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[kb123]

Hello! Thanks for posting I'll give special consideration to the ending... but my thoughts are in bold throughout

Spoiler

Carefully placing the fluorescent lamp onto the rocky earth of the 6.5-million-ton Egyptian pyramid, Vitaly slipped his back pack full of tools off his tense shoulders. His muscles let out a cry of relief as they relaxed.  However, his lungs did not cooperate with the hot, humid air around him and his back screamed in protest to the metre-high limestone tunnel he had squirmed through in order to reach his destination. Thank God he wasn’t a tall man, his spine would have suffered from the constant strain. His clothes and hazel hair were ruffled and the airborne dust mixed with the sticky sweat on his skin, painting his face a light brown. But it didn’t bother Vitaly - his many months of planning were at last being put into action. He could now uncover what lay underneath the pyramid that had stood still, unchanged for thousands of years. I like everything about this paragraph except the first sentence - I just wish it was a little more crisp and less wordy. There's so much great imagery here!

Taking out a small chisel, Small chisel - this is the perfect kind of crispness I love to read. he commenced cautiously chipping away at the wall in front of him. The stone crumbled away like dry cookies, building up small mountains of sand granules near his booted feet. It pained him to hurt the pyramid like this, breaking apart the stone that had stood unaltered for eons, but nevertheless, Vitaly felt at peace – he was away from the University auditorium, away from the foolish Head of the History Department Mr Stiff (what Vitaly liked to call him), who ignored his opinion towards the true purpose of the pyramids, rooted in the century-old view of them as tombs. Every time Vitaly brought it up in conversation, Stiff told him to just give up, that nobody would ever believe him without decisive evidence…

He could taste anger starting to form on his tongue.

Evidence! Egyptians used their pyramids as observatories? You and your crazy ideas…

“Just you wait until I come back with the proof.” Vitaly hissed under his breath, slamming the tool into the wall with all his strength. 

He had stopped arguing with his boss long ago – the man would only have dragged Vitaly down to his level. Stiff was only a historian – he didn’t have a PhD in astronomy like Vitaly. He couldn’t comprehend his extraordinary theories.
Continuing to hammer at the rock, Vitaly struggled to avoid inhaling the particles of dust that scratched at his throat, yet the fact that he was breathing in the pyramid, gaining its power of resistance he worshipped like a god, made it bearable. The fury soon drained out of him as the sound of metal grinding against the stone filled his ears. Yes...I love that he's breathing in the marvel!

Krrrgh… Krrgh… Krrgh-
Ching!

The unusual chime knocked his breath out of him as a waterfall of adrenalin flooded his body. He observed the area he had just hit - a transparent lense-like object was embedded within the rock. Vitaly leaned close, bringing his eye right against the circular glass.
His vision was instantly enveloped with an artistic display of sparkling silver studs against a pitch black backdrop. He stumbled onto his back, astounded by what he had just seen.
This was it! He had found it! The evidence he needed to prove his theory that the pyramids were observatories. It was unquestionable!
“YES!” he yelled, his voice sending echoes through the tunnel. “Finally!”
At double the speed, he chiselled the rock away, uncovering a thick, metallic tube that pointed upwards, as though it was connected to outer space.
“Here’s your evidence, bastard.” Vitaly snorted, the sides of his mouth creeping up his cheeks as he took a myriad of photos. Haha Mr Stiff! You think you are so omnipotent that you can’t even consider that Egyptians could have technology such as this. This is a funny little swap in narrator - suddenly we have "you" but it isn't in quotation. Then we slip back into third person. I think consistency is key here. But then he guessed it’s easier to quote the history books, than have the courage to say something original. His revelation was going to challenge Stiff’s views towards the pyramids in a deadly duel. Vitaly visualised himself stuffing the pictures of his excavation into the man’s dumbfounded face.

Packing his things up, Vitaly said his goodbyes to the pyramid that would stand its ground for millennia to come. (if time: the pyramid that would make him famous)

***

“Hmmm…” questioned Stiff as he skimmed through the photos on Vitaly’s camera, his large face scrunched up into a sarcastic expression. Dressed in a wrinkled suit, he sat slumped at an archaic mahogany desk. The office was bordered with shelves upon shelves of antique history books and an owl resided in a filthy, rusted cage adjacent to the desk, its immense eyes rimmed with glistening sadness.

