Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!

[kb123]

The rationale behind these threads is to develop a collection of student works and feedback. Students like you who submit their work get personalised feedback (that hopefully helps you improve your results, yay!); and other students get the benefit of having a read of what other people are doing, and seeing what works and what doesn't. Kind of like a collection of exemplars, only we have a portfolio of responses that cover a variety of performance ranges

For this reason, we don't delete the pieces once the feedback has been given. That's part of the idea. We've never had any issues with plagiarism in the NSW forums though, so you don't have to worry! You can send me a personal message if you want to chat about this further though, I'd be happy to, just click on my profile name and click "Send PM" underneath my picture

Ok, all good.

[asd987]

hi, how would I describe finding a briefcase containing secrets?
Any suggestions?
Thanks

[elysepopplewell]

hi, how would I describe finding a briefcase containing secrets?
Any suggestions?
Thanks

Ooh, it depends what kind of secrets? Was the person looking for them? Did they stumble across them? Mm... I'd maybe describe the brief case in its actuality, and then metaphorical describe the secrets inside. If they're written on paper, give them more of a mystical understanding. I don't think it works well to metaphorically describe both - it needs to be one or the other to make a contrast. What are you considering?

[asd987]

How can I describe finding an old letter?

[jamonwindeyer]

How can I describe finding an old letter?

Perhaps you could have a go at this yourself and Elyse/myself could give you some feedback as to whether you are achieving what you want to achieve? You improve through practice

[StockoTheDucko]

In the HSC, how many marks would this Discovery story receive, at the point it is at now?


Faulty Umbrella
The sound of rain lightly tapping the window beckons me from my deep thought. I open my eyes to a dull unlit room and lumber to the window, only to see the sight of deep grey of the overcast day. Fog hinders the view past the fence. Lone rays of sunlight break through the clouds only to be covered up again by the passing clouds. Branches from the tree at the back droop towards the ground, in a submissive, yet depressing way. It’s on it’s last legs. I look off into the fog while my mind broods over the similarities between me and the seemingly sunless day.

My hand grasps my trusty umbrella, fingers curled around the handle tightly, like it would provide some sort of protection, both physical and mental. I trudge down the footpath, my eyes towards the ground. I look up the path, seeing my 3 friends standing with another group of people. I slow the movement of my heavy feet, to see who else is there. A face becomes visible, that I recognise as the one person I never wish to see. The main cause of my insecurities, the main cause of my problems with trust. This individual used to be my friend, the one I would trust with everything. He gave up on me in my time of need, and became my enemy. He wasn't there when I needed him most, and now these friends were doing the same. They were what Id call faulty; works fine at first, but at the first sign of hard times, it falls apart. I come to the realisation that I would now be alone again, to sit in silence at the boulevard of broken hopes and dreams, school.

I enter the corner store as I do every morning. I  walk to the back slowly, scanning the shelves as I trudge past. Music subtly plays over the morning silence. I recognise the song quickly as Better Days by Pete Murray, and realise the dark irony implanted in the lyrics; “… I needed my friends there, I just turned around, they were gone without a trace…” Again, I’m grasping my umbrella for a feeling of security as I pick up the item I buy every morning.
“Morning Liam, just this today?” “Yes thanks.”
“Thats $2.50,” says the store clerk brightly.
“Oh… Im sorry, I’ve forgotten my wallet… I’ll put this back,” I mumble back in disappointment.
“Liam, don’t worry about it. Take it. I’ll pay. You come in every morning, Ill do this as a favour.” “Thank you…”
“Liam, you alright there?” He sounds concerned. I wonder whether I should tell him the truth, the betrayal that has come my way. I decide against it.
“Yeah I’m fine thanks, just a lot of stuff on my mind.”
“Alright, see you tomorrow.” The store clerk sounds unconvinced.
I saunter out of the small shop and begin on my journey to school. I stare at the ground in front of me, my fingers still wrapped tightly around the handle of the umbrella. I move my eyes from the ground to the worn, aged handle of the umbrella. I examine it thoroughly. The clear lacquer finish is worn off in a hand-like shape. There are cracks in the handle and chips off the curved edge. I’ve had this umbrella for a few years, no wonder it looks so rugged. Its damaged, gone through events it wasn't built for. This thought reminds me of my past. The dark memories. I shake my head, as if to shake them out, but they remain, festering. I have a growing sense of dread with every step, as if the ground I’m waking on is cursed, and the school the centre of it. I take my attention away from the umbrella just in time to see Her run into me.
“Liam, I’m so sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you ok?”
“Yeah I’m fine, it’s my fault.” I reply back quickly. Too quickly. I blush a deep red and take my eyes away from Her face. I can see Her facial expression in the corner of my eye, although I can’t recognise it. Its as if she's concerned but glad this happened.
“Liam, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Do you mind if we meet up here after school?” My mind jumps to all sorts of crazy conclusions, I try to keep my excitement hidden.
“Yeah sure, what’s it about?” I ask curiously, yet quietly.
“Don’t worry about it now, after school ok? Here at 10 past 3.” She blurts it out quickly, like she's hiding something. My mind wanders, thinking about it, about Her.






