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Author Topic: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!  (Read 49859 times)

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ml125

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #15 on: October 05, 2016, 11:07:14 pm »
Here is my creative piece for After the Bomb! This got me a 25/25 in trials, however I'd like to see what areas I could possibly improve on to make sure I can maintain this mark. My objective with this piece was to mirror the 'House Un-American Activities Committee' (HUAC) within the domestic sphere. Is this made obvious enough, or do I need to include further detail? Thanks :)

Spoiler
Compose a piece of original imaginative writing using the following statement as the start of a character’s reflection on an important event in his or her life.

The true enemy is within; I can see that now.

In your response, draw on your knowledge and understanding of After the Bomb. (HSC 2011)


It was the last of the meetings. It had gotten down to one’s words against another’s. Some really ugly business, left a putrid taste in my mouth. Annie had told me what to say. I just had to follow whatever the hell she told me to do and be done with it. I wasn’t in the position to do anything else, really. My track record left me right at the edge of safety. There was a fine line between refuting and reprimanding I’d been accused much too often of crossing; any further and I’d be right in that chair. I’d be in the centre of the room, my existence undermined by the lifeless stares and soulless glares from all directions. Insults hurled at me in such a barrage, too fast for me to understand. Yet, I would know it to be unkind in its nature. Lucky, I’m on the other end of all this. If not, I’d likely perish. My social life, gone. My ‘friends,’ gone. All my life, all I could do was the laundry and the dishes as I dreamt of something greater. Waiting and waiting… for nothing to ever come. There was nothing I would do about it. I, myself, knew for a fact that every Wednesday I’d be sitting right in this very room, spending the day chatting away. I’d never escape. They wouldn’t be so kind as to let me go so soon. Oh, no. Until my skin sags and my curls come undone, this will be my place.

   McCarthy: Now, Is that testimony true?
   Moss: No sir, it is not. Not at any time have I been a member of a Communist Party, and I
   have never seen a Communist card.

Usually, all we’d talked about were trivial matters; our husbands, our husbands’ jobs, our husbands’ money, and what we could get with that money. The television would always be booming in the background, talking of how to spot a Pinko and the right hair products. Same, old. Same, old. Nothing ever really changed. Nothing really could. They would keep going on and on about anything and everything, constantly avoiding our reality. There was no substance in any of this. It was as if they were all afraid of something. I just didn’t know what. No one ever seemed visibly affected by the politics of our society but I knew – somehow it had taken control of our thoughts and actions. At the slightest change in our daily lives – the equilibrium of our little world had distorted our perceptions in such a manner to conform to a lingering fear. They knew nothing.

   McCarthy: You have never seen a Communist card?
   Moss: No sir, I haven’t…

It was a habit of Annie’s to pick on new members of our community, the women at least. I never really minded it, helped me pass the time. Distract me from my misery. A relief from the usual drama. Her newest target was a woman that moved in down the block. Fairly regular, I must say. She never really talked much, always kept to herself. Annie watched her every move, I heard all kinds of things about her. What she was wearing, where she was going, who she was talking to. There was never anything wrong. Yet, it was likely because she wouldn’t consider our company – that’s what drove Annie mad. Every second day she’d go out for lunch with her friends from out of town, perhaps dinner. Anne said she’d been talking about us, conspiring, or something along the lines of it. I thought it was ridiculous. There was nothing I could really do, though. I was the highest of her little lackeys. I just need to keep this act up before my time is up. I just waited for it all to unfold.

   McCarthy: Have you ever attended any Communist meetings?
   Moss: No sir, I’ve never attended any Communist meetings.

Annie somehow took it upon herself to invite the woman over to one of the usual meetings. She accepted. God knows why. She’d turned up in her nicest clothes, yet a bit unruly. Her petticoat stuck out, the fabric a bit tacky – the floral pattern in particular. Her hair simply rested on her shoulders. No curls. Nothing. I could hear the snide remarks, the scoffs of disbelief and the questionable “Who in the world is that?” comments, seeing as she’d been the subject of our discussions over the past few weeks. She simply sat by herself, before being approached by her neighbours on either side. I could see the emptiness in her eyes as she became consumed in conversation, concealed by a false enthusiasm in her expressions. It was loneliness. I would know. She put on a good act, I must say. I applaud her for that. I was probably the only person who could do any better around here. Perhaps Annie.

   McCarthy: Have you ever subscribed to the Daily Worker?
   Moss: No sir, I didn’t subscribe to the Daily Worker, and I wouldn’t pay for it.

She kept coming. I had no idea why. If I were given the chance I’d be out of here. This room is toxic. These conversations are toxic. Yet, this was the only way I could survive suburbia. It was my elixir – to numb the pain of it all. Annie would sit next to me, at the far end of the room, eyeing her down. She’d be criticising the way she dressed and the way she acted. It took a while to get Annie to stop talking about this woman. Most of the time, I’d felt absolutely horrid sitting there. I’d distract her with tea and talk of washing machines. For the most part, it worked. To some extent, at least. I think after a few tries she’d come to realise it. She’d try to lead the conversation back to my dress, my hair and how I was starting to look more and more like that lady. I was simply starting to stop caring. I’d realised it long before, but I never really felt this fear all the other women did. I was indifferent. I feel like it was the same for that new woman. I wouldn’t know, to be sure. Her husband would always drop by to pick her up and walk her home before I got the chance to make conversation, if I was ever given permission to do so. Would anything be different if I had? In the end, there was nothing I could really do but wait until Annie made her move. Then I’d follow her plan, whatever it was. She was about to make her move. I could see it. She’d been spreading all kinds of rumours by now – all sorts. She’d really gone all out this time around. It’s great. I’d be able to save this girl soon enough. I needed to do it. It wouldn’t feel right any other way. I needed her to escape. It wouldn’t be long, now. I could taste the end of it all.

   McCarthy: Now, Mrs. Markward, who was working for the FBI who joined the Communist
   Party under orders from the FBI has testified that while she never met you personally at a
   Communist meeting that your name was on the list of Communists who were paying dues.
   Can you shed any light upon that?
   Moss: No, sir. I don’t even know what the dues are or where they were paid.

It finally came to today. There she was, sat upon that chair. The true enemy is within; I can see that now. Annie told me what to say. She told me what to do. I couldn’t stop her – yet at this point did I really want to? Annie was so easy to fool. I made her get the job done. There was nothing to do – nothing I was willing to do to change any of this. She deviated from the script a bit. It was all fine. I’ve acted enough anyway.A little bit of improvisation would be nothing. It wouldn’t affect the quality of our little performance. The other women caught on. They knew. They accepted it. They went along with it. It was all routine by now. This would happen too often to count. I can’t ever remember what I said. It was a shame, though. This woman didn’t last long. She broke down, tears streaming down her face. For once I could see the life in her eyes. Then, I knew. She was different.
   Oh, I’m sorry. I mistook you for the other women that come and go. My sincere apologies.
For some reason, I’d really hoped for her and I to be similar. I think I just wanted to... You know, be more ‘human.’ She was a genuine one, that lady. There wasn’t much else I could do to help. This was enough. She was out, she would find her happiness elsewhere, soon enough. This was how it was meant to be. All the while, I’ll be stuck here, this room tainted with the staunch smell of perfume, hairspray, the rumours and the lies. Every week I’d be here, talking of my husband, his business. Only to be asked and to ask the same the week next. Really, it was alright… I couldn’t have any better. No, I didn’t deserve better. I have no chance at any better. That was probably it. I’m a rotten case anyway.
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elysepopplewell

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #16 on: October 07, 2016, 11:58:06 am »
This is my second creative piece that took me ages to write, but I finally got out of writers block today and motored through it! So it is still technically ~in progress~ but if anyone has time to have a read, it'd be cool to get some opinions.
This is my second creative piece that took me ages to write, but I finally got out of writers block today and motored through it! So it is still technically ~in progress~ but if anyone has time to have a read, it'd be cool to get some opinions.