“You think your extraordinary discovery challenges current views on what the pyramids were used for?” Stiff threw his arms up towards the Ancient Egyptian History textbooks covering the walls of the room. “Nice try, but I don’t think the greatest historians on Earth were complete idiots!” The man’s widened eyes mocked Vitaly. “What did I tell you?! Just give up already!”

Vitaly’s teeth grinded against each other, creating a repulsive screech. His cheeks burning with rage, he stomped out of the office.

He wouldn’t believe it…
Then it hit Vitaly like a vigorous punch to his face. His concepts, if developed, would threaten all present understandings of history - who would want that? It’s too hard for people to even consider that everything they trust could be one big fallacy - the apprehension had soaked into his brain like water through a sponge.
Vitaly let out a sigh of disgust. It infuriated him to learn that Stiff wouldn’t even acknowledge the potential of his ideas, sweeping them away like dust under a carpet. He clenched his fist until his veins started to throb.

WE ARE NOT PYRAMIDS!!! Immutability is not an asset for us!!! I think the capital letters, the exclamation marks, all in the third person narration, is a touch too personal and changes the voice of the story. We must evolve our ideas to advance… We must change our views in order to develop!!!
Vitaly felt like a pebble travelling with the forceful current of the river of thought, unable to alter its direction.
He felt a sudden empathy towards Stiff… Maybe the man had given up on his own dreams in the overwhelming brightness of his own voicelessness.
He glanced back at his boss in the office: his head was in his hands, his tired eyes staring into the emptiness of his desk.

I think that something that stops me from loving the ending is the inconsistency in sequence and narration. We discover that people do not want to change, then we still feel anger. I would have thought that because he felt anger before the discovery, that the discovery of the concept of humanity would lead him to feel a different way, we need to see a shift in perspective. This kind of shift takes the reader on a journey rather than leaving us on the outside as we watch Vitaly tear his hair out. I think we could tease out the idea of the discovery a bit more as well. Maybe Vitaly could have vivid memories of the thousands of books he's read in his time, and the hundreds of papers he's written, and the livelihood of everyone in Ancient history, and then realise that this discovery would rock ripples through the entire world, and people don't like that change. Which is when we should bring in the idea about people and pyramids being the same but different (which is a great idea). This kind of reflective process without the anger makes it more meaningful, so that we can see a clear shift.

I love that there is a physical, emotional, intellectual, creative, and somewhat spiritual discovery. It's just about giving each their own space, and the ending needs a little work. I would just adjust the ending there by focusing on the clarity of the voice, the sequence of the revelation, and then just twisting and tweaking them to fit each other beautifully. Your writing style is super clear, and I think that just kneading the ending around a little bit will bring out that last, unquestionable discovery.

Thanks so much for the feedback!

I just have some further questions:

Carefully placing the fluorescent lamp onto the rocky earth of the Egyptian pyramid, Vitaly slipped his back pack full of tools off his tense shoulders.
-by less wordy, do you mean I should simply cut some words out? What do you suggest? Is taking out "6.5 million ton" enough?

WE ARE NOT PYRAMIDS!!! Immutability is not an asset for us!!! I think the capital letters, the exclamation marks, all in the third person narration, is a touch too personal and changes the voice of the story. We must evolve our ideas to advance… We must change our views in order to develop!!!
- how do you suggest I change this?

Thanks heaps again!

[Musa]

Can I use up my posts on this account to have someone else's paper marked If they need urgent help?

[jamonwindeyer]

Can I use up my posts on this account to have someone else's paper marked If they need urgent help?

Unfortunately not Musa, would be too hard to track that sort of thing

[dux99.95]

Hey!!
I'm not comfortable sharing my creative online here - just IN CASE parts of it or it completely could get plagiarised or anything.

Could I message you?

[jamonwindeyer]

Hey!!
I'm not comfortable sharing my creative online here - just IN CASE parts of it or it completely could get plagiarised or anything.

Could I message you?

