Introduction to this Stone Soup Art and Writing Activity Many of the stories we print in Stone Soup are both written and illustrated by the author. Many authors illustrate their own stories—especially authors of books for children. I am sure your library has books by authors like this: Maurice Sendak, Arnold Lobel, James Marshall, and M. B. Goffstein being just a few. In the original manuscript that was sent to us, “When Smudgie got Lost” had twenty-three illustrations and was made into a book. The original manuscript is a “picture book” with a picture on every page. In a picture book, there isn’t much of a story without the pictures. The story and the pictures are of equal importance and they are often created at the same time. Of course, unless you are ambidextrous and able to do two things at once, it’s difficult physically to write words and draw a picture at exactly the same time! To produce your picture book you will have to decide which one–drawing or writing–takes the lead, for you. Do you visualise your story in pictures or images first, and then add the words to help your audience understand what they are seeing, or to help them pick out particular elements in your picture that you want them to notice? Or do you have the outline of a story in words that you want your readers to be able to see in your picture rather than visualise for themselves using more words? Make a Picture Book Make a book where the pictures take the lead or the pictures and text are equal, where you can’t imagine one without the other. In a book of this kind there will probably be a picture on every page, and the text itself will be very short. In a picture book, one often finds that without the pictures, the written story doesn’t mean very much. It is in the pictures where a “picture book” comes alive. When Smudgie Got Lost! By Karine Faden, 10, Rockville, Maryland Illustrated by the author From the September/October 1986 issue of Stone Soup Erik and Ashley lived in England. They had a dog named Smudgie. Smudgie liked to go for walks to the marketplace where they had food, but even more Smudgie liked to go to the butcher and sit outside where all the good smells were. She came to the nursery every afternoon before tea for her daily walk with her leash in her mouth. Smudgie scratched at the door. Nanny said, “Smudgie, sit!” Smudgie sat. Then out came Erik and said, “Good girl.” Then Ashley came out and put on Smudgie’s leash. And then, out came Nanny, with the coats and mittens, hats and scarves, and said, “Button up, children.” Then Nanny put on Erik’s hat and buttoned up Ashley. “Come now,” said Nanny, motioning toward the door. Like soldiers they all marched out the door and down the stairs, Nanny first, then Erik, and then Ashley walking Smudgie. Finally, they were out on the street—Erik and Ashley and Smudgie, that is. Nanny was stuck in the door. But Smudgie tugged Nanny out while Erik and Ashley went inside the house the back way and pushed from the back. And then they marched out the door. Then we walked Smudgie to the market. Smudgie was very happy. Nanny had said that we were going to the butcher’s. That’s why Smudgie was happy. She always got a bone at the butcher’s. Smudgie did get her bone. Smudgie tugged at her leash very hard and Erik let go! In less than a minute Smudgie was out of sight. “Uh oh!” said Erik. “Whoops!” giggled Ashley. “This is not a laughing matter,” replied Nanny. They searched all over South London and didn’t find a trace of Smudgie. Finally, at seven o’clock P.M., way past tea, a bit past dinner, and almost bed time, they hadn’t found Smudgie. When they got to Markshire Square, Nanny said, “Let’s take a cab home. It might cheer us up.” But that depressed them even more. Smudgie had always followed any car that Erik or Ashley traveled in. By the time Nanny had brought the poor children home, they were all too tired to do anything but go to bed. While all this had been going on, Smudgie had gotten herself lost. Smudgie had seen a cat and she just had to chase her, but the minute she rounded the corner she had lost her. Smudgie had tried looking for Nanny and listening for Erik and Ashley’s call. But she hadn’t heard a thing, and right now was in a very bad neighborhood. And a mean dog had stolen her bone. About nine o’clock Father was driving home and he saw Smudgie in a side alley along the road. Then the two of them drove home. Erik, Ashley, Mother, and even Nanny were all happy to see Smudgie. And, of course, Father.