Hey Laura! So so so sorry this took longer than I hoped to get to you. Here's your feedback, in the spoiler :) (It looks a bit funny because it was copied and pasted from a PDF, which does some weird stuff to formatting! So if I comment on something format related - disregard it if it is because  of the PDF conversion)

Spoiler
“Pull! Pull! Pull!”
The chanting pervades all my senses as my hands slide nervously over the rope.
Perspiration lubricates my fingers, until dark red blood begins to be drawn from my
quivering grasp.
I glance around through the smoky air, my gaze gasping for a sight of clarity.
All that greets me are the beady, black eyes of Jacques Roux. Ooooh I love this name.
Grinning, he gestures upwards at the large, wooden frame of the guillotine looming above
me menacingly.
I cannot wrench my eyes away from the body, abhorrent in its flowery white blouse and
short ballooning trousers though it may be.
It is the hanging, limp limbs that sicken me the most. The same animalistic, lifeless
desperation of the eyes that surpasses all class divisions and cries out to my basest
humanity.
“Well, are you going to pull?” Roux murmurs through clenched teeth. I can feel his hot
breath on the outer surface of my ear as his Herculean frame is illuminated by the
disappearing sunlight.
Breathing deeply, my fingers gear for the thudding drop, my stomach lurching in
preparation for the ghastly release. This is so far, so dark, sinister and really engaging. I'm excited for more!
* * *
Beyond the couchant gendarmes I traverse a long, winding passage cut out of stone. The
sky is dark and awash with sooty clouds as the walls begin to close in with suffocating
ease. The place emanates with smells of rotting flesh and the faintly metallic flavour of
blood that seem to have crawled in a couple of hundred years ago, died without the benefit
of a clergy, and remained there ever since.
As I begin to reach its zenith, bodies clutter the passage, with their brown rotting rags
hanging off shrivelling limbs that extend out to me.
Beside them sit children left in their own waste as tears burn gashes in sooty flesh. oooh, goood one!Grime
and rot festers in their flesh as each fingertip pleads to me for some gentle benevolence.
I know the hunger all too well, but there is a distance between them and my own sturdy
boots.
“I have nothing,” I whisper quietly as I push the hands away.
Wasting women cling like twisted weeds to my ankles, limbs contorted in odd positions
from the tight clothes bearing pale skin. Somehow, the haunting desperation in their darkly
shadowed eyes draws me in.
I know what they request.
Yet the sliver of silver clinking angrily in my pocket turns me onward.
I begin to reach a vague suggestion of the day’s final rays peering through cracks in the
stone-cobbled walls. It illuminates each particle of dust that floats freely before me through
the murky air.
With the light comes a familiar cacophony of shouting piercing the air somewhere in the
distance. The constant rumbles of unhappiness and uncertainty are the perpetual melody
of this city, drowning out the gentle murmur of the River Seine.
Yet the intermingled rose pink and orange flood the sky with glorious light. Surely, with
nature guiding my way, I cannot stumble.
I reach the markets at last, just as the final sellers are beginning to store their produce in
overflowing woven baskets. Tables unending of produce eaten in France?
Before me, a tall man in short trousers and a sweeping blue coat, delicately curved at its
tale, smiles sneeringly and gestures at the empty bench. His basket is laden high with the
afternoon’s still steaming offering of bread. We've got the setting really down pat here. This is what I've got: France, in a past time, classic bakery has some nice bread, set in Paris near the River Seine - great! And this is coming from someone who doesn't know much about Parisian history, so I'm assuming that to your marker this will be even more powerful.
I cannot help but wish that I, too, could be united with such lavish wealth.
I shiver as the air grows colder, and the evening sky begins to groan under the weight of a
steadily appearing black bruise.
Breathing heavily, I press my precious coin into the gnarled hands of a grinning lady. My
eyes graze over the delectable pastries, delicately crafted breads, and suddenly my
stomach is bitten with gnawing pain.
“One loaf, please,” I sigh.
To my horror, the lady shakes her head firmly and presses the silver back in my hand.
“Nine sous,” she croaks, pushing the steaming bread out of my reach.
“That’s half a day’s wage!” I protest. My voice begins to waver — I cannot tell whether for some reason this is sticking out to me as being awkward? Perhaps, "I cannot tell if it is prompted by anger or tears? What do you think? Maybe I'm being fussy, but I know you'd like me to be fussy on little things! This might just be a little irrational on my part. with
anger or tears.
“Unjust, is it not?” A loud voice pierces the tense air, and I turn in astonishment to see a
short, rotund man wearing long, striped trousers and a short-skirted coat. I love, "is it not?" This rhetorical negation works really well to capsure a voice of the era.
“Absolutely, sir,” A capital letter for Sir, usually :) I echo, eyes drinking in his strange attire. I pull my own tattered cloak
closely around my lanky figure.
It is then that I notice the pointed red cap atop his head, and the yellow clogs adorning his
feet.
“Sir, you are of… the Sans-culottes?” I voice as the curiosity boils within me. I can't tell you how much this imagery is exciting me - being wrapped in a coat, suddenly noticing some colourful clogs, this works wonderfully!
The small man smiles then, and grabs my blackened hand with ease.
“Adrien Durand,” I stammer with uncertainty.
“Jacques Roux, of the Enrages faction,” he murmurs, eyes glittering. “Young man, we are
those who will get your bread back from those bastards.”
In one swift movement, he presents to me a pair of striped pants and a shining vermillion
cap. I open my mouth, lips moving in harmony with my steadily beating heart, yet
somehow no sound of acknowledgement escapes.
“Would you care to join us?” he offers with a charming smile. His sagacious black eyes
seem to stare into my very being — yet with their darkly seductive passion, I cannot look
away. You've described this mystique wonderfully.
My mind is swirling. The stars twirl above me in unison, crying out for me to leap into their
secure and warm arms, and the moonlight illuminates the crimson hat I finger gently in my
sooty hands. It doesn't have to be here, but at some point I'd like to know what the hat is made of, it seems to be the only bit of imagery I'm missing. I wouldn't put it here, because by fingering the hat you've already identified a sensory experience, but perhaps later if the hat comes up again, I'd like to know if it's felt, velvet, cotton, whatever it may be. Is it soft? Scratchy? etc
