An update from our fifth weekly writing workshop A summary of this week’s project, plus some of the output published below The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop, held on Fridays at 1:00 p.m. PST, is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers during the COVID-19-related school closures and shelter-in-place arrangements. We meet 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. At our session on Friday May 1, we had a record-breaking 35 participants (not counting the Stone Soup team!). We’d all agreed in advance that we would extend the session an extra 20 minutes from the original hour, so the new participants introduced themselves, and we got straight into a discussion of this week’s theme: Places we’d like to be – gardens and special private spaces, utopia, paradise… William Rubel, Stone Soup’s founder, first presented some images of beautiful gardens, forests, water and other special places in nature. Then, with Ma’ayan and Lena’s help he introduced the idea of Utopia, a new word (or neologism) coined by Thomas More in 1516, which can be translated from the ancient Greek as either “nowhere” or “good place”. Ever since then, the world’s writers and thinkers have used the word Utopia to describe any imagined or visionary world of peace, beauty, perfection and social harmony. We ended on an image of the Garden of Eden, the original Paradise of the Jewish and Christian Old Testament, where the lions and the lambs (and the mice and elephants) live in peace and harmony. There was some discussion in the chat about other religions’ different images and descriptions of Paradise, as well as some sharing of side stories about whether the snake in the Garden of Eden ever had legs, and if so, how it lost them! Before getting down to our own writing, groups members shared some brainstorming ideas for ways of thinking about the theme, that ranged from ideas about imaginary utopias or paradise, to special places personal to the group members, such as summer camp (on our minds because it may not happen this year), or the freedom and pleasure of being on a beach. The Writing Challenge: Places we’d like to be – gardens and special private spaces, utopia, paradise: real, imagined and anywhere in between! The Participants: Lena, Ever, Emily, Analise, Liam, Peri, Suman, Djin, Ma’ayan, Anya, Lucy, Georgia, Isabella, Emilia, Tristan, Gracie, Lauren, Maggie, Joanna, Sophia, Allegra, Arianna, Aviya, Kesed, Rhian, Michaela, Maddie, Nadia, Silas, Raeha, Justin, Madeleine, Kanav, Pallavi. Below you can read just a few examples of the great work that came out of this exciting, visionary workshop. Maze Analise Braddock, 9 CARA: I hate mazes. EVELYN: Don’t be silly, you’re just scared. CARA: I am not! EVELYN: Then come in the maze. CARA: Fine. NARRATOR: As they walked inside the maze’s walls it was the most beautiful vision in the land. Varieties of flowers picnicked along the evergreen walls. CARA: Race you. EVELYN: Don’t count on winning. NARRATOR: The girls ran and ran until you could hear panting from miles away. CARA: Wait where is mom and dad? EVELYN: (Shrug) CARA: Look, an opening. EVELYN: I want to spend more time in the maze, you go. NARRATOR: CARA ran to the opening astonished. It was filled with all her favorite animals in a garden that the trees were bending to guard. CARA: I always wanted a zoo. EVELYN: A garden zoo? CARA: Let’s see what else is here. EVELYN: What about my favorite things?? NARRATOR: They searched until a new opening became in sight. CARA: Look, a room that reminds me of a palace. EVELYN: You have always wanted a palace. CARA: It is all I have ever wanted. EVELYN: Hopefully there is another opening and it is something I want. NARRATOR: Once again they ran to a final entrance. CARA: Wow. NARRATOR: It was a beautiful room with silver butterflies and lined with what felt like happiness and gold. EVELYN: It is magical, let’s stay forever. CARA: No. EVELYN: Why not? CARA: Well… then I am too spoiled. I will have all of this and some have nothing. Let’s go home NARRATOR: And so they did. Where You’ll Land Silas Costa, 10 The cars whizz by like hummingbirds buzzing towards a flower. I jump back, dodging the water sprayed up from the road. I sigh and take the small paper out of my pocket. I look at the directions one more time. The taxi refused to take me any farther than Jupiter Way. Minerva Street, the tiny street I am trying to get to branches off of the Jupiter somewhere up here. I walk past Hermes Street, Mars Avenue, and Venus Street, stomping over cigarette butts and empty chip bags. Finally, I reach Minerva Street and take a left onto it. Its thinner than the rest of the streets in Olympitya, and seems forgotten. It is crowded with tight row houses standing shoulder to shoulder. There aren’t many people on the street, and only a few lights on in the houses. I look carefully for the address. Alpha, Eta, Rho. I recite the address in my head over and over, my eyes scanning the houses like a hawk searching for prey. I finally find it. It’s an older house, made of brick with a white wooden door. There aren’t any lights on, and all of the blinds are closed, so I figure there’s nobody here. I pull out the yellowed paper and check the address again. It says to go to the alley on the left side. I look up and see a gate where I am supposed to enter. I open the gate and step into the narrow alley. I checked, it’s miles to the next street, so this must be a long one. But I look ahead and see that there is another door close to me, maybe six feet away. I go forward and open the door. What I
writing workshop
Weekly Writing Workshop #4, Friday April 24, 2020: Trapped!