Writing activity
Writing Activity: writing a morality tale, with “Little Lies” by Meredith Proost, 12
Introduction to this Stone Soup Writing Activity This excellent story gets to the heart of why lying is wrong. Lying destroys trust between people. And when people don’t trust each other, they can never be really close—not even if they are family members. When we read (or hear) a little lecture on the evils of lying (or the evils of almost anything), we have a tendency to “tune out” the information. That is why, since the first stories were told, storytellers have been inventing characters and plots and scenery and dialogues to help those of us who are perhaps not as imaginative as other people to understand the many ways that breaking a moral code can cause harm. Unfortunately, many moral tales are boring. And this is all the more reason to recognize how very successful Meredith’s story is. She doesn’t preach and lecture. Instead, she tells us a story—a believable story with believable characters who talk and act realistically. No part of her story seems forced or fake. And that is how she makes us understand how even a relatively small lie is a big thing, and a bad thing. Project: Writing a Good Moral Tale Discuss with your teacher or parents or friends various moral rules—like it is wrong to lie, steal, cheat, or to maliciously tease someone. Now, using your imagination, invent a character or characters with unique personalities. Use these characters to create a story, like Meredith did, that will make people understand what wrong was done, why it was wrong, what impact the wrong thing had. Try to think of as many angles to the problem you choose to write about as possible. For instance, we say it is bad to maliciously tease someone. You will find it fairly easy to create a story that shows how teasing can hurt the person who is teased. You can also use your story to tackle more difficult problems—like creating a story that also shows how teasing hurts the person who does the teasing. Think of as many ways as you can to show us the effects of your chosen problem. Little Lies By Meredith Proost, 12, Aloha, Oregon Illustrated by Lucy Miranda Beverly-Whittemore, Portland, Oregon Reprinted with permission from Treasures, © 1985 From the September/October 1985 issue of Stone Soup It all began one Tuesday when Melinda and I lost all track of time and found we couldn’t possibly finish our practicing before our mom came home from grocery shopping. Before she left, we had agreed to do all our chores and practice piano. “Yes,” we said together when Mom asked if we had finished our practicing. But when she walked into the living room, there was the piano music, stacked just as she had stacked it that morning. And the lesson book was on the table where we had left it after our piano lesson the day before. Mom knew we were lying. She had a sad look on her face. Before Melinda or I could make up an excuse, Mom told us that she was going to tell us a lie some time during the next few days. We wouldn’t know when she was lying, and the lie would be something very important to both of us. That night Mom told us that the next morning when we woke up, breakfast would be waiting: hot cereal with lots of cream and even more brown sugar, just the way we like it. Melinda and I looked at each other knowingly. That must be the lie. But the next morning when we woke up, in the kitchen we found our bowls of hot cereal with lots of cream and even more brown sugar, just the way we like it. On Wednesday, Mom told us that she would pick us up right after school so that we could go shopping for spring clothes. Melinda and I looked at each other knowingly and said to ourselves that had to be the lie. We decided we would be going home on the bus as usual. But after school, there sat Mom in the parking lot ready to take us shopping. The following day our dad was on a business trip. Mom told us to pick a restaurant, Italian or Chinese, and the three of us would go out for dinner that night. Melinda and I looked at each other knowingly. That must be the lie. If we said Chinese, Mom would take us out for pizza. If we said Italian, we knew we’d be having chow mein for dinner. We said, “Chinese,” and that night we had won ton soup, chow mein, fortune cookies and tea. When we arrived home from school Friday, Mom greeted us with, “Guess what! I just reserved two airplane tickets. You two get to fly—all by yourselves—to visit your grandma over spring vacation.” Now that is something we had always wanted to do. We had dreamed about traveling alone and talked about it for years. Ordinarily we would have run to our rooms to start packing, even though spring vacation was three weeks away. But we looked at each other knowingly. That had to be the lie. Mom may have been surprised at our lack of excitement, but she didn’t say a word. She waited until the following day to ask us if we had discovered her lie. Melinda said, “Yes, we know. We won’t be flying to Grandma’s for spring vacation. Everything else you have said has been true, so the airplane trip must be the lie.” “I’m glad it’s finally over,” I said. Melinda said, “Yes. It has been awful for days thinking we couldn’t trust you. I guess we deserved that little lie about flying to Grandma’s.” Mom smiled. “The lie was that I would tell you a lie,” she said softly. “I haven’t told you any lies. The tickets to Grandma’s are under your pillow. Sweet dreams.” Happy ending.