The passionate ambience deepens until the murky air is pervaded by an entrancing,
vermillion glow.
* * *
The sun’s beaming rays are just beginning to unite with the bright azure of the sky as
crowds swarming loudly around the Tuileries Palace. At first I read this as though the clouds were swarming loudly, and I loved it!! What an interesting piece of imagery! The crowds swarming definitely makes more sense, of course! Trees gather us in as the streets
slowly fill with a conglomeration of bodies, young and old, tall and short, all dressed in the
pinstripe pants and pointed red hat of my benefactor.
A statement of change. A statement of oneness for those who had been so long ignored.
It sets my heart alight with a burning fire, a spontaneity, that can be extinguished by no
Girondin or upper class statesman or merchant.
Roux stands closely by my side now, somehow reaching to place a firm hand on my
shoulder, intertwined between the perspiring bodies and rumbling voices.
“Be prepared, young man,” he murmurs in my ear. “It may become passionate.” This is some V for Vendetta type stuff! I love your use of passionate here. Not violent, not crazy, but just full of passion. Amazing. Excellent word cgoice.
“Passionate?” I inquire with a grin, readjusting my short coat with a flick of the wrist. I am
overwhelmed by the energy that instantly flows through my veins.
“Indeed,” he smiles, as his eyes glint with the dark orbs glowing brightly as the moon. “For
at last you and I, your family, your neighbourhood — we will all be avenged.”I also love the smiles that follow the mention of passion - you've really captured the way of thinking in this story. You've captured an essence of human experience.
There is a strength to this crowd that I cannot explain. I am sure every stone, every
building must feel the vigour beginning to fill the gardens. The Palace seems almost to
quake before us with its statuesque towers twisting as they reach the slowly clouding
horizon.
“Give us our bread!” a shrill cry sounds. One Sans-culotte has leapt into the icy air, raising
his red cap to the sky as his lithe body quakes with a fury that courses through my own
body.
At once, an alarm sounds loud and clear through the crowd. My limbs are rendered
motionless with terror until I feel a hard tug on my arm.
“Hurry, Durand,” mutters Roux, his brow furrowed and darkening by the second, his dark
eyes not wavering from the Palace. I am pulled suddenly A general rule of thumb is to not use the word "suddenly" without considering if it is truly the best word for the piece. Suddenly, is a missed opportunity for description of a swift and often unexpected change of events. Consider if you can extend this, or if suddenly is the right word. I'm not suggesting that it needs to be changed - but prompting you to consider this as an opportunity. into a swarming mass of people,
almost beast-like as it raises its collective fist in deafening, thunderous rebellion.
Palms begin to drum on the sturdy wooden doors of the Palace. The building seems to
shake and quiver with energy matching my own as the cry is raised to the heavens.
“Girondins out! Girondins out! Enrages in!”
Everything becomes motionless for an instant except the rushing blood my head, the
sternly beating heart beneath my short-skirted coat, angrily pleading for equality and
justice.
With a fiery passion beginning to stir in my chest, I find my own voice joining the cry.
“Give us unity!” my shaking voice calls into the throng.
From a distance, I perceive tall men in frilled cream blouses and tight white pants pushed
outwards into the crowd. Sans-culottes surround them with foaming, ravenous mouths,
arms tearing at their helpless limbs like wild animals on a hunt for their pray.
All I can see is a flurry of red, blue, and white blocking out the fiercely beaming rays of
sunshine. We do not notice that the sky has begun to seep, water gently falling from the
oncoming purple bruise, almost as if weeping for past. omg. Are you incredibly proud of this line? I would be!
“Girondins out! Girondins out!” comes the cry once more.
At once, their is another tug on my arm. Roux’s eyes are alight as his mouth moves
incomprehensibly.
“You will do it?” he roars above the tumultuous shouts of the crowd. It moves as one,
singular beast, pushing me ever closer to Roux’s Herculean figure. Pushing a Girondin
toward me like a piece of meat, blue coat in tatters and stained with congealed patches of
someone’s blood as it floats behind him.
I open my mouth to reply, brow furrowed in confusion.
But the roar of the crowd acquiesces for me. Their eyes gleam in delight at the sight of his
withering frame submitted to pain they had known too long.
“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”
I am pushed towards a towering wooden object. The beams are splattered with a dark
crimson stain of blood, and my stomach churns at the sudden knowledge of my role.
The rope is placed in my hand, the body stomped to a lying position, hands tied behind his
back as the crowd laughs raucously at his pain.
It pains my heart to see the eyes eager for suffering of those they are divided from, just
like the very enemy they had aimed to subvert.
Roux grins at me and claps me on the back cheerily. This time, his smile seems alive with
a savage passion that sends a chill through my body. I love that you've changed it from an exciting passion, to savagery.
“Pull! Pull! Pull!” comes the cry now, lifted up to the sky as it seeps with rain. Fingers
pointed in my direction as the body hangs limply over the wooden beams, the sharp edges
of the rope cutting my blackened fingers.
“Well, are you going to pull?” whispers Roux with a sinister smile. His Herculean figure
suddenly seems to dwarfs the one hanging beneath us. I love that we've been taken back to the start. Love. It.
The one with eyes seeming to plead desperately for the human underneath.
Just like in the slums I call home, I know what he requests.
He requests to be treated not as the enemy. For me to recognise our common humanity, to
forget that my trousers are striped, and his are not.
I turn to Roux and shake my head.
“No,” I say firmly.
The crowd groans angrily beneath me, throws tattered flags of red, blue, and white at my
feet. Roux’s dark eyes grow stormy and cold, his mouth forming a hard, disconcerting line.
I take off the red cap and rest it at his feet.
To edit/other ideas
- Symbolism
- guillotine - more throughout?
- red
- imagination & nature as the catalyst for social change: interjections of
imagining…?
- Flashback to childhood - “one life”?
- include
- a Romantic poet/revolutionary’s words? (rousseau etc?)
- a newspaper article/announcement - “anarchy ensues in…”

