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Author Topic: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!  (Read 170033 times)

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elysepopplewell

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Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« on: February 05, 2016, 08:37:16 am »
If you'd like your creative piece marked, you won't be able to post it until you make an ATAR Notes account here. Once you've done that, a little 'reply' button will come up when you're viewing threads, and you'll be able to copy and paste your essay and post it up here for us to mark!

Hey everyone!! Welcome to the English Creative Writing Marking Thread. This thread is here for you to get feedback on your creative pieces from a Band 6 student. This resource exists to help you guys make huge improvements on your writing... Too often, teachers just write "good" or "needs more creativity" or "expand on this idea". SUPER. FRUSTRATING. This is a place to properly improve :) :) :)

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

Post away, and happy studies!!  ;D ;D
« Last Edit: August 04, 2017, 08:38:59 pm by jamonwindeyer »
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rachelle1

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #1 on: February 06, 2016, 12:20:42 pm »
Hi  could you please read my essay and creative for paper 1 discovery. My response is still in its draft stages but i would love some suggestions to make them better and achieve the best possible marks
thanks


SECTION 3-   “Discoveries are often evoked by curiosity and wonder, offering up new understandings of ourselves and the world we live in”             Discuss this statement in relation to your prescribed text and one other text of your choosing.

Curiosity and Wonder act as catalysts for discoveries, allowing both the persona and the responder to witness ideas about themselves, others and the world around them. [EXPAND ON THESIS] These notions are explored in Robert Frosts poems “Tuft of Flowers” and “Stopping by woods on a snowy evening. They allow the responder to gain knowledge on how the use of curiosity and wonder can evoke existential and  physical discoveries that offer new perceptions about themselves and the world around them. Similarly, these concepts are explored in Shawn Tan’s 2001 picture book The Red Tree. It explores how curiosity and wonder can effect one’s journey of self discovery, allowing both the viewer and persona to gain knowledge about themselves and their surroundings. Thus, the process of discovering ourselves and the world is catalysed by curiosity and wonder.

Robert Frost’s Stopping by woods on a snowy evening, explores how the use of curiosity and wonder, can evoke discoveries and allow individuals to understand themselves and the world they live in. Frost allows the viewers to witness the personas entrapment within two worlds. This is portrayed through the oxymoron used to describe the woods as “lovely, dark and deep.” and the restrictions of society. These differing environments are used to emphasise the interest within the woods; acting as a foundation for discovery, and entailing the persona’s challenge’s between life and death. This is made evident as the persona is drawn to the beauty of nature on “the darkest evening of the year.” The metaphorical use of the darkness in the woods, cleverly implies that the persona has reached a point of troubles and adversity in his life.  He must ponder on his past,present and future in-order to uncover the truth about himself and his surroundings.  In contrast to this the persona’s ability to resist the urge to “stop” in the woods is witnessed in the last stanza, through the repetition of “and miles to go before I sleep.” It refers to his physical discovery, as he must return to life’s journey. It indicates a change in the persona’s attitude towards his life, as he rediscover’s that he has “promises to keep.” In his moment of isolation in the pervious stanza he rediscovers his obligations towards society. It is through the symbolism of the horse as it shakes it’s “bells,” interrupting the quietness of the woods and reminding him of his sense of duty towards humanity. Frost cleverly revels how the use of curiosity and wonder can induce the discovery of ourselves and our surrounding world, causing adjustments to our lives; just as the persona is drawn back to reality by his responsibilities and leaves the temptation of death behind.

Similarly, The Tuft of Flower explores the way and individual can utilise wonder and inquisitiveness to uncover ideas relating to themselves and the world they live in.  Frost utilises the style of a dramatic monologue to portray  to the viewers that the persona is alone and is reminiscing. It is through his recollection of thoughts that he identifies the mower as “one.” Portraying to individuals that he does not know the mower and has no connection to him, other than the commonality of their work. By doing this he accentuates the reality that he is “-alone” and in a place of isolation. The adjective ‘-alone,’ shows how physically and mentally isolated the persona perceives himself to be. Together with the hyphen, the mans isolation is emphasised, as he seeks to find a companion but is unsuccessful in his efforts, providing a sense of tension, as the reader must pause in order to redefine and emphasise the phrase following the break.  This concept of seclusion is put to a halt when the persona signals a change in his attitude, through the conjunction “but.” This transition is brought about by the motif of the “bewildered butterfly,” which acts as a stimulant for the narrator’s discovery, as physically he is no longer alone. His fascination with the butterfly has allowed him to uncover the existential power of nature,as being the key to his self discovery, allowing him to truly understand himself, others and the world around him. The alliteration of the letter B highlights the insects disorientated state, as it flies through life, discovering the importance of curiosity and wonder, in the process of uncovering truths. The continuing portrayal that the butterfly is “seeking” its usual routine, reflects the persona’s search for the mower. This common attentiveness has united both parts, humanity and nature, allowing both the viewer and persona to uncover the notion, that although humans go through life individually they are intertwined in each others lives. Through this relationship which was evoked by curiosity and wonder, responders are able to witness the narrator’s change in perspective, as he discovers himself as part of the world, ultimately allowing him to bring light to the fact that he is not in a world of isolation but a world where “men work together.”

Furthermore, The Red Tree examines how the discovery of ones self and their world, is portrayed through the use of interest and wonder. Shaun Tan utilises harsh, monotone representations of the world and minimal language to reflect a nameless girls journey of self discovery. This is explored through her curiosity, as she continues to pass through the disconnected world she lives in. Searching for a sense of hope and uncovered truths, similar to the mowers journey in tuft of flowers. Unknown to her, there is always a sense of hope that is depicted through the motif of the single red leaf, shown on each page. This is emphasised through the contrast between the vivid leaf and it's bleak monotone surroundings. It suggests that although “darkness overcomes” there is always a sense of inquisitiveness for hope. Moreover, the salient image of the oversized fish accompanied with the low lighting it provides, contradicts the red leafs message. It is symbolic of the girls entrapment to a world she does not belong in, just as the fish is out of place. This sense of the girls individuality is portrayed through the low angle shot of the girl and the accompanying metaphor, “the world is a deaf machine.” These aspects of the image, allow the viewer to witness the worlds value of conformity through the use of identical costuming and the denial of individuality, as the protagonist must hide the light bulb; a symbol of hope within her. The repetition of her sorrowful facial expressions and fatigued posture, point at her insecurity and depressive nature, portraying her as a weak and inferior character. This is juxtaposed to the last scene where she has witnessed the growth of the red tree, and given hope. Her face simplistically drawn depicts a contented character. This is further emphasised by the light that shines on her, revealing that through her constant inquisitiveness she has witnessed an act of wonder. Hence, allowing her to discover herself apart of the world. Tan successfully explores how curiosity and wonder can cause the discovery of one’s self and their world.

Overall, it is evident that through curiosity and wonder, an individual is able to completely understand themselves and the world around them. Robert Frosts poems Tuft of Flower, and Stopping by woods on a snowy evening together with Shaun Tan’s picture book The Red Tree. Allows the viewers to recognise, that with the use of interest and fascination; existential,physical and self discoveries are obtainable. Hence, providing a new knowledge of themselves,others and the world. By undertaking the process of discovery, both the viewers and protagonists are able to mature as a result of revealing hidden truths. 


CREATIVE WRITING- 2ND ATTEMPT

It had been years since she accepted the homely embrace of the town she once lived in. Everything was as it was when she first left. The aged cottages still stood as they were, and the lake was still suffocated by a wreath of leaves. Everything was there, even the laughter of children and the playfulness of the earth, as it sustained all those who lived among it.

She wore a grey suit. Her shoes scuffed with mud. The warm breeze floated around her slim figure, seeping through her bony fingers, onto the exposed skin of her book.

It was laced with lavender flowers and tacky love hearts, reminiscential of her past life. Where the world acted as an empty canvas for all children, to be filled with their innocent, imaginative insights. No cares where given, while they played till their fragile bodies ached with pain. These were the moments where true happiness could be seen. Their eyes would sparkle with the reflection of the burning sun. Their bodies held tall, by the caring souls of their friends. And their minds filled with nonsense that one day would would hold no place in their world. These memories are what where contained in the book.

The portraits inside the album, smirked and looked up at her, with prosperous curls that met their rosy cheeks, revealing an array of pearly white teeth. Their smiles wide with happiness, formed creases at the edge of her eyes. They looked up at her as if she was a prominent character in the world. Someone that could create change, in a world stuck in the past.

As she flicked through the paper thin pages, leaving no trace of ever being there, she wished that she could return to her past, where everything was simpler. The blue sky never failed to be reflected by the old lake beyond her house, the grass was luxurious, accepting each step as it wriggled between the tiny forest of wonder. She would roll in the grass for hours, acting as if she had no care in the world. The fresh scent of cut grass along with the warmth of the burning sun, complimented each other, creating a warm embrace, that never failed to suppress.

These days she sits glued to her chair in the lifeless room she calls an office. She seems as if she's had no sleep, her body dropping with despair, laying lifeless on her wooden desk. Her body as pale as the faint greys that decorate the walls.

