An update from our sixteenth Weekly Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop, plus some of the output published below The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers. Every Friday, we meet for an hour-and-a-half via Zoom to respond to a new writing challenge, write together in our virtual room, and then share what we have written with one another. Our session on July 17 was joined by young writers from across the US, as well as in France and the UK. This was also the second time we have had a participant lead the Writing Workshop; Stone Soup contributor Liam Hancock, 13, led us in a very fascinating presentation about mixing genres of writing. Thank you, Liam! Our discussion started with a brief definition of “mixing genres,” or “cross-genre,” which is when a piece of writing uses more than one genre. This was followed by a clip from the 2009 movie-adaptation Coraline, and more information about the book (which is by Neil Gaiman). Liam talked us through identifying different genres in Coraline, and for the most part, we all agreed that it was a mix of horror and fantasy. After this, we learned a little bit about nonsensical poetry, and how it can be an example of mixing genres. The poem we analyzed was Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll. Next, we looked at a few portraits, and thought about how people can represent mixing genres. Finally, we listened to an excerpt from a jazz song performed by Bessie Smith, Sobbin Hearted Blues, and talked about how music can also include cross-genres. Altogether, cross-genre was a very fun topic to learn about and gave rise to some great discussions! Read on to experience some of the powerful writing created in the workshop! The Writing Challenge: Write a story, poem, or play which mixes genres. The Participants: Liam, Heather, Ever, Nami, Sophia, James, Aditi, Kanav, Simran, Ma’ayan, Sasha, Shel, Charlotte, Suman, Vishnu, Araliya, Tilly, Abi, Anya, James, Michele, Sneha, Sonal, Enni, Ally, Abi, Madeline, and more… Anya Geist, 14Worcester, MA The Boy in the Basement Anya Geist, 14 A little boy Was in the basement Of a house so old and crumbly The doors were rotted The windows cracked The floors creaked and groaned And every night When the moon shone upon A scraggly tree out front The winds would blow And wrack the house In ghastly shivers and chills The little boy did not mind, though For unlike you might think, His basement was not moldy and gross It did not brim with fungi Nor be as cold as ice Nor house the same dreariness as everywhere else The basement was small With concrete walls And a flickering light overhead But the boy had painted the walls Had painted the ceiling, the floor In a flowery garden Meadows stretched As far as he could see And clouds dotted the sky The boy’d rest Upon a drawn willow tree And slowly close his eyes As he rested As he drifted into sleep Dreams would come -But were they dreams? Or was he truly transported To the fields which made up his life? Heather Sierra, 10Mountain View, CA Mio Heather Sierra, 10 Mio Akiyama had always been the odd one out. She tried to blend in, at home, at school, but no matter how hard she tried, she always stuck out. It wasn’t that she looked different, no. She looked nearly identical to the other girls in her class. She had long, black hair, and gray-brown eyes. That wasn’t it. And she wasn’t poor or rich either, somewhere in between. It was that Mio was left handed. . . and because of her friend, the only friend she had that made her stick out from the crowd. Mio stood on the porch of her two-story house, clutching her schoolbag. She watched carefully, hoping she wouldn’t be spotted by any of the other kids at her school. No! Mio thought, seeing two girls walking down the concrete street. One had short, brown hair, laughing. The other had long black hair, and was gripping the other girl by the arm. Mio, embarrassed at being seen, ducked back into the house. I guess I’ll. . . wait. Mio decided. “Mio!” Mio heard a voice, her friend Ritsu’s. Oh no, not now! Mio cracked open the door of her house to see Ritsu. “Hi.” Mio said shyly. “Hi!” Ritsu grinned. She had short, brown hair; her bangs held up with a yellow headband, “C’mon, hurry. We ’ll be late for fifth grade! Move it! Move it!” Ritsu grabbed Mio’s left hand and jerked her down the street, chasing the two girls up ahead. Wham! Mio and Ritsu crashed into the two girls up ahead, the two that Mio had intended to avoid. “Ow-meow!” one of them mewed. Cat? Are they cats? No way! Mio thought. She opened her eyes from where she’d bumped the laughing girl’s back. Instead of the uniformed girl she’d just seen less than ten minutes ago, she saw a brown striped tabby. How could this have happened? Mio thought. “Ritsu! Come back!” Mio yelled, spotting Ritsu up ahead. But when Mio squinted closer at her friend, she only saw another cat, this time a black one. Mio shuddered, breaking into a panicked run. She arrived at school, and leapt into her classroom, only to find the the striped tabby and a black-and-white cat there. Those two girls! They’re those cats! Mio realized. “Oh, it’s you.” a voice sneered. Mio whirled around to find the striped tabby. “H-how c-can I u-understand y-you?” Mio stuttered nervously. She glanced frightened around her classroom. It was normal, like the one she’d had the year before. There was nothing out of the ordinary, just desks and bookshelves. The tabby didn’t answer Mio’s question, but continued, “Mio Akiyama, what are you doing here without your protection?” Mio turned away shyly, but turned back. Ritsu wasn’t her protection! “M-my p-protection?” Mio asked, quieter than she’d wanted. “Haha, Ritsu.
