An update from our forty-ninth Writing Workshop A summary of the workshop held on Saturday October 9, plus some of the output published below For this writing workshop, William presented one of his revised workshop topics on thoughtful word choice. More specifically, William described the concepts of Consonance, repeating a consonant anywhere in a word, Alliteration, repeating the first consonant sound only, and Assonance, repeating the vowel sounds. After going over the classic tongue-twister example of “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,” the class moved on to some more abstract examples, including the use of repetitive motifs in music, like in Beethoven or a piece by Philip Glass. The challenge: Write a new piece full of alliteration, consonance, and assonance OR revise one of your old pieces to add more similar sounds. The Participants: Liam, Elbert, Len D, Aditi, Samantha, Kate, Kina, Faiz, Sierra, Tilly, Grace, Iago, Nami, Jonathan The Train by Jonathan Li, 12 The entire place was bustling for a view. The walking cane came into view. The strong tree now supporting the stout old man. Short but steady he walked, clacking with the energy of a pirate’s peg leg. Poor as he was, a proper walking stick needed a good pick. Smoothed after years of use, it was all he needed in life. Little old man with a walking stick, brandished like a whip. Hurrying to the train, the stick made from tree waved and waved to reach the train going westward. Soon he saw the doors start closing. Surely he would turn and give up. I heard the wild noise, the shouts implying he would be squished like a pancake pie. He saw it too, felt the wind on his three white hairs, and moved with remarkable speed. And like that, we left the platform, impacts behind, hopes ahead, and memories forever stored. Off into the sunset. Aditi Nair, 13Midlothian, VA The Silent Stream by Aditi Nair, 13 A sliver of light contoured the salient soul of the silent stream– accentuating a surplus of red posies pirouetting with the wind, while shedding light on coarse cliffs masking the dotted trees on the horizon. Colors alter the way we comprehend nature. Colors alter the way we comprehend our lives. Even the scariest of places changes our perception. Even the quietest of places has a story waiting to be told. Buoyant boulders sing with the crashing waters, and lively leaves enliven the tranquil trees, while staying close to the silent stream.
writing workshop
How Stories Work—Writing Workshop #14: Translation
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-Writing Workshop #13: Ekphrasis
An update from our thirteenth Writing Workshop with Conner Bassett A summary of the workshop held on Saturday September 18, plus some of the output published below For today’s workshop, Conner chose to focus on “ekphrasis,” meaning a creative interpretation, response, or translation of another work of art. Because ekphrasis has historically referred specifically to the transformation of visual art into poetry, we began class with this concept. First, we looked at Peter Bruegel’s Landscape with the Fall of Icarus followed by William Carlos Williams’ poem written in response, “Landscape with the Fall of Icarus.” Next, we turned to Keats’ classic poem “Ode to a Grecian Urn” in order to see clearer the benefits of ekphrasis. Then, having seen two examples of visual art being transformed into poetry, we looked at an example of the opposite in Charles Demuth’s painting of William Carlos Williams’ poem “The Great Figure,” and William Holman Hunt’s painted rendition of Alfred Lord Tennyson’s lyrical ballad “The Lady of Shalott.” To further illustrate ekphrasis’ power to transform and translate, we looked at painted examples of famous creation myths, one of biblical origin and the other of Japanese. Our final example was Michelangelo’s rendition of God giving life to Adam on the Sistene Chapel. By workshop’s end, we came to the conclusion that, in the words of student Olivia Rhee, ekphrasis “paints words into something new that lets the eyes see instead of imagine.” The Participants: Nova, Audrey, Simran, Emma, Josh, Clara, Penelope, Lina, Alice, Ethan, Ellie, Svitra, Sinan, Shilla, and Olivia The Challenge: Write a story or a poem based on Peter Bruegel’s painting The Fall of the Rebel Angels. Emma Hoff, 9(Bronx, NY) The Price of Free Will Emma Hoff, 9 People are foolish. While fighting, those great grey things climbed onto our heads and begged for air. Eyed from above, clouds were meaningless, wings that had sprouted from spines of swords. A magical thing went limp and floated. Eyed from above, claustrophobic screams and gasps and chokings, wide open mouths, slit open mouths, eyes appearing inside. Little soldiers, clockwork hearts that wish for nothing but blood, blood for new stained wood uniforms. Mussels find hiding in their own kind, they are the moth wings of fishtails. All the instrument plays is a march by Shostakovich or any kind of Tchaikovsky. I hope these composers did not mean to be programmed to the minds of battle, they only dreamed of battles like this one, a woman of candy, climbing up a tower of others. The court jester thought this would be a good place to try out his jokes, but all that is left of him is his hat, his precious hat. Baskets of fish and rice and things, and baby chicks are squishing people (and the baby chicks). The clouds released penguins or puffins, nobody’s sure, the sun has burned them too quickly. People that die look up, they see their last visions of a sunny day, and even that is clouded by fog and red and people blocking other people, and when you are lying on your back while people are stepping on your chest and ignoring you, it is hard to see anything but twisted feet, jumping women in dresses, aprons, you think you saw an apron, but it could have just been your warped point of view showing you the sky that lifts itself higher. You thought you also saw the sky puff its chest, but it was just a shape, like an egg, with eyes where the eyes of a hammer-head shark would be, with teeth and a grin, snatching wings, fairies were here, too. Audrey Tzeng, 12 (Rocklin, CA) The Box Opened Audrey Tzeng, 12 The Box Opened The box must have opened. What else could produce such things? Yes, there’s no better word for them, Some man and some animal. Some half-and-half And some neither at all. They cannot be ordered, cannot be named. Angels stabbing and hacking As man, that fiendish beast, serenely plays on. Who fights for who? They eat each other And yet they are each other. Now my head spins. For we may not even be sure of the supposed “moon” in the background. This painting turns day to night And night to day.