An update from our fourth weekly writing workshop A summary of this week’s project, plus some of the output published below The Stone Soup Weekly Writing Workshop is open to all Stone Soup contributors and subscribers during the COVID-19-related school closures and shelter-in-place arrangements. Every Friday, we meet for one hour 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. At our session on Friday April 24, we introduced ourselves and got straight into a discussion of this week’s theme: Trapped! William Rubel, Stone Soup’s founder, presented some images and ideas about being trapped, entrapment, and prisons of various kinds: Traps for birds depicted by Breughel; pulp fiction “Trapped by Love” book covers; ideas about mental traps that people set for themselves; fear of entrapment in humans and animals. Before getting down to our own writing, groups members shared some brainstorming ideas for some more specific ways of thinking about the theme. Brainstorming ideas: – trapping yourself in a bad friendship – you might know this is not a good person, but you do it anyway. – a personal barrier acting as a trap: you want something, but you somehow feel prevented from reaching it, without there necessarily being an obvious reason outside of yourself. – an emotional barrier, such as fear, anger, disappointment, being scared for something, or of what might happen if you take an action. – being trapped by other people’s expectations of you. – being caught out by an enemy (which could be a person or a thing), e.g. being trapped in a elevator. The Writing Challenge: What are your ideas around the idea of being trapped? This concept is as broad as you want to make it, and can include: traps; those who entrap; those who are entrapped (who are either very conscious of it or, for one reason or another, feel themselves not to be trapped when they are); and even those who dream of escape or have escaped! The Participants: Lena (10), Ever (10), Emily (10), Analise (9), Liam (12), Peri (10), Suman (10), Djin (10), Ma’ayan (13), Anya (13), Lucy (12), Georgia (11), Isabella (9), Emilia (6), Tristan (14), Gracie (12), Lauren (10), Maggie (11), Joanna, Sophia (10), Allegra (10), Arianna (9), Aviya & Kesed. There was a lot of free thought going on within the idea of being trapped–and as usual some great writing resulted from our half hour of concentration, which authors then read aloud to the group. There was some encouraging feedback for the writers in the chat section, besides lots of positive verbal responses to the individual readings. We are all overwhelmed by how talented all our workshop participants are, and how their ideas are just on fire for every workshop! Below you can read a few examples of this week’s great workshop output. Puppet Strings By Lena Aloise, 10 The Earth spins silently, In its unseen chains of gravity. The moon plays with the evening tide, On puppet strings. Our hearts flutter in our chests, Because our minds instruct them to. And clouds are pushed by the summer breeze. Are we all just things on our puppet strings, Being controlled by some greater force. Is the existence of humanity, Just an idea thought up by someone else? And if we are just things on a puppet string, Who is the person holding the other side? Or do we cut our puppet strings? Pave our own paths of destiny? Could it be that we bend the bars, Of the prisons of our universe? Concealed By Analise Braddock, 9 The only trap she could stumble through took her He trapped her desire concealing it in her Feeding her the past the trapped moments turn into hours Gripping her freedom but still holding the time Inside where she’s trapped and concealed Eventually she breaks out her desire forever lost Not Here By Anya Geist, 13 I’m standing, watching I know that most people Would give anything to be where I am Would love to bounce, weightless on the Moon Would love to walk in space Would love to see the Earth from afar But none of them are here They say they would love to be here But they aren’t, they’re aren’t here And I know, in my heart They won’t ever be And so I stand And I stare at the Earth Watching the clouds drift over land I remember land, the touch of soft grass I see the oceans, so expansive I remember the feeling of waves and water But will I ever see them again? Weeks ago communications went out No one has come, no one has fixed them I am here, on the edge of the Moon The place everyone dreams of being But I am not here, not in the place where everyone is Untitled By Anya Geist, 13 There is water all around me, murky and dark. Growing darker, darker. Light hardly reaches down here, in the bowels of the lake. It’s like being in a forest, a forest where evil whistles in your ear with every blow of the wind, where every crack of a branch is an enemy out to get you. The vague reflections of my friends on the surface shimmer before my eyes, mirages. I am viewing them from another world, a world no one should venture into. Oh why, why did I take the dare? Hardly anyone has ever reached the bottom of the lake? But I am trying. My chest grows tighter and my ribs and lungs feel tied together. I hardly dare to waste my breath and it seems to shrink inside me, shriveling until I barely know it’s there. Whenever I do risk a slight exhale, whenever bubbles of air rise from my nose, free to return to the sunny surface, I feel a brief respite. But it is like smelling food when you are hungry. In the end, it only makes the pain