William Rubel
Weekly Writing Workshop #15, Friday July 10, 2020: Writing With Alliteration
An update from our fifteenth Weekly Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop, plus some of the output published below The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers. Every Friday, we meet for an hour-and-a-half via Zoom to respond to a new writing challenge, write together in our virtual room, and then share what we have written with one another. Our conversation on July 10 was attended by young writers from across the US, as well as in France and the UK. Our topic was “writing with alliteration” and how alliteration can enhance what we write. (Alliteration is where the words in a sentence start with the same letter. For example: Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.) We started off by reading a few tongue twisters, since most tongue twisters rely on alliteration. Next, we listened to the opening measures of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, since they contain a rhythm that repeats itself over and over again, similar to alliteration. We also thought about using alliteration in a more precise way, and how we can put it into certain places in our writing to give off a specific effect. To see how this worked, we all found a story or poem that we had written and tried to add alliteration to it. After sharing out a few examples, we then set out to create a new piece of writing which used alliteration. Read on below to get a feeling for some of the powerful writing we were given a glimpse of in this session! The Participants: Allie, Rhian, Liam, Enni, Nami, Maddie, Simran, Sophia, Peri, Shreya, Kanav, Ma’ayan, James, Raeha, Janani, Heather, Gracie, Ally, Abi, Lena, Simone, Charlotte, Sneha, Tilly, Anya, Madeline (x 2!), and more… Araliya, 11Sandy Hook, CT Ted the Terrifying Tiger Araliya, 11 Ted the terrifying tiger Tiptoes through tangled trees His twitching tail thumping. His terrible teeth terrifying turtles. Who tumble away. Anya Geist, 14Worcester, MA Raindrops That Rattle the Water Anya Geist, 14 rain drops rattled the water sending rolling hills of ripples far, far out into the lake. the water itself was a grinning sort of grey not gross, but fresh and free. kids sat on the dock, on the raft watching rainwater splatter down onto the worn wood and then the monumental clouds the monoliths, the master of rain shirked off, sliding out of the sky the water was blue and kids burst into it soaking themselves as their splashes were the new rain drops that rattled the water Peri Gordon, 10Sherman Oaks, CA The Waterfall Place Peri Gordon, 10 A waterfall dove down into a rushing river, vivid in color, reflecting the calm cerulean sky. The land was lush, and lagomorphs would launch into the air and back down again. The waterfall watched as it steadily streamed down, down, down until it reached the beautiful body of the river. Surrounding the river were ponds, perfect pools of water in which ducks would float as gaggles of geese grazed the surface. It was a pleasurable area, precious as a pearl, picturesque as a painting. There was never a cloud in the sky, nothing but blue, with the exception of rare rainbow beams. Sophia Hou, 10Short Hills, NJ Penelope Pricklebottom Sophia Hou, 10 Penelope Pricklebottom was a particularly peculiar porcupine with prickly purple spikes. Penelope pondered, passing time under a pine. The sky shimmered and the sun sat high. She smelled something, sugary and sweet. Perhaps a papaya, parsnip, or pistachio pie? Piano prodigy Penelope Pricklebottom surmised she had perfect performances, others simply said a single word: pompous. Kanav Kachoria, 11Potomac, MD The Dry Desert Kanav Kachoria, 11 Everyone knows about the dry desert. Its soft sand and drifting dust flings into the air making the sky so unclear to see. It rarely rains in the dry desert, as there still is not even a wet wonderful cold drop of water since 10 years ago. The torching temperature can reach up to 115 degrees some days, maybe even higher! The rattling snakes and small scorpions raid the desert. You don’t want to come close to them, as they will make you suffer severely stabbing pain everywhere in your body. It’s a whole different world out there, so beware beware of the dry desert. Madeline Kline, 12Potomac, MD Art Contest Madeline Kline, 12 The first one I pass Flower field with towering trees The second one I pass Dreary day with boring books The third one I pass Cantankerous child throwing torturous tantrum over delicious delicacies After I pass more And time for awards Blue ribbon goes To Cantankerous child Because torturous tantrums Are relatable realitiesmmmm Madeline Nohrnberg, 13Cambridge, MA Silver Swans Madeline Nohrnberg, 13 Seven silver swans Silently swim seaward Swooping softy, Steadily, swiftly Out into the opaque open ocean Gracefully gliding home.
