An update from our fourteenth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday September 25, plus some of the output published below For this workshop on translation, we decided to switch things up a bit. Rather than teach the class towards one prompt and thus one finished piece of writing, the workshop was geared towards teaching three separate mini prompts, leaving the students with three finished works. To begin, we looked at two paintings depicting translation by way of angels moving from one place to another: The Translation of the Holy House of Loreto by Saturnino Gatti and The Miraculous Translation of the Body of Saint Catherine Alexandria to Sinai by Karl von Blaas. Next, we read four different translations—Clive James, Robert Pinsky, Mary Jo Bang, & John Ciardi—of the first nine lines from Dante’s Inferno in order to show how stylistically different translations can be, especially noting that of Mary Jo Bang. We then looked at two different translations—Jane Hirshfield & Robert Haas—of Basho’s haiku “Kyoto,” noting how the word “even” in Haas’ translation dramatizes the situation of the poem. Lastly, we looked at an english to english translation of Hamlet’s famous “To be or not to be” soliloquy and compared it to the original, noting how the original was definitively more beautiful. All of these examples were intended to formulate an answer to the question, “What matters most in translation?” Before writing, we considered that what is most important may be transferring literally one word into another language, conveying emotional accuracy, or capturing the tone, mood, or psychology of a piece. The Participants: Emma, Clara, Sinan, Lina, Ellie, Josh, Simran, Alice, Svitra, Ethan, Shilla, Olivia, Nova The Challenge: A challenge in three parts: Homolinguistic translation: In 10-12 minutes translate the poem “Ships” by Tomaz Salamun “english to english” by substituting word for word, phrase for phrase, line for line, or as a “free” translation as response to each phrase or sentence. Or translate the poem into another literary style or a different diction. Homophonic translation: In 10-12 minutes, take a poem that you can pronounce but not necessarily understand—in this case “70” by Catullus, written in Latin—and translate the sounds of the poem into english. Nonlinguistic translation: In 10-12 minutes, listen to several sounds (click below) and translate them into words. https://stonesoup.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/Sound-file-from-How-Stories-Work—Writing-Workshop-14-Translation_09252021.mp4 Svitra Rajkumar, 13(Fremont, CA) Bubbling Brook Svitra Rajkumar, 13 The warbling brook bubbled loud and clear In rhythm with the other whimsical sounds Alluring noises attract squirrels Dancing through the air Inaudible voices swirl Whispering into your ears and clouding your brain Manipulating your mind Until nothing lies but the intoxicating calls Of the bubbling brook Two Poems: Freeway & Frog Land Ethan Zhang, 9 Freeway Cars jostled by, Creating and messing with wind, Creating and messing with sounds. A crescendo, A diminuendo. My hair wavers in the wind, As if lemongrass dancing to a rhythm. Frog Land Frogs jump about, Enlarging their mouths, And croaking. A strange language, In a strange land, Of frogs, Of nature, Of sounds.
how stories work
How Stories Work-Writing Workshop #12: Metaphor
An update from our twelfth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday September 11, plus some of the output published below Conner Bassett began our fall session of writing workshops with a question: what does it mean to write fiction or poetry? His answer? To put into language what is inherently nonlinguistic. This definition, he realized, could be simplified into one word—metaphor. From there we defined metaphor (a comparison between two things), using famous phrases such as “Life is a highway” & “All the world is a stage” as examples. Through a reading of Emily Dickinson’s “Hope is the Thing with Feathers,” we learned how metaphors can help us make abstract concepts into concrete images. To further this point, we looked at two works of art published in the September 2021 Issue of Stone Soup—I Feel Music by Serena Li & The Hidden World by Sabrina Lu. Next, we learned how metaphors can help us understand complex ideas and emotions through a discussion surrounding the line “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!” from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. This concept was strengthened by visual metaphors seen in the Egyptian Icon The Ladder of Divine Ascent and Wyeth’s Christina’s World. Finally, we learned how metaphors transform one thing into something completely different so that we can see it in a new way. Examples used to back up this concept were a sentence from John Green’s The Fault in our Stars, a few lines from Sylvia Plath’s poem “Metaphors,” and an advertisement for sunglasses in which lenses were transformed into lemon slices. The Challenge: Two part prompt. First, write a one sentence metaphor about this painting: Norham Castle, Sunrise. Then, write a story or a poem that begins and ends with the same metaphor. The Participants: Emma, Simran, Clara, Sinan, Olivia, Lina, Josh, Ellie, Alice B, Audrey, and Svitra Svitra Rajkumar, 13(Fremont, CA) Free as a Bird Svitra Rajkumar, 13 Feathers flap, determined. Wings glide, graceful. “You can’t be a bird If you don’t fly,” they say. You can’t be a bird if you don’t try. So I watch each baby bird Flap its wings and grow. Soon it flies away But I have no choice But to stay. “Why don’t I go Towards the sky,” they ask. Why can’t I be the bird that Doesn’t Fly.
