Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!

[jakesilove]

Anyone going to take a gander at this response?

Please give us some time, and Elyse will respond to you soon. We have all been working hard to provide free lectures to HSC students in the past week, and thus have not been on the forums as much as usual. We hope that you will be patient with us, so that we can get to marking your response.

[lha]

Hey could you guys please critically mark my creative and let me know what to improve? The only thing that my teacher has told me is "its not complex enough" so could you please let me know if this is true, and what can i do to make it more complex and also how to do it. Also, could you please give me a mark out of 15 letting me know how you think it might do in the hsc? Thank you!

P.S. I would appreciate it if no one copied ny creative (not saying that its good enough to copy btw), thank youu

The ectopic rhythm of the heartbeats pounding through my chest can be heard all the way from earth.
Preparing myself, I move cautiously towards the rack by the door. I pull down the helmet at the top, feeling the rough material strewn across the neckline with my fingers. Placing the helmet over my head was always slightly claustrophobic, as if I was choosing to limit my life force to a pipe filled with a finite amount of oxygen on my back. I twist the helmet side to side, searching for the click which told me it was fastened. A moment of suffocation follows, before a gush of air fills the sphere around my eyes. I choke for a second, unaccustomed to the large quantity of air, before calming myself with deep breaths.
Initiating the anxious process, I pull the main lever and begin to input the codes; red, blue, green. I reach for each button in turn, missing at first, before steadying my hand and continuing.  Finally, I place my shaking fingers on the tactically tightened latch, and cautiously start to turn it. A nerve-wracking creak betrays a small sigh of oxygen breaching the seal between mankind and outer space.

Tightly shutting my eyes, I anticipate the worst outcome. I gasp for air, not having realised that I was holding my breath. Leaning onto an uncovered button, the ship releases a mechanical noise as numerous steel steps dispense in front of me like a flower’s blossoming petals.
Slowly.
Purposefully. 
My languid legs lead the original pathway. I am the first person.
Fearful to experience the untouched surface we have landed on.
The rough terrain meets my weary eyes. Ancient, dirt covered gorges, deep enough to avoid exploration, edges steep as Mount Everest, radiate a vibrant colour matching the neighbouring sun. Lining their banks, oceans of sharp jagged edged rocks tell stories of elongated years of endurance on this planet of isolation through their layers of sediment. They glisten with the orange, toxic gas that marks the earth of this planet - beautiful obstacles for my time-limited mission.
As I walk, the white Kevlar fabric encasing my swollen feet sprinkles with the flame coloured soil, irreversibly staining them. The craggy highland towers on the horizon, swimming in the white blanket of fog that covers the rest of the planet. Its peaks are jagged towards the top, covered with obtuse shapes that glisten in the sunless light. Below, steep, dusty slopes cascade towards the serrated earth.
The sly mist hugs my ankles with every stride I take towards it. It wraps me in its cold embrace, sweeping me along to the edge of the planet where I could fall off and swim among the stars.
In the peripheral of my eye, I see it. The ingeniously built piece of metal rolls towards me using the thinly sliced rubber circles attached gently to the metallic undergarments of the machine. Its head composed of a high definition camera along with the extended clamps secured to its front giving it a stereotypically childish appearance.
“The rob…rob…robot”
The anxious voice coming from my protective apparel interrupts my prolonged gaze and reminds me of my mission: delivering the vehicle to the mountains with their opaque flag of mist.
My feet suddenly feel the toughness of the minerals covering the ground. I look down and am met with an explanation. I have arrived. My field of vision is too minuscule to absorb the enormous alp standing in front of me and yet I push forward.
I trek with measured steps, up the slope. Left. Right. Left. Right. The steady rocks perfectly aligned for my grip over the crumbling dirt.
Looking down behind me, the distant fog still blocks the view, yet the ground is visible. My exhaustion is clinging to my back. The endless training I endured feels non-beneficial as my contracted muscles threaten to tear my cracked skin with every small step I take.
I take my dilated eyes off the treacherous ground and look up to see the cloudy obstruction to my sight vanishing. My feet begin to fumble, and suddenly, a close-up view of the crusty floor meets my eyes. I stay down - a chance to examine the foreign land. My pupils turn slowly, careful to not miss a speck of treasure.
A rusty circular object flashes in the peripheral of my vision.
Moving closer, its dented edges and scratch-filled skin become visible. The black, rippled plastic coats majority of the device, with silver buttons joined to the top, and specks of aged, glimmering gold within the edges. As if a fossil, the ground sheathes it, outlining the letters “f.l.a.s.h.” on one of the main buttons and “on/off” on the other. I turn my head slightly to see on the side in big, slanted font: “Nikon 1935”.
Its decayed state doesn’t stop my confused expression from reflecting in the blemished, glass-plated mirror attached to the outer front of the contraption.
What seems to be a golden-plated emblem on the right hand corner shines, as if brand new, with four letters engraved on it: MARS.