I can't believe this was the product of a push through writer's block! This is simply astounding. I loved reading this, it was a total pleasure. I don't know enough about the Romantic period but I adore this because it took  me on a journey of passion, cause, emotion, fight and fall. Your vocabulary is ON POINT - just the right amount of sophistication paired with ordinary discussion to allow for an accessible piece. You also capture the voice and times of the era well. The cream frilled blouses, to the red white and blue, to the desperate limbs, the savagery, all of it spoke to me in a very real way. You should be stoked.

In terms of elevating the work now - I see that you've got some suggestions down the bottom about a newspaper article, a poet's words, etc. With the correct execution, this could be exactly what you need to give your creative piece that extra grip to nail the demands of the module. Always be aware with extension that the stimulus could change everything. They could specify you write a particular text type as well. So as much as I want to tell you to replicate this almost exactly in an exam, I'm of course aware of the demands of the course and suggest you consider it as well. I also knew perfectly well what was happening with the hanging before it had even been said, which is a credit to you as a writer. I'm reading this on a train with a lady behind me watching Dr Phil without earphones, and I was still so enthralled in every single sentence you had written, even the parts that were shown and not told. So this is a real credit to your work.

Where to from here for you? Have you adjusted this since I've looked at it or are you intending to keep it this way, and just prepare applying to a stimulus?

Again, you've done a stellar job here.
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Lauradf36

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #17 on: October 07, 2016, 05:41:27 pm »
Quote
Where to from here for you? Have you adjusted this since I've looked at it or are you intending to keep it this way, and just prepare applying to a stimulus?

Again, you've done a stellar job here.

Thank you so much!! I'm so glad to hear it came out well. And emotionally moving people with words is always the best feeling ever :)
 
I haven't really looked at it since I'm focussing on advanced right now, but I will probably do some tightening up & editing before the exam.

Thanks for taking a look! :D
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jamonwindeyer

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #18 on: October 07, 2016, 11:42:07 pm »
Hi everyone! So exams are right around the corner, and unsurprisingly, there are a HEAP of people wanting feedback on creatives. Given that demand is really high, it is only natural that we will need to increase the post requirement for the coming days, to make sure that our feedback remains of the highest possible quality. Thus, for all essays posted between now (this post) and this time next week, you will need 30 posts for every creatives you would like marked. Note that this does not apply to creatives before this point, meaning no one is in post debt. It just means that feedback 'costs more' for the next week. We appreciate your understanding :)


Note: We will be very harsh on our posting rules over the coming days. Posting in old threads, multi-posting, shit-posting and spamming (etc) to access essay marking won't work. Immediate 48 hour posting bans will be applied in all circumstances :)

kb123

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #19 on: October 08, 2016, 12:05:15 pm »
Hi!
I was just wondering if I should keep Extension 1 English right until up to the HSC next year. It is my 11th unit and my other subjects are Physics, Chemistry, Ext 2 Maths and English Advanced. I am considering dropping it after trials since I don't really like writing essays or creative writing... Like I ranked 2nd this year in Ext English (4th in Advanced), but in Phys and Maths Ext 1 I ranked 1st (and I would've have topped Chem if I hadn't f***** up one test damn it aha)...
What do you think?
Is it worth putting in another heap of effort (I had spent nearly the same amount of time for Ext English as I had for Adv, and it's worth half the units...) just for 1 safety unit that might not even count? Or should I keep it so half of my advanced mark is replaced by a hopefully higher extension mark?
 


ssarahj

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #20 on: October 08, 2016, 12:16:12 pm »
Hi!
I was just wondering if I should keep Extension 1 English right until up to the HSC next year. It is my 11th unit and my other subjects are Physics, Chemistry, Ext 2 Maths and English Advanced. I am considering dropping it after trials since I don't really like writing essays or creative writing... Like I ranked 2nd this year in Ext English (4th in Advanced), but in Phys and Maths Ext 1 I ranked 1st (and I would've have topped Chem if I hadn't f***** up one test damn it aha)...
What do you think?
Is it worth putting in another heap of effort (I had spent nearly the same amount of time for Ext English as I had for Adv, and it's worth half the units...) just for 1 safety unit that might not even count? Or should I keep it so half of my advanced mark is replaced by a hopefully higher extension mark?

In my opinion, if you don't love it, drop it.
Extension English is a big commitment, it takes a lot of time and a lot of effort, since its completely different from Advanced. And since you don't like writing essays and creative writing it doesn't make sense to put yourself through an extra 2 pieces of writing in the HSC.

At the end of the day you've done FANTASTIC in everything else in Prelim, (and you're doing Extension 2 Maths) so if you keep that up marks and scaling aren't going to be an issue for you at all. Some people like having a 'safety unit' but in the end it can be a waste of time.

Minimise your work load, enjoy what you're studying and you'll maximise your results  ;D

« Last Edit: October 08, 2016, 12:18:05 pm by ssarahj »
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kb123

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #21 on: October 08, 2016, 01:27:24 pm »
In my opinion, if you don't love it, drop it.
Extension English is a big commitment, it takes a lot of time and a lot of effort, since its completely different from Advanced. And since you don't like writing essays and creative writing it doesn't make sense to put yourself through an extra 2 pieces of writing in the HSC.

At the end of the day you've done FANTASTIC in everything else in Prelim, (and you're doing Extension 2 Maths) so if you keep that up marks and scaling aren't going to be an issue for you at all. Some people like having a 'safety unit' but in the end it can be a waste of time.

Minimise your work load, enjoy what you're studying and you'll maximise your results  ;D

Awesome, thanks for the advice :)

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #22 on: October 09, 2016, 10:40:50 am »
Here is my creative piece for After the Bomb! This got me a 25/25 in trials, however I'd like to see what areas I could possibly improve on to make sure I can maintain this mark. My objective with this piece was to mirror the 'House Un-American Activities Committee' (HUAC) within the domestic sphere. Is this made obvious enough, or do I need to include further detail? Thanks :)


I'm so keen to read this! I love domestic sphere stories, they genuinely make me excited! I only knew a little bit about HUAC in my studies of Ext 1, so that should be enough to have it run through here :)

Spoiler
t was the last of the meetings. It had gotten down to one’s words against another’s. Some really ugly business, left a putrid taste in my mouth. Annie had told me what to say. I just had to follow whatever the hell she told me to do and be done with it. I wasn’t in the position to do anything else, really. My track record left me right at the edge of safety. There was a fine line between refuting and reprimanding I’d been accused much too often of crossing; any further and I’d be right in that chair. I’d be in the centre of the room, my existence undermined by the lifeless stares and soulless glares from all directions. Nice rhyme! Works really well. Insults hurled at me in such a barrage, too fast for me to understand. Yet, I would know it to be unkind in its nature. Lucky, I’m on the other end of all this. If not, I’d likely perish. My social life, gone. My ‘friends,’ gone. All my life, all I could do was the laundry and the dishes as I dreamt of something greater. Waiting and waiting… for nothing to ever come. There was nothing I would do about it. I, myself, knew for a fact that every Wednesday I’d be sitting right in this very room, spending the day chatting away. I’d never escape. They wouldn’t be so kind as to let me go so soon. Oh, no. Until my skin sags and my curls come undone, this will be my place. I love that curls being undone is on similar level to skin sagging - lol! love it!

   McCarthy: Now, Is that testimony true?
   Moss: No sir, it is not. Not at any time have I been a member of a Communist Party, and I
   have never seen a Communist card.

Usually, all we’d talked about were trivial matters; our husbands, our husbands’ jobs, our husbands’ money, Great use of identifying that the money belongs to the husband. and what we could get with that money. The television would always be booming in the background, talking of how to spot a Pinko and the right hair products. Same, old. Same, old. Nothing ever really changed. Nothing really could. They would keep going on and on about anything and everything, constantly avoiding our reality. There was no substance in any of this. It was as if they were all afraid of something. I just didn’t know what. No one ever seemed visibly affected by the politics of our society but I knew – somehow it had taken control of our thoughts and actions. At the slightest change in our daily lives – the equilibrium of our little world had distorted our perceptions in such a manner to conform to a lingering fear. They knew nothing.

