Child Writers Invited to Free Workshop Saturday

Young writers between the ages of 8 and 13 are invited to attend a free writing workshop at the this Saturday from 1 to 3 p.m. Participants will play writing games and get advice from other young writers about how to get published.

Organizer of the workshop, Heather MacLeod of Oakland, is a former third grade teacher and librarian who now teaches private writing classes for children in the East Bay and leads children's writing camps at the University of California. Her goal in holding the March 10 workshop is to bring together young people who want to write so they can inform and inspire one another.

“It’s really a celebration of young writers,” said MacLeod.

At the event children can bring along an example of their own writing and put it on a display table. During the event parents and children attending the workshop will write appreciative comments about the writing samples. "Bringing a sample of their own work is completely optional," said MacLeod.

One of the highlights of this Saturday’s workshop will be a presentation by editors of Our Words Magazine. The publication, by and for children, has an editorial staff exclusively comprised of 10- and 11-year-old East Bay writers.  

Our Words Magazine published by and for children

The magazine contains poetry, non-fiction articles, personal narratives and fiction stories. It is self-published quarterly by the children themselves and is currently sold for about $4 per copy at . in Alameda and Diesel Books in Oakland. Its spring edition will go on sale in early April and the deadline for children to send submissions to be considered for its summer issue is June 1. (Submissions can be emailed to ourwordsmag@gmail.com.) You can see excerpts from the magazine at the end of this article.

Kate Van Riper, 10, who lives in Oakland's Diamond District and is homeschooled, is on the magazine’s editorial board and was one of its founders along with Anais Saunders, 11, of Albany, also a homeschool student.

Other children on the current editorial board include Maya Zhu, 10 of San Leandro who attends Aurora School in Oakland and Yusef Zaloukh, 10 of Berkeley who attends Cragmont School.

The idea for the magazine was born when Kate and Anais attended a fair together and happened to see a magazine created by children published on a CD and decided they wanted to launch a similar print publication.

Now the duo and the rest of their editorial board hold regular meetings to critique writing submissions sent to them by other children and determine what will appear in the magazine. “The meetings themselves are pretty amazing,” said Maya’s mother, Leslie Salmon-Zhu of San Leandro, “they run them more professionally than some businesses I’ve known. They have agendas and offer honest appraisals of each writer's works.”

The magazine is designed completely in-house by the children with publishing software. The first edition was printed with a small loan from Kate’s mother, Kristine Wyndham. But, the loan was paid back after the first printing sold out and the magazine is now entirely self-supporting.

Each of the child writer/editors brings something different to the magazine.

Kate started writing in second grade and writes realistic fiction stories about children and their actual lives. (She wrote a 20,000 word novel in November which is still in development that she hopes to have published).

Anais writes poems and short stories with fantasy themes and says her goal is to inspire other kids to also write.

Maya began writing books two years ago. She wrote a children’s fiction book with her sister Bella, 11, and her friend Jona Wool-Baum, also from San Leandro. Maya has also completed another book about a girl facing an usual medical mystery, Synesthesia, a neurologically based condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway.

“My advice for other children is to write what comes to you, don’t write a certain way,” said Maya.

Anais said when she is reviewing writing submissions from other children she is looking for “really nice stories that are very descriptive. I’m definitely not looking for gore,” she said.

Kate said overall the editors are seeking a diversity of submissions, “We’re looking for various themes from children of different ages." She said usually they have 25 to 30 submissions for each edition but that number may increase as word of the magazine spreads.

Other opportunities for child writers this summer

MacLeod will be leading upcoming summer writing workshops offered by the .  She will offer two programs through the foundation’s new summer camp,  “Fantasy Fiction Camp” for fourth through seventh graders and an “Extreme Writing Camp” for second through fourth graders. She recommends parents interested in their children attending these camps keep checking the foundation's website here.

To register and attend Saturday's workshop

The Alameda Free Library is located at 1550 Oak Street, Alameda. The workshop will be held in the library’s Regina K. Stafford Meeting Room.  Parents are welcome to attend and observe the event. If you wish to register for the workshop please call MacLeod at 510 459-3452 or e-mail her at macleodphd@gmail.com.

Some excerpts from "Our Words" magazine

Short Stories

The Big Smash

by Ayo Duewa

It was my 10th birthday. I was going to have a big party to impress my friends.

My mom made a beautiful cake. It was shaped like a pillow, the pillow in fairy tales where they bring the glass slipper. It looked so real you simply could just lay down on it while getting your hair ruined.

But my mom knew all those things could happen, so she put it in the cabinet. That day, me and my brother were playing hide and seek. He hid in the cabinet and lay down on the soft pillow of wonders and mess.

After I found him his hair looked like a party with a big “X” on it of hopes and dreams smashed on a fly swatter, my big day just a thought. I ran to my mom while crying and screaming, thinking of ways we could fix it. When I finally got to her I was a hot mess. My thoughts ran out of my mouth like a river.

My mom joked, “Say it, don’t spray it.”

“Can we remake it?” I said.

“No time,” my mom said.

“The baker can make it.”

“The bakery’s closed.”

“We have to make a new party day!”