Hey! Unfortunately we can't; part of the benefit of this service is compiling a list of student works, with associated feedback, kind of like one of those collections you'd buy from BOSTES directly! Only its online, and its free plus, if we did private feedback, it would be much harder to keep track of between the markers, and would just become a little too much to keep up with

We've never had any issues with plagiarism though; we did it for a whole year in 2016 and not one problem in any subject

[kb123]

Hello! Thanks for posting I'll give special consideration to the ending... but my thoughts are in bold throughout

Spoiler

Carefully placing the fluorescent lamp onto the rocky earth of the 6.5-million-ton Egyptian pyramid, Vitaly slipped his back pack full of tools off his tense shoulders. His muscles let out a cry of relief as they relaxed.  However, his lungs did not cooperate with the hot, humid air around him and his back screamed in protest to the metre-high limestone tunnel he had squirmed through in order to reach his destination. Thank God he wasn’t a tall man, his spine would have suffered from the constant strain. His clothes and hazel hair were ruffled and the airborne dust mixed with the sticky sweat on his skin, painting his face a light brown. But it didn’t bother Vitaly - his many months of planning were at last being put into action. He could now uncover what lay underneath the pyramid that had stood still, unchanged for thousands of years. I like everything about this paragraph except the first sentence - I just wish it was a little more crisp and less wordy. There's so much great imagery here!

Taking out a small chisel, Small chisel - this is the perfect kind of crispness I love to read. he commenced cautiously chipping away at the wall in front of him. The stone crumbled away like dry cookies, building up small mountains of sand granules near his booted feet. It pained him to hurt the pyramid like this, breaking apart the stone that had stood unaltered for eons, but nevertheless, Vitaly felt at peace – he was away from the University auditorium, away from the foolish Head of the History Department Mr Stiff (what Vitaly liked to call him), who ignored his opinion towards the true purpose of the pyramids, rooted in the century-old view of them as tombs. Every time Vitaly brought it up in conversation, Stiff told him to just give up, that nobody would ever believe him without decisive evidence…

He could taste anger starting to form on his tongue.

Evidence! Egyptians used their pyramids as observatories? You and your crazy ideas…

“Just you wait until I come back with the proof.” Vitaly hissed under his breath, slamming the tool into the wall with all his strength. 

He had stopped arguing with his boss long ago – the man would only have dragged Vitaly down to his level. Stiff was only a historian – he didn’t have a PhD in astronomy like Vitaly. He couldn’t comprehend his extraordinary theories.
Continuing to hammer at the rock, Vitaly struggled to avoid inhaling the particles of dust that scratched at his throat, yet the fact that he was breathing in the pyramid, gaining its power of resistance he worshipped like a god, made it bearable. The fury soon drained out of him as the sound of metal grinding against the stone filled his ears. Yes...I love that he's breathing in the marvel!

Krrrgh… Krrgh… Krrgh-
Ching!

The unusual chime knocked his breath out of him as a waterfall of adrenalin flooded his body. He observed the area he had just hit - a transparent lense-like object was embedded within the rock. Vitaly leaned close, bringing his eye right against the circular glass.
His vision was instantly enveloped with an artistic display of sparkling silver studs against a pitch black backdrop. He stumbled onto his back, astounded by what he had just seen.
This was it! He had found it! The evidence he needed to prove his theory that the pyramids were observatories. It was unquestionable!
“YES!” he yelled, his voice sending echoes through the tunnel. “Finally!”
At double the speed, he chiselled the rock away, uncovering a thick, metallic tube that pointed upwards, as though it was connected to outer space.
“Here’s your evidence, bastard.” Vitaly snorted, the sides of his mouth creeping up his cheeks as he took a myriad of photos. Haha Mr Stiff! You think you are so omnipotent that you can’t even consider that Egyptians could have technology such as this. This is a funny little swap in narrator - suddenly we have "you" but it isn't in quotation. Then we slip back into third person. I think consistency is key here. But then he guessed it’s easier to quote the history books, than have the courage to say something original. His revelation was going to challenge Stiff’s views towards the pyramids in a deadly duel. Vitaly visualised himself stuffing the pictures of his excavation into the man’s dumbfounded face.

Packing his things up, Vitaly said his goodbyes to the pyramid that would stand its ground for millennia to come. (if time: the pyramid that would make him famous)

***

“Hmmm…” questioned Stiff as he skimmed through the photos on Vitaly’s camera, his large face scrunched up into a sarcastic expression. Dressed in a wrinkled suit, he sat slumped at an archaic mahogany desk. The office was bordered with shelves upon shelves of antique history books and an owl resided in a filthy, rusted cage adjacent to the desk, its immense eyes rimmed with glistening sadness.