Writing and Art Activity: fully imagined fairy tales in words and pictures with “The Enchanted Egg” by Bertrand C. Jackson, 13
Introduction to this Stone Soup Writing and Art Activity “The Enchanted Egg” is a delightful story that plays with ideas and characters commonly found in fairy tales (and in cartoons of fairy tales). This is not a profoundly original story, but it is well written, beautifully illustrated, and fun to read. As you read it you might even try to make a list of all the predictable elements you find. For instance, the toad is ugly (of course!), the owl is wise (of course!), and the third attempt to cure the town of rats succeeds (of course!). What is remarkable about “The Enchanted Egg” is how thoroughly imagined it is. What I mean by this is that Bertrand doesn’t just quickly jot down that there is an ugly toad nobody likes. Both in the writing and in the illustrations, he takes care to make us see the toad as an interesting character and not just a flat cartoon figure. Project: Write and Illustrate a Fairy Tale In its original form, Bertrand’s story has thirty-three illustrations! The text and the pictures were created to go together and make a picture book. I want you to do the same thing. You might start in the library reading fairy tales. Once you have those toads, kings, poor fishermen, mermaids, magic table-cloths, and other fairy tale images clearly in your mind, select a few to put together in your own way. Whatever your story turns out to be—funny, sad, a fight between good and evil, or a wandering adventure—do your best to make them come alive in both words and pictures. The Enchanted Egg By Bertrand C. Jackson, 13, Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada Illustrated by the author From the March/April 1986 Issue of Stone Soup Once upon a time, many years ago, in a far-off land, there dwelt an ugly toad. His shriveled green skin was dotted with horrible warts. His eyes bulged from his wrinkled head, and his misshapen feet protruded awkwardly from his stout body. Because of his repulsive appearance, the poor toad was mocked by all the other animals—all except the wise old owl, who understood the toad’s kind nature and felt sorry for him. Life was beginning to be unbearable for the toad, although he tried to make the best of the ridicule and harassment. The owl often attempted to comfort him, but it was to no avail. The toad was intent on leaving his familiar forest to make his fortune in a large nearby city. Before he departed, the owl presented him with a magical egg and told him that it would aid him in time of need. He added that, as the egg was enchanted, it would follow the toad wherever he went and would assist him when called upon to do so. The toad was astonished at the strange spectacle of the egg floating in mid-air but listened carefully to the owl’s explicit instructions. The wise old owl then bade him goodbye. The toad gave one last glance at the owl and turned to start his journey. He trudged sadly toward the city with the egg floating faithfully in back. It so happened that this city was the capital of a vast kingdom. He missed his friend the owl very much, but the thought of the enchanted egg tagging quietly behind him helped to lighten his heart. He had never seen a city before and wondered what it would be like. The toad was not very agile, and therefore had much time to think. As he waddled along, a large dog came running toward him. It eyed the plump toad greedily and hoped to make a dinner of him. The toad saw the ravenous creature just in the nick of time. In a panic, the frightened toad bounded into a ditch by the edge of the road, and the egg followed. They both remained there until daybreak. When he awoke, it dawned on him, as he sat covered with mud staring at the suspended object above him, that he could have used it to repel the menace that he had encountered the previous day. It was too late now, and, as the dog was not to be seen, and as the sun was shining brightly, he recommenced his long journey. Suddenly, after many long hours of walking, he saw off in the distance the highest towers of the city. As the toad approached, he was spellbound at its massive size and splendor. He had been travelling for quite some time and was pleased to be there at last. Its imperious walls tapered upward as far as the little toad could see. It made him feel very insignificant indeed. At the wide stone gates two sentries stood at attention. Because of his small stature, the toad slipped through unnoticed. He was amazed at the unfamiliar sight which met him within. He marvelled at the huge castle which loomed up behind the small shops and half-timbered houses of the townspeople. He walked forward so as to obtain a better view of the odd structure which was not blocked by buildings and heads. As he advanced, he had to watch out for garbage which came flying down from the windows along the road and the large awkward feet of the clumsy people. He thought how absolutely dreadful it would be if he were squelched by some unobservant pedestrian and mashed in between cobblestones. He shuddered at the very idea. The toad turned about and gently grasped the egg. Holding it in his hand, he summoned its powers. The toad asked politely, just as the owl had commanded, to be lifted to the magnificent castle. All at once, he ascended into the air and glided forward in the direction of the palace. Along the way, he had a wonderful view of the entire city and the environs beyond. Soon the palace came into sight. Its highest turrets almost seemed to touch the clouds. Protruding from the front of the marble building was