A sense of agitation continues to surround her as she grinds her teeth and tenses her time-worn hands, while she finishes her work. Her thoughts constantly drift off to moments of her youth. Moments when uncovering new concepts was always around the corner. The thought of her youth, which was always filled with inquisitiveness and wonder, creates a throbbing sensation that tickles her neck and hammer’s at her head, creating temporary discomfort. While uttering to herself she declares “How such freedom could drastically change her, as she grew with age.”

It was not the realisation that she had changed, but her perception that everything stayed the same, that caused her such pain. Her perception of everything with aged eyes, caused her to recognise that she can not return to her childhood; where life was so simplistic and brought happiness. But must continue to endure the concrete jungle she now lives and works in.

daaviddd

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #2 on: February 06, 2016, 09:55:09 pm »
Hi! i was hoping you could help me take a look at the creative i put together, i was told to choose an image out a few chosen images as my designated stimulus, i picked one, (which i can't find right now), but it is of a floating steam punk city surrounded by a number of flying ships, anyway, was hoping you could give me some feedback on what i could improve upon in this creative, thanks!

**********
The delectable taste of the vanilla ice cream enraptured my senses, cooling my body under the intense heat of a cloudless sapphire sky. Beneath the shade of the sprawling eucalyptus, i sat relishing my ice cream, quietly observing the myriad of impish peers that eagerly ascended the pirate boat

I didn’t understand what they achieved from rushing up and down the structure; running, pushing, laughing, in their bid to be fierce little imitations of diabolical pirates. Their intentions seemed annoyingly aimless to me, and I added to my forlorn state by refusing to fulfil mother’s parting request to ‘make friends’.

“I have the o-only friend i-i-i need,” I protested, sulking “He’ll be… waiting for me when i-i’d get home.” This drew a puzzled look from mother as she kissed me goodbye. I realised she hadn’t met Damien yet.

Devouring the remaining ice-cream in my hands I heard the demented wailing of the school bell as it pierced the courtyard. Sweaty and ebullient bodies surrounded me as i shuffled into the classroom. A cacophony of words engulfed me. It was like being immersed in a foreign world.

“Damien?” I whispered from the darkness enthusiastically. The shrouded moonlight revealed his slender figure as he climbed in from the open window. I had become accustomed to his midnight showings. Instead of calling for mother whenever i was unable to sleep, i’d wait for my friend to arrive.

In the stillness of the night, Damien and I would converse, with only the occasional groans of the house against the wind resonating in the eerie silence. The darkness somehow seemed to conceal our voices. I longed for these conversations. Damien understood me. He did not chase the elusive and senseless physical thrills my peers desired. But rather, we would imagine worlds, vivid utopias where we would rule. Our conversations would last till I eventually slept, or till the deep orange of the sunrise would permeate the room. I didn’t mind, Damien was my friend.

Delighting in the exquisite vanilla ice cream under the canopy of the giant eucalyptus, I watched the all too common scene of aimless kids running about. This was my territory. I caught a familiar, slender figure approach me out of the corner of my eye. A small bubble of anticipation swelled within me as i realised it was Damien.

We commenced our usual conversations, entering our eclectic realm. Damien could describe the world in a way i could never understand. He painted a surreal picture, the school was lifted high above the clouds, the spirited children transformed into gothic-like pirates encircling the world in the heavens in their enchanted zeppelins.

“Oliver?” a familiar voice broke our conversation “Who are you talking to?”
A sheet of glass shattered in my mind. Chaos.

Agonising thoughts invaded me. Who was this? What was happening? I felt the violation of her words. Struggling to control the panic that cascaded over me as i was ripped from the secure dimension of my mind into a cold, stark, reality, i sought in vain to defend Damien.

“Its Damien, he’s my friend. He’s right here, can’t you see?”

Her response was terse and unsympathetic. “Stop this! You need to stop now!” she insisted with a glaring tone. I turned, it was my mother, her face was aghast in a perplexed frown. I felt a jolt of pain as she grabbed my shoulders like a vice.

“Who are you talking to?” she demanded, her piercing eyes boring through me.

Hysteria enveloped me, why couldn’t she understand? He is right here! Next to me! Can’t you see? It’s Damien!

I broke free of her grasp, scrambling away from her. She was a demon! She chased my friend away!

The aromatic vanilla fragrance from the Cherry Pie hedges stopped me. I found myself in the school’s garden, gulping for air as my frantic dash took its toll on me.

A diverse collection of small shrubs thrived cohesively, with a multitude of flowers sporadically blossoming against the canvas of emerald foliage that covered the garden beds. Marvelling at the array of brilliant colours that punctuated the underlying tone of monotonous green, my eye latched upon a peculiar flower that stood in contrast from the dynamic tones that surrounded it.

The flower boasted two petal colours, a variegation of bright crimson and blanched white, which intertwined. I stared, hypnotised by the unique beauty of the flower. Why did it captivate me? Compared to the impeccable hue of the other flowers, it was flawed. But its imperfections augmented its beauty. Its existence that held a distinctive allure.

It bloomed magnificently along with the other flowers. It basked in its divergent beauty, individualising itself from the other flowers. However, despite thriving and flourishing together, it emerged differently, regardless of how much one looked, the duality of its nature segregated it.

Why couldn’t it grow like the others? Why did it have to be different? Why did it exist to be isolated?

Its beauty set it apart from the rest, Why? What hampered it from being a part of the harmonious spectrum of colour? A deluge of questions overcame my consciousness, aggravating me.

I reached for it, and began frantically picking the bloodied petals away, leaving only the alabaster ones.

Despairingly, I retreated, Damien did not exist.

The solitude consumed me.

elysepopplewell

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #3 on: February 07, 2016, 03:20:30 pm »
Hi  could you please read my essay and creative for paper 1 discovery. My response is still in its draft stages but i would love some suggestions to make them better and achieve the best possible marks
thanks


SECTION 3-   “Discoveries are often evoked by curiosity and wonder, offering up new understandings of ourselves and the world we live in”             Discuss this statement in relation to your prescribed text and one other text of your choosing.

Curiosity and Wonder act as catalysts for discoveries, allowing both the persona and the responder to witness ideas about themselves, others and the world around them. [EXPAND ON THESIS] My teacher always taught me as a general rule, it is best to write your thesis in low modality. This is because discovery is such a large concept, that it is almost difficult to be definitive about! Also, sitting in low modality means that your argument is flexible to the essay question. So I would say "...wonder can/may act as catalysts..." This is such a small critique. Otherwise, I love where this is going already. However, before you start talking about the text, I want you to flesh this out more. So, go into your essay with a thesis that isn't actually readily adjusted to the essay question. I mean, what do you truly believe about discovery? How about you use the thesis saying that "Discoveries may lead to individuals being transformed in their perspectives." Then, when you walk into an exam and see this question, you use that as your second sentence. So then you say "curiosity and wonder..." because otherwise you are only just agreeing with the question and not bringing your own insight to the party!These notions expand here. What notions? rephrase the above with new terminology so that you set yourself up with some established terms for the rest of the essay.are explored in Robert Frosts poems “Tuft of Flowers” and “Stopping by woods on a snowy evening. They allow the responder to gain knowledge on how the use of curiosity and wonder can evoke existential and  physical discoveries that offer new perceptions about themselves and the world around them. Similarly, these concepts are explored in Shawn Tan’s 2001 picture book The Red Tree. It explores how curiosity and wonder can effect one’s journey of self discovery, allowing both the viewer and persona to gain knowledge about themselves and their surroundings. Thus, the process of discovering ourselves and the world is catalysed by curiosity and wonder. Awesome ORT, some of my friends chose this one and loved it. Catalysed is an awkward word and a lot of people receive it differently. Talk to your teacher, but consider substitutes like "accelerated".

Start every paragraph non-text related. Add a spin to your thesis here, then commence the text).Robert Frost’s Stopping by woods on a snowy evening, explores how the use of curiosity and wonder, can evoke discoveries and allow individuals to understand themselves and the world they live in. Frost allows the viewers to witness the personas entrapment within two worlds. This is portrayed through the oxymoron used to describe the woods as “lovely, dark and deep.” and the restrictions of society. Good use of an embedded quote.These differing environments are used to emphasise the interest within the woods; acting as a foundation for discovery, and entailing the persona’s challenge’s between life and death. This is made evident as the persona is drawn to the beauty of nature on “the darkest evening of the year.” The metaphorical use of the darkness in the woods, cleverlyadverb = love it! implies that the persona has reached a point of troubles and adversity in his life.  He must ponder on his past,present and future in-order to uncover the truth about himself and his surroundings.  In contrast to this the persona’s ability to resist the urge to “stop” in the woods is witnessed in the last stanza, through the repetition of “and miles to go before I sleep.” It refers to his physical discovery, as he must return to life’s journey. It indicates a change in the persona’s attitude towards his life, as he rediscover’s that he has “promises to keep.” In his moment of isolation in the pervious stanza he rediscovers his obligations towards society. It is through the symbolism of the horse as it shakes it’s “bells,” interrupting the quietness of the woods and reminding him of his sense of duty towards humanity. Frost cleverly revels how the use of curiosity and wonder can induce the discovery of ourselves and our surrounding world, causing adjustments to our lives; just as the persona is drawn back to reality by his responsibilities and leaves the temptation of death behind.