“We can’t, Sylvia,” my mom said.

“Mom, mom, mom!” I said while crying.

“Sylvia honey, we could always have no party,” Mom said jokingly.

“No!” I said.

“How about calling your party The Big Smash?”

I laughed. “That might work,” I sniffed.

I really just wanted to press the “Undo” button and go back to before my brother wrecked the cake. I wanted everything that could not happen.

But the Big Smash birthday was something else. That could work. Instead of everything being dainty, things could be messy. That could work. I called all my friends and told them my plan.

Now my brother was the boy who saved the fly from the swatter, took the “X” from my head.

I took the “No Boys Allowed” sign off my invitation.

(from the Winter 2011-12 Traditions Issue of Our Words)

Paris In My Eyes
by Anais Saunders

Paris, France, with its beautiful and majestic Eiffel tower.  It looks as if the whole city is being watched by its sharp and brilliant eye of splendor.  You may be wondering how I got here in the first place and so I will tell you. 

It was hot, sweltering afternoon in Concord, Massachusetts when this grand adventure began.  I had just gone outside to go read in my favorite peach tree in the corner of our sunny backyard.  I stepped down the porch steps, and all of a sudden I tripped over something.  I sat down and picked it up.  It glittered in the sun, the colors of the rainbow appearing as I turned it around in the rough palm of my hand. It must be a diamond, I thought, a huge diamond.  A vivid image of myself becoming the 11-year-old mega-millionaire flashed in my mind, and there I sat thinking of ways to use my fortune.  I thought of the headlines for the Sunday paper: “Alice Newlaw Finds Her Sparkling Fortune on Her Porch”. I glanced at it again, and all my vivid images faded away.

This was no diamond.  It was as if a black veil settled upon my thoughts blocking all imagination.  I no longer had the heart to read the adventures of Robinson Crusoe venturing on some unknown island in the center of the Caribbean.  With a long and heavy sigh I walked back to my bedroom and closed the door.  I looked at the imaginary diamond and realized it was a silver ball with the words “THE TIME MACHINE” engraved on it.  I stared at it.  I turned it around, two long sentences were written here too. They said: “TELL THIS MAGICAL BALL WHERE YOU WANT TO GO, WHICH YEAR, AND IT WILL TAKE YOU THERE.  DO NOT WORRY, YOU CAN SPEND A YEAR IN THE PLACE YOU GO TO AND IT WILL EQUAL ZERO SECONDS AT HOME.”  I gasped, my eyes getting larger and larger. “Paris,” I whispered, “1891.”

So now here I am in Paris, 1891.  My first steps in this glamorous city of France were shaky, unsure, or rather unsteady.  After two or three steps I felt right at home, like my feet had sunken into the ground, leaving an imprint there forever.  I know I keep repeating this but it really feels as if splendor were enveloping me in its blanket of richness and warmth.  A shiver of delight ran down my back. My hands and feet were tingling at the thought of my being here, walking on the land I had always wanted to walk on, the land of France.

 There is something about this city where you feel as if history stays entwined in the air. You are guided to the right place by an invisible force.  For example, I have been walking for quite a bit now and I have turned onto many streets but it is not as if I cared to turn on those particular streets. I was just led to them.  I love how it feels, so old-fashioned.  I think I have forgotten to tell you what I am wearing. It’s much more complicated than my usual jeans and a t-shirt, but despite the many details I’ll try to explain. I am wearing a very wide dress, with puff sleeves to one or two inches above my elbow.  There is a long-sleeved shirt that tucks out from the puff sleeves.  I have socks to my mid-calf and shiny black shoes. My hair is simply let down with a big pink bow stuck in on top.

It is evidently going to be night soon for the sun is setting behind the Eiffel tower.  The white puffy clouds in the beautiful blue summer sky turn a lively orange pink like a peach.  As I wander around I think of how I would find a shelter for the night, but most of all I think of home.  Concord, Massachusetts seems so very far away, across the dark and vast ocean, yet I have traveled here in a wink of the eye.  The low rattle of a carriage whisks me out of my thoughts. I look at the driver.  He tips his hat to me and says, “Madame,” in a very low serious voice though an amused smile curls his lips.  I smile and bow my head and the carriage rattles on.  I look and the once celestial blue sky has darkened into a deep indigo.  I see a tree and I am now nestled in its leafy branches, and from there I discover the busy nightlife of Paris. 

Couples stroll along the cobblestone streets, the golden glow of the gas streetlamps lighting their way.  People in cafes chatter, laugh and gossip about politics and the latest fashion.  One group of men argues over the taxes and who should be paying more.  “Non, non, non,” says one man standing up and then sitting back down as if the whole world has collapsed onto his shoulders.  The tinkling laughter of young women ripples its way through the crowd on the soft summer breeze.  The smell of cigar smoke wafts up to me awakening my senses with its sweet scent.  I smile and think that I want to go to 2011 and experience Paris. And so I do.