“Ok Ill see you this afternoon. Have a good day.” I turn away, finding difficulty in hiding my smile and walk away. Thoughts of Her surge through my mind, immediately lifting my mood. There is now a light spring in my step and a smile on my face, a smile thats usually as scarce as a hen’s teeth. I walk briskly through the school gates and through the maze of corridors and hallways. The door looms at the end of the hallway, and the smile that was on my face disappears without a trace. I take my seat in the quiet, empty room. It’s well lit, but the atmosphere pensive, desolate and bereft of positivity. The bell rings for class, the loudness and severity of it reminds me of a bell before a boxing match, or a siren before an air raid. I rest my head on the desk and prepare myself for the 6 hour torment and abuse that was about to begin.

The austere sound of the bell rings through the room. Everyone around me is in a mad dash, swiping books, pencil cases into bags. I slowly pack up my things, like I have all the time in the world. By the time I’m done, the room is empty except for me and the teacher. She just sits at her desk looking at papers. I can see her eyes furiously scanning the pages through the vast lenses of her glasses. My eyes lock onto the clock; 5 past 3. If I don’t hurry Ill be late. I bolt out the door, down the corridor and into the open. I dodge the last few people left in the yard and out the towering school gate. She’s already there, arms crossed, looking around. I stop running and catch my breath, before I begin walking towards Her. She sees me and smiles, I smile back, probably with too much enthusiasm. “Hey Liam, I thought you weren’t going to turn up for a second there.”
“Nah I just got caught up in class, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” The last part I mumble quickly, half hoping she noticed, half hoping she didn’t hear it. She looks at me puzzlingly, as if she's trying to figure something out.
“Anyway, about what I needed to tell you. Walk with me to my place and we’ll talk on the way.” She seems eager to get moving, so I start walking the way she’s facing, up the road.
“Uh Liam, where do you think your going? My house is this way.” She looks at me laughingly. I go red with embarrassment. “Yeah I knew that, I was seeing if you were paying attention.” I say back, trying to cover up my embarrassment. “Oh so you’ve been following me home have you Liam?” She has a big smirk on her face, I can see she loves to watch me squirm in discomfort.
“No not at all…” I look at the ground, trying to hide my embarrassment, much to her enjoyment.
“Come on then, you want to know don’t you?” Her face changes from amused to warm-hearted and sympathetic. I start walking quickly beside her to show my eagerness. “So Liam about what I was going to talk to you about. Iv’e seen you everyday and you always looks so… Depressed I guess. Are you ok?” She sounds quite concerned. I contemplate on whether I should trust her and tell her everything. “Do you mind if we talk about it when we get to your place?”
“Yeah sure, whatever your comfortable with.” She smiles at me with such warmth and kindness, and we walk down the road, towards her house, and for once, a smile is on my face, no longer a facade.

[Nialllovespie]

Hi elyse,

This is my creative, it needs ALOT of improvement but I don't really know where to start...

THANKYOU so so so much for all ur help!!

“You see my darling, life is like an elevator. Let me explain to you”


***


The shiny silver elevator doors, silently slid open smoothly revealing a petite middle aged lady, my mother, standing profoundly with her husband, my father. For she had been standing in the elevator previously, it was evident that there were floors below, yet those numbers did not show up on the elevator key pad due to the lack of possibility of going down floors. As the lady bent over to pick me up, the action of being lifted into the air held up by the arms of the her made me dependable on trusting her as she passed me to my father to cuddle me. Observing my surroundings, I can't help but notice the fresh paint scent accompanying the newly fitted carpet. A lightbulb hanging promptly from the roof of the elevator shines bright. A “ding” noise sounds in sync with the closing of the doors as the elevator. Gently ascending to a slow hault at the second level where the doors creep open. My mother picks up a small bundle of blankets covering a newly born baby boy. As I support myself standing holding on to my fathers leg, it is disclosed that the baby boy is my brother. The doors slam shut as the vroom of the elevator jolts upwards.


Bracing to a stop at level 5, a joyful young girl, neatly dressed in fresh school uniformed danced around the play equipment, playing tag with two others. Her green wide-brimmed hat attached with a string around her chin proudly displayed her school logo.


At level 17 a room full of zombie exam students, institutionalised to the exam protocol. The silence permeating the room emphasised the invigorators loud thumps of her high heeled boots as she walked through the classroom delivering papers. The urge to peak at my exam paper flooded me with curiosity but I didn't let the temptation get the better of me. Scribbling my student number and other miscellaneous details on the front cover as instructed the invigorators voice booms through the room.
“You may begin now”
The adrenaline rush floods through me synchronised with the weak breeze produced from the rapid A4 movement. My corneas are covered with a thick layer of secreted water, covering my desert surfaced eyes, obscuring my vision.


At level 22 the elevator doors open to a university lecture room. I watch as a tanned young adult, with sandy blonde hair and brown eyes strolls in the direction of the elevator, my eyes following his every move. A toothy grin plasters his face as he enters. He wraps a muscular arm around me pulling me close as I sink into the warmth of his embrace.


