An update from our sixty-eighth Writing Workshop A summary of the workshop held on Saturday, September 17, plus some of the output published below In this workshop, we covered the idea of ‘sense of place.’ The students learned that sense of place is a literary device that not only evokes physical, objective descriptions, but also uses vivid imagery to capture the thoughts and feelings of a character about a certain place. We studied numerous example of sense of place within literature and music, including Jack London’s Call of the Wild and an excerpt from Claire Rinterknecht’s story featured in the March 2020 issue of Stone Soup. Students participated in a brief 5 minute write in which half of the class described a place as a neutral narrator and the other half described a place through the lens of a character. Pearl, Greta, Nami, and Peri all shared their incredible work before we moved into our half-hour writing period, during which Peri, Yueling, Pearl, and Ava read. Overall, we had a blast kicking off this fall semester and look forward to more great work yet to come! The Challenge: Describe a place or a setting in which a story will take place. 1) Describe as the omniscient narrator, like the art director for a movie set description including lighting and mood. OR 2) Write from the point-of-view of a character. This is the skeleton vision of the place (lighting, sound, feeling, etc.) as appropriate to your vision. The Participants: Anya, Ava, Celia, Cora, Greta, Nami, Pearl, Peri, Reethi, Sofia, Yueling Arctic Winter Pearl Coogan, 10 Cold howling wind whipped through my fur, blowing endlessly. The deep snow crunched under my paws, stretching as far as my keen blue eyes could see. Snow-covered mounds that were once grey cliffs rose out of the white sea, not a hint of rock visible on them. Farther beyond the once-cliffs were the towering mountains, also covered in snow that was continuously piling higher and higher. The streams that ran and pulled in spring were now completely frozen over with ice. Everything was beautiful. But like many things, the looks of the tundra didn’t say much about the tundra. I couldn’t see or smell any other animals except the six other wolves in my pack, all of them my relatives. The prey, even the caribou, had disappeared like all the other animals, having hidden in their snow-covered burrows or migrated south. To make it even worse, the falling snow prevented me from seeing far. I was an Arctic wolf living in my Arctic habitat with a thick winter coat, but I was still shivering. The snow, though beautiful, covered up all of the hare’s burrows and even rocks that I could fall and hurt myself on. Hunger, as ruthless as ever, gnawed at my stomach. But I had survived one cruel Arctic winter before and could live through another, even if I wasn’t thriving. “Taiga!” My cousin Icicle called, standing on top of one of the snow-mounds, clearly trying to find prey like me and the rest of my pack. But, unlike me and the pack, she wasn’t a good hunter. At all. “Leave her alone, Icicle! She’s a much better hunter than you,” Icicle’s mother and my father’s younger sister Snowclaw growled. Icicle bowed his small head and padded down from the mound he was standing on. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was still young with plenty of room to improve his hunting skills and Snowclaw didn’t seem to like him at all. Smelling a wisp of deeply burried hare, I started digging into the endless sea of snow. The smell grew stronger, more vivid, as I dug. Crackly brown grass started to appear, a hole in the middle of it. Lighting up, I started digging in the hole. Surprised yellow eyes glared at me. The snowshoe hare leaped up and started sprinting away from me, but he was tired from his hibernation and wasn’t use to running in such deep snow. My paws pattered on the ground, barely touching the snow before they lifted up. The howling wind was even louder and stronger as I ran, flurries snaking down faster. Suddenly I wasn’t cold anymore. Suddenly the Arctic winter wasn’t as menacing anymore. My sharp fangs sank into the hare’s neck, sinking deeper and deeper. I knew my teeth, once gleaming white, would be stained with blood for days. But I