[elysepopplewell]

hey guys, a look at this would be much appreciated. Currently have it sitting at 11/15. I like the concept, and have tried and failed to come up with another story to tell. So, if there's any elements missing from it that you think would improve it, or even part of the structure of the plot you think could be better, don't hold back. Thank you muchly

Hey! Thank you for your patience, so sorry it took this long to get to you
The comments are in bold in the spoiler below

Spoiler

Home

“Everybody up”. Punctuation goes inside the quotation mark The whispered sound might may* have echoed through the small wooden hall due to the silence, if it were not packed tightly with human bodies. There was a slight break in the stillness of the pitch black hall, as the sensation of movement became a queer kind of visible. And still, there was barely any sound except the lapping of the waves at the hull. Aamir made his way out to the deck as quickly as he could. He needed to clear his head; even after three weeks on the sea he could still taste the bile at the back of his throat every time the deck lurched beneath him. Love this so far!

“Baba?” a small voice called from beneath him. Aamir whirled around. He squinted at the child’s face in the darkness.

Then, in a strained voice, he replied “No, child. I’m not your father”. Punctuation inside quotation marks The child hurried away. Aamir stayed crouched for a while, playing with the straw bracelet on his wrist.  The threading was childlike, yet all the more beautiful to him because of it. Then he composed himself and retook his position by the edge of the boat. I see potential for some really strong imagery here. Perhaps, "retook his position by the edge of the boat, as though he were a carved woman of timber on the bow - talking about the figurehead of the boat? Perhaps something like that to kind of make it seem isolated, but important.

As he stood solemnly, staring out into the moonless night, he heard the sound of people moving out onto the deck. He smelt them as well. While only a few spoke, and only in hushed whispers, the feeling amongst them could be told easily - a breath cautiously waiting for permission to be released. Finally, they had made it.

A taller, swarthier man stood next to him. Aamir could tell this was not his first journey.

“Do you think it’s true?”

“Yes. Not much longer and we’ll be on shore”. The man spoke with a strange, thick accent.

Well, we’re all foreigners here. Is this supposed to be a quote? This is the first time you've used inclusive first person outside of speech?Aamir was almost happy. He was looking forward to being off the wretched wooden raft that passed for a boat. Only a few more hours now.

As the night progressed, the stars grew brighter. In the distance, a shape began to take form. At first, it was only a black slash on the horizon. But the closer they got, the more Aamir could make out. In the darkness, there was nothing particularly remarkable about this strange land. However, he was strangely comforted by the sight. Home, he thought. It felt strange. It's particularly evident in your writing that you use commas to break up a sentence into a specific voice. It works well, but here it is extremely evident and less seamless. Consider changing up the structure a little bit. Maybe even just one long, compound sentence would do the job, or a few truncated. But right now, you've got a repeat structure of a comma separating clauses.

The calm seas began to stir. Not many of those on board reacted, but Aamir gripped the railing so tight he felt the splinters. He had found that staring at the horizon often calmed his stomach. Tonight, however, there was something unsettling about the blackness. He couldn’t quite work out what it was. Strange, he thought. I can’t feel any wind. Just not sure about the consistency of your narrator here - we've gone from third person, to first person for one sentence. Perhaps, "Strange, he couldn't feel any wind." A baby began to cry.

Suddenly, the night lit up. I think "suddenly" is a wasted opportunity to describe a burst of action, it's an easy way out of describing a sudden alteration in environment. Consider another way of introducing the urgency of this scene rather than "suddenly." Aamir was blinded, the commas are becoming very noticeable here without much purpose. "Aamir was blinded but kept his footing..." works just as well without the stop of the pause. but kept his footing thanks to his hold on the rail. The light continued to shine down on the boat. More children began to cry out, and a few women. "More children began to cry out. The deep wails of women met their cries in the sky." Something like this heightens the imagery. Aamir looked up into it, and blinked a few times. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the silhouette of a great ship approaching. The closer it got, the more the waves churned, until he could stand it no more. He vomited over the side. over the stern? port? Try use some boat jargon here

A voice pierced the night. It gurgled harshly in a strange language, none of which Aamir understood. The tall man, who had fallen over in shock, seemed to understand. He called back angrily, but none of it made sense. Even as the great ship approached, their little wooden boat got closer and closer to the shore. When the glaring voice from the ship stopped, Aamir could hear the sound of waves breaking on the beach… This paragraph is another example of your comma-use. I'll talk more about this at the end.

He woke up in a strange room. As he sat up, he took in his surroundings. He was in a small cell, with nothing but a bed, a toilet and an orange change of clothes. I want to know about the orange clothes, is it a neat ironed pile? Or a crumpled mess in the corner?It had a strong, artificial smell about it. I don't think "artificial" takes me anywhere here - artificial as in fake? or as in disinfected? or plastic? Aamir put the clothes on, and sat on the edge of his metal framed bed. He played with the straw bracelet for a while. How will I find her from in here?

