An update from our thirty-fourth Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop held on Saturday February 20, plus some of the output published below This week with Jane we talked about magic or magical realism: stories in which a little magic is introduced into everyday life, often as a metaphor for something important to the life of the main character(s). We discussed the difference between magical realism and fantasy, and agreed that whereas in fantasy we create a whole world that depends on (believable) fantasy for its existence, in magical realism we are fixed in the real world, and a few elements of fantasy slide in. We talked about the magic realism in the myth of Daedalus and Icarus (real humans with their attempt at real, failed wings), and read an excerpt from Gabriel García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude where a (funny, rather than scary!) trickle of blood with very precise and unrealistic intention moves through the realistic, streets and around the rugs and furniture in its journey to a kitchen in another house, making us question what is really real. We watched movie clips from Amélie and Midnight in Paris, and considered the unlikely but realistic characters and underlying stories in Stig of the Dump and Skellig. And then we wrote! The Writing Challenge: Create your own work of Magical Realism. Write a story set in real, present-day life, with a few magical elements that have meaning for your characters. The Participants: Madeline K, Peri, Leo, Kaidyn, Georgia, Pranjoli, Nova, Julia, Lindsay, Ismini, Margaret L, Tilly, Lina K, Liam, Sierra, Sophia, Anya, Jonathan, Samantha, Grace, Rachael, Sage, Simran, Olivia Z, Ruhi, Angela, Charlotte, Anna, Madeline, Alice, Emma, Yasmine, Elbert, Lucy R, Charlotte K, Oliver, Iago, Reese, Emi, Olivia S, Enni, Hera, Ava Hannah Nami Gajcowski, 10 (Bellevue, WA) Memory Loss Hannah Nami Gajcowski, 10 He walked with a stride so large. He was as quiet as a mouse. So, I didn’t run when he came, because I did not realize that he was there. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around. The man stared at me, his green eyes twinkling like emeralds. His mouth twitched, and his long, black cloak swayed with the wind. His pale skin glittered, and when he turned away, I saw that he had a long cat’s tail. I knew this man. I did. But I couldn’t place my finger on who he was. I couldn’t place a finger on anything. I tried to think of my name, but I couldn’t remember it. I tried to think of my life, but I couldn’t. I realized, suddenly, that I couldn’t feel anything. It was like my nerves stopped working. I knew that I needed a mirror. Who was I? Who was that man? Where was I? What did I look like? I looked down at my hand. They were gray and looked hard as stone. Was I wearing gloves? They were very interesting gloves. What were gloves? Why didn’t I know what gloves were? Were they things to put on your feet? Or were the things on your feet called socks? What were socks? Did I know anything? I looked down at my feet – toes – whatever they were called. They looked as hard as stone. I reached down to touch them, but I found that my body wouldn’t bend. What was my body? I was losing my memory quickly. What was memory? Was it a beam of light that told you things? Was it a sign of hope, destiny? What was hope and destiny? I began to feel very depressed. Dark thoughts took over my head. Would I be able to get out of here? Where was I? I tried to move, but then I realized that I had been turned into stone. What was stone? How much time had passed? What was time? Questions swarmed in my head. Soon, my eyes began to close. Or maybe they were open. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t see anything. What were eyes? I didn’t know. What was a know? What was a what? What was an a? What was a… Peri Gordon, 11Sherman Oaks, CA Heart and Brain Peri Gordon, 11 I sat at my plain wooden desk and waited for the lunch bell to ring. I didn’t know how to answer the test question, and unless I cheated, I never would. I stared stubbornly at the white tiled classroom floor. I am not going to cheat, I vowed silently. How much guilt would I feel if I did? Oh, but it would be so easy. The smartest kid in the class, if not eighth grade, if not the school, was my desk partner, and she was off sharpening her constantly-in-use pencil. Her test was not being guarded at all, and it was right next to me. And if I didn’t do well on this test, getting grounded for a week would be right around the corner. It was the logical thing to do, right? And as long as I learned the material for next time… “Yeah, right. I am not going to learn anything from copying Samantha’s answer,” my heart told me. My brain said, “But—if mom and dad don’t find out—” “Well, I would know. And I would feel too much shame,” insisted my heart. “Who cares? This is an important test!” “Yeah, too important for cheating.” That’s when I noticed the staring. Every scholarly, ignorant, friendly, and cruel kid in my class was staring at me. And so was the teacher. For some reason, I burst into tears. What had just happened? I hadn’t said anything. No, no, it was my heart speaking and my brain speaking. Speaking to me—no, speaking to everyone, apparently. “That’s quite enough, Shauna,” said Mrs. Allyseth, my teacher. “We’re taking a test, and we don’t want to hear your mumbling, especially not mumbling about cheating. We don’t cheat in Room 37, do we?” “But, Miss Allyseth,” I said, acting like a child and forgetting to
Writing Workshop #33: Larger Than Life Characters