Similarly, The Tuft of Flower explores the way and individual can utilise wonder and inquisitivenessGood synonym to uncover ideas relating to themselves and the world they live in.  Frost utilises the style of a dramatic monologue to portray  to the viewers that the persona is alone and is reminiscing. It is through his recollection of thoughts that he identifies the mower as “one.” Portraying to individuals that he does not know the mower and has no connection to him, other than the commonality of their work. By doing this he accentuates the reality that he is “-alone” and in a place of isolation. The adjective ‘-alone,’ shows how physically and mentally isolated the persona perceives himself to be. Together with the hyphen, the mans isolation is emphasised, as he seeks to find a companion but is unsuccessful in his efforts, providing a sense of tension, as the reader must pause in order to redefine and emphasise the phrase following the break.  This concept of seclusion is put to a halt when the persona signals a change in his attitude, through the conjunction “but.” This transition is brought about by the motif of the “bewildered butterfly,” which acts as a stimulant for the narrator’s discovery, as physically he is no longer alone. His fascination with the butterfly has allowed him to uncover the existential power of nature,as being the key to his self discovery, allowing him to truly understand himself, others and the world around him. The alliteration of the letter B highlights the insects disorientated state, as it flies through life, discovering the importance of curiosity and wonder, in the process of uncovering truths. The continuing portrayal that the butterfly is “seeking” its usual routine, reflects the persona’s search for the mower. This common attentiveness has united both parts, humanity and nature, allowing both the viewer and persona to uncover the notion, that although humans go through life individually they are intertwined in each others lives. Through this relationship which was evoked by curiosity and wonder, responders are able to witness the narrator’s change in perspective, as he discovers himself as part of the world, ultimately allowing him to bring light to the fact that he is not in a world of isolation but a world where “men work together.”

Furthermore, The Red Tree examines how the discovery of ones self and their world, is portrayed through the use of interest and wonder. Shaun Tan utilises harsh, monotone representations of the world and minimal language to reflect a nameless girls journey of self discovery. This is explored through her curiosity, as she continues to pass through the disconnected world she lives in. Searching for a sense of hope and uncovered truths, similar to the mowers journey in tuft of flowers. Unknown to her, there is always a sense of hope that is depicted through the motif of the single red leaf, shown on each page. This is emphasised through the contrast between the vivid leaf and it's bleak monotone surroundings. It suggests that although “darkness overcomes” there is always a sense of inquisitiveness for hope. Moreover, the salient image of the oversized fish accompanied with the low lighting it provides, contradicts the red leafs message. It is symbolic of the girls entrapment to a world she does not belong in, just as the fish is out of place. This sense of the girls individuality is portrayed through the low angle shot of the girl and the accompanying metaphor, “the world is a deaf machine.” These aspects of the image, allow the viewer to witness the worlds value of conformity through the use of identical costuming and the denial of individuality, as the protagonist must hide the light bulb; a symbol of hope within her. The repetition of her sorrowful facial expressions and fatigued posture, point at her insecurity and depressive nature, portraying her as a weak and inferior character. This is juxtaposed to the last scene where she has witnessed the growth of the red tree, and given hope. Her face simplistically drawn depicts a contented character. This is further emphasised by the light that shines on her, revealing that through her constant inquisitiveness she has witnessed an act of wonder. Hence, allowing her to discover herself apart of the world. Tan successfully explores how curiosity and wonder can cause the discovery of one’s self and their world. Although I could always see where you were going, I think it is important to relate each bit back to discovery more often than what you have in this paragraph.

I'd open my conclusion non-text related as well.Overall, it is evident that through curiosity and wonder, an individual is able to completely understand themselves and the world around them. Robert Frosts poems Tuft of Flower, and Stopping by woods on a snowy evening together with Shaun Tan’s picture book The Red Tree. Allows the viewers to recognise, that with the use of interest and fascination; existential,physical and self discoveries are obtainable. Hence, providing a new knowledge of themselves,others and the world. By undertaking the process of discovery, both the viewers and protagonists are able to mature as a result of revealing hidden truths. 
I think you mention some different types of discoveries here than what is actually found in your essay. There isn't much fleshing out of these types of discoveries in the body of the essay which is a shame because it could give your essay a lot of strength and new perspective! The reason I say to start paragraphs non-text related is because you aren't doing a textual study, you're doing a conceptual study. So the texts are only supporting the concepts! :)

CREATIVE WRITING- 2ND ATTEMPT

It had been years since she accepted the homely embrace of the town she once lived in. Everything was as it was when she first left. The aged cottages still stood as they were, and the lake was still suffocated by a wreath of leaves. Everything was there, even the laughter of children and the playfulness of the earth, as it sustained all those who lived among it. I really enjoy this opening but I think you can do more with it. Be more specific than the "playfulness of the Earth" and give some depth to the reader's senses. Talk about the temperature, the smells, the tastes. Your description here is good, but touching the senses would make it great.

She wore a grey suit. Her shoes scuffed with mud. The warm breeze floated around her slim figure, seeping through her bony fingers, onto the exposed skin of her book.

It was laced with lavender flowers and tacky love hearts, reminiscential of her past life. Where the world acted as an empty canvas for all children, to be filled with their innocent, imaginative insights.I know what you're saying here, but you want to avoid cliches. The empty canvas notion will be in a lot of people's writing. No cares where given, while they played till their fragile bodies ached with pain. These were the moments where true happiness could be seen. Their eyes would sparkle with the reflection of the burning sun. Their bodies held tall, by the caring souls of their friends. And their minds filled with nonsense that one day would would hold no place in their world. These memories are what where contained in the book.

The portraits inside the album, smirked and looked up at her, with prosperous curls that met their rosy cheeks, revealing an array of pearly white teeth. I absolutely LOVE that the portraits in her book are smirking at her. That is brilliant!Their smiles wide with happiness, formed creases at the edge of her eyes. They looked up at her as if she was a prominent character in the world. Someone that could create change, in a world stuck in the past. The description of the portraits is borderline "too much." I recommend that you rake it back, and talk about the actual style of the drawings. Are they lead? Are they colourful? Water colour? Rushed? Sketchy? Incomplete? You've mentioned the smirk, the white teeth, rosy cheeks and the smiles - we know they are happy. Which is good because now I'm wondering why?? You've left me wanting more! But, you could have the same effect, if not stronger, by leaving it with the smirk and maybe one other choice of smile description. It's the notion of less is more here. Because you've described a really beautiful scene, so leave it stark and short, so I'm left thinking about the crisp paragraph you wrote.

As she flicked through the paper thin pages,I think this description is a little awkward because if the book is made of paper, of course the pages are paper thin. Think about whispy pages, delicate pages, or even, just thin pages. leaving no trace of ever being there, she wished that she could return to her past, where everything was simpler. The blue sky never failed to be reflected by the old lake beyond her house, the grass was luxurious, accepting each step as it wriggled between the tiny forest of wonder.Let's think about the technique pathetic fallacy. You've used the weather as a reflection of the circumstances well. Let's take it beyond 'blue' sky and take it to warm, predictable, unfailing, constant, light, clear, sunny, welcoming, calming...take it beyond colour now :) She would roll in the grass for hours, acting as if she had no care in the world. The fresh scent of cut grass along with the warmth of the burning sun, complimented each other, creating a warm embrace, that never failed to suppress. I'm really feeling the imagery here!

These days she sits glued to her chair in the lifeless room she calls an office.Let's show not tell her. Rather than saying it is an office, describe it as a box or as a cell or something, and then describe that it is where she is bound to a chair and computer, or something to the affect. You need to say to your reader "I know how smart you are to know this is an office without me saying it, so enjoy this wonderful imagery instead." She seems as if she's had no sleep, her body dropping with despair, laying lifeless on her wooden desk. Her body as pale as the faint greys that decorate the walls. Just keep in mind that you've used lifeless twice in the paragraph :)

A sense of agitation continues to surround her as she grinds her teeth and tenses her time-worn hands, while she finishes her work.At this stage I'm curious about her work. You could also add a time into this. Is she at her computer? Or is this in the olden days where she was at a type writer? Use these small details to build a new world. Her thoughts constantly drift off to moments of her youth. Moments when uncovering new concepts was always around the corner. The thought of her youth, which was always filled with inquisitiveness and wonder, creates a throbbing sensation that tickles her neck and hammer’s at her head, creating temporary discomfort. While uttering to herself she declares “How such freedom could drastically change her, as she grew with age.” Is she speaking about herself in the third person?