   McCarthy: You have never seen a Communist card?
   Moss: No sir, I haven’t…

It was a habit of Annie’s to pick on new members of our community, the women at least. I never really minded it, helped me pass the time. Distract me from my misery. A relief from the usual drama. Her newest target was a woman that moved in down the block. Fairly regular, I must say. She never really talked much, always kept to herself. Annie watched her every move, I heard all kinds of things about her. What she was wearing, where she was going, who she was talking to. There was never anything wrong. Yet, it was likely because she wouldn’t consider our company – that’s what drove Annie mad. Every second day she’d go out for lunch with her friends from out of town, perhaps dinner. Anne said she’d been talking about us, conspiring, or something along the lines of it. I thought it was ridiculous. There was nothing I could really do, though. I was the highest of her little lackeys. I just need to keep this act up before my time is up. I just waited for it all to unfold.

   McCarthy: Have you ever attended any Communist meetings?
   Moss: No sir, I’ve never attended any Communist meetings.

Annie somehow took it upon herself to invite the woman over to one of the usual meetings. She accepted. God knows why. She’d turned up in her nicest clothes, yet a bit unruly. Her petticoat stuck out, the fabric a bit tacky – the floral pattern in particular. Her hair simply rested on her shoulders. No curls. Nothing. I could hear the snide remarks, the scoffs of disbelief and the questionable “Who in the world is that?” comments, seeing as she’d been the subject of our discussions over the past few weeks. She simply sat by herself, before being approached by her neighbours on either side. I could see the emptiness in her eyes as she became consumed in conversation, concealed by a false enthusiasm in her expressions. It was loneliness. I would know. She put on a good act, I must say. I applaud her for that. I was probably the only person who could do any better around here. Perhaps Annie.

   McCarthy: Have you ever subscribed to the Daily Worker?
   Moss: No sir, I didn’t should this say, "haven't?" or is it intentionally "didn't" because he's about to say "I didn't, until..."subscribe to the Daily Worker, and I wouldn’t pay for it.

She kept coming. I had no idea why. If I were given the chance I’d be out of here. This room is toxic. These conversations are toxic. Yet, this was the only way I could survive suburbia. It was my elixir – to numb the pain of it all. Annie would sit next to me, at the far end of the room, eyeing her down. She’d be criticising the way she dressed and the way she acted. It took a while to get Annie to stop talking about this woman. Most of the time, I’d felt absolutely horrid sitting there. I’d distract her with tea and talk of washing machines. For the most part, it worked. To some extent, at least. I think after a few tries she’d come to realise it. She’d try to lead the conversation back to my dress, my hair and how I was starting to look more and more like that lady. I was simply starting to stop caring. I’d realised it long before, but I never really felt this fear all the other women did. I was indifferent. I feel like it was the same for that new woman. I wouldn’t know, to be sure. Her husband would always drop by to pick her up and walk her home before I got the chance to make conversation, if I was ever given permission to do so. Would anything be different if I had? In the end, there was nothing I could really do but wait until Annie made her move. Then I’d follow her plan, whatever it was. She was about to make her move. I could see it. She’d been spreading all kinds of rumours by now – all sorts. She’d really gone all out this time around. It’s great. I’d be able to save this girl soon enough. I needed to do it. It wouldn’t feel right any other way. I needed her to escape. It wouldn’t be long, now. I could taste the end of it all.

   McCarthy: Now, Mrs. Markward, who was working for the FBI who the use of "who" twice is a bit awkward, try rephrasing this. joined the Communist
   Party under orders from the FBI has testified that while she never met you personally at a
   Communist meeting that your name was on the list of Communists who were paying dues.
   Can you shed any light upon that?
   Moss: No, sir. I don’t even know what the dues are or where they were paid.

It finally came to today. There she was, sat upon that chair. The true enemy is within; I can see that now. Fabulous! Annie told me what to say. She told me what to do. I couldn’t stop her – yet at this point did I really want to? Annie was so easy to fool. I made her get the job done. There was nothing to do – nothing I was willing to do to change any of this. She deviated from the script a bit. It was all fine. I’ve acted enough anyway.A little bit of improvisation would be nothing. It wouldn’t affect the quality of our little performance. The other women caught on. They knew. They accepted it. They went along with it. It was all routine by now. This would happen too often to count. I can’t ever remember what I said. It was a shame, though. This woman didn’t last long. She broke down, tears streaming down her face. For once I could see the life in her eyes. Then, I knew. She was different.
   Oh, I’m sorry. I mistook you for the other women that come and go. My sincere apologies.
For some reason, I’d really hoped for her and I to be similar. I think I just wanted to... You know, be more ‘human.’ She was a genuine one, that lady. There wasn’t much else I could do to help. This was enough. She was out, she would find her happiness elsewhere, soon enough. This was how it was meant to be. All the while, I’ll be stuck here, this room tainted with the staunch smell of perfume, hairspray, the rumours and the lies. Every week I’d be here, talking of my husband, his business. Only to be asked and to ask the same the week next. Really, it was alright… I couldn’t have any better. No, I didn’t deserve better. I have no chance at any better. That was probably it. I’m a rotten case anyway.

The writing of this piece is beautiful, everything flowed wonderfully and I truly enjoyed it all! The incorporation of HUAC in a domestic sphere was really fresh and I enjoyed it, I definitely think markers will too.

Now I'll give my opinion as a reader. I really thought the protagonist was a communist. I think the ending was a tiny bit of a let down and not because it didn't reveal her communism, but because it suddenly just got real! Throughout we had been suppressing humanism, reality, a vocation, and instead it was all caught up in superficial nonsense that passed the time, gave some women a purpose for the state, etc. Earlier on, you mentioned how the state had become such a tight knit little community that even without paying attention to politics, it was certain that something was rocking underneath the surface. That's great - an excellent touch to the ways of thinking! I'd be inclined to bring that into the ending. Because, I'm also confused about the chair. I thought it was an electric chair for suspected communists, but then she said, "She was out, she would find her happiness elsewhere, soon enough." and it made me think - wait, is the chair just a questioning chair? I assumed that these women reported the victimised women to the authorities and they were questioned, and then killed in an electric chair, and the women's club all gathered around to watch their dutiful death. But just that little sentence implies that the woman lives on and finds happiness elsewhere, which makes me think that perhaps she didn't die in the chair.
Ok I just gave you a lot of convoluted thoughts and I hope it doesn't frighten you because I promise all of these things are easy to fix, it's just about identifying them and making clear links in the writing. The actual plot is wonderful, the idea of a domestic version of HUAC is GREAT! It's just the ending that I want to iron out to make it super wholesome.

So to summarise:
-Not sure about the purpose of the chair, I thought it was to kill suspected communists.
-I think a little more about the way that these stupid, petty pastimes of reporting suspected communists and making rumours about them - a little more about the way that this is a response to an unsafe world. They were trapped in suburbia, they needed to make the best of it, and reporting communists was doing their little part for the greater good. That'll touch on the way of thinking a bit more - tying together suburbia, communism, patriotism and the Cold War tensions circling about.
-The character's intentions and existence needs to be identified really clearly in the conclusion. Is she just musing over the hilariously vacuous existence? Is she deep down planning a coup and waiting for the moment she can depose Annie? Is she literally just a 2D woman, who loves gossip and just plays her cards right? Is she actually a communist? All of these motives are completely acceptable - I think the ending just needs to clarify further exactly who she is and why she is there. That'll be the "ahh" moment. Perhaps a bit of tongue-in-cheek would be great for the ending?