While stopping at level 28, the elevator doors slide open. We gaze as the white tipped waves crash along the shoreline spreading like a fine lace across the sand. I observe myself in a long white beautiful dress, strolling along the shore, my brown hair wavy with intricate flowers placed carefully on it. Holding the hand of my husband, with his tousled sandy hair, well dressed in a suit, the photographers scatter around them capturing their moment surrounded by a picturesque beach view. They stop and pose while kissing, the lady flashing her chunky diamond sitting neatly on her ring finger on her left hand, the wedding guests cheer and clap for joy.


At level 31 the elevator stops and the doors open. I reach out and grab the cradle sitting on the carpet. I bring it inside and place it in my husbands arms. Hidden under the blankets a small hand creeps out curling its fingers around my pinky. Her brand new eyes glisten eagerly scanning her surroundings of the elevator.


The elevator grinded to a halt at level 34 as the doors strike open uncovering a deadly car crash between a car and a truck. My brother alights from the elevator as I watch the paramedics lift a deceased body, covered in a white blanket, onto the ambulance bed, shutting the doors behind them. The doors close unexpectedly, signifying there is no more to see, or perhaps no more I should see for my own good. I desperately press the level 33 button as it begins to fade. My need and desire to go back and appreciate previous time I spent with my brother flooded through me. A noise of declination is sounded and I am reminded that the elevator is on a one way journey upwards.


The flickering of the elevator light illuminates level 40, the doors opening to the hallway of a retirement home. My mother steps out and waves a goodbye to us with a solemn smile covering her face. Without much to say or do a seconds pause is allowed before the elevator prepares for its long ascent. The doors slammed shut and the lift whizzed up with a echoing brrroiing.


At level 79 the elevator stops. The faded paint on the wall begins peeling away like bark off a tree. The doors jam halfway through opening, requiring the combined effort of everyone in the elevator to forcefully pull the doors open. A community hospital room is plastered across the walls of the elevator. My husband steps out while doctors and nurses rush to the bed he lay upon, supporting him in his lasts breathes, I hold tightly to his hand as his final seconds are consumed. The thundering crash of the doors closing alerts everyone before the elevator ascends once again.


By level 82, the worn carpet is patchy and the light flickering is so faint, requiring everyone's phone flashlights to illuminate the elevator. The paint on the inside walls of the elevator is mostly on the floor. A musty stale odor lingers, signifying its use and age. At level 82, my departure from the elevator has come. I wave goodbye to my loved ones as they watch the screen I will shortly appear on. I step out of the elevator and watch as the doors close behind me, carrying the others on the journey they have yet to come.

Notes about my story just incase it doesn't make sense...
The elevators life is symbolism and parallel to the protagonists. At the start the elevator is nice and new and everything is working but as its life progresses it begins malfunctioning, the carpet is worn, the light stops working. The purpose of the other elevator members is to show that during the end of your life you have to rely on others to help you get through. Also at level 34 the protagonist discovers to appreciate what they have whole they have it because once someone is gone, you can't get them back. 

[elysepopplewell]

In the HSC, how many marks would this Discovery story receive, at the point it is at now?

Hey StockoTheDucko! I'll give you a few quick thoughts on this creative shortly - but just so you know, we give full feedback for every fifteen posts you make on the site. So I'll give you some pointers shortly, but just know that if you hang around you'll be able to get pieces marked when it's really essential for you

[elysepopplewell]

Hi elyse,

This is my creative, it needs ALOT of improvement but I don't really know where to start...

THANKYOU so so so much for all ur help!!

Hey there! You're so kind My thoughts are in bold font below..

Spoiler

“You see my darling, life is like an elevator. Let me explain to you”


***


The shiny silver elevator doors, no need for a comma here silently slid open smoothly revealing a petite middle aged lady, my mother, standing profoundly with her husband, my father. For she This high formal register sounds a bit funny here, especially after such a dense description in the first sentence, the tone is juxtaposed a little abruptly. had been standing in the elevator previously, it was evident that there were floors below, yet those numbers did not show up on the elevator key pad due to the lack of possibility of going down floors. This bit here sounds very calculated, clinical. Without this last segment, the sentence still makes sense. As the lady bent over to pick me up, the action Another example of clinical language - actually identifying the events as an action. This is your option to either take it out, or play with the language so it's more playful, smooth. of being lifted into the air held up by the arms of the her made me dependable on trusting her Another example of the language, you're telling, instead of showing, but also telling these things that aren't totally necessary to the story. Obviously you need to trust someone who is holding you above the ground, but what a reader does want to know is how the person being picked up feels. Awkward? Happy? like a toy? as she passed me to my father to cuddle me. Observing my surroundings, I can't help but notice the fresh paint scent accompanying the newly fitted carpet. A lightbulb hanging promptly from the roof of the elevator shines bright. A “ding” noise sounds in sync with the closing of the doors as the elevator. Gently ascending to a slow hault at the second level where the doors creep open. My mother picks up a small bundle of blankets covering a newly born baby boy. As I support myself standing holding awkward wording on to my fathers leg, it is disclosed that the baby boy is my brother. The doors slam shut as the vroom of the elevator jolts upwards. Love "vroom" - that's great!


