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cadence

Writing Workshop #29: Rhythm, Phrasing, Cadence, & Narrative Arc

An update from our twenty-ninth Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop held on Saturday November 21, plus some of the output published below This week William returned to talk about rhythm, phrasing and cadence in writing, with a focus on the impact of short sentences, and the relationships between music, painting, and writing. We read sections from Song of Hiawatha (Longfellow, 1855) for its rhythm, Moby Dick and A Tale of Two Cities for their defferent versions of extra-long sentences, aloud, thinking about they impact of these stylistic choices on the reader. We listened to some performances of evocative music such as Beethoven’s 5th Symphony (the short sentence of its “Da-da-da-da”) and Rimsky Korsakoff’s “Flight of the Bumblebee,” comparing and contrasting with more lyrical, flowing phrases. The Writing Challenge: Chose one of these three approaches to your piece of writing: – Short first sentence… – Start in the middle with long ranging stances that may be held together with the glue of dashes. Don’t be overly concerned with perfect grammar on this first pass. – Write in short sentences. Entirely or mostly.  The Participants: Madeline, Helen, Liam, Keyang, Anna, Lucy, Samantha, Charlotte K, Anya, Jonathan, Tilly, Margaret, Olivia, Angela, Ava, Emma, Maddie, Enni, Ying, Analise, Nova, Rachael, Madeline S, Juniper, Janani, Lucy, Georgia, Elbert, Suman, Lena D, Sophie, Tegan, Peri, Lina K, Charlotte M, Nami. Araliya, 11Sandy Hook, CT The Statue Araliya, 11 I ran as fast as I could. Dashing through the thick brush. The moon followed. I heard loud footsteps behind me. I ran faster. Then I came across an abandoned building. I ran towards the building as a dark figure approached the clearing I had been at before. The dark figure looked around to see where I was. With no luck of finding me, it walked away. Once the dark figure left, I went to look around the abandoned building. I came across a statue of a raven. I looked into the ruby red eyes of the statue as though to be alive. As I walked away, I looked back to see that the raven statue was gone. I look around wondering where it could be because I know that it could not have just come alive and walk away, could it? I ran out of the building terrified. I ran back into the woods just to find the dark figure running towards me. I turn around and I run into the raven statue. I look back to find the dark figure and then it hit me. The dark figure was the raven statue. The dark figure was a shapeshifter. Lena D., 12Coarsegold, CA A Room, My Room Lena D., 12 The floorboards creaked as I entered the hallway. My bedroom door was open a crack, so I pushed my door back as I entered my dark room, the fan looming over me like dozens of eyes. I turned on my lamp which hadn’t been dusted in weeks The photos of my photo collage stared at me as I remembered when I took those photos. Me when I was eleven, with my brother on the day before Easter. A photo of my grandparents’ cat. All of those memories enveloped me like a blanket that secured around me. The sun shined in my eyes as I closed them, wondering what it would be like when I grew up. I leaned against the cold wall against my bedroom and wished that this pandemic would stop. Underneath the photos, there lay a cardboard shelf, which I hadn’t put anything in there in days My desk, which I got when I was ten, had a bunch of stuff on it. Christmas cards for my friends Sketchbooks for me to draw on. A photo frame with pink fabric that had a rainbow embroidered onto it. On the left there lay a turtle lamp, which my grandmother gave to me. On the right, there lay a can of my pens that I hadn’t used that much. Next to my bedside table, there lay a bookcase, which I turned into a dresser. I bought a mirror with my own allowance, and beneath there lay my hairbrush. Dust. Nothing but dust. Clouds came into the distance, pouring sudden raindrops as I looked out my window, listening to music with my headphones plugged into my ears. Not a noise. I took my headphones out of my ears to hear loud birds chirping in the distance as I crawled under the blankets to hear my dog barking, at a package that just arrived. Peri Gordon, 11Sherman Oaks, CA Uncontrollable Peri Gordon, 11 It would only spread. It was huge. It was larger than any other that I’d seen, even on television. It was picking up speed faster than I could bear, faster than anyone could control. It ravaged buildings, which couldn’t control their stillness. It murdered people, who couldn’t control their small size. Orange, red, yellow, who knew? It was all those things that we are not. We are not powerful, or unstoppable, or undefeatable. The fire was still picking up speed. I ran. My friends ran. My family ran. We all ran. We didn’t know where, or why, or how. We were weak. We were tired. The fire was angry, punishing. Why? I didn’t know the answer. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to save anyone. I couldn’t bring my home with me. I hoped to bring my friends with me, my family with me. Because I understood something. The fire wasn’t controllable. But neither were we. Enni Harlan, 14Los Angeles, CA Cunning Enni Harlan, 14 The sea is dark. The sky is darker. The waves are murky. The air is clear. The floor is shaking, this way and that, jerked around like a kite in a storm. I cannot see my feet, and yet I feel them trembling, planted on the moving deck. Waves crash against the scarlet hull–at least I know it was scarlet in daytime. At night, where we stand, the