It was not the realisation that she had changed, but her perception that everything stayed the same, that caused her such pain. Her perception of everything with aged eyes, caused her to recognise that she can not return to her childhood; where life was so simplistic and brought happiness. But must continue to endure the concrete jungle she now lives and works in. Concrete jungle is another cliche to avoid

In terms of discovery I'm totally seeing this. Such a simplistic story line and it's a discovery that a lot of people have. You need to apply it to the rubric though. If your exam question asked you to write about a discovery that was transformative of opinion, how would you go about that? Or if it asked you about an intellectual discovery? This doesn't necessarily mean that you have to prepare these into your essay, but possibly prepare some "alternate endings" or extra bits for the middle incase you need them. Just because the discovery is definitely there, but the exam question asks more of you in terms of being specific! Feel free to toy around with it, edit a little, and post again!
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« Last Edit: February 08, 2016, 10:33:55 am by elysepopplewell »
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Neutron

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #4 on: February 07, 2016, 04:45:38 pm »
Hi, if I posted my creative here, won't it appear on turn it in and won't my teachers accuse me of plagiarising? haha :'(

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #5 on: February 07, 2016, 04:57:19 pm »
Hi, if I posted my creative here, won't it appear on turn it in and won't my teachers accuse me of plagiarising? haha :'(

I guess you can show your teacher that you wrote it by showing them you posted it from your AN account :P (as in, like, log in to your account in front of their eyes and show that that's your username)  But yes, it's a tricky issue; this.may (or may not, can't remember what it says haha) be helpful.

Plus, I think plagiarism is often obvious just because of how something's written, so if you actually wrote it, your teachers shouldn't be too suspicious.
« Last Edit: February 07, 2016, 05:08:50 pm by bangali »
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literally lauren

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #6 on: February 07, 2016, 05:00:15 pm »
Hi, if I posted my creative here, won't it appear on turn it in and won't my teachers accuse me of plagiarising? haha :'(
If your teachers do pull you up for 'cheating,' you can try to explain to them that you were the one who posted the original essay to get a bit of online help (as bangali mentioned above), in which case they'll hopefully just check your name/school on your profile and confirm it, or, if they're still giving you trouble, you can send me a message and I'll be happy to email the school on your behalf. This has happened a couple of time over on the VCE section of the forums, and teachers will usually realise their mistake once they get confirmation from an outside source. I've just got a default template I send to concerned schools nowadays, so it should be fairly easy to sort out if there's a problem :)

Neutron

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #7 on: February 07, 2016, 10:27:11 pm »
Yeah but I don't think online help/marking is allowed within the Board of Studies guidelines anyway so..

literally lauren

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #8 on: February 07, 2016, 10:39:42 pm »
Yeah but I don't think online help/marking is allowed within the Board of Studies guidelines anyway so..
I don't believe that's the case.

Section 5 of the official guidelines stipulates that you shouldn't submit work that another person has added to substantially, which is as close as they get to talking about external assistance, but receiving essay feedback is not the same as having a piece entirely modified. You'll notice that most of the comments Elyse has made have been explanations of how to tackle the task, maximise the potential of your writing, and how to improve in the future; not straight out changes to make the piece an instant 10/10 standard.

This is no different to seeking a friend, tutor, or teacher's advice regarding how to improve your piece, though AN's help tends to be a tad more prolific :P Correct me if I'm wrong though - there may be some rule you've heard from your school about which I'm unaware.

What the Board of Studies do make clear is that someone else plagiarising your work from these forums would be very frowned upon and possibly punishable score-wise, so let that serve as a warning to anyone considering copying these pieces or bits of them :)

elysepopplewell

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #9 on: February 08, 2016, 10:29:13 am »
Hi! i was hoping you could help me take a look at the creative i put together, i was told to choose an image out a few chosen images as my designated stimulus, i picked one, (which i can't find right now), but it is of a floating steam punk city surrounded by a number of flying ships, anyway, was hoping you could give me some feedback on what i could improve upon in this creative, thanks!
(That is one interesting stimulus!)
**********
The delectable taste of the vanilla ice cream enraptured my senses, cooling my body under the intense heat of a cloudless sapphire sky. (I'm just going to pull you up right here and take note of the adjectives, delectable, intense, cloudless, sapphire. I love each of these on their own but together it is too much. I'd swap delectable for a lower-range word, like welcomed, crisp, creamy. "...cooling my body in the intense heat of a cloudless sapphire sky." This reads better in my opinion. The "under" makes it sound oppressive, when really, you are describing a wonderful sky. It is difficult for a reader to appreciate the wonderful sky imagery when they are feeling oppressed by the heat in the initial description.Beneath the shade of the sprawling eucalyptus, i sat relishing my ice cream, quietly observing the myriad of impish peers that eagerly ascended the pirate boat. (I LOVE this bit!)

I didn’t understand what they achieved from rushing up and down the structure; running, pushing, laughing, in their bid to be fierce little imitations of diabolical pirates. Their intentions seemed annoyingly aimless to me, and I added to my forlorn state by refusing to fulfil mother’s parting request to ‘make friends’.(Parting request = LOVE!!!)

“I have the o-only friend i-i-i need,” I protested, sulking “He’ll be… waiting for me when i-i’d get home.” This drew a puzzled look from mother as she kissed me goodbye. I realised she hadn’t met Damien yet.

Devouring the remaining ice-cream in my hands (I'd love if you added to this imagery. Let's be a little more quirky. Maybe say that the ice cream was dripping over his hands? Or that he licked it from his upper lip? Or he wiped his mouth on his sleeve? Your imagery in this piece so far is awesome, now we just need to enhance it by bringing out some really real and non-cliche descriptions.) I heard the demented wailing of the school bell as it pierced the courtyard. Sweaty and ebullient bodies surrounded me as i shuffled into the classroom. A cacophony of words engulfed me. It was like being immersed in a foreign world.

(Okay, I've read down and I've come back to this bit because you've lost me a little. We are in the classroom and then we are in moonlight? Is this a mythical world where class is at night or is this coming up to a flashback/background info on Damien?)

“Damien?” I whispered from the darkness enthusiastically. The shrouded moonlight revealed his slender figure as he climbed in from the open window. I had become accustomed to his midnight showings. Instead of calling for mother whenever i was unable to sleep, i’d wait for my friend to arrive.

In the stillness of the night, Damien and I would converse, with only the occasional groans of the house against the wind resonating in the eerie silence. The darkness somehow seemed to conceal our voices. I longed for these conversations. Damien understood me. He did not chase the elusive and senseless physical thrills my peers desired. But rather, we would imagine worlds, vivid utopias where we would rule. Our conversations would last till I eventually slept, or till the deep orange of the sunrise would permeate the room. I didn’t mind, Damien was my friend.

Delighting in the exquisite vanilla ice cream under the canopy of the giant eucalyptus, I watched the all too common scene of aimless kids running about. This was my territory. I caught a familiar, slender figure approach me out of the corner of my eye. A small bubble of anticipation swelled within me as i realised it was Damien.

We commenced our usual conversations, entering our eclectic realm. Damien could describe the world in a way i could never understand. He painted a surreal picture, the school was lifted high above the clouds, the spirited children transformed into gothic-like pirates encircling the world in the heavens in their enchanted zeppelins. (Based on what you have described about your stimulus, this sounds like a really magical incorporation of it, and I like it!)

“Oliver?” a familiar voice broke our conversation “Who are you talking to?”
A sheet of glass shattered in my mind. Chaos.

Agonising thoughts invaded me. Who was this? What was happening? I felt the violation of her words. Struggling to control the panic that cascaded over me as i was ripped from the secure dimension of my mind into a cold, stark, reality, i sought in vain to defend Damien.

“Its Damien, he’s my friend. He’s right here, can’t you see?”

Her response was terse and unsympathetic. “Stop this! You need to stop now!” she insisted with a glaring tone. I turned, it was my mother, her face was aghast in a perplexed frown. I felt a jolt of pain as she grabbed my shoulders like a vice.

“Who are you talking to?” she demanded, her piercing eyes boring through me.

Hysteria enveloped me, why couldn’t she understand? He is right here! Next to me! Can’t you see? It’s Damien! I really feel the urgency and panic in these internal thoughts.

I broke free of her grasp, scrambling away from her. She was a demon! She chased my friend away!

The aromatic vanilla fragrance from the Cherry Pie hedges stopped me. I found myself in the school’s garden, gulping for air as my frantic dash took its toll on me.

A diverse collection of small shrubs thrived cohesively, with a multitude of flowers sporadically blossoming against the canvas of emerald foliage that covered the garden beds. Marvelling at the array of brilliant colours that punctuated the underlying tone of monotonous green, my eye latched upon a peculiar flower that stood in contrast from the dynamic tones that surrounded it.

The flower boasted two petal colours, a variegation of bright crimson and blanched white, which intertwined. I stared, hypnotised by the unique beauty of the flower. Why did it captivate me? Compared to the impeccable hue of the other flowers, it was flawed. But its imperfections augmented its beauty. Its existence that held a distinctive allure.

It bloomed magnificently along with the other flowers. It basked in its divergent beauty, individualising itself from the other flowers. However, despite thriving and flourishing together, it emerged differently, regardless of how much one looked, the duality of its nature segregated it. (I feel an awesome metaphor coming on!)

Why couldn’t it grow like the others? Why did it have to be different? Why did it exist to be isolated?

Its beauty set it apart from the rest, Why? What hampered it from being a part of the harmonious spectrum of colour? A deluge of questions overcame my consciousness, aggravating me.

I reached for it, and began frantically picking the bloodied petals away, leaving only the alabaster ones.

Despairingly, I retreated, Damien did not exist.

The solitude consumed me.