I know I've just given you so many convoluted ideas, so I am totally open to you posting back and ironing out anything I've said that doesn't make sense. You should be immensely proud of this, it is definitely worth the top mark - I'm just trying to iron out any doubts a marker could have so that you can maintain that level! :)
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ml125

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #23 on: October 09, 2016, 12:32:26 pm »
I know I've just given you so many convoluted ideas, so I am totally open to you posting back and ironing out anything I've said that doesn't make sense. You should be immensely proud of this, it is definitely worth the top mark - I'm just trying to iron out any doubts a marker could have so that you can maintain that level! :)
Thank you so much!! Everything you've said has made complete sense – I honestly wasn't so definite about my creative since I wasn't sure about whether or not I'd be able to portray it correctly. I'll definitely go over it to refine everything you've said :D

Also, my initial intention with the chair was for it to be for questioning - however reading over it now I realise how the idea of liberation doesn't fit in with that idea either. I'd considered it to be an electric chair but I wasn't sure how I would portray it that way. For this portrayal, where I have "She was out, she would find her happiness elsewhere, soon enough." would I be able to replace it with something along the lines of this?

"She would find her happiness elsewhere, soon enough," is what I told myself in an attempt to paint my actions as righteous. I knew it wasn't true. She was gone - for good.
HSC 2016: EE2 | MX1 | Chemistry | Physics
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elysepopplewell

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #24 on: October 09, 2016, 04:05:26 pm »
Thank you so much!! Everything you've said has made complete sense – I honestly wasn't so definite about my creative since I wasn't sure about whether or not I'd be able to portray it correctly. I'll definitely go over it to refine everything you've said :D

Also, my initial intention with the chair was for it to be for questioning - however reading over it now I realise how the idea of liberation doesn't fit in with that idea either. I'd considered it to be an electric chair but I wasn't sure how I would portray it that way. For this portrayal, where I have "She was out, she would find her happiness elsewhere, soon enough." would I be able to replace it with something along the lines of this?

"She would find her happiness elsewhere, soon enough," is what I told myself in an attempt to paint my actions as righteous. I knew it wasn't true. She was gone - for good.

That sounds like a perfect replacement for the other sentence! Really really good. To me, the chair was an electric chair all along! It seemed very American. I'm glad it makes sense - and I definitely think that the sentence there you've suggested also ties in really well with the protagonist's own way of thinking, the consoling of herself even though she knew it was wrong deep down!

Great work! :)
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Blissfulmelodii

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #25 on: October 17, 2016, 01:59:28 pm »
Hey Elyse!
Just wondering if i could get some feedback on my ext 1 creative piece whenever you can. My study this year was of Science fiction which personally I hate and can probably be reflected in my piece as I know it's not really the best. My teacher has told me that the plot is kind of cliche but I plan to use this piece for my HSC anyway (just because I could not bring myself to write another science fiction story) and was just wondering how well you thought it could do?

Spoiler
Synopsis: In a totalitarian society set 100 years in the future where cold hard logic is the only accepted expression of personality, a brother and sister grow up with a passion for creativity which becomes a secret that they must keep between themselves or be executed and used as an example for the rest of society. When political strife arises the two set out to hack into the government's system and globally share musical performance videos which becomes a means of uniting a torn and dystopian society which has long since forgotten the importance of personal expression.

A fine line between right and wrong
“Father you cannot be teaching her this, if anyone was to find out we would all suffer! What you are doing is completely dangerous and I will not have my daughter involved!”

“If you remember correctly, you loved performing. You used to play for your mother and I after supper every evening.”

“Times have changed. We are no longer living in a free will society, this isn’t the 21st century anymore and it certainly isn’t the same government as when I was growing up. She is my daughter and what I say goes, you need to respect my wishes. No more music, understand?”

There was a brief silence to what I assumed meant an untold agreement, my heart dropped and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. A moment passed and then I heard shuffling coming from the other side of the door, i quickly ran upstairs and hurried down the hall towards my room, closing the door softly behind me, hoping I hadn’t been caught eavesdropping. 


“- he is so cool and I’m so jealous he has the latest holographic 360 watch! I’ve been asking my parent for months to get it for me-“
“Kayla are you okay?”

When my group of my friends noticed that I had stopped, they joined me and followed the direction of my eyes. The remarkable lines and intense detail in the image painted on the white brick wall of the school's entrance captivated everyone. None of us in our lifetimes had ever seen such colours and such beauty, in fact none of us had ever seen a piece of art before, not even in the history books. I remember my grandfather telling me about it, I believe they called it graffiti art and it was apparently very big in the 21st Century. As my eyes continued to wonder over the image, taking in as much detail as I could, the bell rang shattering our moment of wonder and in a daze we were swept by the tide of students into the school grounds, my friend Laura guiding me as I stumbled along continuing to stare.

xxx

“You sound really good.”

My head whipped up and my heart began to beat rapidly, my eyes widened and my brain began to swirl with a million thoughts as I attempted to come up with an explanation.

“I’m not going to tell anyone.”

The breath I hadn’t known I had been holding was released as I took in that small sentence. I didn’t speak – I didn’t know what to say – what could I say? I had just been caught in a crime, something so remarkably illegal that death was the penalty. How are you supposed to respond?
He lifted his finger and swept out of the room the bottom of his coat flying behind him, my eyebrows creased as I continued to sit in silence, utterly confused and slightly afraid. He returned a moment later holding his computer, software manufacturer and what looked like our grandfathers old sketching pad. He silently set the pad in front of me, I placed the acoustic guitar next to me and lifted the pad, opening the pages and flipping through. The further I went the further a sense of familiarity washed over me, I stopped on the last page and gasped. I looked up at my brother, eyes wide and mouth open.

“I have my own secrets to keep.”

“The image on the wall, that was you.” He nodded, a small, nervous smile on his face. “What you do is amazing, I’d give anything to be able share my music with the world”

“Maybe you can…”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me along beside him, I had no idea where he was taking me. He lead me down the hall and into the basement. He released the hold he had on my hand and began to move things around the room like a tornado sweeping through. I stood in the centre spinning in circles watching his every move, still completely confused. The darkness from the lack of windows and the cobwebs and layer of dust that covers every inch of the room made for an eerie atmosphere. He placed a chair in the centre and ran back upstairs leaving me to stare behind. He returned with my guitar and pushed me down on the chair, placing the guitar in my lap.

“Play something.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

I didn’t hesitate, it was like my body had a mind of its own, the music flowed naturally filling the empty silence of the room and in that moment nothing mattered. Getting caught didn’t cross my mind, in that single space of time, it was just me and my guitar. When the song faded out, the silence returned, I looked back over to my brother who was wildly smiling.

