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
Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists
Momentous Events in the Life of a Cactus, Reviewed by Aditi, 12
Have you ever imagined how life would be without arms? How would you eat, work, or do some basic things in life? Aven Green, the protagonist in Momentous Events in the Life of a Cactus by Dusti Bowling, is one such girl who was born armless. She didn’t lose them in a daring circus act or a fight with alligators; it’s merely in her genetics. Transitioning to high school is a significant milestone for any teenager, let alone undertake the endeavor as an armless person! At the start of the book, Aven is her usual self; she is confident and fearless. Her best friend, Conner, had recently moved to a nearby town, which would mean she would have to start high school without him. Aven still might have her other best friend, Zion, but it’s not the same without Connor. While Aven and Zion go to the mall to find a costume for Comic Con, Aven sees one of her classmates. After they talk for a while, Aven’s classmate humiliates her. She feels like a total failure! The bad encounter left Aven drowning; she struggles with a lack of confidence and self-appreciation. Her friends try supporting her, but it is to no avail. In her puddle of disappointment, she keeps pushing her friends away, like ripples emanating from a single point. One character that helps Aven find her confidence is Zion’s older brother, Lando. He shows Aven that she is more important than she thinks, and all she has to do is appreciate herself. Self-appreciation and belief in oneself are very important for one to have. Aven shows that if you lack these qualities, coping with disabilities or life, in general, will be nothing short of a disappointment. Lando shares some of his amazing drawings with Aven; they are full of color and represent Aven as a superhero. After looking at Lando’s moving illustrations, Aven starts to realize that she is more significant than she thinks. Outside of her school life, Aven is a horse-back rider. When her confidence slips away, so does her motivation to ride a horse. Aven was supposed to be learning how to jump, with a horse-show around the corner. Being unsure of her capabilities, she kept delaying the chances. Finally, once her confidence is back, Aven is ready to take the plunge! Sadly, it does not go that well for Aven, and she ends up in a hospital. Despite the fall, Aven quickly recoups herself and is ready to jump again for the horse show. “And then I was in the air again. But I wasn’t afraid of falling” is a testament to Aven’s gain of confidence and belief in herself; she is ready to take on anything and is fearless once again. Momentous Events in the Life of a Cactus is an excellent and moving read! The beautifully crafted realistic fiction is connectable to readers of all ages. The hilarious dialogue exchange cracked me up! If you like books with some humor, real-life connectivity, and important morals, Momentous Events in the Life of a Cactus is the right book for you! After I started reading the book, I couldn’t put it down! I love how Bowling incorporates so many plot twists and small cliffhangers throughout the storyline. The book’s neatly weaved theme can teach kids that confidence, self-appreciation, and belief in oneself are essential in whatever they do, no matter who breaks it! Momentous Events in the Life of a Cactus by Dusti Bowling. Sterling Children’s Book, 2019. Buy the book here and support Stone Soup in the process!
The Courtroom Choir
1993, Washington DC— a new voice was being added to the Supreme Court. It was the voice of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. It was a young voice, but it was strong. And though she was young, she sang as loud as she could in the choir of the Supreme Court. She was different from anyone there, but she still sang loud and bright and beautifully in the court. Her beautiful song suggested a place where everyone is equal. No one is hated, no one is oppressed. Her song gained attention from those everywhere. They turned on their radios and TVs and opened their newspapers to hear her song. She sang for those listening. Sang to honor their voices, just so they could feel like people, like everyone else. Ruth was finally heard, heads turned. She became the star of the choir, singing louder and louder. She worked so hard, faced so many challenges, but she kept singing. All of this just so the people could feel like people. She provided hope for those who thought that they would never get to hear a voice, a song, that honored them, that they would never get to live in a world where they mattered. But why did she have to work so hard, just so people could feel like people? Why does the heroine have to climb a higher tower to save the princess than the hero? She slowly tuned out the voices of those who sang for inequality. She was the star of every performance, the role model of every girl. No voices outshined hers. She kept her choir in perfect harmony. She had always been the loudest. Everyone singing with her thought she had the most angelic voice–the most meaningful, powerful. Why didn’t she use this voice for riches or wealth? But she didn’t sing for that. She sang for the dreamers and the can’t-hear-my-screamers because Ruth knew that if you didn’t dream, dreams would never come true, and if your dream was never heard, then nobody would dream at all. Nobody would get what they dreamed of, they would simply think it was impossible. Ruth was there to prove that it wasn’t impossible. And that’s why she sang. Ruth sang for kindness against hate, Love against tragedy, Remorse against shamelessness, Heroicness against passiveness, Smiling against smirking, Making things better against making things better for you. She knew that those who hated would never succeed— that hate will do no good for them. She believed that love will win and hate will get you nowhere in the end. It was a lot of work to tune out all of the voices that sang for hate. Her voice became shriller and weaker, but still, she didn’t run out of breath. She changed music forever. She had the choir singing in the most beautiful harmony. She had everything circulating in a new way, a better way. She seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders, yet she still sang, and the people watched in awe. The other side of the choir thought she was weak, doubted her, but Ruth sang on. People wondered how long she would keep singing before the voices of the other side of her choir became too loud for her ears, and her voice became too soft. She said that she would sing as long as she breathes, even if her last breath is before the day her songs saved the world. Things weren’t going well for Ruth. She had gotten very sick. She had lost her voice. The whole world waited for it to return. Though she couldn’t sing, she conducted the choir as best as she could. People thought this was it for Ruth. But it was far from the end. She recovered. . . And the first thing she did. . . Start singing. Her voice became strained. She was old, and she was running out of breath, but she hadn’t yet. As the years passed her voice still shone, drowning out those who sang of hate, and everytime she sang a song, it became weaker, and weaker, until she was so old her voice was quieter than a dropping pin, yet so loud. People were used to her song filling her ears. It wasn’t over, not for Ruth. It wasn’t over yet. And so more years passed and her voice was on the verge of falling out. Finally she sang her last note: “My most fervent wish is that I will not be replaced until a new president is installed” and just like that, her breath ran out, and her voice stopped. The courtroom went silent. Nobody sang. The voices she had tuned out would begin to be heard again, and the choir that sang behind her would try their best to keep harmony without her, but not yet. Nobody dared to utter a single note. The whole world listened in on September 18, 2020, as the nation spoke of the absence of the voice of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. The days will continue—there is no stopping them—but music will never be the same, and for now, all songs are gone. They will be, until somebody who has a voice as powerful of hers will sing her song. We will always have the echoes of her music in our ears. These echos will never fade. They are here to remind us that Ruth’s sacrifice was not in vain. They are all there is until the music starts again.