A guard came and led him down a series of corridors until they were in a large hall, packed with benches and people. The pale man pointed to a counter where some sort of food was being served to a line of orange clad people. “Eat”. Punctuation inside quotations marks - and probably a line of its own

Aamir waited, and received a bowl of sweet smelling sludge in turn. Staring blankly into his bowl, he fiddled with his bracelet. One word resounded through his mind –a word as long and strange as his journey had been, and now with a bitter taste.

Then he heard a small voice from below him. New line for new text.“Baba?”

Looking down, he saw a girl with curly black hair and the warmest eyes he’d ever seen. She was taller than he remembered.

Aamir forgot his pain in those eyes, and as he held his child he remembered why he had come here in the first place. He had so many things to say, but he could only manage one. He repeated it to himself over and over, and to his daughter. New line“Australia”.

Okay, great work! I'm going to critique the stylistic features before I talk about discovery.

Narration consistency: There's a flick between first and third person. I think there are two ways to fix this. Either, put the first person narration on a line of its own so that it is clear we are being moved into a different narration, into the mind of the protagonist. Or, change all the first person sentences to third person omniscient narrator.
Commas: You'll find that you use the same sentence structure a lot: a clause, then a comma, and then a clause again. At times this builds suspense. At other times, it seems monotonous and bothering to read. You haven't used many long-form sentences. You like to keep it as two short pieces joined. That's fair - but I think that you can use it skilfully to gain suspense, whereas currently it appears repetitive and predictable at times.

In terms of discovery - spiritual, emotional, physical, it's all there. I think that the climax could be improved in order to really heighten the intensity of the great ship, and lead to a more pensive conclusion. So, I'd be instilling fear with the boat, really emphasising that it was the largest boat he had ever seen. At first I thought it was pirates, so I'd make some reference about the skin being light of the passengers (border patrol), or the accent of the foreign language. Something like that to indicate that this is a serious authority.

The only thing leaving me a little bit puzzled is: Is the protagonist in jail with the child? Or is the child just kept in a different cell and they meet at lunch? Has the child been processed and the protagonist is still in detention? That's the only thing holding me back from a "wow!" discovery moment

Please let me know if you have any questions! You should be really stoked with this!
Quotes: With dialogue, the punctuation goes inside the quotation marks and you need a new line for a new speaker.

[jamonwindeyer]

Hi everyone!

So with the lectures just gone we are a tad behind on our marking (the three markers did about 20 lectures between us)!! We aim to get caught up as soon as possible, so thank you to everyone for your patience!

Based on my checks; the following users have met post count and will have their creative marked ASAP:
- Deng
- angiezhang9
- Emerald99

The following users have not met post count:

- BPunjabi (Your essay in the AoS Essay thread is cool, but you need to get to 45 for this one
- Nightwing17 and mansi, both of you will need 15 posts for your first piece marked

Everyone else in this thread (I think) has either been marked or knows that they need more posts to get marked. If you think I've missed your Creative, let me know!! Otherwise, we'll get you caught up ASAP!

As a further message, your HSC English Exam is one week away! We anticipate our marking boards are going to get very busy, especially this one (Creatives are annoying, I get it ), and so if you want to guarantee that your Creative gets marked by the time your exam is done, you need to get it up sooner rather than later. We'll do our best to move through as quickly as we can, but we can only do so much. Act early to avoid disappointment!!

[elysepopplewell]

Hey, i was wondering how i could improve my creative in the form of language, techniques and general engagement. I also feel that my ending is a bit abrupt but i am not sure how to flesh it out a bit more

Thanks

Thank you so much for your patience Deng!

Spoiler

The shrieking sounds of joyful laughter pierced my ears. I stared intently at their mischievous faces, before I tried divulging back into the realms of Avalon. Soon their obnoxious little voices began invading the pages of my novel, as I began envisioning them in The Battle of Demacia.

“This is a library,I'd do an exclamation mark here rather than a comma. can you please go outside if you want to laugh!” I lectured, angry at their voices disrupting the peace.

Their sardonic smiles dropped instantly.

Peace. Finally. I began diving back into the epic by T S Beliot. As I continued reading, I began grabbing the edge of my seat, turning each and every page with delicacy. Appreciating every word used by Beliot fashioning a world of fantasy and engagement. I love "fashioning"

Before long I had completed the page-turner, my body sweating profusely at the thrill Beliot had brought me.

“Attention, the library will be closing in 10 minutes” an automated voice creaked out of the vintage sound systems.

Home. Every day I dreaded going home, to leave the sanctuary of the library. To come home to my mother’s high pitched, erratic and slightly nasal laughter, my father’s continuous chirping on his phone like a parrot.  I dreaded the thought every day.

As I carefully placed the novels back onto the shelf, I saw my bus pulling up to the kerb. Instantly, my feeble legs kicked into ignition, pumping as hard as my body would allow. To my surprise, two busses had arrived, waiting patiently as a plethora of bodies boarded. I decided to take the larger bus of the two, wanting more space for my journey home.

