Spend 15 minutes thinking about HEAVINESS, and write down every word you associate with it–different nouns, verbs and adjectives; colors, sounds, weather, moods, places, people–as many as you can. Read through your word list, and use the images and ideas that most appeal to you to write a one-page story or 10-line poem that really conveys the feeling of heaviness to your readers.
Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists
Saturday Newsletter: October 10, 2020
“Rocks at Pohoiko Beach” by Lila Raj, 11 (San Francisco, CA) Published in Stone Soup October 2020 A note from Emma Before you read this, scroll down to the bottom of the newsletter to read Daniel Shorten’s poem “Afterthought.” It is one of the best poems I have read all year. I can describe what happens in the poem very simply: in it, the narrator goes to see a play (or perhaps a movie); then he goes home. But there is so much more “happening” in it than that. The poem is titled “Afterthought.” To be an afterthought is to be secondary, peripheral, on the margins. This poem is about what it feels like to be an afterthought. It opens by situating the narrator in space: Just in front of the back wall Was my seat Full of salty popcorn He is in a theater. His seat is all the way at the back, and it hasn’t been cleaned—it’s filled with someone else’s spilled popcorn. Both of these things indicate the narrator’s marginal status: he is literally on the edge of the theater, about to occupy a seat that’s been neglected, or overlooked, by the theater’s cleaners. The status of the seat which the narrator occupies reinforces his own peripheral status. It continues: No curtain went up There was no curtain The fact that there is no curtain indicates that there wasn’t a clear separation between the audience and the actors, reality and the play. Everything occurring on stage seemed immediate, close. In the following lines, the narrator describes some of the action in the play; however, he doesn’t announce he will be doing this, which creates a sense of immediacy for the reader as well. It seems as if the things he describes are “actually” happening—in real life, not on stage: A poor man buried his children Who will bury me he wept A dog barked suddenly Then Michael stoned the rabbit And Peggy said the leg stinks Straight away, Michael said you stink There is grief, violence, and humor in these lines. The “poor man” who buried his children has become a peripheral figure, an afterthought himself. “Who will bury me he wept”—a question that carries other questions within it: Who will care for me? Who will love me? Who will call me every Sunday? As if to reinforce his now-marginal status, the focus shifts quickly away from the “poor man”—to the dog and then to Michael and Peggy, who are not definitely peripheral figures. They aren’t standing on the sidelines, weeping—they are out in the world, killing and eating a rabbit, and talking to each other. They are at the center of life. From there, the poem returns to the narrator’s experience, concluding like this: All I could smell was cola As we got back on the bus A man and a woman kissed Who will bury me? In these final lines, we see once again that the narrator feels marginal. The bus he returns to smells like cola—no one has bothered to clean it for them. Then a man and woman kiss—they are not peripheral; they have each other. While the narrator is alone, wondering, like the “poor man” from the play, Who will bury me? You will notice that throughout, Daniel does not use what you might normally think of as “poetic” language. Instead, he uses short, direct sentences and simple vocabulary—most words only have 1–2 syllables. This gives the poem an immediacy and directness as well as a deceptive plainness! I hope you enjoyed my academic reading of this poem! I know many of my students often wonder about “intention” when we read poems closely, as I have read this one. I had a teacher once tell me that, as a writer, I should always just answer yes when someone asked if I meant to do something in a poem. Because I did do it—my subconscious knew, even if I didn’t! And after a certain point, the author’s intention doesn’t matter: the author can’t ever fully know or see what she has created. They are too close to the work. That is why outside critics are so important. Your writing challenge for the weekend: using Daniel’s poem as a model, write a fifteen-line poem in simple, direct, non-poetic language about something you did or saw in the past week without explicitly saying what it was. So, if you write about going to a park, don’t title the poem “A Trip to the Park” or say, “I went to the park with my mom.” In short: don’t be afraid to confuse the reader! Often that confusion will create unexpected complexity. Until next week, Highlights from the past week online Don’t miss the latest content from our Book Reviewers and Young Bloggers at Stonesoup.com! “Coronavirus if you’re reading this, / please stop doing this!” Patrycja, 13, writes in her poem about what it was like in the spring during the beginning of the pandemic. Read the entire poem here. Ava, 10, reviewed The Whale Child by Keith Egawa and Chenoa Egawa. Read about what why she hopes there’s a sequel and how the illustrations add to the story. Olivia wrote a review of The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill. Find out why she thinks it’s not a typical fantasy novel. Contest, partnership & project news This was the first full week of October, so this week is Flash Contest week! You have until midday PDT on Sunday (Oct. 11, 2020) to complete and submit your entries. Write a Poem That Can Be Read Up or Down We are looking for a poem that can be read both from top to bottom, and bottom to top. To read examples of the kind of poem we mean, see Love Hate Relationship by Morgan Lane (12) in the February 2018 issue of Stone Soup or 11-year-old Layla Linnard’s Lost Dog from September 2019. For full contest details, submission links, and previous winners, click here. Daniel Shorten, 9Mallow, Ireland From Stone Soup October