“Be prepared to silence the world.”
xxx

As I made my way to school the following week, it felt like any other ordinary day. I met up with Laura and the rest of the group and we stopped off at our usual coffee house before making a beeline to the school gates. The idle chatter between us seized as we noticed a commotion up ahead. The front of the school’s entrance was packed with people. We ran the rest of the way to school and stopped just short of the back of the group and that was when I allowed my other senses to work. Everything was quiet for a split second before I began to hear my voice but it wasn’t me. And it hit, that was what Johnny had meant by silencing the world. He had recorded me and used his computer engineering skills to send the video viral. A sense of elation spread through every cell of my being, he had made the impossible happen and my one desire come true. Ultimately he had today the best day of my life and I couldn’t ask for more.  Suddenly my phone began to ring, I parted from the crowd and quickly answered my parents call but I really wished I hadn’t.

“Kayla, you need to come home right now! It's your brother. He's been taken!”
--HSC subjects--
Music 1 | Biology | Society and Culture | Spanish Beginners | Math ext 1 & 2 | English Advanced | English ext 1 & 2

elysepopplewell

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #26 on: October 17, 2016, 05:16:19 pm »
Hey Elyse!
Just wondering if i could get some feedback on my ext 1 creative piece whenever you can. My study this year was of Science fiction which personally I hate and can probably be reflected in my piece as I know it's not really the best. My teacher has told me that the plot is kind of cliche but I plan to use this piece for my HSC anyway (just because I could not bring myself to write another science fiction story) and was just wondering how well you thought it could do?


Hey! A lot of people feel this way about Science Fiction :( I didn't study it, thankfully, but I did dystopian texts for Ext 1 in Year 11 so I have some ideas about the topic :)

Spoiler
Synopsis: In a totalitarian society set 100 years in the future where cold hard logic is the only accepted expression of personality, a brother and sister grow up with a passion for creativity which becomes a secret that they must keep between themselves or be executed and used as an example for the rest of society. When political strife arises the two set out to hack into the government's system and globally share musical performance videos which becomes a means of uniting a torn and dystopian society which has long since forgotten the importance of personal expression.

A fine line between right and wrong
“Father you cannot be teaching her this, if anyone was to find out we would all suffer! What you are doing is completely dangerous and I will not have my daughter involved!”

“If you remember correctly, you loved performing. You used to play for your mother and I after supper every evening.”

“Times have changed. We are no longer living in a free will society, I think this is too much telling and not enough showing :) this isn’t the 21st century anymore and it certainly isn’t the same government as when I was growing up. She is my daughter and what I say goes, you need to respect my wishes. No more music, understand?”

There was a brief silence to what I assumed meant an untold agreement, my heart dropped and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. A moment passed and then I heard shuffling coming from the other side of the door, i quickly ran upstairs and hurried down the hall towards my room, closing the door softly behind me, hoping I hadn’t been caught eavesdropping. 


“- he is so cool and I’m so jealous he has the latest holographic 360 watch! I’ve been asking my parent for months to get it for me-“ A holographic 360 watch seems like something in 20 years time for me, not 100 years. If you're trying to replicate the entering of a conversation, perhaps use an ellipsis rather than a hyphen at the start?
“Kayla are you okay?”

When my group of my friends noticed that I had stopped, they joined me and followed the direction of my eyes. The remarkable lines and intense detail in the image painted on the white brick wall of the school's entrance captivated everyone. None of us in our lifetimes had ever seen such colours and such beauty, in fact none of us had ever seen a piece of art before, not even in the history books. I remember my grandfather telling me about it, I believe they called it graffiti art and it was apparently very big in the 21st Century. Again, telling instead of showing :) You've showed in the start of the sentence, so it's suitable to drop this bit :)As my eyes continued to wonder over the image, taking in as much detail as I could, the bell rang shattering our moment of wonder Two uses of "wonder" in a sentence - consider adjusting.and in a daze we were swept by the tide of students into the school grounds, my friend Laura guiding me as I stumbled along continuing to stare.
xxx

“You sound really good.”

My head whipped up and my heart began to beat rapidly, my eyes widened and my brain began to swirl with a million thoughts as I attempted to come up with an explanation.

“I’m not going to tell anyone.”

The breath I hadn’t known I had been holding was released as I took in that small sentence. I didn’t speak – I didn’t know what to say – what could I say? I had just been caught in a crime, something so remarkably illegal that death was the penalty. How are you supposed to respond?
He lifted his finger and swept out of the room the bottom of his coat flying behind him, my eyebrows creased as I continued to sit in silence, utterly confused and slightly afraid. He returned a moment later holding his computer, software manufacturer and what looked like our grandfathers old sketching pad. He silently set the pad in front of me, I placed the acoustic guitar next to me and lifted the pad, opening the pages and flipping through. The further I went the further a sense of familiarity washed over me, I stopped on the last page and gasped. I looked up at my brother, eyes wide and mouth open.

“I have my own secrets to keep.”

“The image on the wall, that was you.” He nodded, a small, nervous smile on his face. “What you do is amazing, I’d give anything to be able share my music with the world”

“Maybe you can…”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me along beside him, I had no idea where he was taking me. He lead me down the hall and into the basement. He released the hold he had on my hand and began to move things around the room like a tornado sweeping through. I stood in the centre spinning in circles watching his every move, still completely confused. The darkness from the lack of windows and the cobwebs and layer of dust that covers every inch of the room made for an eerie atmosphere. He placed a chair in the centre and ran back upstairs leaving me to stare behind. He returned with my guitar and pushed me down on the chair, placing the guitar in my lap.

“Play something.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

I didn’t hesitate, it was like my body had a mind of its own, the music flowed naturally filling the empty silence of the room and in that moment nothing mattered. Getting caught didn’t cross my mind, in that single space of time, it was just me and my guitar. When the song faded out, the silence returned, I looked back over to my brother who was wildly smiling.

“Be prepared to silence the world.”  Love this!!!!
xxx

As I made my way to school the following week, it felt like any other ordinary day. I met up with Laura and the rest of the group and we stopped off at our usual coffee house before making a beeline to the school gates. The idle chatter between us seized as we noticed a commotion up ahead. The front of the school’s entrance was packed with people. We ran the rest of the way to school and stopped just short of the back of the group and that was when I allowed my other senses to work. Everything was quiet for a split second before I began to hear my voice but it wasn’t me. And it hit, that was what Johnny had meant by silencing the world. He had recorded me and used his computer engineering skills to send the video viral. A sense of elation spread through every cell of my being, he had made the impossible happen and my one desire come true. Ultimately he had today the best day of my life and I couldn’t ask for more.  Suddenly my phone began to ring, I parted from the crowd and quickly answered my parents call but I really wished I hadn’t.

“Kayla, you need to come home right now! It's your brother. He's been taken!”

I really like this story, I got chills at the end. I didn't predict the brother, I predicted she was going to be in trouble. So I enjoyed the twist! I think there are a few incidents of you explicitly telling what was happening when I could have worked it out anyway (I pointed them out) - so just remember, there is a balance you have to find here with a scifi story. I think to elevate your work, you should add in some jargon. Something that's true to your own world that you've created. I think you might find that making up some simple terminology (something for big brother, maybe something for intelligencia, something like that) will elevate your story into a new time!!

