An update from our twelfth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday September 11, plus some of the output published below Conner Bassett began our fall session of writing workshops with a question: what does it mean to write fiction or poetry? His answer? To put into language what is inherently nonlinguistic. This definition, he realized, could be simplified into one word—metaphor. From there we defined metaphor (a comparison between two things), using famous phrases such as “Life is a highway” & “All the world is a stage” as examples. Through a reading of Emily Dickinson’s “Hope is the Thing with Feathers,” we learned how metaphors can help us make abstract concepts into concrete images. To further this point, we looked at two works of art published in the September 2021 Issue of Stone Soup—I Feel Music by Serena Li & The Hidden World by Sabrina Lu. Next, we learned how metaphors can help us understand complex ideas and emotions through a discussion surrounding the line “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!” from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. This concept was strengthened by visual metaphors seen in the Egyptian Icon The Ladder of Divine Ascent and Wyeth’s Christina’s World. Finally, we learned how metaphors transform one thing into something completely different so that we can see it in a new way. Examples used to back up this concept were a sentence from John Green’s The Fault in our Stars, a few lines from Sylvia Plath’s poem “Metaphors,” and an advertisement for sunglasses in which lenses were transformed into lemon slices. The Challenge: Two part prompt. First, write a one sentence metaphor about this painting: Norham Castle, Sunrise. Then, write a story or a poem that begins and ends with the same metaphor. The Participants: Emma, Simran, Clara, Sinan, Olivia, Lina, Josh, Ellie, Alice B, Audrey, and Svitra Svitra Rajkumar, 13(Fremont, CA) Free as a Bird Svitra Rajkumar, 13 Feathers flap, determined. Wings glide, graceful. “You can’t be a bird If you don’t fly,” they say. You can’t be a bird if you don’t try. So I watch each baby bird Flap its wings and grow. Soon it flies away But I have no choice But to stay. “Why don’t I go Towards the sky,” they ask. Why can’t I be the bird that Doesn’t Fly.
Workshops
Writing Workshop #46: Monologues
An update from our forty-sixth Writing Workshop A summary of the workshop held on Saturday September 11, plus some of the output published below For the first writing workshop of the Fall term, William presented on the concept of monologues, citing famous examples, like Mark Antony’s speech at the end of Shakespeare’s play Julius Ceasar. William went over the many ways monologues can reveal a character’s emotional state, as well as their motivations. The class also took a look at examples from Alice in Wonderland and watched a crucial Snape monologue from Harry Potter. After 5 minutes to sketch a quick character outline, the class launched into 30 minutes of creating their own monologue delivered by the character they created. Below is some of the work that the young writers in this workshop crafted in this session. The Challenge: Write a character sketch for 5 minutes and then write a monologue delivered by the character. The Participants: Peri G, Aditi N, Nami G, Elbert P, Jonathan, Nova M.C., Iago M.C., Peri Gordon, 11(Sherman Oaks, CA) Life Gone Awry Peri Gordon, 11 “Is it just me, or does it seem like aliens invaded our planet and convinced everyone to add to my workload? What do I even start with? The bank is a priority, I guess; yes, my job has to come first. But if I don’t make more music, I’ll lose my studio…I guess I should head there. What am I thinking? I can’t miss work. I’ll have to quit writing songs once and for all…and yet I always told Bonnie she could intern for me in the studio when she turned 15. Oh, yes, the birthday gift for Bonnie—what was it again? Did we decide? What is wrong with my memory? Let me call Dave. Where is my phone? If I can just get to my office, I can make sure I have it…hey, you, stop honking, sir! None of this is my fault, don’t you understand? Is it just me, or does it seem like the whole world is turning against me? Please, someone, help! Where do I go? Why doesn’t Dave get a job? Right, as if he would want all this work after my stress reports. To work, then. But first, coffee. At least that I have…stop the honking! And, excuse me, ma’am, but that was my coffee you just knocked over…onto my…papers. Right, well, I can’t go to work now. Mr. Burns will be furious. Oh, yes, the video game for Bonnie! Right over there, I promised Dave I would buy it. Right, open 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. Let’s see, what time is it? 11:10, of course. I don’t think I’ve made it to a store on time in five years. What is wrong with me? Well, I know exactly what’s wrong with me: I’m overloaded. How is it that every person on the street seems so… normal? How uncommon is it to be this unlucky when it’s all I am? Oh, and yes, I’m already late to work because of the coffee spill on my papers, thanks to that inconsiderate jogger. And because Bonnie has a birthday, such a ridiculous little thing. And because Dave won’t get a job! Is it just me, or does it seem like aliens invaded our planet and convinced everyone to add to my workload?”
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.”