Bracing to a stop at level 5, a joyful young girl, neatly dressed in fresh school uniformed danced around the play equipment, playing tag with two others. Her green wide-brimmed hat attached with a string around her chin proudly displayed her school logo.


At level 17 a room full of zombie-like exam students, institutionalised to the exam protocol. The silence permeating the room emphasised the invigorators loud thumps of her high heeled boots as she walked through the classroom delivering papers. The urge to peak at my exam paper flooded me with curiosity but I didn't let the temptation get the better of me. Scribbling my student number and other miscellaneous details on the front cover as instructed the invigorators voice booms through the room.
“You may begin now”
The adrenaline rush floods through me synchronised with the weak breeze produced from the rapid A4 movement. My corneas are covered with a thick layer of secreted water, covering my desert surfaced eyes, obscuring my vision. There's a lot of imagery at once here, and I think it detracts from the poignant significance of the piece, and clouds it a little bit. I like each bit individually, but together it creates a cacophony.


At level 22 the elevator doors open to a university lecture room. I watch as a tanned young adult, with sandy blonde hair and brown eyes strolls in the direction of the elevator, my eyes following his every move. A toothy grin plasters his face as he enters. He wraps a muscular arm around me pulling me close as I sink into the warmth of his embrace.


While stopping at level 28, the elevator doors slide open. We gaze as the white tipped waves crash along the shoreline spreading like a fine lace across the sand. I observe myself in a long white beautiful dress, strolling along the shore, my brown hair wavy with intricate flowers placed carefully on it. Holding the hand of my husband, with his tousled sandy hair, well dressed in a suit, the photographers scatter around them capturing their moment surrounded by a picturesque beach view. They Did we just change from first to second person? I'm not sure who the bride is anymore. stop and pose while kissing, the lady flashing her chunky diamond sitting neatly on her ring finger on her left hand, the wedding guests cheer and clap for joy.


At level 31 the elevator stops and the doors open. I reach out and grab the cradle sitting on the carpet. I bring it inside and place it in my husbands arms. Hidden under the blankets a small hand creeps out curling its fingers around my pinky. Her brand new eyes glisten eagerly scanning her surroundings of the elevator.


The elevator grinded to a halt at level 34 as the doors strike open uncovering a deadly car crash between a car and a truck. My brother alights from the elevator as I watch the paramedics lift a deceased body, covered in a white blanket, onto the ambulance bed, shutting the doors behind them. The doors close unexpectedly, signifying there is no more to see, or perhaps no more I should see for my own good. I desperately press the level 33 button as it begins to fade. My need and desire to go back and appreciate previous time I spent with my brother flooded through me. A noise of declination is sounded and I am reminded that the elevator is on a one way journey upwards. I love the idea of pressing the level 33 button - trying to go back. And the word choice of "fades" links wonderfully with the earlier statement that you can't see buttons below. Clever thinking!


The flickering of the elevator light illuminates level 40, the doors opening to the hallway of a retirement home. My mother steps out and waves a goodbye to us with a solemn smile covering her face. Without much to say or do a seconds pause is allowed before the elevator prepares for its long ascent. The doors slammed shut and the lift whizzed up with a echoing brrroiing.


At level 79 the elevator stops. The faded paint on the wall begins peeling away like bark off a tree a eucalyptus, perhaps? Simply identifying the tree brings so much more vivid imagery. . The doors jam halfway through opening, requiring the combined effort of everyone in the elevator to forcefully pull the doors open. A community hospital room is plastered across the walls of the elevator. My husband steps out while doctors and nurses rush to the bed he lay upon, supporting him in his lasts breathes, I hold tightly to his hand as his final seconds are consumed. The thundering crash of the doors closing alerts everyone before the elevator ascends once again.


By level 82, the worn carpet is patchy and the light flickering is so faint, requiring everyone's phone flashlights to illuminate the elevator. The paint on the inside walls of the elevator is mostly on the floor. A musty stale odour lingers, signifying its use and age. At level 82, my departure from the elevator has come. I wave goodbye to my loved ones as they watch the screen I will shortly appear on. I step out of the elevator and watch as the doors close behind me, carrying the others on the journey they have yet to come.

Notes about my story just incase it doesn't make sense...
The elevators life is symbolism and parallel to the protagonists. At the start the elevator is nice and new and everything is working but as its life progresses it begins malfunctioning, the carpet is worn, the light stops working. The purpose of the other elevator members is to show that during the end of your life you have to rely on others to help you get through. Also at level 34 the protagonist discovers to appreciate what they have whole they have it because once someone is gone, you can't get them back.

I think this is a very clever concept. There are a few things to tweak, and I think that the beauty of having such a conceptually rich story early on is that you can keep twisting and turning it to get it wonderful! Right now, there are some "voice" things to work on, creating an authentic voice. Similarly, the expression of some sentences needs some tweaking so that it really sounds like the voice of the protagonist at different stages of life, and not a narrator. I've suggested some ways towards the beginning, but please clarify if you aren't sure if it makes sense.

I understood the elevator concept without your explanation at the end! So that's great! I liked having little realisations throughout the piece. I'm wondering if the very first sentence is needed? I just don't know if it gives too much away too soon? And we don't find out who says it? What's your thoughts on this?