Wow! I'm left loving this story. As a whole, it works well. Your vocabulary is consistent, your next step is to hone in on some of the descriptions and see if you can enhance them. The way I think of it when I'm writing is, you want to avoid cliches, but you want to describe something so perfectly and realistically that a reader will think "wow, I know exactly what they are talking about and I've never considered it in that way!" So that is your next step. Even though I bet you love the way the words have come together by now - because I was the same. When I wrote a sentence, phrase, paragraph that I loved I'd sit back and be like "ahh...I never want to change this, I'm so proud." So I hope you have some of these in there because you deserve to feel the pride!

The other thing is, I was a little confused when we transitioned from the school, to the night, back to school, then to mum, and back to the school? The way I kind of connected it in my head was that you were at school, then you had a flashback to night time chatting with your friend, then you were pulled back into reality where you were at school...then somehow you were with your mum, then you ran back to school. So, I'm now really wishing I knew what has happened because I love this story and I want to know more! I suggest, maybe, if you are flashing back or otherwise, use a big paragraph space or three *** in the middle of a line during an exam to show time elapsing or your timeshift. Let me know what you think about this? I'm curious!!! :) :) I hope this helps. Feel free to make changes only where you think it is best, show your teacher, show your peers, then post back again when you want more thoughts and I will contact you back! :)

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« Last Edit: February 08, 2016, 10:35:53 am by elysepopplewell »
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Vk2652

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #10 on: February 15, 2016, 05:51:01 pm »
Hi Elyse!
Would you mind giving me some feedback on this creative? I feel as though the writing may be too simple/ doesn't convey discovery broadly enough.

A buzz of excitement raced through the Robinson’s living room as the curtains rose. The bright rays shot through the windows as all five pairs of eyes cloaked the Christmas tree. The bristles were a dazzling white,harmonising with the wrapping that hugged the mountain of presents below. The three children, Harry, Josie and Miranda, tumbled over each other in their eagerness to tear open their gifts.
“Oh dear” their mother chuckled fondly to herself . “They’re growing up to be such a lively bunch”.
 Their father smiled from his armchair-a captain overlooking his ship. He fished his Iphone from his deep pocket and focused the camera sensor- framing his family like a treasured artwork. Christmas had not always felt this way.

Harry lay on his stomach, fiercely manipulating his new Xbox controller . A high pile of gleaming games towered over him. He imagined the holidays unfolding;The curtains would be hurled shut, the surround sound would thunder, and he would be mesmerized in a frenzied abyss. There would be no need to visit the bay so frequently- could it ever amount to the relentless delight of demolishing an enemy? His eyes closed as his mind soaked into the grandiose realm.
Meanwhile, Miranda rushed to find a pair of scissors, adamant to free her packaged doll. Her racing feet plunged into the sea of wrapping paper. The scissors next Harry tantalized her gaze until suddenly her feet landed on a coral-sharp object. She folded. Squeals of pain erupted from her tiny throat as the pain shot through her leg. Harry’s eyes flipped open. A looked of horror flashed over his pretty face.
“Miranda you absolute moron” he yelled furiously, his holiday utopia crumbling before his very eyes.
His new headset lie dead, flattened like a squashed beetle.
Hearing the rising agitation, their mother hurried from the kitchen. “Harry! Please don’t speak to little Miranda like that!” she exclaimed, and moved quickly to stroke Miranda- tranquilizing her small kitten. Maneuvering Harry’s temper was a delicate task.
 “If you ask Dad kindly, he might buy you a new one” She offered, and then added airily, “But please, calm down. Your father can fix everything!”.
Jovially, their father agreed. It was Christmas Day, and the happiness of his beautiful children was paramount to him.

On Boxing Day, Harry and his Father made their way to JB-Hi Fi. Harry passed a boy from school.
 “Dad”, he snickered, “guess what Victor asked his parents for Christmas!”
His father flicked Harry a smile; he was always eager to listen to Harry’s clever remarks. Harry announced how Victor wanted books about the Cold War and the Chinese Revolution so that could know more about his family's history. “Imaging reading all day” Harry snorted haughtily, but he swiftly changed the topic as the pressing question of which football game they would attend next arose in his mind.

Hearing Harry, his father’s mouth moved to respond. The words formed and died on his lips. Like a wave, his stomach bulged as his own terrifying escape from Romania’s iron communism twisted before him. Swiftly, his mind enslaved the uprising monster deep into its cave. On their way home his sweaty palms gripped the wheel. The traffic sweeping past in a blur as he accelerated his car.

 
Several weeks later school resumed. A chorus of yells swelled from the bathroom as each child pushed and shoved to preen the mirror. Appearances were everything. Finally, after all three were satisfied with themself, they lumbered down the steep, spiralling staircase and dissolved into their spacious Audi Q7.

Harry arrived home first. He passed his mother in the kitchen, who was humming lightly over a steaming pot of Sarmale- An aromatic Romanian dish of bacon and cabbage. Harry wrinkled his nose and proceeded to the cupboard for a box of Tiny Teddies. On his way out he tossed a crinkled pamphlet onto the marble bench. In his boredom, he had scribbled all through the pages.
 
Their father Eugene strode smoothly through the heavy doors. He paused for a moment, admiring the view before him. The living room’s wide windows peaked into a relaxed bay; the stereo lulled pleasantly; the heavenly sapidity of the cooking Sarmale danced about. Freedom’s scent percolated in his nostrils. He moved to kitchen. It was empty. His eyes lingered over the scrunched pamphlet on the bench-a donation advertisement. Idly, he flipped through pages. From one stared a young boy. “What if this was your brother? Or son?” …”the wide eyes pleaded desperately. Eugene quickly skipped a page. His stomach winced at what he saw next. It was a pretty girl. Her tiny freckled nose and wide grin sparked an image of Eugene’s younger sister. The younger sister who had not been so lucky in their escape from Romania. He took a sharp, stinging breath. Etched harshly all over the girl were rude signs and disgusting comments. Eugene sat down at the bench.His heart pounded inside his burning ears. In the corner of his eye a tiny tear formed. What had become of his beloved son? Like a rising dawn a hot anger crescendoed within him.

Eugene thundered toward his office. He hurled opened his filing cabinet- the doors hit the wall with a satisfying thud. Under a pile of papers was a file. ‘Is Your Child Interested in Discovering a New World? Choose Our Excellent Exchange Programs’. Eugene clicked awake his silver pen and ran his fingers through his hair in satisfaction. Perhaps Europe’s harsh winters would warm Harry’s heart.


elysepopplewell

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #11 on: February 17, 2016, 09:48:32 am »
Hi Elyse!
Would you mind giving me some feedback on this creative? I feel as though the writing may be too simple/ doesn't convey discovery broadly enough.
Hey!! I've read your story and really enjoyed it. I'll start with some beginning notes before working through and discussing how to enhance the story in the technical ways: language manipulation. The discoveries that I'm seeing are: The reader discovers that the sister has died, the father discovers in the way of a slow but sure epiphany that his son is kind of an ignorant monster, removed from all sensitivity. Is there another form of discovery in there that you would suggest, that I haven't quite picked up on?

I really like that there is this historical and cultural aspect of the text that isn't a cliche. The aromatic cabbage and bacon dish actually sounds totally delicious. So let's work on enhancing the cultural difference. The other thing is: this family is very affluent, I'm left wondering why? This isn't a question that you need to answer, but I'm giving you feedback on a reader feeling like she wants to know the answer. It could be as simple as enhancing the dad as a hard working man - saying he is tired, he works long hours, he enjoyed christmas because he wasn't in the office, etc. But again, as a composer you decide if you want to write that in or not. It won't mark you down discovery wise - it's just about fulfilling curiosity. Some of the best texts leave questions unanswered, of course!

