What song have you had on repeat lately? Write a poem that incorporates the song.
Stone Soup Magazine for young readers, writers, and artists
Saturday Newsletter: August 8, 2020
“Canadian Beach” by Tessa Papastergiou, 11 (Kitchener, Ontario, Canada) Published in Stone Soup, February 2019 A note from Jane First things first: this is the final weekend for everyone working on a book for our 2020 Book Contest to make their final edits, take a deep breath, and submit their manuscripts via Submittable. The contest closes on Monday! Emma, our editor, is back from maternity leave and can’t wait to starting reading through the contest entries. After the strange year we have had, you might think you have all earned a rest this summer—whether you have submitted your art, music, or writing; completed a book for our contest attended our writing workshop; responded to our Daily Creativity prompts; and/or entered our weekly Flash Contests. But no—we have a new challenge for you through the rest of August! Poetry submissions will be free of charge for the rest of the month. Polish up some poems, write some new ones, and send them in for Emma to consider. Now is the time! Seize the day, keep on writing, and send us your poetry soon. This week we are highlighting another poetry collection that placed second in last year’s Book Contest, and which makes up half of our the Stone Soup summer issue: Searching for Bow and Arrows by Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer. It is also available in our online store and on Amazon as an individual ebook. These are poems about family and collective memory, reflecting deeply on experiences past, present, and future. The poem we are sharing in this weekend’s newsletter has evocative imagery, and (for me at least) is filled with melancholy: People toss wet seaweed, as if it’s a joke To lose one’s memories. We have talked before about how different individuals can experience apparently the same things completely differently, and what rich matter that is for creative work—whether it’s how we see a color, experience a flavor, feel about an event, or interpret a person’s character. This poem represents the possibilities of these differing perspectives in such a subtle, beautiful way. One person’s carefree beach game is another’s painful experience of loss, or at least a pause for thought. While we sincerely hope you are all having many, many carefree moments this summer, we also hope that you will take the time to write or make art in your more reflective moments, and that you will be bold and share your work with us when you do! Until next week, Winners from Weekly Flash Contest #18 Weekly Flash Contest #18: Choose one of three opening lines from classic novels, and use it as the starting point for your own short story. The week commencing July 27 (Daily Creativity Prompt #91) was our eighteenth week of flash contests, and produced a lot of entries. Our entrants took the opening words of Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, or I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, in all sorts of creative directions. The pieces we received ranged from stories about extreme weather to family and family history—and to some introspective narratives. We immensely enjoyed reading all of the writing we received; well done to everyone for your work on this challenge. Congratulations to our winners and honorable mentions, listed below. You can read the winning entries for this week (and previous weeks) at the Stone Soup website. Winners “Wash the World Away” by Fern Hadley, 11 (Cary, NC) “Streaks” by Rachel Feldman, 10 (Narberth, PA) “My Manderley” by Anna Haakenson, 12 (Beach Park, IL) “A Letter” by Shuyin Liu, 8 (Kirkland, WA) “Pour Your Heart Into the Sink” by Alice Xie, 12 (West Windsor, NJ) Honorable Mentions “No Possibility” by Katherine Bergsieker, 12 (Denver, CO) “The Light Will Come Through Again” by Sneha Jiju, 12 (Chandler, AZ) “Dream and Dream More . . .” by Prisha Aswal, 7 (Portland, OR) “In the Kitchen Sink” by Allie Dollar, 11 (Monticello, FL) “Deadly Heat Wave” by Nishil KC, 10 (Chantilly, VA) Highlights from the past week online Don’t miss the latest content from our Book Reviewers and Young Bloggers at Stonesoup.com! In her poem “Gas Mask,” Madi captures a scary scene in just a few words. Samson, 13, writes a similarly frightening poem, perfectly describing the feeling of “Overwhelming Panic.” Grace, 11, reviews the book The Remarkable Journey of Coyote Sunrise by Dan Gemeinhart. Read her post to learn why it’s one of the few books that has “truly spoken” to Grace. Check out Aaron’s digital artwork—a portrait of him as an island. Plus, read his paragraph that explains the work, including how it relates to the pandemic. Read Jackson’s short, humorous piece called “Quarantine Robbery.” We posted an update from our writing workshop #18, where the topic was writing about food. So many creative pieces written during the workshop! Have you ever been to Norway? Vivaan writes his latest travelogue on his time in the Scandinavian country, with beautiful pictures of the fjords and some recommendations for where to visit. Julia, 13, wrote a story called “My Starduster Friends,” which tells the tale of one girl’s time in quarantine and the book series she picks up and can’t seem to put down. In “The Invention,” Mckenna, 8, dreams of a world where a young girl creates a machine to make life during coronavirus much easier. From the July/August 2020 issue of Stone Soup Memories Caught in Seaweed by Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer, 13 (Brookline, MA) From Searching for Bow and Arrows, awarded Second Place in our 2019 Book Contest! >Wet feet on the sand Touching the seaweed. Memories dissolve in the tide, People toss wet seaweed, as if it’s a joke To lose one’s memories. Yet when the seaweed dries in the sand, It forms a grid And returns to life . . . Memory restored. To read more of the collection, go to your copy of the Summer issue of Stone Soup, or purchase the ebook version of Searching for Bow and Arrows in our online store or at Amazon. 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:
Flash Contest #18: Use a classic opening line as a starting point: Our Winners and their Work!