Rows of city skyscrapers covered the scorching sun their glass reflecting the deadly rays, as I began dozing off.

A startling voice interrupted my sleep as I rubbed my eyes need some punctuation in here shocked by my surroundings.

“Next up, Kiama Rainforest, we will be going on a 10 kilometre hike to explore and discover one of natures’ nature's* best natural products.fullstop”

My heart began jumping back and forth, hands sweating and my legs jumping up and down. 

“ Wasn’t this bus heading into the suburbs?” I cried weakly.

“ That was the smaller bus today, this bus is a discovery bus for people who are eager to explore Australia’s natural treasures” the guide replied his voice filled with spirit

“ How do I get back to the suburbs?” my voice becoming more desperate, fearing the unknownfullstop

“ This bus. However  we are not leaving until we finish the 10 kilometre hike, don’t worry, the hike will be safe and you’ll discover a whole new world” the guide tried to reassure me
I think what would be something to add to the engagement and I suppose, a little snippet of humour, would be to make a contrast between the person in the library and the person who just found out that they are going to the rainforest. Maybe create the image of a feeble, fawnly, "geeky" stereotype, amongst this wild forest. Obviously you don't have to make this deep contrast, but something to this effect would be good just to create that slightly more comical nature to the piece.
Before long we were all jostling in line, hooked up in safety gear and provided a flashlight to explore the beauty of the rainforest. I'd be using the first person narration to your advantage here by bringing up the feelings they are experiencing, I don't know that you're making the most of the first person. Give some really emotional or comical insight here.  As we ventured deeper into the heart of the rainforest, swift shadows jumped from left and right, mysterious and sickening howls filled our ears, yet the sweet fragrance of flora aroused our noses. My body became increasingly tense with every step I took, yet a sense of me felt accomplished for embarking on this journey.

“ Everyone, there are some biscuits and fruit at the back of your carry bags, we will have a five minute break” the guide barked in the silence of the forest.

I unbuckled the carabiner before searching the vast landscape for a comfortable seat. My feet were filled with blisters, my back drenched in sweat and my lungs working over its capabilities. As I untied my laces, I stared at my bleeding foot. Aghast at the pool of blood drenching my foot, it had evoked imagery of Aslan’s journey to Demacia. The tedious and gruelling journey Aslan had trekked to reach Demacia, just to destroy and decapitate the rebels.  I felt proud, I felt as if I was Aslan.

“Okay, time to re-buckle and continue the last leg of our hike” the guide continued to command.

As I attempted to hook the carabiner back onto the guide, to my horror a large leech had latched onto my naked ankle.

“ GET IT OFF ME!” I screamed, running franticly in the pitch darkness. "Pitch dark" is a cliche, try move away from this and insert something more original to draw the attention of the marker to your writing ability!

As I continued to run sporadically to kick off the leech, I realised I had been separated from the group. I've been wondering about the other people in the group. I think if you make a contrast between you and them slightly earlier, then there'll be a stronger connection with this protagonist, purely through contrast. Are they all in cargo pants and you're in suspenders? Are they all wearing hiking boots and you're wearing converse? Something like this.

My eyes darted left and right, where was I? How did my pathetic legs drag me away from my group?
Fear began to overwhelm me. What would Aslan do in this scenario? All those countless hours couped up in the library reading novels over the years, yet none of them taught me how to find my way out of a rainforest.

“HELP ME” I screamed out as I attempted to retrace my steps. Eyes glistened in the shadows awaiting their time to pounce on their pray. I pulled out my flashlight flickering flicking* it on and off attempting to attract the attention of any passerbys. I couldn’t give up, Aslan would never give up but my frail body was going to give up soon. I think "Give up" is used one too many times in this sentence. Try slice it up I couldn’t withstand any more physical exertion, my stomach rumbled, Instead of a stomach rumbling, perhaps a stomach promising to expel at any moment, or a stomach failing to withstand the anxiety. A stomach rumbling is a cliche, but a stomach promising is personification. awakening the sleeping inhabitants of the forest.

I stopped. Something was coming. I could hear the snapping of twigs as my ears honed in at the direction of the source. A bear? I was ready to fight the bear to the death with the years of knowledge and minute physical experience I had experienced in my 16 years.

To my disappointment it was the group. I was unable to showcase my physical prowess or my tactical mind, but I discovered something more important. The world was a strange but beautiful place, a rainforest had provided me with more exhilaration and emotion than a book could ever give.

About the ending: I see what you mean by its abruptness. I think part of it comes with the bear. Are there bears in Kiama? I don't think so (could be wrong!) so this kind of put me off. Even for someone who doesn't get out much like the protagonist, the books they read would indicate that there aren't bears in Kiama. I think the problem is that there was a very quick transition from panicked, to be completely ready to fight a bear, and then being let down when there was no bear. I also am not convinced that this person has the physical prowess that the last paragraph suggests. This entire time I've seen them as weak, which is what creates the comical nature of them in the forest. So, it's ok to keep them weak, and instead have them suggest that they are ready to showcase years of tactical response, or something like that. Something that privileges their mind power over their physical power.

