An update from the thirty-second Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday March 19, plus some of the output published below This week, we turned our focus to two Greek words/themes—katabasis (descent) and anabasis (ascent)—both of which have a long standing tradition in literature. Before moving into examples of each, we clarified that themes of katabasis and anabasis can pertain to more than just literal plot or theme, specifically that a poem whose form becomes denser and more difficult to understand as it goes on can be understood as katabasis, and a poem that becomes lighter and easier to understand as it goes on can be understood as anabasis. Beginning with katabasis, we looked at the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, how Orpheus, the first poet, had to descend into the underworld to bring back his dead lover, Eurydice. As we looked at other examples of katabasis, like Odysseus in the Odyssey and Aeneas in the Aeneid, it became clear that oftentimes protagonists must perform katabasis in order to gain knowledge, or understanding—that they must first go down before rising up. We then moved onto anabasis, beginning with a discussion of the myth of the phoenix, a bird that is born (and reborn) from the ashes. We learned that anabasis often manifests in literature in the form of a literal rebirth, the overcoming of challenges, or the attainment of knowledge, and such characters might often be identified as enslaved, a struggling artist, a lone inventor, an underdog. We found the archetype of anabasis in examples such as Harry Potter, Aladdin, and Great Expectations. We also touched on Dante’s Divine Comedy, which combined both katabasis and anabasis. The Participants: Emma, Penelope, Amelia, Ethan, Ellie, Josh, Quinn, Gwynne, Lina, Zar, Alice, Chelsea The Challenge: Write a story or poem that uses anabasis &/or katabasis in form &/or theme. To watch more readings from this workshop, like Amelia’s below, click here. Amelia, 11
how stories work
How Stories Work—Writing Workshop #31: Irony
An update from the thirty-first Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday March 12, plus some of the output published below By popular demand, this week we focused on writing the concept of irony. We began with a few basic definitions of irony: the difference between what something appears to mean versus its literal meaning, the difference between what someone says and what someone means, and the subversion of expectation. We then discussed four different types of irony, beginning with the most common form, dramatic irony, defined as when the reader knows something that a character does not know. Olaf from Frozen, for example, we identified as an example of dramatic irony as he sings about loving summer while we, the audience, know the summer is what will be his demise, an ironic device also found in the form of Ahab in Moby Dick. The second type of irony we discussed was situational irony, defined as when the expected outcome of a situation is reversed. One such example of this was found in The Wizard of Oz, as the four primary characters in search of the great wizard found out his appearance was just a charade, and that the characters had within them what they were searching for all along. We also, of course, talked about Alanis Morrissette’s infamous song “Ironic,” and changed a few of her unironic lines so that they were actually ironic. The next type of irony we discussed was verbal irony, defined as when a character says the opposite of what they mean, exemplified by Polonius in Hamlet when he says “to thine own self be true,” the irony being that Polonius is himself a lier and a con-artist. The final and most complicated type of irony we discussed was formal irony, defined as when a work of art calls attention to itself as a work of art. In order to reinforce this type of irony, we looked at Ron Padgett’s poem, “Poem,” and the artwork of Jackson Pollock, which calls attention to itself as a painting by representing literal paint on a canvas. The Participants: Amelia, Penelope, Emma, Sophia, Nova, Gwynne, Lina, Josh, Quinn, Ellie, Samantha, Ethan, Amber, Alice The Challenge: Write a story, scene, or poem that uses at least one of the four forms of irony discussed. To watch more readings from this workshop, like Emma’s below, click here. Emma Hoff, 9(Bronx, NY) Irony Emma Hoff, 9 “You can climb up the rope,” said Sarah to Lucy. And she almost wanted it to be true because she meant to say, “I won’t be able to stand it if you fall off again.” Johnny thought he could get straight As if he pretended to be listening while he was really drawing his teacher, but he was caught after a whole month of him acting and was told that report cards would be given out in three months and that he should give up his whole charade.eds courage to build a school ! Belle’s fish was going to die, and she didn’t want her mother to get rid of it by flushing it down the toilet, but the fish died while Belle was in school, and Belle’s mother couldn’t stand looking at its dead body, so she disposed of it and got a new fish which she claimed was Belle’s perfectly healthy “old fish.” Belle never guessed and neither would Johnny have if he hadn’t been told. And Lucy fell off the rope and Sarah ran outside and cried. And Sarah read this very poem and thought about Lucy, and Lucy read it and thought about Sarah, and Belle finally guessed what she would never have guessed and Johnny remembered. And Belle’s new fish swam around until it, too, died, but Belle was guarding it with a pitchfork. And this poem unspiraled like a ball of yarn and stuck to Johnny’s cheek and made him sulk. And Lucy pretended to hug Sarah but slapped her instead, and Sarah did some more crying. And the rope in the gym sat depressed and sad and decided that it would never be climbed again, and Johnny’s drawings of the teacher were found by Sarah, who gave them to Belle, who gave them to Lucy, who gave them to the unclimbable rope, covered in post-it notes and protecting every last line of poetry that comedy concocted.
How Stories Work—Writing Workshop #30: Character Description
An update from the thirtieth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday March 5, plus some of the output published below We began this week’s workshop with an exercise; first, we chose a character from a story or novel we had been writing and then made up a new character in our minds. Once we had this new character envisioned, we wrote 3-4 sentences describing this character. From there we entered into a discussion centered around the question, “how does description work?” The answer: when a writer transforms a physical or psychological reality into written language. Our first literary example was the novel Anna Karenina as it is a classic example of a well-wrought character, however based on the book What We See when We Read by Peter Mendulsund, we found that even with a plethora of character descriptions it is difficult to create a true image of the character. This observation led us to our first basic “rule” of character description: behavioral descriptions are more effective than physical ones. We then read a few specific examples including this sentence, from Don Delillo’s White Noise, “He moved with a loser’s hunch.” Other examples came from Anna Karenina, East of Eden, and The Sound and the Fury. The second “rule” was that minimal description makes for easier visualization, that a good description withholds as much as it reveals. One such example of this came from Jonathan Safran Foer in the sentence, “He looked like nothing special.” Another, from Barbara Kingsolver: “There she was. Her elbows stuck out like wings.”The third and final “rule” of the day was that good description teaches us how to pay attention, best exemplified in this sentence from Guy de Maupassant: “He was a gentleman with red whiskers who always went first through a doorway.” The Participants: Zar, Penelope, Nova, Emma, Sophia, Alice, Josh, Amelia, Ellie, Gwynne, Chelsea, Quinn, Anna The Challenge: Write a full scene in which you describe the character(s) without naming his/her physical traits. To watch more readings from this workshop, like Sophia’s below, click here. Sophia, 12