A buzz of excitement raced through the Robinson’s living room as the curtains rose. I was confused by this imagery. The curtain rising? On a christmas tree?The bright rays shot through the windows as all five pairs of eyes cloaked the Christmas tree. The bristles were a dazzling white,harmonising with the wrapping that hugged the mountain of presents below. (If you are suggesting that the tree is white - I'm curious if the tree is white or if it is an outdoor tree so it is covered in snow? This is an opportunity for you to build up the wealth of the family so that when I read about the Audi later I'm not so surprised. Try imagery of thick bushy tinsel, hand-painted baubles, that kind of thing.)The three children, Harry, Josie and Miranda, tumbled over each other in their eagerness to tear open their gifts.
“Oh dear” their mother chuckled fondly to herself . “They’re growing up to be such a lively bunch”.
 Their father smiled from his armchair-a captain overlooking his ship. He fished his Iphone from his deep pocket and focused the camera sensor- framing his family like a treasured artwork. Christmas had not always felt this way.
(Is there a time elapsement here? I'm confused about when the daughter dies. Or is the daughter that died not Josie or Miranda?)
Harry lay on his stomach, fiercely manipulating his new Xbox controller . A high pile of gleaming games towered over him. He imagined the holidays unfolding;The curtains would be hurled shut, the surround sound would thunder, and he would be mesmerized in a frenzied abyss. There would be no need to visit the bay so frequently- could it ever amount to the relentless delight of demolishing an enemy?(Being picky, I'd swap the syntax to be "to the delight of relentlessly demolishing...") His eyes closed as his mind soaked into the grandiose realm.
Meanwhile, Miranda rushed to find a pair of scissors, adamant to free her packaged doll. Her racing feet plunged into the sea of wrapping paper. The scissors next (next to?) Harry tantalized her gaze until suddenly her feet landed on a coral-sharp object.(Coral sharp to me doesn't quite say scissors...only because coral is prickly in all kinds of areas and can cut you in several places at once, but scissors will give you one big slice. Admittedly, upon my first reading it's not something I noticed. But on my second reading, I know your story is good so I'm looking for the small ways to improve it!) She folded. (I absolutely love this short sentence. THe shortest sentence in the Bible is "Jesus wept" which is just so powerful in a literary sense - "she folded" has a very similar effect, I love it!!!!) Squeals of pain erupted from her tiny throat as the pain shot through her leg. Harry’s eyes flipped open. A looked of horror flashed over his pretty face.
“Miranda you absolute moron” he yelled furiously, his holiday utopia crumbling before his very eyes.
His new headset lie dead, flattened like a squashed beetle.
Hearing the rising agitation, their mother hurried from the kitchen.(It doesn't make sense to me that she's in the kitchen - shouldn't she be watching the kids open presents? Or is the present opening over and they are just playing with the toys now?) “Harry! Please don’t speak to little Miranda like that!” she exclaimed, and moved quickly to stroke Miranda- tranquilizing her small kitten. Maneuvering Harry’s temper was a delicate task.
 “If you ask Dad kindly, he might buy you a new one” She offered, and then added airily, “But please, calm down. Your father can fix everything!”.
Jovially, their father agreed. It was Christmas Day, and the happiness of his beautiful children was paramount to him.

On Boxing Day, Harry and his Father made their way to JB-Hi Fi. Harry passed a boy from school.
 “Dad”, he snickered, “guess what Victor asked his parents for Christmas!”
His father flicked Harry a smile; he was always eager to listen to Harry’s clever remarks. Harry announced how Victor wanted books about the Cold War and the Chinese Revolution so that could know more about his family's history. “Imaging reading all day” Harry snorted haughtily, but he swiftly changed the topic as the pressing question of which football game they would attend next arose in his mind.  (This is a really awesome scene here - it really suits your purpose)

Hearing Harry, his father’s mouth moved to respond. The words formed and died on his lips. Like a wave, his stomach bulged as his own terrifying escape from Romania’s iron communism twisted before him. Swiftly, his mind enslaved the uprising monster deep into its cave. On their way home his sweaty palms gripped the wheel. The traffic sweeping past in a blur as he accelerated his car.

 
Several weeks later school resumed. A chorus of yells swelled from the bathroom as each child pushed and shoved to preen the mirror. Appearances were everything. Finally, after all three were satisfied with themself, they lumbered down the steep, spiralling staircase and dissolved into their spacious Audi Q7. (Note: Before I asked if the two girls had died yet - I'm guessing they haven't, I've worked that out now haha!)

Harry arrived home first. He passed his mother in the kitchen, who was humming lightly over a steaming pot of Sarmale- An aromatic Romanian dish of bacon and cabbage. Harry wrinkled his nose and proceeded to the cupboard for a box of Tiny Teddies. On his way out he tossed a crinkled pamphlet onto the marble bench. In his boredom, he had scribbled all through the pages.
 
Their father Eugene strode smoothly through the heavy doors. He paused for a moment, admiring the view before him. The living room’s wide windows peaked into a relaxed bay; the stereo lulled pleasantly; the heavenly sapidity of the cooking Sarmale danced about. Freedom’s scent percolated in his nostrils. He moved to kitchen. It was empty. His eyes lingered over the scrunched pamphlet on the bench-a donation advertisement. Idly, he flipped through pages. From one stared a young boy. “What if this was your brother? Or son?” …”the wide eyes pleaded desperately. Eugene quickly skipped a page. His stomach winced at what he saw next. It was a pretty girl. Her tiny freckled nose and wide grin sparked an image of Eugene’s younger sister. The younger sister who had not been so lucky in their escape from Romania. He took a sharp, stinging breath. Etched harshly all over the girl were rude signs and disgusting comments. Eugene sat down at the bench.His heart pounded inside his burning ears. In the corner of his eye a tiny tear formed. What had become of his beloved son? Like a rising dawn a hot anger crescendoed within him.

Eugene thundered toward his office. He hurled opened his filing cabinet- the doors hit the wall with a satisfying thud. Under a pile of papers was a file. ‘Is Your Child Interested in Discovering a New World? Choose Our Excellent Exchange Programs’. Eugene clicked awake his silver pen and ran his fingers through his hair in satisfaction. Perhaps Europe’s harsh winters would warm Harry’s heart. Awesome last sentence.)

I think I'm still confused about the girl. It would make sense if the Christmas day was a flashback. Having two girls already - I'm wondering why they aren't so insensitive? I don't know anything about them other than that once had a gash with scissors and broke the headset, and they both think appearances are important. So when a new daughter, a not so lucky daughter, is brought up, it's a little confusing and detracts from the big "ohhhhh" moment of the discovery.  As I said earlier, the Romanian touch is wonderful, it will set you a part from other works easily. The flick between the meal and the tiny teddies is great. But to me, that and the ignorance for reading books on history are the only two signs of the ignorance. I think, as a reader, I want to see one more to make it stand out the most. I think the easiest way to do that would be to enhance the dad's display of sadness over his son loving the senseless killing on his xbox.

You're a talented writer - this is coming together well. Hopefully what I've said makes sense to you! If you have any questions, shoot back and ask again. Or perhaps you want to do some editing and then re-post - that's fine too! You don't have to take on everything I say because this is YOUR work - not mine! I'm just giving you a reader's opinion so that you can consider the opinion of someone totally unrelated to your work!

Happy studying :)

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elysepopplewell

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #12 on: February 18, 2016, 12:27:21 pm »
Hi Katherine 123!

Sure you can have feedback! Thanks for posting.

So your original story is here:
Spoiler
When the world came to a halt

Bland smiles and lone figures encapsulated in monochrome pictures stretched across the flaky, grey wall. Without holding onto the worn hand rail, he descended and inadvertently missed a step which he forgot that was left unfixed. He staggered and unintentionally pressed his back against the wall imprinted with smudges of filthy, small fingerprints. Feeling agitated with his repeated blunder, he sprung away immediately with clenched jaw. Without a second thought, he took off his wife’s random hand-picked exclusive suit and flung it over the couch that was plastered with a layer of dust and peppered with scars of torn fabric. Next to it was a box of junk containing outdated gramophone and cheap, chipped flowery teacups with a sickened look due to the gathered dusts. Every breath filled him with the lingering, wet smell of decaying wood which sat heavily in his lungs. 

He turned his attention sharply to his Rolex watch. 2:50pm.
He texted with furrowed eyebrows. A clean suit to my new house by 3pm.

He was a man of purpose, a man of efficiency and mere obstacles that loomed before him had never halted his decision, but the world was still out of his grasp. By every ticking sound of the watch, the world changed and his heart pounded against his chest like a wild beast. Silence reverberated around the room like a hollow shell of emptiness had sparked his irritation and insecurity. It was time to eradicate and forget.

The sound of his phone tore into the silence. Without checking who it was, he swiftly pulled it out and bluntly answered, “Yes”.

“The removalist will be there within five minutes. You better hurry up and get it done by today. I’ve got heaps to do. Bye”, his wife uttered and hung up.

He glanced at his Rolex watch again. 2.55 pm.

Darkness helped him bury his emotions and thoughts like the ocean concealing the existence of sand. He tugged the pulley string of the rugged curtain. Immediately, light paved way to a new world and his eyes were latched upon a stoic cherrywood body emanating a mysterious aura that made his chest tighten. Its carvings were flawless and explicit which augmented its presence and enhanced the bleakness of the bare wall. He slowly approached it as it hid solemnly in the corner. Then, a sense of familiarity worked its way into his fibres, causing him to be dragged into another world filled with whiteness of uncertainty. Gradually, a swirl of memories poured in his mind like an irrepressible wave with mellow colours.

The usual sound of clanging door chime became muffled twinkles as a wave of nostalgia swept through his mind.

*** 
The sun shone through the wafer thin white curtains and casted a soft glow onto his grandfather’s face, accentuating the creases at the edge of his smiling eyes which made him look friendlier. The redolent smell of oil emanating from his grandfather overpowered the fresh minty smell of grandmother’s tea, in which she sat drinking on the couch with velvet fabric intertwined with eclectic mix of indigo and violet plush cushions. The boy would stack coloured blocks silently in the corner and take small glimpses of his grandfather, back arched like the shape of the crescent moon, working his golden glow of magic. He was captivated by the spell of his grandfather, unable to divert his attention away from the motion of his grandfather’s hands. Twist, pull, spin. Inadvertently, he nudged the stacked tower which led to its collapse.

His grandfather noticed and beckoned him.  “Come here boy”, a deep, dry but affectionate voice escaped from his throat.