The only thing letting you down in terms of structure is your use of the first person narration. We're not getting enough valuable insight yet! I've mentioned a specific time above where it would be important. The first person has the gift of being able to express emotions, so be sure to use it. Create a voice for the character because I don't really have that until he or she defies all odds in the last part there. And I think that the last part could be enhanced if we had a really strong built up voice the entire way. Perhaps the voice could be humble, or anxious, or very reliant on routine. So many things you could look at to create a character that contrasts against the rainforest.

Overall, this is great and you've only got to tweak very minor things in order to get big results. Focus on the ending, but that will fall into place as you create a stronger voice throughout

I need to say, I love the use of the book and the character! Very well thought out

[elysepopplewell]

Hi, I was wondering if you could have a look at my creative and give me some feedback on what I should change/add. Thanks so much

Hi Angie! I really really appreciate your patience

My comments are in bold throughout the spoiler:

Spoiler

Dandelion wishes Why do I like this title so much??!!!
I had no idea of past or future. Something about this sentence isn't right...should it be "about" instead of "of"...I'm not sure, but consider rewording. I had no concept of? I have no direction about? Something like this. Each day was spiced with ordinary desperation. I love the contrast between spiced and ordinary - that's great. To see one more sunrise, to stay warm through one more night, to survive for now, was all I cared about.
Emerging from my cocoon of damp cardboard and linen, my stiff bones cracked Bones cracking to me sounds like a bone breaking. It could just be me, but joints cracking might be better? Or joints popping? and my head throbbed with agonising familiarity. I reached for my bottle and upended the dregs of Skol from last night, from every night. Swallowing felt like sandpaper slowly scraping down the back of my throat but my mind was numb once again. I stretched out my arms and sighed, preparing for another endless day of exhaustive endurance.
Almost automatically, I adjusted my fraying beanie over my coarse and rope-like hair, trudged over to my usual bench, kicking the prickly balls that fell from the trees and scattered across the dilapidated park I called home. Nameless, faceless grey-suited men passed-me-by with faces downcast as if concentrating on the cracks of the path.  I enjoy this!
I knew them. Each of them. I knew their days, their offices, their homes. I had been in? to? them before... 
I had also been a father once. I packed lunches, read bedtime stories, gave piggy packs and cooked party pies for dinner. My daughter was my world until one day, I replaced her with the bottle I held between my blistered fingers. The fingers I once embraced her with. I'm just not sure about "one day" - it makes it seem as though alcoholism is a one day switch instead of a slippery slope. I'd be more inclined to adjust "one day" to something that implies a process.
***
Amidst the wall of grey, my eyes were drawn to a mother and daughter, feeding the pigeons that had gathered in a frenzy. The joyous squeals of the little girl as the birds surrounded her filled the silent park. I was mesmerised by their the happiness that was so distant in my memory. If you say "their" happiness you are saying that the happiness of the girls and the birds are in your memory, when I think you actually mean that happiness was a memory.
***
As I continued staring at the resurrection of life in the deteriorating park, I rediscovered a glimmer of joy that had been drowned out by the sea of alcohol that washed over me. I suddenly remembered the soft and gentle grip as my daughter pulled me along to a field of wild daisies. New line for new dialogue. “Let’s go Daddy!” she chirped, staring at me with the innocent, brown eyes, "innocent brown eyes" is a cliche and I know you can do better because you've already showcased your wonderful writing ability. Take on originality - perhaps swap innocent for dreamy, optimistic, naive, shiny... the colour of her mother’s rich chocolate pudding. My heart warmed and I closed my hand tighter around hers. I promised myself that I would never let her go. If only a promise could not be so easily broken…
‘Hello,’ a voice so sweet and cheerful that it brought me back to reality. A sound so loving and foreign to me.
‘Oh… hi.’ I returned with an awkward, forgotten smile.
She reached down and gently picked a dandelion growing in the cracks near the park bench. Her curly pigtails bouncing up and down as her chubby fingers handed the delicate flower to me. New line for new dialogue‘Make a wish!” she whispered. “My mummy told me that if you blow on it, your wish will come true.” She stared at me with excitement as I smirked at her naïve ignorance.
“Let’s go Lillian”, the mother grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her away, staring down at me with utter disgust. The icy chill of her glare shattered my heart, the one her daughter had warmed. As they left the park and departed from my world forever, I stared down at the woolly plant that had gone limp from my intense grip. I looked around at the decaying world my life had transformed into. The silence screamed in my ear. The little girl looked back one last time with the wide, curious eyes my daughter once had. “Goodbye!” she shouted, skipping away with glee. Once again, I was standing by myself, a mere weed in a thriving forest. Once again, I was without a family, without a home, without anyone to even make eye contact with. But this time I realised that I was alone, strangled by the arms of isolation and depression.
For the first time, my eyes began welling up with tears. Tears of sadness, tears of loss, tears of frustration. But soon these became streams of anger and ambition. I rose from the rusted bench and began to follow the path of the suited men. My legs began travelling faster and faster until I began running.
The wind blew through my hair, the icy chill numbed my lips. I inhaled the piercing aroma of coffee as I exhaled the stale alcohol that consumed my mind. I ran to the rhythm of the car horns and weaved through the maze of people. By the time I arrived, my legs had lost their feeling.
I leaned my exhausted body against the smooth, polished fence. The cool metal felt refreshing between my fingertips as I left a small stain of sweat on the immaculate silver paint, just as I had done fifteen years ago. I wiped it with my sleeve to make sure I did not make the same mistake. I finally managed to lift my head and peered through the window of the house that was so familiar, yet so distant. My own eyes met with the chocolate-brown eyes that were not so innocent anymore. They were strong and independent, full of determination and resilience. But they couldn’t mask the hurt and confusion, the scar that I had left.
My cracked lips widened as I stared at my past and my newfound future. I slowly reached for the battered dandelion that I had kept in my pocket and took a deep breath. I watched the magical white seeds dance and twirl with the sun’s rays further and further away. I made a wish -  a wish to never let her go.