Flash Contest #18: Use a classic opening line as a starting point. The week commencing July 27 (Daily Creativity Prompt #91) was our eighteenth week of flash contests, and produced a lot of entries. Our entrants took the opening words of Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, and I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, in all sorts of creative directions. The pieces we received ranged from stories about extreme weather, to family and family history, and to some introspective narratives. We immensely enjoyed reading all of the writing we received; well done to everyone for your work on this challenge, and especially to our Winners and Honorable Mentions, listed below. Read on after the list of winners to enjoy the winners’ work for yourselves. Winners Wash the World Away by Fern Hadley, 11 (Cary, NC) Streaks by Rachel Feldman, 10 (Narberth, PA) My Manderley by Anna Haakenson, 12 (Beach Park, IL) A Letter by Shuyin Liu, 8 (Kirkland, WA) Pour Your Heart Into the Sink by Alice Xie, 12 (West Windsor, NJ) Honorable Mentions No Possibility by Katherine Bergsieker, 12 (Denver, CO) The Light Will Come Through Again by Sneha Jiju, 12 (Chandler, AZ) Dream and Dream More… by Prisha Aswal, 7 (Portland, OR) In the Kitchen Sink by Allie Dollar, 11 (Monticello, FL) Deadly Heat Wave by Nishil KC, 10 (Chantilly, VA) Fern Hadley, 11 Cary, NC Wash the World Away Fern Hadley, 11 Like Mom quoted Jane Eyre a few times: “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.” It perfectly describes today. I stare through the window, my chin propped on my hand as I watch sheets of rain fall from the sky in waves, bouncing off the asphalt. Rain is collecting on the window’s mesh board like dewdrops on spiderwebs. For the most part, I love rain. Sometimes when humid storms sweep across the city, I go outside, my arms outstretched, my face turned to the sky. There I’ll stand, my eyes closed as warm raindrops fall onto my face. At night, rain is my lullaby. I can hear the gentle patter of raindrops through my window, and the melodic rhythm soothes me to sleep. But today, the rain appears no more than a nuisance. Beside me, Luna gazes out the window with me with an intrigued expression. I stroke her silvery grey fur as I wonder if she ever wishes she could stand outside in the warm rain like I sometimes do. We don’t allow her out for her own safety, although I think she wants to. “I wish it wasn’t raining,” I confess to Luna. “Now I can’t take a walk.” Or can I? Luna glances at me with wide blue eyes before turning back to the window. Her eyes look like the window’s glass, clear and wet with rain. Sometimes cats are better companions than humans because they can’t talk. “Honey, where are you?” I look over my shoulder. “I’m over here. By the window.” My mother steps into the living room. “There you are. What do you want me to make you for dinner?” “I don’t know.” I rub Luna’s chin as I continue to watch the rain. “If you don’t care, I’ll make lasagna,” Mom offers. She knows I hate lasagna. “Just make Dad’s favorite,” I sigh. “Tacos?” “I said Dad’s favorite.” I glare at her. “I didn’t say Stanley’s favorite.” Mom sighs. She leans against the wall and crosses her arms. “Hon, we’ve been through this before.” “You asked me what I want for dinner.” She ignores me. “Look, I know Stanley can’t ever replace your father. But both you and me had to get through the loss of your father, so please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be, okay? Stanley’s doing his best right now, and I am too.” “Mom, all I said was that I want Dad’s favorite for dinner.” Mom shuts her eyes. For a moment I regret what I said, but then she just turns and walks back into the kitchen. I feel even worse. I keep staring out the window, hoping that the rain would let up. Pulling my phone out, I check the weather app. It tells me that it won’t stop raining until ten in the evening. I grumble and shove my phone back into my pocket. Suddenly, an idea escapes from the depths of my mind. I quickly catch it before it can flutter away as swift as it came. Memories emerge to the surface. That, I inform myself, is a stupid plan. I decide to do it anyway and race out the back door. The screen door slams behind me. “Honey, what are you up to?” my mom calls from the kitchen. “Be back soon!” I yell back. Only moments after I leave the house, I’m soaked. I didn’t bother to bring a sweater, and I don’t care. I fly down the block, the sound of my footsteps lost in the storm. Past the forest. Over the fence. Through the field. Make a left. I run past my house, where Mom may or may not be making Dad’s favorite. I run past the school, the library, the cafe. I run past the mall, the warehouse, the police station. All the while, the storm is relentless. I decide I need a break. I sit down on a bench in the park, catching my breath as the rain drenches my hair. The first time I ran in the rain was before I even joined track. Dad had still been alive then, and he used to run with me all the time. “Where are you two going?” Mom stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Just taking a walk or something,” Dad grinned. Mom shook her head. “ ‘There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.’ ” “What is that—Peter Pan?” “Jane Eyre.” Mom put her hands on her hips. “You shouldn’t be taking a walk in the rain. You two could