Also, I think we could add a slightly different layer. Potentially, at the beginning, the protagonist expresses how much he or she wants to get to the top, to the balcony. So that kind of desire to grow up is proven to be not so ideal after all, I think this adds another level of discovery, which is great, but it also adds a little more complexity without much hassle for you.

This is a great piece and you should be really proud of what you've come up with!

Let me know what you think about my suggestions...happy to flesh things out more

[elysepopplewell]

In the HSC, how many marks would this Discovery story receive, at the point it is at now?

I don't quite feel comfortable giving this marks just yet, but rather I can comment on the narrative. You've got the foundations of a really good story here, that's the beauty of having a completed piece so early on in the year. I think at the moment, it lacks in discovery, but it can easily be emphasised. So, the ending is a nice moment of a facade coming down, it's a nice relief, it's a joy to read. The way that we emphasise that as an important moment of discovery is by having more of an internal shift earlier on. Currently, the plot is very action/narrative based, it follows the sequence of the events and focuses more on physicality than emotion. I'll suggest the idea of building up what this girl wants as being ulterior? It means shifting your protagonist's perspective a bit, but it means that you'd emphasise discovery. Perhaps the protagonist is very skeptical of the girl, perhaps the girl is despised for being too clever, or too loud. Or maybe, that loud idea is the way to go - and we build up the girl to be loud and boisterous and sometimes irritating. Then, when she asks if everything is ok, we discover the way a person may not match their exterior, we discover my perspectives and attitudes, and we discovery transformed perspectives.

This is just one idea...
Hopefully this makes some kind of sense to you? Of course, you could disregard my suggestion all together, but I definitely think that you should consider the way that we build up a discovery throughout the story, so that the current ending ties it all in together. Your aim should be to tick as many discovery boxes as you can, and still maintain a very engaging story. I think you've got the foundations there, the plot exists. It's just about twisting little bits and pieces until we really emphasise more discovery aspects.

[reenashainz]

Could you please give me feedback on my creative?

[elysepopplewell]

Could you please give me feedback on my creative?

We require 15 posts in order to give feedback for a piece of work (essay or creative). In the quiet period, we have been able to give feedback to students with less than the required amount of posts. However, the quiet period is quickly ending as the assessments for the first term of HSC are coming in.

Here is your creative:

Spoiler

Soft linen scrunches tenfolds between her youthful, delicate fingers. Waking up and finding herself swimming in her sunken bedroom
sheets. She lays peacefully beside her parents as the sun is yet to escalate. As the sun rays reflect off her glimmering eyes, her small
feet buoyantly just started springing across the worn out, wooden floors. She joyously sings good morning, with all the strength and
volume she has in her voice box to wake them up. Her toes click musically as she runs across the room to the window sill. She looks
outside the window and starts to sway her body like the yellow daffodils and tulips dancing with the wind outside.
“BURRING BURRING!” The doorbell rings unanticipated. Mia tries to raise herself self up by tippy-toeing on her two bare feet to
open the door and struggles as she tries all over again. She thought she opened the door for once. Until her father comes silently
maneuvering behind her and unexpectedly lifts her up to help her open the door. A carton of milk sits on the welcome home rug
outside. Mia spots a piece of paper attached to the carton. It seemed to be some kind of propaganda with an unfamiliar British man
pointing at you. Her father snatches the note off with his eyes barely getting off it; deeply staring at it with jingoistic and patriotic
heartfelt.
The wind of spring’s day drives through the trees all day. Mia is outside picking flowers on the cracked pavements and mumbles
words to a christmas song. From a distance, Mia becomes alerted as her father boisterously calls her name out. With his arms open
wide, he drops all his bags and is overwhelmed with happiness as he awaits his daughter’s embrace. Her cheeks flourish with
pinkness as she skips over the vibrant grass. She abundantly leaps into her father’s arms with the biggest smile reaching to the edges
of her cheek dimples on her freckled pink face. She looks into his large hazel eyes and meekly questions him, ‘where are you going?’.
Her father’s eyes start to suffuse with redness as he is about to overflow with a rainfall of tears. Holding it all back for his daughter, he
instinctively brings her little body back into his arms grasping her tightly and shakily saying, ‘I’ll be back, I promise Mia.’
’ ZZZZ ZZZZ!’ static sounds echo from the kitchen. She tries to twist the dusty knob on the vintage radio soundlessly but does it with
utter clumsiness. Mia tunes the knob ever so slightly to one frequency figuring out herself, and hears one man shout ‘Britons want
you! Join your country’s army!’ and abruptly changes to another man demandingly clamoring, ‘Women of Britain says Go!’. She
places one hand on the tuner and the other on the edge of the dusty kitchen shelf as she slowly positions her ears right next to the
speakers of the radio. Her ears vibrate as the men’s enthusiastic voices amplify right into her eardrums. She tilts her head eagerly with
her hands scratching her head while she seems intrigued and fascinated by how the sounds are possibly impending out of that old
little device.
Someone forcefully knocks the door as he repeatedly exclaims, ‘Mail is here!, Mail is here!’. It seems to be the mail-man. Bizarre, that
he didn’t ring the doorbell. Mia’s mother starts running to the door and opens it. It’s not the mail-man. For a swift second, Mia
thought it was her father and got overly excited. But, he was just wearing a similar green-brown uniform as what her father was
wearing when he left to go somewhere. Elaine starts frantically asking questions, ‘How is he? Did something happen? Why hasn’t he
been writing back?’ Her palms begin to permeate with fluctuated sweat as lines as she frowns with distress. Mia goes back to her
room. Elaine rips the envelope open gently and starts reading the letter. One phrase that stood amongst the most is that he is
missing in action. They can’t find him, his missing in action ever since the first 5 days in the trenches.
Mia starts to inquisitively question ‘Is daddy coming back home? Who is that man?’ Her mother looks her into her aqua-green eyes
and hopelessly affirms her that her father will be home soon, before christmas. Then after that, Mia’s mother tells her that her dad is a
war hero. That he is resilient and strong just like Mia was, she told her to stay strong even if her father might be gone. Mia starts to
bind up the bits of unravelled puzzles and pieces in her mind and figures out why he had to leave. To save our country. It makes her
even weary, as this new revelation has made her miss her father even more. She’s now full of questions and becomes eager to know
about war and all the rescue stories her father has achieved.
Time has passed so mercilessly. So she stood and waited. Time and hope ticked away little by little, masticating every bit of her
conserved optimism. The frost outside grows a little along the window panes. Inside, her own warmth began to culminate foggy
residue, she draws a picture of the moment he left and promised, locking her into a dragging world of her own. She clenches an
ancient locket necklace on the window sill everyday; that final tick in which promises long made were becoming broken by the
inevitable march of time.
The doorbell rings, not once but several times. Disquieted, she quietly mumbles under her breath, murmuring who it is behind that
frozen door. Mia’s mother begins to slide the door open when…
It was him. “I promised I’d be back, remember?”

