“)!vers” was the theme of the writing workshop during the autumn holidays of 2019. Five days of reading aloud, talking to authors, discussing, writing, and performing one's own texts at the final presentation – this was once again the focus of the cooperation project between Kreatives Schreiben eV and Stiftung wannseeFORUM in 2019 – this time, however, with a thematic focus on diversity.
Who still needs narrative patterns from the Neanderthal era? Is it possible to be diverse together? How do we write with respect? – these were some of the diverse questions that served as the thematic starting point for the autumn holiday writing workshop from October 7th to 11th, 2019.
In various working groups, e.g., “Text discussion”, “Responsibility in prose texts”, “Stereotypes”, “Love stories without gender”, “Pigeonholing”, the participants explored the topics from diverse perspectives.
Inspiration for this came, for example, from the author reading by Berlin writer Volker Surmann, as well as a reading at the nearby Literary Colloquium Berlin: Selim Özdogan and Sonja M. Schultz read from their new publications, which primarily deal with youth, social milieu, and finding one's way as a young person in society. Beforehand, there was a short discussion about the event with the evening's organizer. After the reading, the young people had the opportunity to talk with the authors.
The result was a diverse collection of texts. We are publishing two of them here as an example .
GELB, BLAU, ROT
von Yujin Wildemann
Yellow.
It's a warm blue I love, a blue that accompanies me even when it's not there. It lives on the shabbiest street in the city, and blue makes it the most beautiful. And there it is. Blue envelops me, it smells of the perfume we bought most recently. You can talk to blue, and be silent with it, it can also be loud—I just have to coax it out of its shell. Blue is closer to me than any friendship. Now it strolls through the trash lying in the streets. It laughs softly; I wish it would laugh louder. It's so fulfilling to touch it. We bury ourselves in each other.
Blue
Red was too wild. At first, I didn't want to admit to myself that I loved Red. I didn't want to disappoint Yellow, and I still loved it. Yellow was always good to me, and more than that, Yellow didn't let me sink. Instead, it pulled me out of the hole I'd dug for myself, brooding over not being able to let go of Red. What was wrong, it asked. Sometimes I hated Yellow—it never got angry, and that annoyed me. "Why aren't you angry?" I whispered, and Yellow, the old romance wreck, answered in a crooning voice: "Because you are, Blue." Yellow was a funny, lovable bundle of kitsch. I wanted to throw it up against the ceiling and cry some more, but I couldn't.
Yellow and
blue are beautiful when they are absent, their blue eyes then distant, their expressions twitching slightly. Blue is rooted, yet rises with every gust of wind, like the sea. Blue is simply admirable all around, always composed, always matter-of-fact, and yet so dreamy. When a person unites so many beautiful contrasts, they make me think of blue. I always think of blue; blue is everything.
Blue.
We met Red in the middle of the square; he was wearing a fashionable scarf around his beautiful neck. My heart was racing, I turned bright blue. I hoped they wouldn't see it.
Red.
I will never feel anything for Blue, never. That one and Yellow, that wimp, will amble along beside me. I can't shake this deep hatred for Yellow; Yellow would just be a limpet. I'll only do all this for Blue because Blue looks good. Blue will smile reservedly and nod at me. I want Blue to be more assertive. Yellow will want to hug me—but then leave it at a handshake. I want Yellow to be more reserved.
I will never be an asshole; I will never trot out the argument of a difficult childhood, even though I have enough material, no. I will only do all this for Blue because Blue is one of the rare tolerable people.
I will feel a warm hand. "Blue," I will think, and place mine in it.
Yellow
Red isn't as tough as it pretends to be. Red's hand smells of red things: cranberries, roses, your grandpa's old red Ford… I quickly realize what Blue sees in it, the one who's shyly trying to get closer to Red right next to me. On the other hand, Red is going at it without a second thought. It didn't even look at whose hand it was holding, so naive, yet sweet. It closes its eyes and pulls me closer.
It hurt when Red spontaneously saw Yellow kissing. I didn't know why it did it. So I pulled Yellow out and drew it into my game. Red opened its eyes, "You're a good kisser… oh." I saw a faint blush on its beautiful face. But I saw revenge, and I pulled Yellow closer. For being able to do that, that's why I loved Yellow. For Yellow trying to change the relationship model a little for me, and above all, for simply being Yellow.
Jealousy will take hold of me, and I'll draw them both closer to me, because this is my game, not theirs…
Elli's drawers
Julie had locked herself in her room. A clump of hair, which she had just cut off with kitchen scissors in front of the mirror, lay on the desk in front of her, next to her phone.
Runs of mascara were drying on her cheeks, and she had bitten her lips raw.
For a while, she just sat there silently, staring at the black screen, breathing in and out.
Then she picked up her phone, opened a previously empty chat, and began to type.
"It's your fault.
It's your fault I question everything now.
Because you sit in front of me in math class and I have to stare at your green hair for hours.
Because you always laugh so loudly and then I want to know what you're laughing about. Because then I think, 'If I were someone else, I'd ask and laugh with you.'
It's your fault I want to change now.
Because you smiled at me even though you must have known we'd been gossiping about you too.
You looked at me like you knew something about me I didn't, and that scared me.
Like you'd seen behind the makeup and realized it was a mask."
Perhaps you've noticed that I always stiffen when Daniel kisses me on the cheek.
Or you've seen how I sometimes stare at the little rainbow pin on your jacket.
Maybe you've felt my gaze on your back.
Perhaps you've realized that we're not so different after all.
I've realized that now, too.
You're the reason I can't lie to myself anymore, because of your smile and because you're just you, and I envied that.
You're the reason I now have short hair and have to admit to myself what I've known for a long time.
I think everything will change now.
You're the reason for that, and I want to thank you for it.
After sending the message, she turned to her mirror and rubbed the black lines from her face. Then she carefully pushed her cut hair into the wastebasket.
Her cell phone lit up on the table.
The writing workshop was funded by the Senate Department for Education, Youth and Family/Berlin