Your story is very difficult to critique because you've done a lot of great things here. The delicacy of which you've dealt with alcoholism is really wonderful and very authentic. My only critique about that is, I want to see a little more of the physical effects of his alcoholism throughout. Perhaps even if it was just that his head throbbed, or his throat was aching for more, whatever it is. In the beginning you do it really well, but making a connection between that state and the young girl would be most powerful. Or, at the end, if we could make a connection between reaching for dandelion's instead of reaching for alcohol, that could be very very powerful as well.

the discovery is spiritual, emotional, physical, and in some ways intellectual and creative. So you've definitely ticked a lot of boxes here which is wonderful to see.

Just be careful with your control of dialogue. Have a quick google for the correct conventions of dialogue and how we should be organising dialogue in a story (new line new speaker, punctuation inside of quotation marks, using quotation marks and not apostrophes, etc). This'll just ensure the integrity of your work is stellar!

I don't at all think the ending is too sudden, but like I said, that stronger comparison between the alcohol and the dandelion could leave a "wow" moment! On that same vein, you definitely explore the impacts of discovery and will do that even better with a slight tweaking of the ending! Happy to have you post back a finalising paragraph if you wanted feedback on the adjustment if you choose to do so! Good luck You should be proud of this one!

[elysepopplewell]

Hi! I was wondering if you could help me make my creative more flexible and more in lign with the discovery rubric? My discovery occurs at then end of my story and i'm worried its not good enough, it kind of sounds like a belonging piece and in the exam I think if they ask me to talk about the impact of my discovery i wont have enough time and its going to be rushed. I also lost marks in my trial because my structure was clumsy? Do you think I should get rid of the subheadings ? Thanks in advance

Thanks for your patience Emerald The comments are in bold in the spoiler below!