The creative is smooth, it flows well and is easy to follow. As a reader, we don't learn a lot. At the end of the story, I don't feel as though I've been moved in any particular type of discovery. I've just got a fuzzy feeling at the end (which is credits to you for making me feel that!) but it won't tick discovery boxes from a marker just yet. I think there needs to be a more sinister level to this story in order for it to be great. The Story of an Hour is a quick short story that might display to you a good example of how you can add a sinister level to a one-dimensioned story.

Her cheeks flourish with pinkness as she skips over the vibrant grass. She abundantly leaps into her father’s arms with the biggest smile reaching to the edges of her cheek dimples on her freckled pink face. This writing is a little verbose, there's lots of happy imagery packed into the one spot, but there's no deep emotion - it's all surface value. So digging deeper into her thoughts might be the best way in to creating a deeper level of discovery.

[SSSS]

Hey!! SO my creative is due in four days!! It has a huge weighting in terms of my internal assessment and I would appreciate any feedback. My main issue with it is that I feel the discovery isn't very clear.

Thanks!! 

Her hand raised from behind her, soaring through the icy air before splashing back into the water. Her other arm followed, while her face remained underwater blowing numerous bubbles. After a few strokes, Emma’s head would turn towards a random side, leaning her head onto her arm for a brief moment, attempting to grasp the air back into her empty lungs. Reluctantly, she would place her head back into the water, forcing her arms on either side to move.

Nearly reaching the end of the pool, Emma raised her head from the water. Her arms lay beside her legs, as she walked towards the end of the pool.

Leaning her back onto the wall, Emma noticed the small movements of the water edging towards her because of the other swimmers reaching the end.

Yet Emma focused onto her breathing. She removed her delicate goggles and placed them around her neck. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she lowered her hands and closed her eyes. Leaning onto the wall of the pool once again, the movements of the water reminded her of the crashing waves onto the shore.

Home. Emma recalled the beach shack. The scent of the salty water would make her brothers eyes sting. Her mother would laugh, a rich chuckle erupting from her small frame.

“Emma!” the smile on Emma’s face vanished as her eyes vividly opened. She turned towards the other side, noticing James, a past friend.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. Still hitting pools, are you?” his emerald eyes glistened under the fluorescent lights, while his dried lips tugged at the end of his face.

“Yeah. Mum really wants me to do well for the next competition I have so I’ve been practising a lot. What are you doing here? Thought you hated the pools,” Emma bit her lip, attempting to stop a chuckle from erupting from her mouth.

“Go on, that was such a while ago,” even James couldn’t hold his smile as his usual smirk appeared. Emma’s shoulders shook from her laughter, where nearby swimmers looked towards them with disapproving looks.

“Oh James. You were so confident you could swim in the deep pool, and then your mum came running after you. And her face. She knew you would do something like that,” Emma’s laugh began to die out.

“I know, you’re all jealous. Being a risk taker is quite a skill. Anyways, I won’t take up too much of your time. Good luck for your next competition, but I know you’ll ace it,” Emma noticed that even though James usual smile was plastered onto his face, his emerald eyes looked towards Emma with something different.

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming,” with a wave, he turned towards the exit, probably looking for the bathroom.