An update from our thirty-third Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop held on Saturday February 13, plus some of the output published below This week we talked about larger than life characters, and the different tools writers use to portray them. The focus was on the first meeting with that character: how can you make it clear from the very beginning that this is a special, memorable, unusual character, and what the key elements are that make them this way? In a group discussion we shared ideas about larger-than-life characters and how we might use how they look, sound, walk, talk, laugh, dress, eat, smell–any aspect of appearance or presence or characteristic to convey a strong impression of who they are. The Writing Challenge: Write a passage in which you introduce a larger than life character, where the reader is encountering them for the very first time. You do not have to describe a bg personality in detail, but do focus on how the initial meeting with the character stakes their claim to importance. The Participants: Lina, Rachael, Sierra, Lindsay, Tegan, Samantha, Lucy K, Hera, Ava, Charlotte K, Eve, Anna, Grace, Simran, Olivia, Alice, Emma, Noa, Emi, Angela, Iago, Charlotte M, Yasmine, Olivia, Enni, Nova, Anya, Madeline N, Leo, Pranjoli, Helen, Madeline K, Margaret L, Sophie, Julia, Sage, Georgia, Ruhi, Syra, Lucy R, Peri, Kaidyn, Lindsay, Tilly, Maggie K, Lina K, Jonathan. Sierra E., 11Mountain View, CA Fox Girl Sierra E., 11 Few were (and still are) able to imagine the wild figure of Fox Girl. But if you saw her, you’d recognize her even if you’d never heard of such a thing. For Fox Girl lived in a faraway town, Ivywood, hundreds of thousands of miles from any large cities. Where she lived, the months of winter never came, and the incredible, unbelievable creatures roamed free. And here, in this world already beyond normal, lived Fox Girl, the one that many came to Ivywood to see. Fox Girl’s appearance was unreal. Stranger than the cyan wolves that managed to fly in the air with their magnificent wings, and stranger than the salmon-pink kittens that would spend their time leaping in and out of the many winding, flowing rivers. Fox Girl, for one, looked absolutely anything but human. While she had several details that resembled a person, most of Fox Girl was elsewhere. She had electrifying shamrock-green eyes that glowed especially in the darkness, while her vibrant amethyst-purple hair that stretched to her toes were unignorable. A bushy, apricot-colored tail tinged with white hung between her long legs and two ears, matching in appearance, stood always perked atop her head. Fox Girl dressed in lively hues which mirrored her animated personality. Fox Girl was one to watch. One to wait hours, days, months, years to see. Many say Ivywood is just a myth told to put young children asleep at night. But if you question me, I’ll always say the same: “No, Ivywood and Fox Girl aren’t a legend. It’s nothing but reality.” Lindsay Gao, 9Dublin, OH The Girl’s Revenge Lindsay Gao, 9 If anyone who hadn’t known better had seen the girl, they would have laughed, thinking “Ha! I could finish this girl off with a twitch of my hand.” But this, ultimately, would not be true. She was quite young, with long black hair that melted into the shadows, pale skin, and a frail, tattered white nightgown. But her eyes, white as snow, glowed with the utmost power. The only way possible to tell if she was angry or preparing to strike was to look at her right hand, where you could see her thumb, which, if provoked, would jerk back one, and then become still. After that signaling jerk, the shadows seemed to slowly crawl towards her victims. When they panicked, she would tell them it was alright, and that she wouldn’t hurt them. But she did. All their bodies were never found. When no one was watching, she might slip away, and you could see the pain, heartbreak, and longing. The feeling that people always assumed she didn’t have or feel. She would let out a sob, a mourning of losing what you loved and being turned into a monster. A monster that you weren’t. She knew people called her “the doll of death”, and she hated it. She wished that she could get away with everything, but then she would remember. The death. The blood. The screams. The tears. The pain. And it. The thing. And she knew, the beast, the one that had killed her family, and caused her sorrow would pay. It did not know that she was powerful, and now, it was too late, for she, the enchantress, the girl it had hurt so long ago, was coming. Peri Gordon, 11Sherman Oaks, CA Confusion Itself Peri Gordon, 11 It was Wednesday at 9am, I think, and I was sipping my coffee and walking to work when I saw her. Well, first I heard her shouting, and then I looked over, and then I saw the top of her purple stack of hair. I took the time to follow the fluffy pile down to the bottom, and I found a face died green with violet eyes and lips made to be the color of the ocean. Her eyes were wild and gleaming with both happy and sad tears, and her mouth was constantly moving as she ceaselessly talked about some problem that had befallen her. She was so out of place in the quiet atmosphere of this quiet little town that no one could ignore her. It was hard to look away from her face, but I had to see what this woman was wearing. My eyes are still angry at me for exposing them to such a bright, chaotic assortment of skirts and pants and shirts and dresses layered on top of one another, orange and green and blue and pink, spotted and striped and beaded and bejeweled. She wasn’t wearing
Writing Workshop #32: Intro to Invented Words & Artlang