Spoiler

Dear Amy,                                11th November, 1918
It was when winter gave its final exhausted sigh, I heard the news I have past tense: had been longing to hear ever since I was shoved mercilessly into Dante’s inferno. ‘Hostilities cease at 1100 today.’ The Godly news that could have rivalled any divinely? prophetic prophetic just means to predict the future, if you are talking about being a rival to Godly news, make sure divine is in there message at the moment was met with roaring silence. Violence and bloodshed had made out like a bandit, swindling every one of happiness. Of course, a shadow of joy ghosted in everyone’s heart, the glint in the eye showed that …… just three dots creates an elipsis perhaps it was hard to realise that nobody sought another’s life, that the beautiful moonlight did not mean horror and death poured from the sky.  Even the rats that plagued the trenches seemed taken by the news, skirting around our feet like excited children, gnawing at our fatigued boots with renewed fervour. Or perhaps they knew that their rotting banquet would soon be leaving- leaving them starving just as innocence had done to them. Routines continued according to syllabus, and each of us asked ourselves ‘Now how soon can I get home?’ Home.  A place that seems like a far off land from a distant dream. I pray that one day I can reach it and you.                                   
Yours,        Alfred                       
                                                                                  Survivor
Ugghh! Oblivious to the collective thunder of students smacking their hands over their ears, the elderly microphone continued to moan indignantly. As the courtyard erupted in a symphony of soft serpentine hisses, the skeletal fingers clung on with the strength of superman, determined to indoctrinate. Like poisoned honey the words oozed ominously out of the principals mouth. Perched as proud as an American eagle I like this eagle part! she continued, her annual spiel of the honour the soldiers had performed for their country.
Winters vengeance was not over. Giving a final cry for redemption, icy gale force winds swum through the courtyard, weaving in and out between the children causing their scowls to deepen. Jack Frost had out stayed his welcome this year. “We shall not forget the soldiers, who served our great country, who sacrificed themselves for their loved ones and nation. The valour displayed by these soldiers shall always be commemorated, their resilience applauded and their comradeship always admired….” I'm thinking that your quotes should be on their own line. Technically, it doesn't follow the typical rules of dialogue which require a new line, but I do think that this is just a little understating and the quotes deserve some more prevalence.
Mother Nature’s mood swings had not dimmed as yet another roared through the silence, drowning the rest of Ms Deathbridge’s speech out. Nevertheless, the majority mouthed along to the inaudible expressions, the talking fossil preached; having long memorised the words to the identical commemoration she gave out annually…routine continued according to syllabus. Eyes glazed. Sockets nailed straight ahead. “………You too, could hope to aspire to represent our nation in times of war just as these brave young men have done before you. For there is nothing greater than sacrificing yourself for the greater good of your country ….” I'm realising at this point that I'm just not entirely sure where we are at. I understand the critique that the work can be disjointed. I'm wondering if you should be writing a letter or a diary entry. And perhaps write the date, location, and potentially weather. Like this:
Date:
Location:
Weather:
And just fill each of those out at the start of each entry to create clarity. Because I'm having trouble placing the environments, this is my first critique. I get used to the first place, and then we are giving a speech and I'm not following. So, your writing style thus far is impressive, but the storyline is convoluted.
                                                                                    Honour
Crack. Crack. Crack. Caught in a rip, with only the angry sound of gnashing teeth being emitted from the sharks around me, I continued the fireworks display between my knuckles and fingers. As Ms Deathbridge’s voice lulled me back to shore, I couldn’t help but think my mind was still out at sea. Crack. The wind had calmed down but ghosted around; whispering occasionally like a needy toddler making their presence known. Crack crack crack.  I wonder what they’re serving at the canteen this arvo. Crack Crack ........ thump. Stumbling in my place, I attempted to regain my footing. “Shut up Yilmaz!  You’re going to get us all into trouble!” whined Susan, before abruptly facing the front.
Sighing I licked my parched lips as a muted breeze passed by, tasting as foreign and as cold as the words she bled. My heart sped up however, at the mention of Gallipoli. Thud.  Thud. Thud. As she spoke of the defeat, I couldn’t help, guiltily feel triumph. Pride surged through me at the victory, my Turkish ancestry sewn into my essence pounded furiously in my veins. However, the glory was short-lived as I took in the downcast gazes of some of the others around me. Ashamed of my homage to my heritage, I scrambled to connect with the Australian view of defeat. The rip had snagged me again. No way out. “…In a couple of seconds ladies and gentlemen we shall have the minute of silence.” Panic arrested my heart, handcuffs at the ready, Oooh love this! but as soon as it wound up it eased as a life saver was thrown at me “……remembering those who gave their lives for us and the…..futility of it all….. give them the respect that they deserve.”
The words from our new history teacher washed over like a healing balm, filling in the crevices of my mind and conscience helping me to remember the heart of this day. As the clock ticked to 1100,  I steeled myself to remember those who gave their lives in WW1 and in any following war:
both Turkish and
Australian soldiers
as without either I wouldn’t be here today.
                                                                           Allegiance.                                                                                                                         
 1100 hours.                                                                                                         
The bell pierced the courtyard and a cloak of silence descended. 
…………….brave, brave soldiers …….poor poor men………..                             
Thank you…………………                                                                                       
  Your service to this nation is greatly appreciated…………                                         
Never again, should anyone have to face the horror of war…….     I'm not sure about the purpose of the full stops?                              
As the minute of silence came to a close, like a muted light at the end of a dark tunnel came Deathbridges voice “The allegiance of these soldiers to their nation, cause and comrades resonates throughout the years, as survivors of war they deserve our respect and the highest honour.”
Lest we forget.

The actual writing and content of this is great, and I'm following a discovery. However, the way the paragraphs are structured prevents me from LOVING this piece, and keeps what has potential to be a band 6 discovery creative, sitting in the band 4 range. Only because, it isn't cohesive right now, which unticks a lot of band 6 boxes. I think each paragraph, or each entry, should follow a really clear structure. That kind of consistency allows you to move between environments and moods well without leaving the marker behind! An ellipsis is three full stops. Any more than that and I'm confused as to the purpose. So keep it short in that regard

What is GREAT about this is your language! The way that you deal with metaphors, similes, etc. I love that! Handcuffs on a heart, for example. Brilliant! It is essentially these aspects of the work that lift it. Once these are no longer capped in their capacity by the structure of the story, these will really set fire and lift you to band 6 standard I think!

Let me know what you think about organising the entries into organised segments It's a tricky thing to adjust, but done right, it will yield great results!

