Harine, Svitra, Simran, Sinan, Sophie, Sena, Liam, Anya, Madeline, Zhilin, Isolde, Noa, Joy, Olivia, Alice, Samantha Isolde Knowles, 9New York, NY I Remember Isolde Knowles, 9 I remember the days when dragons and phoenixes swarmed the sky. I remember the days when giants shook the ground. I remember the days when mermaids splashed in their ponds. I remember the days when ghouls and ghosts haunted the night. I remember the days when I fell asleep listening to goblins and imps crackling. I remember waking up to find it was all a dream. Svitra Rajkumar, 13,(Fremont, CA) Memories Svitra Rajkumar, 13 Puffs of Jenna’s breath clouded her vision as she rushed down the road. It was a frosty winter day in Mridaria, and the bustling streets were crowded with multicolored gowns. The cozy smell of nutmeg fit the winter mood perfectly. It was her best friend’s birthday, and Jenna needed to get there quickly, although the crowd wasn’t letting her through so easily. Winter in Mridaria was usually not that cold, considering that it was near the coast, but today delicate snowflakes were drifting down from the sky. The dark, paved roads were covered in a blanket of snow. Citizens had tried to clear them in vain; the snow was overpowering. Jenna weaved through the barrier of people, careful not to be noticed. Jenna worked at a part-time job that required a lot of stealth, so she was a master at being furtive. She stopped to check the time, but the impatient Mridarians kept moving. A lady in a silky red gown knocked Jenna over, in an attempt to get to Charlotte’s Jewels, a very popular jewelry shop. Unfortunately, they were having a Black Friday sale today. “Ouch!” Jenna cried out in pain, picking herself off the snow. Her calf had hit a sharp stone on the ground and was now sporting a large gash. Ugh! Now I’ll be late! She looked up to see people staring at her. The Mridarians were awful gossipers. Sure enough, she could see many of them whispering to each other. Ignoring all this she turned around to yell at the woman who had bumped into her, but her silky red gown was no longer in sight. “This is the worst day ever!” Jenna grumbled while looking around for her watch, which had fallen off when she was shoved onto the ground. Ah! There it is! She picked up the watch that was now cold and wet, and stuck it into her coat pocket. Jenna looked up and began to move forward, but tall horse legs blocked her path. “Hello Miss, you look like you need a ride,” an amused voice chuckled. What now?! Jenna looked up, and to her surprise, a boy sat high on top of a white horse waved to her. She recognized that voice, and the crest on the horse’s saddle gave it away. Jenna was standing in front of the heir of Mridaria, the king’s son, and Mariel’s older brother. * * * Before she could figure out what she was doing, Jenna found herself inside the warm palace, sitting on an oversized chair that smelled like her grandmother. What am I doing here?! How did I get exactly where I needed to be? She racked her brain and thought back to the last thirty minutes with the heir. Being with the heir added many risks to Jenna’s situation, but
How Stories Work-Writing Workshop #7: Excess
An update from our seventh Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday May 29, plus some of the output published below Excess: more than necessary—exaggeration, extravagance, exuberance, abundance, unnecessary, overload, overkill, surplus, luxuriance, improvisation, unrestraint, ridiculous To kick off this week’s workshop, we began with four artworks—Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s Dulle Griet, Peter Paul Rubens’ The Garden of Love, Jackson Pollock’s Convergence, and the Sistene Chapel—all of which illustrated, in one way or another, the theme of excess. While we technically defined “excess” as “more than necessary,” the purpose of this workshop was to show how sometimes excess is necessary in order to create the feeling of being overwhelmed or overpowered or repulsed, an idea perhaps best encapsulated in the work of contemporary Australian sculptor Ron Mueck. We looked at a few of his hyperrealistic, larger than life works in order to demonstrate how something almost “too real” becomes grotesque. Following our discussion of Mueck, we looked at examples of Baroque architecture, a style associated with ornamental excess as is the case with St Peter’s Basilica and La Sagrada Familia. We also discussed a piece of Postmodern architecture, the Lou Ruvo Center for Brain Health in Las Vegas, a “non-functional” building more characteristic of a dream or a work of science fiction than reality. We then discussed excess in music, something popularized in the Rock n’ Roll music of the 70’s and 80’s (think Kiss, David Bowie, and Queen), and best exemplified by Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” which we listened to. The last section of the Writing Workshop were devoted to examples of excess in writing as we looked at an excerpt from Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox (exaggeration), Lewis Carroll’s The Jabberwocky (pleasure in its own silly sound making), and, finally, an excerpt from Cormac McCarthy (functional resistance to grammar, repetition of the word “and”). The Challenge: Write as much as you can, as fast you can, without worrying about making sense; write excessively. The Participants: Emma, Simran, Svitra, Liam, Sena, Zhilin, Noa, Georgia, Helen, Aditi, Sinan, Olivia, Harine, Alice, Julia, Audrey, Josh, Isolde, Samantha Emma Hoff, 9Bronx, NY CRACKED Emma Hoff, 9 The ceiling hates me because it is cracked and imperfect and unloved and unfixed and nobody pays attention to it anyways, because they don’t care. Well, I care, but that doesn’t really matter because it hates me the most because I am loved and my life is good and I am not cracked or broken or crumbling and as far as I know, I will not fall and squash somebody and I can move around and I play sports and I write and I read and I draw and I play, but the ceiling isn’t able to do any of that because it is inanimate and cannot move. And I like looking at things, but I think I understand how boring it would be to see the same thing over and over again, my family walking down the hallway, maybe carrying something, maybe stomping, frowning, happy, sad. If the ceiling is inanimate, do you think it can see things? If it can’t it still somehow hates me, which seems impossible, but for now, I’ll say it’s possible and stop the fight and also the confusion, because you probably can’t understand a thing I’m saying, but that might be okay. Georgia Marshall, 12 How Olive Hendrix Broke Her Leg Georgia Marshall, 12 It is a hot day, but I’m not that hot. In fact, I am able to pull a sweatshirt over my head and I am fine. Anna’s complaining about the sun making her hair get all frazzled, so I explain to her that the only one frazzling anyone’s hair is Anna herself. She rolls her eyes at me and pulls out her sketchbook as we wait for the chipped yellow bus to roll up with its paint sizzling off like the skin of a sausage. Anna likes anime, which I hate, so I ignore her asking me if Ponyo or Lu over the Wall is better. Instead, I focus on the bees that are buzzing beside Anna’s ear, which I think are having a fight but are also very polite and don’t want to sting her. I wish they would. That would shut her up. I hate Anna. But she is my best friend, so I guess I shouldn’t hate her. But Olive at soccer practice is a lot better than her, which is unfortunate because Olive is in the hospital and probably dying. Well, no, Olive broke her leg and can’t do soccer and I don’t know where she lives and I am now stuck with Anna on the sidelines talking to Trini Deboever and ignoring me in midfield. I jam my earbuds into my ear and play a blasting rock and roll song that my dad would probably like. I don’t know why I am listening to this. All of a sudden the school bus pulls up on the side of the road and I spring up and claim my seat by the window. I glare at the shrubs in Mrs Porter’s yard as Anna walks right by me and sits next to Trini, who is staring at her phone. She looks up when Anna comes over, and her face glows like a lantern. I’m not kidding. It turns yellow and full of light. Okay, maybe she just smiles and acts all surprised, but I can see through it. I bet her mom is a murderer or something, and she has a knife in her backpack. I want Anna to get away from her as soon as possible but I also hate Anna and wish she didn’t exist. The school bus begins its journey down the road. I wish I had a T-shirt under my purple sweatshirt with skeletons on it because now I am slightly-sort-of-kind-of-maybe-a-teensy-bit hot and I will probably die in a few minutes. Well, no I won’t, but if I did then maybe Anna would
Saturday Newsletter: May 29 2021
“Shoes” (pencil)From the “Everyday Objects” Workshop (2017), run by Hands On Art, at the Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya, and published in the May 2021 Issue of Stone Soup A note from Tayleigh An Update on Stone Soup’s Refugee Project We are so excited to announce that the Stone Soup Refugee Project Website is now up and running! The Stone Soup Refugee Project provides a space for children and young people displaced by war, social collapse, and climate change to publish their creative work to share amongst themselves and with the world. We would like to express our heartfelt gratitude to all of the contributing programs and young people who have entrusted us with their writing and artwork and to the generous donors who have made this project possible. To explore our entire collection of creative work by young people living as refugees, please visit the Stone Soup Refugee Project website. Quarterly Reading on June 6th Are you registered for our second Quarterly Reading of the year? At this virtual event, we’ll have contributors from the April, May, and June 2021 issues of Stone Soup read their work. And, if you’re a contributor to one of these issues and you’d like to participate, you can submit your piece or an excerpt from your piece that you’d like to read to this Submittable category. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact Sarah at sarah@stonesoup.com. A Little Bit About Me Since this is my first newsletter, allow me to introduce myself! My name is Tayleigh, and I handle the customer service side of Stone Soup. I also work as a personal assistant to Stone Soup Founder and Executive Director William Rubel. On my days off from the magazine, I work at a local garden store. I graduated from the University of California, Santa Cruz in December 2020 with a BA in history, with a special focus on Italian history. La mia passione è la storia italiana! Weekend Project Returning to the subject of our Refugee Project, I wanted to highlight the striking piece Shoes, which was composed during the “Everyday Objects” Workshop (2017), run by Hands On Art at the Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya. What a stark yet evocative work of art! Many ideas could be read into this image, but what I see is one crisp, white shoe, its form straight, juxtaposed against its own shadow—smaller, crooked, edges blurred. Two sides to the story. What appears on the surface as sharp and clear muddles itself through reproduction, as in a reflection or a shadow. The image asks whether we lose some of the sharpness of our forms, our luster, in our shadows and reflections. Julia Marcus’s poem, “A Window in the Evening,” sheds some light on these questions. The melancholic speaker of the poem lingers on an image in the window blurred by their own breath, through which they “draw [their] name in the vapor” and “wipe it all away.” I’d like to focus on their breath, the vehicle that drives the blurry reproduction of “every sharp detail of [their] body” reproduced in shadow. Thus, the clarity lost in the speaker’s shadow is their own fault, their breath functioning as a metaphor for doubt brought on by self reflection. This poem, like Shoes, asks whether we lose some of ourselves in shadows and reflections, and answers back with another question, itself a reflection—is it our innermost self, our breath, that causes the loss? This weekend, I want you to write about someone who functions as their own worst enemy by way of excessive self reflection. In essence, their own obsession with the question of “Who am I?” should be precisely what keeps them from finding out. As always, if you like what you’ve written, please send it to us at Stone Soup for consideration either in the magazine or on the blog. Till next time, Book Contest 2021 For information on submitting to the Stone Soup Book Contest 2021, please click here. To submit your manuscript, please visit our submittable site. Highlights from the past week online Don’t miss the latest content from our Book Reviewers and Young Bloggers at Stonesoup.com! Aditi, 12, wrote a review of Jennifer A. Nielsen’s “inspiring and motivating” 2019 novel Words on Fire. Young Blogger Janani Devendran posted the first installment in their mini comic, Web Wars. Nora, 13, wrote a review of Newbery award-winning author Lois Lowry’s (author of The Giver) 2011 historical fiction novel Like the Willow Tree. Idan, 11, wrote a personal narrative, “No Peconic in Pandemic,” about his experiences dealing with the fallout from COVID-19. Elias, 9, wrote a poem inspired by his experiences with the pandemic. Writing classes and Book Club Are you looking for classes to inspire, improve, and practice your writing with great teachers and a group of like-minded young writers and readers? Join us! We do charge fees for our clubs and workshops, but we try to keep them as low as possible, and we offer discounts to subscribers and scholarships to students who need them. Contact us at education@stonesoup.com with any questions. Writing Workshop: we have two writing groups for spring/summer that meet via Zoom every Saturday (except for William’s class, which does not meet for the last Saturday of the month). Come write with us and share your work with your peers. Find out more and register for a workshop at Eventbrite. To see some of the great work produced by current workshop members, read contributions published at Stonesoup.com, or join us at one of our free public readings! Book Club: a book club for writers that meets via Zoom on the last Saturday of every month. Find out more and register for book club at Eventbrite. Check out which books we are reading on our website. Young Author’s Studio Summer Camps: we are offering a wide range of classes through the summer jointly with the Society of Young Inklings. Each camp runs for two hours per day, Monday through Thursday. All details and bookings via Society of Young Inklings. From Stone Soup October 2020 A Window in the Evening By Julia Marcus, 13 (Culver City, CA) I press my face against the glass, blowing circles of air onto its cool surface. I step back, looking at the filmy, blurred image that faintly appears