His heart pound with excitement and immediately crept over, leaving his collapsed tower abandoned. When he was little, his grandfather had always kept the magical key high upon the shelf. But today, he placed it into the boy’s hands. Was grandpa finally entrusting it to me?, he thought. The magical key manifested a silver glow of power like his grandfather’s fine hair. He slipped it into the hole then his grandfather caressed his small smooth hands with his wrinkled, blackened hands and guided the rotation of the key and minute hand until it reached 7pm. He fumbled with the slippery chains coated with oil and gave it a soft tug. Once again, its pendulum swung back and forth with the sound of tick, tock, tick tock replacing the crystalline silence. Then, the world resumed. He stared at his grandfather with astonishment as his magic worked once again. He was returned with a smile infused with a tinge of proudness. The lingering smell of oil and his darkened fingers from his grandfather’s caress, felt like he now controlled the time. He imagined his friend’s eyes brighten with envy as they discover that the world ticked on according to his grasp.

**
“Would you like us to take that sir?”

He was suddenly yanked back from that world and left entangled with feelings of fuzzy nostalgia and sterile emptiness. Warm memories filled the hollow shell in his mind and drained away his fatigue and comforted his anxious heart. Little did he know that his inner curiosity of his childhood could be brought back and little did he know time could grind down to a halt.

 “It’s okay. Just leave that one and take the rest.”

“Got it sir.”

Memories pieced together while he ran his hand along the dusty rough cherrywood. He took out a handkerchief and wiped away the collection of web that obscured its glass. It read, 7pm. Although it could no longer swing with deep solemn strokes, it was able to capture a time that he could never recover but linger faintly in his mind. The gentle smile of his grandfather, the gentle touch of his grandfather’s wrinkled hands and gentle glow of the magical key engraved in his mind. Time melted away, so did his furrowed brow, schedules and deadlines. The world came to a halt once again with the ticking sound of his Rolex watch fading away.

My annotations are here:
Spoiler
When the world came to a halt

Bland smiles and lone figures encapsulated in monochrome pictures stretched across the flaky, grey wall. Without holding onto the worn hand rail, he descended and inadvertently missed a step which he forgot that was left unfixed. He staggered and unintentionally pressed his back against the wall imprinted with smudges of filthy, small fingerprints. Feeling agitated with his repeated blunder, he sprung away immediately with clenched jaw. Without a second thought, he took off his wife’s random hand-picked exclusive suit and flung it over the couch that was plastered with a layer of dust and peppered with scars of torn fabric. Next to it was a box of junk containing outdated gramophone and cheap, chipped flowery teacups with a sickened look due to the gathered dusts. Every breath filled him with the lingering, wet smell of decaying wood which sat heavily in his lungs. 

You have used some very, very heavy imagery here. I see your message, but I'm digging for it underneath the language. I suggest trying to simplify your sentences. You don't have a single simple sentence in here and often they are the most powerful. Try breaking it up a bit here - you don't want your marker to be exhausted by the end of the paragraph. You've used some wonderful words in here, you just need to decide which ones hold the greatest importance to you, and then work on making the other sentences that are less filled with adjectives, more stark, simple, and consequently, they will resonate deeper.

He turned his attention sharply to his Rolex watch. 2:50pm.
He texted with furrowed eyebrows. A clean suit to my new house by 3pm. I like that these are on two separate lines.

He was a man of purpose, a man of efficiency and mere obstacles that loomed before him had never halted his decision, but the world was still out of his grasp. By every ticking sound of the watch, the world changed and his heart pounded against his chest like a wild beast. Silence reverberated around the room like a hollow shell of emptiness had sparked his irritation and insecurity. It was time to eradicate and forget.

The sound of his phone tore into the silence. Without checking who it was, he swiftly pulled it out and bluntly answered, “Yes”.

“The removalist will be there within five minutes. You better hurry up and get it done by today. I’ve got heaps to do. Bye”, his wife uttered and hung up.

He glanced at his Rolex watch again. 2.55 pm.

Darkness helped him bury his emotions and thoughts like the ocean concealing the existence of sand. He tugged the pulley string of the rugged curtain. Immediately, light paved way to a new world and his eyes were latched upon a stoic cherrywood body emanating a mysterious aura that made his chest tighten. Its carvings were flawless and explicit which augmented its presence and enhanced the bleakness of the bare wall. He slowly approached it as it hid solemnly in the corner. Then, a sense of familiarity worked its way into his fibres, causing him to be dragged into another world filled with whiteness of uncertainty. Gradually, a swirl of memories poured in his mind like an irrepressible wave with mellow colours.  At this point, you are doing the same thing you have done in the first paragraph, over-describing. Each sentence on its own is wonderful, but all together it is very overwhelming to read and detracts from the suspense! Even your simplest sentence, "he slowly approached it as it hid solemnly in the corner" has to adverbs - which is quite intense. Don't be afraid to comb it back. There is a difficulty that writers face, deciding where the line is between showing off your great vocabulary but not going too far. So I don't think you should remove all of that great language, just again, pick and choose where you want it to focus.

The usual sound of clanging door chime became muffled twinkles as a wave of nostalgia swept through his mind.

*** 
The sun shone through the wafer thin white curtains and casted a soft glow onto his grandfather’s face, accentuating the creases at the edge of his smiling eyes which made him look friendlier. The redolent smell of oil emanating from his grandfather overpowered the fresh minty smell of grandmother’s tea, in which she sat drinking on the couch with velvet fabric intertwined with eclectic mix of indigo and violet plush cushions. The boy would stack coloured blocks silently in the corner and take small glimpses of his grandfather, back arched like the shape of the crescent moon, working his golden glow of magic. He was captivated by the spell of his grandfather, unable to divert his attention away from the motion of his grandfather’s hands. Twist, pull, spin. Inadvertently, he nudged the stacked tower which led to its collapse.

His grandfather noticed and beckoned him.  “Come here boy”, a deep, dry but affectionate voice escaped from his throat.

His heart pound with excitement and immediately crept over, leaving his collapsed tower abandoned. When he was little, his grandfather had always kept the magical key high upon the shelf. But today, he placed it into the boy’s hands. Was grandpa finally entrusting it to me?, he thought. The magical key manifested a silver glow of power like his grandfather’s fine hair. He slipped it into the hole then his grandfather caressed his small smooth hands with his wrinkled, blackened hands and guided the rotation of the key and minute hand until it reached 7pm. He fumbled with the slippery chains coated with oil and gave it a soft tug. Once again, its pendulum swung back and forth with the sound of tick, tock, tick tock replacing the crystalline silence. Then, the world resumed. He stared at his grandfather with astonishment as his magic worked once again. He was returned with a smile infused with a tinge of proudness. The lingering smell of oil and his darkened fingers from his grandfather’s caress, felt like he now controlled the time. He imagined his friend’s eyes brighten with envy as they discover that the world ticked on according to his grasp.

**
“Would you like us to take that sir?”

He was suddenly yanked back from that world and left entangled with feelings of fuzzy nostalgia and sterile emptiness. Warm memories filled the hollow shell in his mind and drained away his fatigue and comforted his anxious heart. Little did he know that his inner curiosity of his childhood could be brought back and little did he know time could grind down to a halt.

 “It’s okay. Just leave that one and take the rest.”

“Got it sir.”

Memories pieced together while he ran his hand along the dusty rough cherrywood. He took out a handkerchief and wiped away the collection of web that obscured its glass. It read, 7pm. Although it could no longer swing with deep solemn strokes, it was able to capture a time that he could never recover but linger faintly in his mind. The gentle smile of his grandfather, the gentle touch of his grandfather’s wrinkled hands and gentle glow of the magical key engraved in his mind. Time melted away, so did his furrowed brow, schedules and deadlines. The world came to a halt once again with the ticking sound of his Rolex watch fading away.

So basically, to cut down on your words you should start by simplifying your sentences. You could cut out 100 words like this. It isn't just because you will take out certain adjectives, but you will be forced to rearrange your syntax accordingly.
Unfortunately, the discovery is hard to focus on because of the verbose nature of the language. Don't be let down though, your words are very impressive and this shows that you have put a lot of thought into exactly what you want the reader to imagine. However, it is a great technique to give the audience some, and let them imagine the rest. This way, they can fill in the gaps with their own experiences or memories, and the story jumps out to them as relatable too. Don't get rid of all of your great language!! Please! You just need to be picky about where you strut your stuff and where you make the most simple but often the most important statements. If you are looking for examples of this very maintained writing style, read the work of Tim Winton. He really is the master of that toned work.

Your writing style is distinct and developed - you just need to mould it now to exam conditions, and how to best expose the discovery rather than unconsciously hiding it under language. Once you get tweaking, it won't take you long to realise that words become more powerful when there are fewer of them.

The shortest phrase in the bible is "Jesus wept." How powerful is that? The imagery is so strong, yet there is only a verb and a noun in the sentence? Don't be afraid to undercut language in the name of exposing the discovery more accessibly!

I hope this makes sense to you and you don't think I've burned you! I'm a fan of your writing, absolutely, I'd love to see it pruned a little more. Don't hesitate to post back if you edit the story and I'll look at it again and we can then work on the discovery side to it all :)
Not sure how to navigate around ATAR Notes? Check out this video!

shaniajas

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #13 on: February 18, 2016, 06:12:21 pm »
Hello,
I would be truly grateful if you could direct me with my creative..   :D
I believe that the concept/story line is too basic for a band 6... Do i have to chose a more complicated/unique storyline or are there ways to safe it? And my teacher has told me to change my flashback, but i just have writers block... Could you please suggest some alternate ideas? 