You should be proud of this! I didn't think it was cliche :)
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Blissfulmelodii

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #27 on: October 17, 2016, 06:42:28 pm »
Hey! A lot of people feel this way about Science Fiction :( I didn't study it, thankfully, but I did dystopian texts for Ext 1 in Year 11 so I have some ideas about the topic :)

Spoiler
Synopsis: In a totalitarian society set 100 years in the future where cold hard logic is the only accepted expression of personality, a brother and sister grow up with a passion for creativity which becomes a secret that they must keep between themselves or be executed and used as an example for the rest of society. When political strife arises the two set out to hack into the government's system and globally share musical performance videos which becomes a means of uniting a torn and dystopian society which has long since forgotten the importance of personal expression.

A fine line between right and wrong
“Father you cannot be teaching her this, if anyone was to find out we would all suffer! What you are doing is completely dangerous and I will not have my daughter involved!”

“If you remember correctly, you loved performing. You used to play for your mother and I after supper every evening.”

“Times have changed. We are no longer living in a free will society, I think this is too much telling and not enough showing :) this isn’t the 21st century anymore and it certainly isn’t the same government as when I was growing up. She is my daughter and what I say goes, you need to respect my wishes. No more music, understand?”

There was a brief silence to what I assumed meant an untold agreement, my heart dropped and I felt tears welling up in my eyes. A moment passed and then I heard shuffling coming from the other side of the door, i quickly ran upstairs and hurried down the hall towards my room, closing the door softly behind me, hoping I hadn’t been caught eavesdropping. 


“- he is so cool and I’m so jealous he has the latest holographic 360 watch! I’ve been asking my parent for months to get it for me-“ A holographic 360 watch seems like something in 20 years time for me, not 100 years. If you're trying to replicate the entering of a conversation, perhaps use an ellipsis rather than a hyphen at the start?
“Kayla are you okay?”

When my group of my friends noticed that I had stopped, they joined me and followed the direction of my eyes. The remarkable lines and intense detail in the image painted on the white brick wall of the school's entrance captivated everyone. None of us in our lifetimes had ever seen such colours and such beauty, in fact none of us had ever seen a piece of art before, not even in the history books. I remember my grandfather telling me about it, I believe they called it graffiti art and it was apparently very big in the 21st Century. Again, telling instead of showing :) You've showed in the start of the sentence, so it's suitable to drop this bit :)As my eyes continued to wonder over the image, taking in as much detail as I could, the bell rang shattering our moment of wonder Two uses of "wonder" in a sentence - consider adjusting.and in a daze we were swept by the tide of students into the school grounds, my friend Laura guiding me as I stumbled along continuing to stare.
xxx

“You sound really good.”

My head whipped up and my heart began to beat rapidly, my eyes widened and my brain began to swirl with a million thoughts as I attempted to come up with an explanation.

“I’m not going to tell anyone.”

The breath I hadn’t known I had been holding was released as I took in that small sentence. I didn’t speak – I didn’t know what to say – what could I say? I had just been caught in a crime, something so remarkably illegal that death was the penalty. How are you supposed to respond?
He lifted his finger and swept out of the room the bottom of his coat flying behind him, my eyebrows creased as I continued to sit in silence, utterly confused and slightly afraid. He returned a moment later holding his computer, software manufacturer and what looked like our grandfathers old sketching pad. He silently set the pad in front of me, I placed the acoustic guitar next to me and lifted the pad, opening the pages and flipping through. The further I went the further a sense of familiarity washed over me, I stopped on the last page and gasped. I looked up at my brother, eyes wide and mouth open.

“I have my own secrets to keep.”

“The image on the wall, that was you.” He nodded, a small, nervous smile on his face. “What you do is amazing, I’d give anything to be able share my music with the world”

“Maybe you can…”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me along beside him, I had no idea where he was taking me. He lead me down the hall and into the basement. He released the hold he had on my hand and began to move things around the room like a tornado sweeping through. I stood in the centre spinning in circles watching his every move, still completely confused. The darkness from the lack of windows and the cobwebs and layer of dust that covers every inch of the room made for an eerie atmosphere. He placed a chair in the centre and ran back upstairs leaving me to stare behind. He returned with my guitar and pushed me down on the chair, placing the guitar in my lap.

“Play something.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

I didn’t hesitate, it was like my body had a mind of its own, the music flowed naturally filling the empty silence of the room and in that moment nothing mattered. Getting caught didn’t cross my mind, in that single space of time, it was just me and my guitar. When the song faded out, the silence returned, I looked back over to my brother who was wildly smiling.

“Be prepared to silence the world.”  Love this!!!!
xxx

As I made my way to school the following week, it felt like any other ordinary day. I met up with Laura and the rest of the group and we stopped off at our usual coffee house before making a beeline to the school gates. The idle chatter between us seized as we noticed a commotion up ahead. The front of the school’s entrance was packed with people. We ran the rest of the way to school and stopped just short of the back of the group and that was when I allowed my other senses to work. Everything was quiet for a split second before I began to hear my voice but it wasn’t me. And it hit, that was what Johnny had meant by silencing the world. He had recorded me and used his computer engineering skills to send the video viral. A sense of elation spread through every cell of my being, he had made the impossible happen and my one desire come true. Ultimately he had today the best day of my life and I couldn’t ask for more.  Suddenly my phone began to ring, I parted from the crowd and quickly answered my parents call but I really wished I hadn’t.

“Kayla, you need to come home right now! It's your brother. He's been taken!”

I really like this story, I got chills at the end. I didn't predict the brother, I predicted she was going to be in trouble. So I enjoyed the twist! I think there are a few incidents of you explicitly telling what was happening when I could have worked it out anyway (I pointed them out) - so just remember, there is a balance you have to find here with a scifi story. I think to elevate your work, you should add in some jargon. Something that's true to your own world that you've created. I think you might find that making up some simple terminology (something for big brother, maybe something for intelligencia, something like that) will elevate your story into a new time!!

You should be proud of this! I didn't think it was cliche :)

Makes complete sense, good thing extension isn't for another 2 weeks hahaha plenty of time to fix this up.  Thank you so much!!
--HSC subjects--
Music 1 | Biology | Society and Culture | Spanish Beginners | Math ext 1 & 2 | English Advanced | English ext 1 & 2

elysepopplewell

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #28 on: October 17, 2016, 07:21:00 pm »
Makes complete sense, good thing extension isn't for another 2 weeks hahaha plenty of time to fix this up.  Thank you so much!!

Not a worry! If you want to run with the jargon idea, feel free to run it past me if you want opinions on what is too far fetched and what makes a good word, etc. :)
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Blissfulmelodii

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Re: English Extension One Creative Writing Thread!
« Reply #29 on: October 17, 2016, 07:23:27 pm »
Not a worry! If you want to run with the jargon idea, feel free to run it past me if you want opinions on what is too far fetched and what makes a good word, etc. :)

I most definitely will! The idea of making words up may seem thrilling but I find it completely daunting lol
--HSC subjects--
Music 1 | Biology | Society and Culture | Spanish Beginners | Math ext 1 & 2 | English Advanced | English ext 1 & 2