“You think your extraordinary discovery challenges current views on what the pyramids were used for?” Stiff threw his arms up towards the Ancient Egyptian History textbooks covering the walls of the room. “Nice try, but I don’t think the greatest historians on Earth were complete idiots!” The man’s widened eyes mocked Vitaly. “What did I tell you?! Just give up already!”

Vitaly’s teeth grinded against each other, creating a repulsive screech. His cheeks burning with rage, he stomped out of the office.

He wouldn’t believe it…
Then it hit Vitaly like a vigorous punch to his face. His concepts, if developed, would threaten all present understandings of history - who would want that? It’s too hard for people to even consider that everything they trust could be one big fallacy - the apprehension had soaked into his brain like water through a sponge.
Vitaly let out a sigh of disgust. It infuriated him to learn that Stiff wouldn’t even acknowledge the potential of his ideas, sweeping them away like dust under a carpet. He clenched his fist until his veins started to throb.

WE ARE NOT PYRAMIDS!!! Immutability is not an asset for us!!! I think the capital letters, the exclamation marks, all in the third person narration, is a touch too personal and changes the voice of the story. We must evolve our ideas to advance… We must change our views in order to develop!!!
Vitaly felt like a pebble travelling with the forceful current of the river of thought, unable to alter its direction.
He felt a sudden empathy towards Stiff… Maybe the man had given up on his own dreams in the overwhelming brightness of his own voicelessness.
He glanced back at his boss in the office: his head was in his hands, his tired eyes staring into the emptiness of his desk.

I think that something that stops me from loving the ending is the inconsistency in sequence and narration. We discover that people do not want to change, then we still feel anger. I would have thought that because he felt anger before the discovery, that the discovery of the concept of humanity would lead him to feel a different way, we need to see a shift in perspective. This kind of shift takes the reader on a journey rather than leaving us on the outside as we watch Vitaly tear his hair out. I think we could tease out the idea of the discovery a bit more as well. Maybe Vitaly could have vivid memories of the thousands of books he's read in his time, and the hundreds of papers he's written, and the livelihood of everyone in Ancient history, and then realise that this discovery would rock ripples through the entire world, and people don't like that change. Which is when we should bring in the idea about people and pyramids being the same but different (which is a great idea). This kind of reflective process without the anger makes it more meaningful, so that we can see a clear shift.

I love that there is a physical, emotional, intellectual, creative, and somewhat spiritual discovery. It's just about giving each their own space, and the ending needs a little work. I would just adjust the ending there by focusing on the clarity of the voice, the sequence of the revelation, and then just twisting and tweaking them to fit each other beautifully. Your writing style is super clear, and I think that just kneading the ending around a little bit will bring out that last, unquestionable discovery.

Do you think I should just cut out the part when he actually meets Stiff and make him stop before going inside the office and showing the evidence, because he had the revelation that his discovery would bring to much change that people wouldn't want?

[RuiAce]

Hey!

ATARnotes has a policy that you must have 15 posts for each long response to be marked. In the meantime, you may want to take it down.

The policy is linked to in the opening post.

Before posting, please read the essay marking rules/rationale here.

[jamonwindeyer]

Hey!

Heres the creative attached, ignore the personal notes, thats just for me

Rui's linked you to the marking policy, but you can definitely leave your essay posted until you reach the post count if you would like to! Or you can delete it and repost it later, totally up to you to rack up the posts, just keep asking questions and poking around the site, lots to find! A dozen posts might seem like heaps, but if you do two a day you'll have enough by next year

[dux99.95]

Ah okay, thank you

I'll just leave it up, too much hassle to take it down then type up my concerns again haha.
How do I quote you btw?

[RuiAce]

Ah okay, thank you

I'll just leave it up, too much hassle to take it down then type up my concerns again haha.
How do I quote you btw?

Try looking at the top right corner of a post, where the + and - signs are.

Beside it is the quote button

[caitlin.villarruel]

Hi! I was wondering if it's possible to have too much dialogue in a creative?