Writing Workshop #23: Objects and Stories
An update from our twenty-third Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop held on Saturday October 3, plus some of the output published below This week, Stone Soup team member Jane Levi led a discussion about objects and their important role in building stories. We talked about useful, functional objects that might carry the action forward (referring to Chekhov’s famous comment that if you put a gun on the wall in the first scene, someone needs to fire it in the second) and symbolic objects that add additional layers of meaning for the reader which goes beyond their basic function as props. Starting with John Keats’ Ode on a Grecian Urn, where his detailed description of an ancient Greek vase becomes an opportunity for the poet to muse on time, beauty and truth, we discussed tokens from the Foundling Hospital as examples of simple things weighted with emotional significance that have inspired storytellers from Jacqueline Wilson to Charles Dickens. We moved on to think about writers like Philip Pullman and J.K. Rowling who have invented new objects or transformed the characteristics of existing ones (e.g. the alethiometer and the Mirror of Erised) to add interest and additional layers of meaning to their work, emphasising how helpful research can be. Sometimes, even a close look at the definition of words in a major source like the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) can uncover new possibilities in objects we think we already know. Finally, after a quick look at a real object (a police box) transformed into a fantastical one which almost becomes a character in its own right (Dr Who’s TARDIS), we moved into our half an hour of writing. This week, James, Madeline, Gia, Liam, Georgia, Ma’ayan and Nova read their work to the group for feedback from William and Jane. With stories involving no fewer than three different creepy dolls (!), we enjoyed some dramatic readings and a few moments of real horror, as well as some strong, evocative writing that really made us see, smell, feel and hear a range of meaningful objects from pencils to phone booths, and blankets to bracelets. Thank you everyone for another great class, and read on below to sample some of the great work produced during our workshop. The Writing Challenge: Write about an object in great detail. Make your readers able to see, hear, touch, smell it! You may choose to describe a real object, transform an existing object into a different version of itself, or invent a completely new one. The Participants: Nova, Rithesh, Katie, Charlotte, Georgia, Peri, Lucy, Simran, Scarlet, Liam, Maddie, Jonathan, Olivia, Tilly, Samantha, Janani, Helen, Madeline, Ella, Chloe, Ma’ayan, Keyang, Dana, Charlotte, Cassandra, Ava, Jayden, Maggie, Sophie, Enni, Juniper, Sierra, Elbert, Hera, Nami, Dhesh, Sophia, James, Ever, Emma, Gia, Sophia, Eden, Georgia. Lena Aloise, 11Harvard, MA The Pearl Earring Lena Aloise, 11 The house was empty, beds stripped of their linens, closet shelves bare. But in the midst of this desolate place, there was a pair of pearl earrings sitting on the windowsill. Mere pinpricks against a large expanse of rotting wood. It was very easy to miss them, if you were not looking carefully. But there they were, a fine layer of dust coating the perfect white orbs. Smooth to the touch, solid in one’s palm. A glistening surface mirrored its surroundings. He imagined a woman, dressed in her most elegant gown, putting the pearls through her ears, holding a hand mirror up to her face with the utmost satisfaction. Taking the arm of her husband and dancing, twirling, skirts billowing around her narrow frame. What had happened to the girl who had once worn something so beautiful? He shoved them deep into his jacket pocket and headed for home, boots making deep marks amongst the thick layer of white snow. The Bell Lena D., 12 It rings for a long time It dings The sound of it Makes me feel happy The essence made out of metal Touches my heart with joy Even if I am lonely It will bring cheer to the air I loved that sound Ever since I can remember I can feel its power Within the joy I sigh in happiness Forever I say that it is Not like any bell I know It’s ding Is like a great joy alarm Fire in my heart Like a burst of ember Scarly missing me Darkness collides But no I say This is not the great joy That I see everyday No It is not The great joy that I see Everyday I think deep Thoughts of the world And the darkness Is now gone From here Forever Peri Gordon, 11Sherman Oaks, CA The Chandelier Peri Gordon, 11 Nothing has been the same since I found a mysterious chandelier hanging above the spot where my regular lamp should be. It was swinging as if placed there recently, with stars, stripes, and spirals engraved into the sterling silver. Stranger still, all of the small golden flames in the little silver candle holder were all connected to a center flame, blazing blue, with sparks flying everywhere. Then I remembered my colleague was scheduled to come over. I attempted to extinguish the candles with water, which seemed to be the source of the trouble, but new flames would appear, seeming to burst out of the engravings. My dining room was a mess, with water on the floor and the chandelier more dangerous than ever. It occurred to me that the fire was not spreading or burning me or acting like fire at all. Maybe, I thought, it’s not that dangerous? Well, it was dangerous. My colleague arrived. When I didn’t let her in, she started pounding on the door, demanding I tell her what was going on. That’s when the chandelier started moving through the dining room, through the hall, and—this couldn’t be real—moving right through the door. I felt the responsibility to follow, so, even though I was scared to death, I did.