Weekly Writing Workshop #14, Friday July 3, 2020: Create a Character Sketch (in writing)
An update from our fourteenth Weekly Writing Workshop! A summary of the workshop, plus some of the output published below The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers. Every Friday, we meet for an hour-and-a-half via Zoom to respond to a new writing challenge, write together in our virtual room, and then share what we have written with one another. Our conversation on Friday July 3 was attended by young writers from the US, the UK, and France. Our discussion started with us looking at artist’s sketches, so that we could get a feel for their roughness, how the artist only draws the significant parts of their character, so that we could translate this into our writing. We also read a few excerpts from texts where a character was described, so that we could get an idea of the different ways to describe a character. We examined a few sketches and paintings to identify what the most important parts of the characters were, and then we wrote for ten minutes, creating a simple sketch for a character of our own design. Then, after we shared a few of our pieces, we went back to writing, this time, to create a new character and to place them in a story. This showed the contrast between the simple sketch that we wrote first, and the more complex one that we wrote second. Read on below to get a feeling for some of the powerful writing we were given a glimpse of in this session! The Writing Challenge: Write a character sketch (or two) that gives the reader a vivid image of your character. The Participants: Ever, Maddie, Sneha, Alice, Lena, Peri, Tilly, Hera, Lucy, Anya, James, Abi, Sophia, Enni, Kanav, Shaili, Janani, Gracie, Aditi, Kathy, Sara, Madeline, Rachel, Charlotte, Seraj, and more . . . Araliya, 11Sandy Hook, CT The Giant Man Araliya, 11 A giant of a man stood in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. His voice was a very loud grunt. Every time he stepped, the ground shook. He just stood there waiting for an invitation to come in. Five minutes later, he walked into the house and said, “where is Sabre Williams?” Sneha Arun, 10San Jose, CA Mourning Sneha Arun, 10 A long black veil covered her pretty face. She clutched a photograph of him smiling. She was mourning. The features of her face could be seen only when you approached her closely. Her wavy blonde hair curled softly at her shoulders. Her rosy red lips betrayed a sense of foreboding as they morphed into a sad smile. Her blue eyes seemed vacant. She seemed to look beyond the masses of people that tried to comfort her. Out of each eye, came a stream of tears, leaving her eyes red and puffy. She walked into the house, feeling her sadness drown her, while her delicate lace dress formed pools of water. She felt alone in this big world, her one solace was that her husband would always be in her heart. Heather Sierra, 10Mountain View, CA Shoes Heather Sierra, 10 The mother pulled her black hair into a ponytail. She sat on a rough, torn, gray airport seat with a tiny girl in her lap, crowded in by hundreds of others. The girl seemed much happier than the mother. She had a sweet smile on her face, and her big brown eyes were bright with curiosity. She looked around, her long, brown braid that hung down her back swiveling alongside her head. “Mama?” she whispered in a voice so low and quiet, yet so sharp and loud to her mother’s listening ears. “Yes, darling?” her mother replied, tucking her long, silky ponytail into the blackish-colored hood of her jacket. The little girl, who looked about five or six didn’t reply. She either had forgotten her question or no longer cared. The girl’s eyes were glued to an advertisement, something with bold letters and cheery images that her mother couldn’t quite see from the distance between them. The little girl was mesmerized by the illustration on the billboard. The little girl slowly slid off of her mother’s lap, leaving her solemn mother behind. Tucking her too-tight and fading purple shirt into her rainbow, flowing skirt, she began to walk toward the billboard, her tight, clicking, black shoes, tapping against the tile floor. “Come back!” her mother cried, although not nearly loud enough to be heard through the airport chaos. The girl toddled along, taking each step carefully, her black sneakers tap-tapping against the cold metal floor of the airport. Approaching the advertisement, she stopped. There was a brilliant drawing of a black-and-blue pair of shoes, blue on the heels, black laces, and an extraordinary paragraph of unreadable words. “Shoes.” the girl pronounced the word with ease and gentleness, an important word to her. She looked down at her own pair, battered and old yet still comfortable and soft. The laces were well-worn and appeared tired of being knotted so many times. The girl loved the billboard with all of her heart. How much she would give to have a pair of shoes like those. “Come back!” her mother called, finally speaking up again. The little girl looked up at her mother, toward the sign, and back to her mother, as if trying to decide which was more important. Pulling her braid tight in her little girl grip, she wandered back to her mother’s seat. Without a word, she smiled up at her mother, the big, happy smile that she’d started with, and said one word, just one word: “Shoes.” Anya Geist, 14Worcester, MA Two Characters Anya G., 14 1. Like the rest of his body, his face was small. Not smushed in any way, just petite. His features were slightly sharp, like a dulled