[jamonwindeyer]

Hi! I was wondering if it's possible to have too much dialogue in a creative?

Hi Caitlin! Welcome to the forums!

I would say it definitely is possible, depending on what your aims are and your style of writing. There is no blanket rule. That said, I like to think of dialogue as a literary technique (well it is, but we usually don't consider it that way). Compare it to using a metaphor - A metaphor is great provided it serves a purpose and works well in the context! But if you read a creative that just had one metaphor after another, it would get tiring, and the metaphor would become less 'special.' It's kind of like having your favourite dessert over and over again - It's awesome at first, but it gets old quick.

Try and use dialogue sparingly, because if you do, then when you do use it it will be powerful. If you need extended conversations (and some creatives flourish in that style) then the key is to make it realistic dialogue. An extended conversation with dialogue that sounds forced/unnatural will stick out like a sore thumb

I hope that helps a little! As I said, it totally depends on how you use it, but do be a little cautious

[Rathin]

I was wondering if I could get my Creative Writing some feedback. I want to reduce the word count alot and improve it in general. Thank You

[elysepopplewell]

I was wondering if I could get my Creative Writing some feedback. I want to reduce the word count alot and improve it in general. Thank You

Hello! Happy to help

My comments will be in bold font throughout the text in the spoiler below:

Spoiler

In the hustle of the morning rush, a lethargic, sleep deprived crowd flooded the busy metro train station. As I got out of the main gate of Ahmedabad train station the rickshaws and other motor vehicles weaved in and out of traffic in a disorderly manner and their constant horning pierced through my ears causing a cacophony of noises causing a frustration within me. The searing summer heat mingled with my sanity and the stench of polluted air made me queasy. What is happening in this paragraph is a lot of relating cause and effect, and essentially showing and not telling. Here's an example: "constant horning pierced through my ears CAUSING a cacophony or noises CAUSING  a frustration within me." Everything you're describing here is a chain of situations, rather than offering the reader the opportunity to make connections. A way of engaging the reader is by giving them the respect to follow the story themselves.

I had a coach waiting for me, the destination Rajasthan was a supposedly renowned place for its magnificent scenery and ancient architecture of palaces and temples. The trip to India had been miserable so far as I had (another example of relating the cause and effect - spelling it out just a little too much). a constant claustrophobia, an underlying paranoia that I was about to get robbed. I remembered the time when I was a young child, living in India and my Dad got pickpocketed so subtly when he was making payments at the bank that he didn’t even realised it until afterwards when his watch went missing.     

The whole journey in the coach was a very unpleasant, the heat was even more unbearable within the clustered coach, as my clothes and hair were slick with perspiration and sweat rolled down my skin in thick, salty beads. Use of "coach" twice in quick succession isn't the best idea, particularly because the second time doesn't add anything exceptional to the first time.

As it appeared into view, constructed entirely of sandstone, the exterior of the palace gleamed like shiny panels of glass. A series of ornate cylindrical structures and balconies were carefully carved out of the rock. a sandstone block was the defining feature of the court yard, which was decorated in vibrant, intricate colours, with an intensity which reminded me of warmth felt wrapped in a blanket in winter. The façade consisted of a series of low lying arches. A huge mass of buildings makes up most of the palace, with wide gaps carved into the stone blocks, serving as windows. On the highest areas were decorative terraces. The living quarters were equally ostentatiously designed. The fort had large ramparts and a series of gates and cobbled paths, which overlooked an enormous lake, the source of the water supply for the local town. The place snaked between low foothills, a vast sea of pale, light colored houses whose colour mirrored the sky, their iridescence obscured by the afternoon haze a bizarre combination, but holding an unscathed beauty. The advance of man-made architecture is halted in its path by the towering foothills, which descend rather steeply.