didn’t care. Once I had thought that in the winter, the tundra was a cruel place. A menacing place. An evil place. But now I knew that it wasn’t so terrible. There was still prey but you had to work to find it. There was still warmth but you had to rely on other wolves for it. There was still water but you had to break through the ice to drink it. After all, why would nature make the tundra so cruel that the only good things about were the looks. Holding my head high, I trotted back to my den with my pack following me. My aunt and uncle had brought down a caribou and my brother had caught a bird, so combined with my hare, there would be plenty of food to go around. Maybe not as much as the bounty of prey in spring, but enough to thrive through the not-so-cruel arctic winter. To Let Go Aditi Nair, 14 And I let go. It happened to be a fall much similar to the ones I’ve seen on T.V, and I was ready–well, sort of ready. The adrenaline came to me like a lightning bolt, but I know that this was the best scenario, if any at all. It felt like the world was racing to greet me on all sides, and everything
Saturday Newsletter: September 24, 2022
I (acrylic on cardstock) by Ava Shorten, 12; published in Stone Soup September 2022 A note from Laura Autumn greetings! I hope everyone is settling into the school year and finding some time for creative expression as the colors begin to change and the air turns crisp-at least that’s the scoop where I live in New England. The students at Angelina Jolie primary school in Kakuma Refugee Camp, Kenya, are nearing the end of winter and the second dry season of the year. After years of intermittent pandemic lockdown, they have spent the last couple of months back in the classroom and furiously preparing for exams. As life returns to some form of normal and they make up for lost learning time in the classroom, there has not been much extra time for creative work. However, before exam preparation began, a few Stone Soup members had the opportunity to collaborate with students in Kakuma Camp through an exciting new Refugee Project initiative, the Half-Baked Art Exchange. The Half-Baked Art Exchange was offered in collaboration with Refugee Project partnering organization, My Start Project, and in celebration of World Refugee Day 2022. Through participation in this workshop, Stone Soup students engaged with a piece of artwork created by a young person living in Kakuma Refugee Camp. They learned about what it means to be a refugee more generally as well as the specific elements of the lives of Kakuma Camp residents that inspired their artwork, such as environmental factors and various cultural practices. Participants in the workshop then added to this piece of artwork, seeking to highlight the work of the original artist and create a sense of visual dialogue between the two. Keep an eye on the Refugee Project website for a display of the collaborative artwork, the original piece and a statement by the collaborating artist. I look forward to offering this workshop again in addition to other Refugee Project initiatives over the course of the school year! And if you’re looking for a fun creative project this weekend, take a leaf from this workshop and start with a piece of artwork or writing that already exists! You might take your inspiration from an old or new favorite-maybe something from the current issue of Stone Soup. Consider where the original artist or writer might be coming from, what may have influenced their work, and seek to engage with it by adding your own special touch. If you’re working with a piece of artwork, consider what medium would work best to enhance the original piece. If you’re working with a piece of writing, pay special attention to tone as you seek to create a sense of dialogue between your writing and the original. In all cases, consider how you might highlight, rather than overshadow the original piece. As always, if you’re excited by what you’ve produced, please submit it to us via Submittable or by clicking the button below! Until next time, Stone Soup is published by Children’s Art Foundation-Stone Soup Inc., a 501(c)(3) educational nonprofit organization registered in the United States of America, EIN: 23-7317498.