Emma wondered what had just happened, yet she couldn’t pinpoint what had made him say that.

Looking towards the large clock, Emma noticed she only had a short time before having to leave. She began to place her goggles back onto her face, when she realised that they weren’t hers. It was her brothers. The knots attempting to fix the broken goggles reassured her it wasn’t hers, yet she couldn’t believe that her brothers goggles were still kept from such a while ago.

Sam, Emma’s brother, had stopped swimming for a while. Emma pondered onto her childhood, remembering that she always saw her older brother as ambitious and had something that she wanted to be. The support he had from his mum and his friends made Emma more determined to be a good swimmer.
Yet, he stopped swimming a while ago. It wasn’t a hobby anymore for him, but apparently something “vicious”.
Emma still could not comprehend how laid back he had became these days, as she took a deep breath before plunging into the water to swim another lap.

Her arms barely moved along either sides of her body. Emma thoughts pondered onto the long hours she would sleep these days. Emma turned towards the right, with her eyebrows knotted together in confusion. She wondered why she was so tired. Placing her face back into the pool, she realised it wasn’t only today she felt like this but a long time. Yet she had slept more than enough.

Yet the lethargic feeling within her body remained, which was quite irregular. She reasoned it was probably the swimming getting to her.

Yet as she pushed herself through the water, she warily swam. Numerously either hand extended, attempting to touch the end of the pool. Yet it never came.

Amber raised herself, noticing she was only halfway. Her eyes squinted, as she began to go back to her swimming routine where her thoughts led her back to ocean.

Emma recalled the regular picnics her family had on the beach. The light sandwiches along with the apple juices, yet Emma and her brother eagerly looked towards the ocean. Their smiles were painted onto their face, as they couldn’t wait to enter the wide ocean. Once they had finished, they couldn’t wait as they would run towards the shore, with their mum treading behind him. Looking towards each other, they would place their toes into the water, jerking back with a scream as the iciness of the water reached them.

Yet nothing would stop them. They would eagerly then place their feet, followed by their knees, till their whole bodies were wet with their smiles still plastered onto their faces.

Emma stood up, her hand banging onto her chest. With her head bowed down and her eyebrows knotted together, she barely could grasp any air. Choking on any remains, she finally was able to take deep breaths. Pushing her chest and releasing helped Emma, as she pondered onto the happiness her brother had shared with her.

Yet as she looked up towards the end of the pool, there was no more fun and games.

Before plunging into the water, Emma reminded herself “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming”. 

[elysepopplewell]

Hey!! SO my creative is due in four days!! It has a huge weighting in terms of my internal assessment and I would appreciate any feedback. My main issue with it is that I feel the discovery isn't very clear.

Thanks!! 

Hey there! My thoughts are in bold font in the spoiler below

Spoiler

Her hand raised from behind her, soaring through the icy air before splashing back into the water. Her other arm followed, while her face remained underwater blowing numerous This quantifying word seems a little too calculated for the sentence, and that's simply because it was a numerical sound to its name. Infinite, maybe? I'm being picky, though! This is subjective. bubbles. After a few strokes, Emma’s head would turn towards a random side, leaning her head onto her arm for a brief moment, attempting to grasp the air back into her empty lungs. Reluctantly, she would place her head back into the water, forcing her arms on either side to move.

Nearly reaching the end of the pool, Emma raised her head from the water. Her arms lay beside her legs, as she walked towards the end of the pool. I've underlined where you can see the repetition used in a way that doesn't scream creative. As she walked towards the edge? As she walked towards the shallow end? I'm also wondering if waded is better than walked - with walked I get this "Jesus talking on water" vibe and I don't think that accurately represents what is happening.

Leaning her back onto the wall, Emma noticed the small movements of the water edging towards her because of the other swimmers reaching the end.

Yet Emma focused onto her breathing. She removed her delicate goggles and placed them around her neck. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she lowered her hands and closed her eyes. Leaning onto the wall of the pool once again, the movements of the water reminded her of the crashing waves onto the shore.

Home. Emma recalled the beach shack. The scent of the salty water would make her brothers eyes sting. Her mother would laugh, a rich chuckle erupting from her small frame.

“Emma!” the smile on Emma’s face vanished as her eyes vividly opened. She turned towards the other side, noticing James, a past friend.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. Still hitting pools, are you?” his emerald eyes glistened under the fluorescent lights, while his dried lips tugged at the end of his face.  I really like the imagery of the lips!

“Yeah. Mum really wants me to do well for the next competition I have so I’ve been practising a lot. What are you doing here? Thought you hated the pools,” Emma bit her lip, attempting to stop a chuckle from erupting from her mouth.

“Go on, that was such a while ago,” even James couldn’t hold his smile as his usual smirk appeared. Emma’s shoulders shook from her laughter, where nearby swimmers looked towards them with disapproving looks.

“Oh James. You were so confident you could swim in the deep pool, and then your mum came running after you. And her face. She knew you would do something like that,” Emma’s laugh began to die out.

“I know, you’re all jealous. Being a risk taker is quite a skill. Anyways, I won’t take up too much of your time. Good luck for your next competition, but I know you’ll ace it,” Emma noticed that even though James usual smile was plastered onto his face, his emerald eyes looked towards Emma with something different.