The magnificent architecture had aspects to it that were so familiar as if I had an inherent connection with this place as it reminded me of the place my parents used to take me every morning for prayers. However there was also an equal sense of anonymity that made it almost incomprehensible to understand as I was used to the solitary confines in my house and have never ventured afar before. I used to yearn for such a lavish lifestyle, imagining myself as a prince living in the palace with my princess and having our very own ‘happily ever after’ ending. Yet as i walk through the countless  empty corridors, the clicking of my footstep the only companion to my exploration, I felt a deeper solitude in this vast, empty, soulless space, even more than i had ever felt back in my noisy, sydney home. Perhaps this trip was about picking up the fragments of the parts of me that I have lost, or was it just about recovering those fragments that I had in my sub-consciousness?... I'll stop here and chat about your plot. I like that you've really transported us somewhere - and that becomes most evident when you mention Sydney and then I'm prompted to consider the contrast. That's really nicely done - you don't say "this is such a contrast from my life in Sydney" and instead you invite the reader to do that for themselves - which is really good. I have to say, the prince and princess thing seems like a cliche, especially when you quote happily ever after. I think it adds something too unoriginal to something currently so unique!
***
I walked down the corridor and opened the squeaky oak door to a torrential downpour. The feculent pathway outside had darkened because of the impending storm. I pulled my jacket towards my wearied body, hoping it would provide me some warmth.  But the cold air merely mingled with the hollowness inside my body, making me feel emotionless and disoriented like a headless ghost.


The strong mint aroma of eucalyptus lightly cloaked the air, overdosing me with a sense of uneasiness. The smell of fresh dew made me tense a little while my body shivered through the four layers of thick clothing. As i turned the corner of Macquarie Street I came across my colleague, Mitul, who was waiting for the bus. We got on the bus and sat on the comfortable warm seats, completely in contrast to those in the buses in India.

Mitul asked bluntly,  “did you come back from india with any illnesses? the last time i visited i caught Malaria and food poisoning from the street food. not going back anytime soon.” Remember to use capitals for the start of a sentence, even in dialogue.

I raised my eyebrows, “Maybe you didn’t vaccinate against these diseases. i didn’t contract any of those, if you call finding a new love in indian architecture and culture a disease, then i guess i have.”

Mitul continued skeptically “how did you realise you liked the culture?”

“It is hard to put into words, but i feel it in my heart and in my brain. It's like an invisible compass, it gives me a sense of purpose. I like the idea of the compass! hopefully you will be lucky enough to find such a compass yourself.”

I am still awestruck by the intricate beauty of the artefacts and architecture that i saw and experienced on my trip. the most mesmerizing and enchanting aspect, perhaps, was the depth and breadth of a culture that transcends centuries of chaos yet produces beauty that inspires and transforms.
***
As the afternoon progressed into evening we came to sit amongst a group of people sitting 
around a bonfire chanting and the aroma of hot fast food wafted from down the street making me hungry. Colourful saris and dresses threaded and embroidered with gold and silver, complex designs, reminding me of the sari my mum used to wear, reinvigorating a part of my identity that I never fully appreciated before and which I only saw through the lens of stereotypes and assumptions. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was an ‘insider’ rather than an ‘outsider’, accepted by my culture, embraced by my family. I sat, nestled next to an old man wearing white traditional clothes known as ‘kurta’, watching him dance contently to the drum music. The wood fire crackled, its embers  glowed with a deep orange hue. The embers would leap and twirl around each other, twinkling brightly before eventually dying down. There was an everlasting energy pulsating in the celebrative atmosphere, enchanting and mesmerizing. Maybe I have finally found a piece of myself that was missing, a cultural entity that I never knew I had, a place where I have found dreams shattered and my personality matured. The pursuit of happiness is very simple, and my pursuit was simply a beginning, not an end.

You've got the basis for a great story here - you've got a really strong vision of the setting which is just wonderful! I commented on your style of putting the pieces together a little too much - do consider this and review your sentence structure and I think you'll notice that you fall into the pattern, when variation is key!

I'd like to know a few more things about the atmosphere and less details of the actions - like the coach, the metro, etc. I want less of that and more about the smell and the sound. Saying there's a cacophony is a wasted opportunity to describe the voices, the music, the traffic and the rain. Together, they create a cacophony.

In terms of discovery, I'd like to propose an idea. I love your mention of the innate compass, I think it's really unique and really relevant. Consider using it as a motif more. The architecture is an important aspect of your story but it's always brushed over as being magnificent and we don't explore the brush strokes, the rough corners, the gold lining, etc. Looking into those things could prompt the compass as being a motif. Perhaps in the beginning you could say lightly that you'd packed just about everything for an adventure except a gold compass (as a joke), then your friend could say that they felt like they needed a GPS to get around, and you could say you didn't because you had an innate compass. Then you could talk about the compass in light and playful, yet deeply meaningful ways, throughout. The discovery of the innate compass is a discovery in itself! Obviously, the ways I'm suggesting you embed this is completely up to you in how you execute it, I'm just trying to prompt your thoughts towards adding something like a motif to string it all together and strengthen discovery.