Weekly Writing Workshop #3, Friday April 17, 2020: Spiders and Webs
An update from our third 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 during the COVID-19-related school closures and shelter-in-place arrangements. Every Friday, we meet for one hour 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. At our session on Friday April 17, we introduced ourselves (all 20 of us!) and discovered that besides Stone Soup team members calling in from Canada, the UK and the USA, we had workshop members from all over the world! This week, William Rubel, Stone Soup’s founder, set a challenge inspired by a fantastic photograph by contributor and Writing Workshop member Anya Geist (13): Web Dweller. He presented a number of other images and ideas from history and literature about spiders, including the story of Arachne, transformed into a spider by the goddess Athena as punishment for having beaten her in a weaving contest–leading to a lively group discussion. Before getting down to some serious writing, groups members shared super-quick inspirations for ways of approaching a piece of writing about spiders from an original perspective. Brainstorming ideas: – Write from the perspective of the fly caught in a web – Write about how Arachne feels once she has been turned into a spider – Investigate different aspects of the fear of spiders – Being trapped, and the fear of that: thinking about how spiders literally trap things – Try giving a positive perspective on a spider for a change! – How about the spider that likes people and wants to be loved by them, and is upset that people don’t like them? – Look into the origins of the bad vibe around spiders and make a story out of that – Tell the story of Arachne from Athena’s perspective The Writing Challenge: Write about spiders, or ideas related to spiders, in some form, from any perspective. The Participants: Ever (10), Peri, Suman (10), Alexandra, Amity, Djin (10), Emily (10), Hana, Lena, Ma’ayan (13), Anya (13), Analise (9), Liam (12), Abhi (12), Vivian (11), Lucy (12), Mico (13), Silas (10), Georgia (11), Mia Everyone was so inspired by myth, memory, and the emotions evoked by arachnids! Below you can read just a few examples of the great work–including a fantastic fairy story, poetry about history and memory, a terrifying horror tale, and poems about entrapment–that came out of this terrific workshop. Old Friend By Analise Braddock, 9 The spider she befriended lives around the corner under the desk near the collected dusk Spinning and spinning the tremendous tidal wave of the web Now she forgets The friend I had in my hands is now gone Further on the spider’s day is away from hers. Turning to dust fading away the spider remembers the good days Light would come in staining but only shading her smile In the time now she forgets Trapped By Anya G., 13 It is trapped Scuttling around under a glass Harmless, and powerless It has been caught in my web I waited, waited For it to fall into my trap There is nothing it can do It can hardly move It has met its demise But then why Do its hairy legs clutch at my chest Threatening to bite, to hurt me My stomach curls As I remember it, poised Over my head, ready to attack The wispy filaments of its web have been swept away And yet it has managed to spin a new one And trap me, like a fly, with its mind The Spider By Anya G., 13 It is waiting, lying in the dark Its end-goal so close… It prepares to pounce Children thunder above it Running down the warm, wooden dock Preparing to pounce on the cool, fresh lake They see only the summer day No thought of the spider Lounging right beneath them Has crossed their mind The children run closer to the water The spider hurries toward them They are there, jumping And the spider closes in The children crash into the lake Water obscuring the world The spider is dead, washed away And its dream of seeing daylight Has been pounced upon Peri Gordon, 10Sherman Oaks, CA Why Don’t People Like Me? A Poem Told from the Perspective of a Spider By Peri Gordon, 10 Why don’t people like me? I’m not a pest like some bugs. I don’t flit around or annoy anyone. Do people not like how I look? Why don’t people like me? I have many legs, but so do butterflies. I am often jet-black, but so are many dogs. Do people think that I am dangerous? Why don’t people like me? I’m not large and imposing like a protective mother bear. I’m not poisonous, and even if I were, it’s not like I go around biting people every day. Do people find me disgusting? Why don’t people like me? I don’t have gross habits like some humans. I eat insects, but humans eat chicken. Yuck! So what reason do people have? Why do they avoid me like I’m a plague? Why do children scream when they see me? Why can’t I have a friend? Why don’t people like me? The Spider and the Fairy By Ever Huang, 10 Out in the middle of the beautiful garden, overflowing with abundant flowers, irises and buttercups, there was a grand old maple tree. Its leaves were gleaming red, fiery and beautiful like fire. The sunbeams shone brightly on this tree sometimes, and the maple tree seemed to glow. Now, at one of the smallest intervals of two branches, a small spider made its home; its web of so many memories; of all the insects it had proudly caught. This spider had a good living from its nearly invisible web, getting houseflies, mosquitos, and sometimes bees. He had spun his treasured web for