Flash Contest #47, September 2022: Write about two people who are lying to each other—our winners and their work
Our September Flash Contest was based on Prompt #219 (provided by Stone Soup intern Sage Millen), which asked that participants simply write a scene in which two people are lying to each other. This straight forward prompt led to some brilliant writing, all of which was structured in distinct, fascinating ways. One story focused on two characters running together with the dramatic irony that neither character actually wanted to be running. Another story pitted a man and a woman fated to be married against each other, both of them lying about their happiness. And another story told a cautionary tale about a pair of wily friends in a magic forest, and the escalation of trickery. As always, we thank all who submitted and encourage you to submit again next month! In particular, we congratulate our Winners and our Honorable Mentions, whose work you can appreciate below. Winners “The Job Offer” by Dev Agarwal, 13 “Coyote Falls” by Elise Buck, 11 “The King’s Plan” by Eiaa Dev, 13 “Running in Circles” by Marin Hamory, 11 “Happiness” by Lui Lung, 13 Honorable Mentions “Liar” by Asha Akkinepally, 12 “Saving of Rabbitland” by Claire Chen, 11 “Exchange of Power” by Sophie Li, 11 “The Two Explorers of Gorklin” by Aryaman Majumder, 11″ “Lying” by June Schaffer, 9 The Job Offer Dev Agarwal, 13 Tuesday, 5:03 pm A prolonged silence spread through the room like a poisonous gas. It diseased the two people, a man and a woman, sitting on opposite ends of a sofa within it. Both appeared somewhat confused, yet each seemed to be trying to muster up the courage to speak first. Finally, a single word, thoroughly checked before it passed the man’s lips, cut through the nauseating quiet like a bullet. “Huh.” This solitary remark conveyed more meaning to the woman than all the words in the dictionary. She stirred slightly, but, other than that, displayed no reaction whatsoever. Yet, a thousand thoughts were darting across the expanse of her mind. Rebecca, 5:05 PM Ok. This is a lot to process in one go, but I guess you’re just gonna have to stick with me on this one. First things first: I’m Rebecca, I’m a freelance psycho-therapist, and I’ve been married to Peter for, what, five years now? Seems like a lifetime. Anyways, a couple of months ago, Peter got a call from a friend from his old job who hit it big-time in a tech company up in the States. The call was about the same company, and get this: HE OFFERED PETER A JOB. Well, not really. He basically said that a position had just opened up and that Peter was perfect for it. And it wasn’t even a small desk job either — it was a pretty solid position. I have to say, the call excited me. A lot. I could tell that Peter didn’t like the fact that he’d have to move from here in the UK to LA. I mean, in my opinion, the location would be a lot better. He still applied, though — you know, just to amuse the guy who offered it. He submitted his resume last week, and the craziest thing happened. 5:07 pm “You got The Job,” Rebecca said finally, her awed tone turning it into a proper noun. “I got The Job,” replied Peter in a dazed monotone. At this point, Rebecca had settled into quite an awkward position, her body desperately trying to pull it off. Her head was held high and her back perfectly straight, yet her hands were clamped between her legs, and she made no attempt to pick up the glass of water on the table in front of her that her throat so desperately craved. Peter’s situation was not much better, his body clenched tightly together as if he were a bomb that could explode any minute. He didn’t know what to think, yet he thought regardless. Peter, 5:08 pm Hello. My name is Peter O’Sullivan, and I’ve been born and bred in Britain. I have a wife, called Rebecca, and I recently received a call concerning — well, hardly a job offer, but something along those lines. The call was for a company that my ex-colleague, Mark Villami, started working for 7 years ago. In fact, he made the call. It’s a desk job, but I could do with some novelty in my life. Not that the pay is any worse. I wasn’t so keen on it because it was easy to tell that Rebecca wasn’t comfortable with one aspect: we’d have to move to the suburbs of Los Angeles. I submitted an application regardless, and what do you know? I got the offer! I’ve been terribly keen to take it, but for reasons described above, I’m probably going to turn it down. Not now, however; I’m interested in Rebecca’s take on it. 5:09 pm “You don’t have to take it if you really don’t want to,” commented Rebecca in a passive-aggressive manner. She turned to look at him, but Peter replied with a blank stare. This could only mean one thing. Rebecca, 5:09 PM Yeah, I don’t think Peter wants to take it. Peter, 5:10 pm After a thorough appraisal of that statement, it is clear that Rebecca doesn’t want me to accept the job offer. All to my dismay, of course, though I must say, I am doing rather well at trying to act cool. 5:10 pm Finally, Peter broke the stare and stated matter-of-factly, “Rebecca. I completely agree with you, and I don’t want to take the job.” Something twitched in Rebecca’s face. “I never told you to not take it,” she said quickly. “So you want me to take the job offer?” “No, no, uh, I don’t want you to take it, I never did. I like our life here, you know, in London, in this one-bedroom flat. I’d never ask you to leave!” “Right. Glad we’re in agreement then.” “Yeah, no,