He sensed my repulsion, exposing his brown, cavity dominated teeth through his sly grin, his dry jaundiced face and his balding head quickly evolved into a resemblance of the monsters in my nightmares.
**
The waxy emerald leaves glimmered under the sunlight, complementing the ivory patch that blossomed abundantly throughout the bush. She lost herself in the beauty of the jasmine plant; its sweet aroma pleasing her nose. Sam's butterflies settled down as she picked at the flaking paint from the tiny area of the park bench near her thigh. Only in her sour luck to have her bubble burst by shadows that circled over her like a black coat. Why couldn’t he had come alone?
 “Child, your time has come to join me”, his voice boomed.
Sam flinched at his words, ducking her head down to stare at her quivering  hands, hiding from his piercing gaze.
“Yes, sir,” she timidly answered.
“Girl, you will be protected by my men and if you disobey my orders, you will be punished. I have eyes on you from this day forward,” – psssh what does he mean from this day forward? He had been following Sam since he let her go to university to complete her communications degree.
“As you wish, Father.”
He turned his heel and strutted off towards the lined up black four-wheel drives, leaving Sam to herself.

* **
I wiped the beads of angst away and checked my watch. I waited anxiously on the park bench and looked up at the sea of darkness that now loomed above like a blanket of sequins. The eerie silence of the park told me I was alone despite the distant chatter of the city night – cars running, the bass from the nightclubs and the blabber/conversations from every diner from across the park. I sighed and eyed the package. Convincing myself for the hundredth time that it was what had to be done.

 I ran my fingers through my hair, catching the droplets of unease in between them. Glancing at my watch, it amazed me how some people could be so ignorant of time. My eyes shifted to the once lively bush of jasmines. Their sweet scented and velvet faces had disappeared, only to be replaced by shrivelled bruised clumps that engulfed the dying bush,like a mirror of my reality.

My thoughts, interrupted by a sudden movement from behind and my tear strained eyes darted towards the looming figure that grew larger as the footsteps grew louder. A ball of cheap cologne mixed with body odour surrounded him, increasing the antipathy in me that was established by his tardiness. He sensed my repulsion, exposing his brown, cavity dominated teeth through his sly grin, his dry jaundiced  face and his balding head quickly evolved into a resemblance of the monsters in my nightmares.

I pressed my brows together,
“You’re late”. Ignoring me he wiped his fat bulb nose on the back of his hand and brought his face right up to mine, “You got it?”. The raspy sound made my tongue feel rough and furry, as if I could taste his words, and the way his eyes glimmered in the dull luminescence of the streetlight instigated an odd sense of unease.
“Obviously”, trying to show my confidence, yet my voice gave way. He howled a merciless laugh,
“This isn’t you love”. I glared at him in disbelief, shoving the package into his grubby arms and wondered if he could really read my mind. He snarled, hugging it to his chest as if his life depended on it before scurrying away  off into the shadows. I exhaled a deep long breath that I didn’t realise I was holding. Slowly, shoved my frozen hands into the pockets of my withering jacket and headed to the black van that was supposed to be my solace.

Faint lights of the city shimmered in the horizon, making me freeze. The surreal beauty of the buildings pulled on the strings inside my heart. A gasp escaped as I tried keeping my composure, but one lone regret betrayed me.  What on earth had I done?. I shook my head in disbelief; Is this what my life had entailed?  The remark of the man was still crystal clear in my mind, “This ain’t you love”.

It didn’t take long for me to work it out and as the bile rose in my throat and the pit in my stomach became endless I knew I had been weak. I cursed myself for being just like the others; a faceless puppet played by the strings of time, ignorant of my ultimate fate and dancing to the tune of society, the tune of money. Defeatedly, I raised my hands and gulped the cool night air, which rushed through my body like fire igniting on oil. I knew that couldn’t live a life like this.

I turned and ran, retracing my footsteps back to park and in the direction of the man. The night air became thick as I gasped, my lungs contracting involuntarily. I floundered in the darkness, searching blindly I realised that it couldn’t be done, the man was long gone. By now he had probably devoured the contents and the brown paper bag would be lying in pieces in some gutter. My conscience urged me to keep looking, yet my body screamed for a stop as the weariness took over. As my qualm hovered above me. I had played my part in destroying society. The drugs were his addiction and now my burden of shame.

Thank you, Shania

achelray

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Re: Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!
« Reply #14 on: February 18, 2016, 11:48:50 pm »
Hi, any feedback on my creative writing piece is welcome and needed, advice on how to deepen the discovery of being a 'constant' would be greatly appreciated, Thank you  ;D

Unmoving

Thinking back to that time had her eyebrows scrunched together, a familiar feeling in the deepest parts of her stomach arose. Remembering the feeling of being exposed caused  her heart to beat a million times per minute, her stomach to tense and her breathing to become short and laboured almost as if being forced out. Not knowing when it will happen again almost everytime, gives her a panic attack. Almost. Seeing the person that you want to disappear and forget everyday is one thing but being related to them is an entirely different level. How desperate does one have to be to do such a thing. How?

Kicking about in her bed, restless, tired, exhausted. She screams internally frustrated, “WE’RE RELATED FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE”, in an attempt to calm the ever persistent thoughts in her mind.
But to no avail. Disgust and anger soar through her veins, leaving nothing but trails of fire spreading destructively throughout her body. The feeling of slight wind from her untamed hair flying wildly across patches of sweat on her forehead and neck, give her a slight sense of satisfaction and ease. Adrenaline continuously pumping in every vessel within her tiny, fragile body adds to the intensity of the burning sensation. Hearing her own heavy breaths, she attempts to calm herself.
‘His actions won’t control you’, she tells herself - but she knew better.

Desperate to distract herself from the daunting memory - even if it is for a short while - she decides to go on her phone. The door swings open,
“Beth have you seen my work clothes?”, he asks.
Blatantly ignoring him, she continues to stare at her phone. Face plastered with the look of utter disdain, disgust and loathe. ‘How dare he’, she thinks. Her body, having just slightly calmed down now burned with a profound heat, spreading uncontrollably like a wild bush fire consuming her very being. Eyebrows scrunched tightly together. Hands clenching the phone scarcely, before slipping due to the sweat emitting from the pores of her hand. Every muscle in her body tense. She could barely hold in her breaths to minimise the heavy sound of her breathing. Suffocation. That’s what it felt like. No that’s what it was.

Seconds later she hears his familiar footsteps faintly disappearing down the hallway, her head perks up to where he stood, the door once again closed. Letting out a relieved sigh, eyebrows slightly less scrunched together, she casually throws her phone to the side whilst mock imitating him. She falls back onto her bed rolling her eyes, exhausted. She can’t bring herself to be normal around him anymore. How could she? He acts as if he did nothing. Her arms cross against her chest, on top of one another, and slowly travels up her arms and enclose in on her shoulders. Rolling on to her side still clutching her shoulders, she curls into a fetal position. What a low life. What scum of the Earth.

‘To think I’m related to him’, the inevitable truth disgusts her to the pits of her stomach. In turn her face morphs into a look of revulsion and her repugnance at the thought, so much so she can’t bare to fathom it. She closes her eyes tightly while clenching her shoulders in a vain attempt to hug herself, whilst simultaneously bringing her legs further up till they could go no further. How? How does one do such a thing. Many times she pondered, yet at the end of each remembrance all that is left are strong, breathing feelings of disgust, anger and hatred.

Hatred for the fact he ruined their relationship. Although they weren’t extremely close, they had their moments when it was pleasant. Hatred for the fact he ruined what family was to her. What he was to her. Family. The one word that was to bring comfort, love and happiness to her, was now tainted with the dark memory that will forever haunt her. And yet here she was, wallowing in her own self-pity. Where was he? Not caring, not showing any remorse. She was overcome with acute nostalgia for the days where everything was normal. Normal. An overused used word. A word she will gladly be part of again.

***

Her alarm blaring its ringtone was what woke her up. When she fell asleep, she had no idea. Looking for her phone, tinges of pain and numbness were felt all across her arms and back as she untangled herself and saw she had not moved from her fetal position. Grabbing her phone while gently massaging her stiff shoulder she sees multiple notifications from Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat and emails that have taken over her notification bar. She scrolls through to find any that seemed urgent. Not finding any she goes through her messages and notifications one by one.

One picture in particular caught her attention. It wasn’t anything special or unique. She stared and she stared, until her eyes teared up. From not blinking or from realising her ultimatum she didn’t know. What she did know was - it was her. She was staring at a reflection of herself. It was a picture of a woman and two boys having a picnic. But while they were having a picnic, cars, people playing rugby, people walking, people talking were in the background seemingly blurred out as if caught by the camera moving. The only constant, unmoving persons was the woman and the two boys. Constant. Living life as a constant involves letting things pass you, letting people get the best of you and getting stuck in the moment. Tears started to fall. They were constants.