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming,” with a wave, he turned towards the exit, probably looking for the bathroom.

Emma wondered what had just happened, yet she couldn’t pinpoint what had made him say that.

Looking towards the large clock, Emma noticed she only had a short time before having to leave. She began to place her goggles back onto her face, when she realised that they weren’t hers. It was her brothers. We just went from they to it - and it sounds a bit awkward. Be consistent here, just because it's in such close succession. The knots attempting to fix the broken goggles Are the knots trying to fix the broken goggles? Rephrase this, it doesn't quite make sense. reassured her it wasn’t hers, yet she couldn’t believe that her brothers goggles were still kept from such a while ago.

Sam, Emma’s brother, had stopped swimming for a while. Emma pondered onto her childhood, remembering that she always saw her older brother as ambitious and had something that she wanted to be. The support he had from his mum and his friends made Emma more determined to be a good swimmer.
Yet, he stopped swimming a while ago. It wasn’t a hobby anymore for him, but apparently something “vicious”.
Emma still could not comprehend how laid back he had became these days, I'd split this into two sentences and get rid of "as" - it sounds more pensive in two. as she took a deep breath before plunging into the water to swim another lap.

Her arms barely moved along either sides of her body. Here would be a nice spot for imagery, perhaps about how she glides through the water? Like a torpedo or like a tortoise? Emma thoughts pondered onto the long hours she would sleep these days. Emma turned towards the right, with her eyebrows knotted together in confusion. She wondered why she was so tired. Placing her face back into the pool, she realised it wasn’t only today she felt like this but a long time. Yet she had slept more than enough.

Yet the lethargic feeling within her body remained, which was quite irregular. She reasoned it was probably the swimming getting to her. The long hours of swimming? The motion of swimming? The exercise? Currently it sounds like swimming is a vicious act to her - we need to identify the source of these feelings in order for it to be meaningful.

Yet as she pushed herself through the water, she warily swam. Numerously This doesn't make sense - perhaps, alternating? I don't even think it needs a word here.either hand extended, attempting to touch the end of the pool. Yet it never came.

Amber raised herself, noticing she was only halfway. Her eyes squinted, as she began to go back to her swimming routine where her thoughts led her back to ocean.

Emma recalled the regular picnics her family had on the beach. The light sandwiches along with the apple juices, yet Emma and her brother eagerly looked towards the ocean. Their smiles were painted onto their face, as they couldn’t wait to enter the wide ocean. Once they had finished, they couldn’t wait as they would run towards the shore, with their mum treading behind him. Looking towards each other, they would place their toes into the water, jerking back with a scream as the iciness of the water reached them.

Yet nothing would stop them. They would eagerly then place their feet, followed by their knees, till their whole bodies were wet with their smiles still plastered onto their faces.

Emma stood up, her hand banging onto her chest. With her head bowed down and her eyebrows knotted together, Second time using this - change it up for optimum effect she barely could grasp any air. Choking on any remains, she finally was able to take deep breaths. Pushing her chest and releasing helped Emma, as she pondered onto the happiness her brother had shared with her.

Yet as she looked up towards the end of the pool, there was no more fun and games.

Before plunging into the water, Emma reminded herself “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming”. 

You've called it right - the discovery needs some work. The writing could do with some more refining, and I've suggested where. It's just about making your word choices really meaningful - like every word is an opportunity to evoke meaning and reveal discovery. This is a process every single creative in the state will need to go through, of course, so you're following the expected course of action

For discovery, it isn't clear to me. A lot happens in this pool, but at the same time, not a lot happens in the pool? The entire story is set in the pool and I don't feel as though the protagonist has developed from the start to finish. I see that the brother is a strong influence - I just can't make the connection to the significance of the goggles? It could be because that bit was written a bit unclearly, which I've mentioned above. But I want to know more about the brother, why have his opinions on swimming changed? Why did they both begin swimming in the first place? What makes her continue? Why are the mum's hopes so important? All of these things come into play when we inject the story with meaning. For the discovery to be meaningful, the reader needs to feel some kind of journey with the protagonist from start to finish...the reader needs to feel the growth as significant.

Feel free to tell me your hopes and aspirations for the story - what kind of discovery are you hoping to tackle? What's your desired effect on the reader? and I can give you my thoughts, if you'd like

[SSSS]

Hey. Thanks so much for the feedback! The discovery is that ultimately she realises how serious her life is, and she longs for her childhood. For instance, when shes tired, its meant to be symbolic of how shes tired of her life and the responsibilities she has. For the swimming, her and her brother swam as they found it fun when they were younger but as they grew, it seemed more like something they had to do for others as their mum pushes them to do well. Do you think if I work on your creative and work on the discovery I could at least get 12? Or do you guys not give marks?

By the way, for the creative I read your feedback and I feel that the converstaion with her friend doesn't add meaning [does it?]. SO would it be smart to have her swimming and have the flashbacks to her childhood, that she realises she yearns because of the freedom and joy it filled her with in contrast to her reality.

Thanks so much!!