An update from our thirty-second Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop held on Saturday February 6, plus some of the output published below This week we talked about language: non-English language. Participants shared the various languages they know, and we went on to explore some invented languages used in fiction, such as J.R.R Tolkein’s Elfin and Klingon, used in Star Trek. William played a number of readings, songs and film clips asking us to focus on how the sounds of the languages convey meaning, character and culture, even when we don’t know the words. The Writing Challenge: Focus on sound–invented words that just seem “right and/or the sound of an invented or foreign language that fits your fictional creation. Prose, poetry, or a song are all acceptable. – the base language for the story or poem is English – either allow made-up words into your story as part of its flow AND/OR – create a scene in which there is someone from a different world (fairy, talking tree, delirious person, monstrous giant etc.) who speaks 2-4 lines of dialogue OR 2-4 lines of a verse or song. The Participants: Ismini, Nova, Iago, Anya, Nami, Sophie, Charlotte K, Reese, Elbert, Lina, Leo, Lindsay, Lucy R, Julia A, Emma B, Kaidyn, Rachel L, Hera, Madeline K, Helen, Eva, Lena, Liam, Ava, Georgia, Pranjoli, Samantha L, Sierra, Simran, Madeline N, Sage, Sophia, Margaret, Elise, Margaret, Maggie, Olivia, Noa, Lucy K, Alice, Ann, Angela, Enni, Yasmine, Charlotte M, Tilly, Emi, Tegan, Sadie. Sierra E., 11Mountain View, CA The Calls of a Dolphin Sierra E., 11 Tall conifers swayed gently in the evening breeze, tilting toward the Pacific coast, as if craning their long necks toward the water’s edge. Children laughed gleefully as they sprinted across the smooth sand, wrapping up a day of adventure and excitement, all but one, who sat huddled in a jet-black jacket leaning against a rocky cliff. She heard her parents calling for her, but she paid no notice, instead staring blankly up at the sunset, painted lavender and a rosy pink. The waves lapped softly at the shoreline, several hundreds of feet from the young girl, who, through it all, remained perfectly hidden. Her parents became desperate, shouting louder and louder for their child to return. She stood, but not intending to return home. Not yet. As she had done for years now, she sprinted past the spires of rock that were positioned jaggedly along the ocean, some halfway submerged by salty seawater. The voices of her parents became drowned out with the harmonious wind and waves, blending together into a sort of song. “Come!” the child beckoned sweetly, finally sitting down where the beach grew thin and the ocean became immeasurable. The water spun upward into a spiral, causing the child to leap backward suddenly. A smile formed on her face when a sleek creature emerged. It was who she’d been waiting for. Her dolphin. The one she had met four years ago on that stormy winter night. The one that had visited her each time she came back to the beach. The one that greeted her with compassion and exhilaration. The dolphin chortled cheerily, keeping most of itself in the sea. It whistled seven times, repeatedly, speaking in a language most humans couldn’t make out. At first, the girl struggled to understand as always, then, pulling a chip of a shell from her pocket, she whispered, “I see. Your pod is running out of food? The fish and squids have disappeared?” The dolphin whistled once, as if to agree. “Don’t worry,” the child replied hopefully, somehow still understanding with the shell she had found so many years ago. The creature swam away, calling out its goodbye, leaving the girl, still remaining on the sand in the exact spot, in shock as she always was after a welcome from her friend. Lindsay Gao, 9Dublin, OH Untitled Lindsay Gao, 9 The cassie implewart crawled out of her nest. Her long bubber colored fur fell into her eyes as she leapt from tree to tree in a snookaloo manner. Finally, she came upon a small grove where three nymphs already stood, nibbling on bloated mushrooms. She growled at them, and they disappeared into the forest of maples and oaks. She grabbed an alkay sized nut, squealing in happiness as she realized a water nerry was inside. Unfortunately, her squeal was heard. A creature, brown as a Rhodesian Lakeside Brownie it stood there, staring at her. “Cop incub issle. Cokie aparr alooya? Tsuki?” She knew that had to mean something, but she couldn’t figure out what. She only spoke Mitzer Mouth, and thought maybe the creature spoke Logipo. Her mother had wanted her to speak that, but she had refused. She gave the creature the water nerry, though she didn’t want to. One water nerry could exchange for at least five cassie mushrooms. The creature smiled at her. She smiled back. She woke up. It had been twenty-five days since she gave the creature the water nerry. She looked out a tiggle in her nest, and saw something that made her heart leap into her throat. A small water nerry sat on the stump next to her nest, and a small clump of brown fur was caught there too. And now she heard a soft sound carried through the wind, “Maroo: Thank you.” Translations: Cassie implewart A creature. Bubber Color of the ocean with sunlight upon it. Snookaloo Sneaky but graceful. Alkay A bit larger than an almond. Water Nerry A mix between a nut and a berry. Rhodesian Lakeside Brownie A household spirit. “Cop incub issle. Cokie aparr alooya? Tsuki?” “I’m really hungry. Can we share some nuts? Please?” Mitzer mouth and Logipo Different types of languages. Cassie mushrooms Cassie implewart’s favorite type of mushroom. Tiggle Dot sized crack in the nest of a cassie implewart. Anya Geist, 14Worcester, MA Languages Anya Geist, 14 the words fall out of my mouth and spill through the air as I spout