Let me know what you think

[claudiarosaliaa]

Hi! I need help with my creative writing. I'm having concerns regarding cliques, as well as the story clunky and not engaging. I'm also worried it might not directly relate to discovery. I really struggle with creative writing so any help is greatly appreciated. Thank you so much!

QUESTION: Compose a piece of writing in which discovery is confronting and/or provocative.

I inhale. The bitter smell of coffee travels through my senses. My skin, sticky. The incessant pounding of rain is unexpectedly soothing, catapulting me into a nostalgic haze of hauntingly beautiful memories. Around one small table, family, laughter, joined by bread and wine.

I tear the opening off a sugar sachet, watching the sweet crystals pour out like a waterfall into the rounded glass. I glance at my shaken father. Completely focused. His eyes watch each drop of rain trickle slowly down the window, just like a child's tears. He has a drained expression on his handsome face, lifting the black cup towards his mouth, but refusing to take a sip, as if he too is clouded by those same memories. I place my small hand on his. Ice cold.

He takes a long, deep breath. Eyes still motionless. “I’m so glad I’m here,” he admits, his disjointed voice leaving his cracked lips in small increments. Words my father spoke so often. Words I've always yearned to understand. “I was building agricultural and industrial at the time,” he continues, “for a company called Olfa. I was a manager, working six days a week, sometimes for twelve hours”. He shook his head with revulsion. “Different… It was so different.”

He pauses for a moment, cup to his nose and breathes in. His mind elsewhere, hypnotised by the smell of burnt coffee. I want to tell him it’s okay, but the deep urge for knowledge tugs on my conscience. Thoughts of why I am here wash over me, like the rain. Realisation that this place I have always called ‘home’ didn't feel like home at all, but instead a foreign place unrecognisably, recognisable.

“I remember this one summer day, the air was humid and sticky... almost unbearable.” He pauses, his voice flat and absent. “My boss broke the news… said he couldn’t pay me, his debts were too high, that there was no money left.” His aggravated voice lifting in volume, snickering with disgust “He had the nerve to ask me to work harder. Told me patience was a virtue, promised my time would come.”

“I was working near the furnace, cutting metal. It smelt of burning metal and oil mixed with sweat. The dry heat filled me with every breath. I listened to the electric hum of the saw as I pulled the lever up. I glanced down at my rain soaked skin, and I could feel my pulse racing. I was trying to concentrate, but my mind kept reliving what he had told me earlier.”

A violent red circles his eyes. His hands, shaking. I can see his rage simmering to the surface. With his focus distant, he continues, “we were already struggling. I pulled the lever hard. The disk had disintegrated into pieces beneath my hands as metal fragments sprung up, peircing my naked eyes. . Everything happened so suddenly..”

“The ambulance arrived in a blur of red and blue light. The pain was indescribable. Although... my thoughts were elsewhere, trying to sort through the logistics. As the anxiety engulfed me, I felt useless. I prayed for things to fixed themselves, hoped for things to get better.”

I take a large gulp of coffee, no longer warm but slightly sweeter. I can see my reflection in his glassy green eyes. A small tear glides down my cheek, dropping onto my arm, like rain falling off a windowsill. He follows it with his eyes. Focused, completely.

“But things didn’t get better for three months. We were struggling with no income.” His voice is caught in his throat as he struggles to form the words. “Humiliated. Embarrassed. I feared for il mio bambi, you and your poor brother,” he choked.

Quiet. A silence so deafening, as he draws his breath, and lets it back out with a sigh. “It was then that I made the crucial decision to migrate here. Leave my mother, father, my entire life behind, in search for a better life for my family. A better future for you.”

I hear a rustle in the distance. I turn my head sharply and gazed out the foggy window. I stare at one particular droplet of rain. A looking glass into the once  unrecognizable. Now clear, beautiful, simple.

I inhale. The sweet smell of coffee travels through my senses.