How Stories Work-Writing Workshop #10: Dystopias
An update from our tenth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop led by contributors Liam Hancock, 13, and Madeline Kline, 13, held on Saturday June 19, plus some of the output published below For this week’s workshop, we had two special guests. Madeline Kline, 13, who is a part of William’s workshop, and our very own Liam Hancock, also 13, led the workshop on the topic of dystopian stories. The two young writers delved into a thorough definition of Dystopian Fiction, plus several recent popular examples of the genre. Many people reading contemporary fiction are likely familiar with this genre, as high-profile series like The Hunger Games and Divergent are bestselling examples. Maddie and Liam went through several examples, and challenged the writers present at this workshop to create their own story in the same vein. The Challenge: Either create a dystopian world or change an existing story to incorporate some of the dystopian elements discussed. The Participants: Madeline, Simran, Sophie, Svitra, Emma, Aditi, Olivia, Sinan, Harine, Sena, Emi, Noa, Josh, Isolde, Sasha, Samantha, Audrey Svitra Rajkumar, 13,(Fremont, CA) Past Memories Svitra Rajkumar, 13 Rose was running. Although she didn’t know what she was running from and where she was going, she just couldn’t stop running. Her heart pounded like it was going to burst out of her chest. She bent down gasping for breath and trying to make sense of her surroundings. Her brain was working slower than usual and her head felt dizzy from all the continuous running. She stared up at the bright blue sky. It was an unreal blue, like the color of the ocean except burnt. The ground beneath her began to crack and split apart, and soon she was falling. Rose felt as if she had been falling for hours but the scream couldn’t make it out of her mouth. It was stuck halfway up her throat. If you thought about it, falling was actually very peaceful before you reached the ground. How did she even get here in the first place? She couldn’t remember. Where was here? Add that to the extremely long list of things she didn’t know yet. Rose peered at the vivid orange clouds in front of her. The sun was starting to set and she still hadn’t seen any sign of a surface. She was tired of falling, looking at the same scenery. Though it was exotically beautiful it had also become quite boring. She missed the company of her friends and family. Rose wanted to leave this alternate world that she was stuck in. She closed her eyes and the brilliant hued clouds faded from her vision. It was dark. Rose couldn’t see anything. At one point she wondered if her eyes were even open. Was this a dream? Her memories flooded back to her, but they didn’t feel like her own. She felt around with her hands and touched a switch sort of thing. Rose flicked it upward but nothing happened. She waited for a few minutes but the room remained dark. Suddenly, the room filled with a warm glow, and she cringed away from the abrupt brightness. She was in a completely different area. Maybe even a different dimension… Was this a dream of some sort? Rose began to take in her new surroundings. She peered upward at the tall ceiling and the many sparkling chandeliers that dangled from it. Aditi Nair, 13, (Midlothian, VA) The Gift Aditi Nair, 13 A clattering drip-drop of rain frightened even the slightest bit of light. The wind whispered through the crowd, enveloping each individual in fear. They stood, open-eyed, awaiting the announcement–the moment of destiny. Avery was among the citizens. She spotted others brushing off the slightest bit of dust from their clothes, or as some called it, rags. When people from High Lethamade an appearance, they always had to look their best. The town square was usually a lively place with smiles and laughter, but it seemed as if even the weather wasn’t cooperating. “You are all gathered here for one reason, to make Letha a better place, a better home,” the tallest man on the podium elucidated. His eyes hid behind chestnut locks of hair, and everyone could sense the annoyance and lack of energy just from his voice. All knew the lies that he told. Letha was not complete; it was broken and empty. Split between the rich, poor, and the in-between. High Letha would have been a nice place to live if the denizens kept to themselves with humility. Avery rolled her pale blue eyes. It did not matter if the man who spoke forgot his line or if he messed up a little, but if she made the slightest wrong gesture, that would be her death wish. The Board could not stand differences, and no one went against their word. No one. “… living amongst the shadows of both the Rights and the Lefts, you should know where you stand. Thank you all, and I will now let my friend from The Board speak,” he concluded. His speech catalyzed a wildfire of murmurs. Avery nervously scanned the people around her. Everyone was talking about her sister, Aura. Aura was a Left. A rebel. The Board gave her the gift of dance, but her heart was in music. Anyone who went against or ignored their gift was deemed a criminal. Aura was a sweet and loving girl, but no one liked a Left.“ Hello, everyone. Glad you made it to this place. Avery Zecker, please come up to the podium for your gift,“ the member from The Board announced. The whispers halted; it was as if the world paused right before her eyes. Desperately grabbing onto the only sliver of hope, she prayed to receive the gift of Knowledge. “We, The Board, present to you a gift; the gift of prophecy.”