(from the Fall 2011 Travel issue)

Different Dreams
by Bella Zhu

Each day I wake up to the exact same sound, rain. The rain thunders down onto

my roof and I just lie there listening until my brothers start screaming and running up and down the stairs. We just moved to Oakland, California and I can’t wait for school to start, but I miss my old home. My home in Wisconsin. I miss how in the fall the water drips off of the multicolor leaves in clear droplets. It looks like tears falling down a red or yellow face.  I used to watch from my window and see the water go drip, drip, drip. 

…

Today school started and I looked for people with the same lost face just as I have, but there were none. It looked as if everyone knew each other or were pretending to know everyone. No one looked as if they didn’t belong. I couldn’t tell who knew whom so I just waited until someone came over to ask me something. I knew my face was probably as red as a fall leaf in Wisconsin so I put my head down and looked at my chest. In math I kept looking out of the window and daydreamed. I dreamed of having friends and people who I could walk home with. I wished that I could hide my face forever and never look up but I knew I could never do that. I am too outgoing and I always want everyone to be happy.

By the second day I started to lift my head up from my chest and my face became more of its natural color. I even started to talk to people in line or in the cafeteria. I talked to them even if they didn’t talk to me.There was one girl who talked to me at lunch named Sara but at the end she left me and went back to her friends. I liked her but I guess she thought of me as only a temporary friend.

Then I met another girl who looked just as scared as me and didn’t have any friends at school. Her name was Lavender. She was the nicest person I’ve ever met and she is one of the only people in my life that loves to daydream like me. 

At night I love to just sit and write all of my dreams that I have at night and in the day. At school I usually have about two daydreams in each class. It’s not like I don’t listen to the teachers,  I just have a hard time paying attention in class because I already know all of it.

For some reason I always know what is going to happen the next day in class. I have a dream about it and it comes true. Unlike other people I can’t control my dreams. I have tried before but for some reason it just doesn’t work. Ever since I was in kindergarten I have dreamed about school. I learn everything in class a day before it happens in the real world. Sometimes I find it interesting but I usually want to dream about something regular and normal. Unfortunately I never get to dream like my friends do. I miss my best friend Lily because she was the only person in my whole life that understood what was happening because the same thing was happening with her too. That was the whole reason that we left Wisconsin. My parents didn’t like the idea of us together and they thought that we could also do something to hurt them or other families on our block.

My whole family is very proper and doesn’t want to stand out. So they thought that California was a place that nobody would notice our family.  They loved Wisconsin and so they blame me as if I made them leave. I keep telling them that they were the ones that made me leave and that I never wanted to go in the first place.

Anyway, I had just started to get used to my life in Oakland and at the school when my parents told me that we were moving back to Wisconsin. I felt angry because I had just made a new friend and I was getting used to our new house. My parents just told me to start packing and we were leaving in 10 days.

I asked question after question until my parents blew up.  They got so mad at me that I swear people could hear it back in Wisconsin.  My brain was spinning when I went to sleep that night. It took an hour before I could fall asleep but when I did I had a different dream. It wasn’t about school. It was about Lily and Lavender. I was fighting over which one to stay with and I finally chose Lily. After the dream I felt so bad that I was crying for a week straight. I didn’t know why because I wasn’t that good of a friend with Lavender but I felt as if I had known her for years.

On the morning of the plane ride back to my old home, I said good-bye to Lavender and told her to write to me and then I got on the plane back to Wisconsin.

Poems

The Light in the Night
by David Van Riper

In the dark night

I see something.

Something bright,

A temple.

It lights up the night like the sun would

if it could.

The building beside you

Black as soot.

But you are so tall and beautiful as you stand out.

(from the Winter 2011-12 Winter Traditions issue)

Yesterday by Hannah Mayer

Yesterday,

I was a seagull,

Flying above

The land,

Experiencing

Different places,

Temperatures,

Watching the land below,

Yesterday,

I was that seagull.

Yesterday,

I was a seal,

Swimming in

Cool waters.

Looking at the

Amazing creatures

Down below.

Resting in my

Dark brown coat,

Yesterday,

I was that seal.

Yesterday

I was a kid

Who just got

To Hawaii,

Floating in

The ocean,

Watching the

Seagulls,

Flying above

My head,

Seals swimming

Below me

In their

Dark brown coats,

Yesterday,

I was that kid,

Today,

I am ME!

(from the Fall 2011 Travel issue)

Dream Small
by Sasha Barish

I wake up in a tent with

My family still half asleep.

I struggle out of my sleeping bag, in

An attempt to break free of its

Engulfing warmth.

I shiver as I dress myself.

My grubby hands

Fumble with the tent flap.

Then I break out into the

 Cold.

Tall, dark woods on one side,

Endless hills caress the other.

My friend is already up,

“I’ll get matches.”

I place three twigs in a teepee

In the fire pit,

Then make the teepee bigger and bigger and

Bigger, being sure to leave space to

Push in the tinder.

My friend has the matches.

One breaks, then another.

Then a shivering flame

Makes its uncertain way

Across the kindling.

The fire flares up, and

Slowly our families wake, to

Enjoy the fire we made!

Some people dream big:

Win Olympic medals,

Earn a Nobel Prize,

Go down in history.

But for now, I dream small.

I am content to

Build a fire.

(from the Summer 2011 Dreams issue)