[BPunjabi]

Hi everyone!

So with the lectures just gone we are a tad behind on our marking (the three markers did about 20 lectures between us)!! We aim to get caught up as soon as possible, so thank you to everyone for your patience!

Based on my checks; the following users have met post count and will have their creative marked ASAP:
- Deng
- angiezhang9
- Emerald99

The following users have not met post count:

- BPunjabi (Your essay in the AoS Essay thread is cool, but you need to get to 45 for this one
- Nightwing17 and mansi, both of you will need 15 posts for your first piece marked

Everyone else in this thread (I think) has either been marked or knows that they need more posts to get marked. If you think I've missed your Creative, let me know!! Otherwise, we'll get you caught up ASAP!

As a further message, your HSC English Exam is one week away! We anticipate our marking boards are going to get very busy, especially this one (Creatives are annoying, I get it ), and so if you want to guarantee that your Creative gets marked by the time your exam is done, you need to get it up sooner rather than later. We'll do our best to move through as quickly as we can, but we can only do so much. Act early to avoid disappointment!!

Ahahah no worries ill try and get it up!!!

[Emerald99]

Thanks elyse:) So how exactly do I fix the structure and make it cohesive? Should I get rid of the letter at the beginning or maybe have the guy read the letter throughout the story?

[atar27]

Hi this is my creative that i wrote for both mid years and trials! i got a much better mark in trials but i am wondering how i can fix it and whether i should write another creative in case or stick with this one:

The road before her stretched on for what seemed like eternity. The sun’s fiery embrace breathed down her neck and as the thought of another step made her shudder. She looks up, and is blinded by a white behemoth of cosmic energy. Carol reached for Lucy’s hands and feels the sweat amongst her palms and between her fingers. She turns her head around and catches a glimpse of her sisters blank white terrified face before she added a small smile to comfort her. She turns her face further behind her as she reliased, her eye lids begin to stretch further in shock. She holds her sisters hands tighter and screams,
‘RUN LUCY RUN HURRY!’.
They  tumble down a hill feeling the rocks and tree barks drilling through their bodies, but careless about the pain that endures within them physically and mentally they quickly gain their balance and sprint through the trees and finding a small cave, Carol pulls her sister inside the cave hearing no sign of footsteps following them. Lucy cuddles her sister and lays softly on her crossed legs to sleep, Carol passes her the deer figurine. On the verge of closing her eyes she spots a shadow moving her eyes instantly towards the outside of the cave. Her drowsy eyes pull her away leaning her head against the wall. Suddenly she feels a tap on her shoulder, she slowly looks up as her neck muscles start to ache. She gradually reaches to a tall slim figure, his large eyes looking right through her. Carol immediately clutches to Lucy feeling her body temperature rising feeling the heat bouncing of her body. ‘The Russian solider is the man who was chasing us all a long, but why didn’t he shoot us already?’ agonising thoughts invaded her. Her muscles tense, he might be tricking her, he might be holding the gun towards her.
‘Who are you and what do you want?!’
“I am a jew…”
“A Jew!’
Carol interrupts breathlessly, she looks up, inspecting him from top to bottom. He is wearing the striped pyjamas that mamma always used to tell us they would wear when they were thrown into the concentration camps. They deserve to be punished for what they have done to Germany. ‘Don’t you dare come near my sister and I, mamma is right, she has always been right about you jews’.
She starts packing her bag, gently placing the deer back into her bag. He slowly sits down as he fixes his eyes on her.
’My name is Arron’.
He shows the care of a jewish person worried about her wellbeing and their danger for being in the midst of the bush alone. 

******

Thinking back in time had her eyebrows scrunched together, a familiar feeling in the deepest parts of her stomach arose. Anger and doubt ran through her veins, leaving nothing but trails of fire spreading destructively throughout her body. She thinks the unthinkable and decides to tell Arron in attempt to calm the ever persistent thoughts in her mind.
‘My father’, she said,
‘Before our mother passed away she gave us the deer to be added to her collection back at home when we arrive at Omi’s house in Hamburg and my dad left us to commit his life to Hitler as General Anthony’.
A little voice constantly remaindered her of the question that had no answer, why did papa leave his two daughters for Hitler?.
‘Hitler’ he gently said,
‘Sent the jews to concentration camps because he believed that the jews generated the collapse of the German economy, but in reality we were just building our lives’.
Carol’s butterflies settled down as she lifted her eyes and looked at the sadness that filled his eyes. A few weeks later, they finally arrive at the Hamburg train station a sense of relief to finally go home. Lucy smiles back at her sister holding her sisters hands tightly and skipping along. Her thoughts, were interrupted by a sudden movement from behind and her tear strained eyes darted towards the looming figures that grew larger as the footsteps grew louder. Her whole body twists around. Her eyes grew larger and her mouth dropped to the ground as she reached her hands and screamed on the top of her lungs, ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOO’. German soldiers forced her away as she hears the shot gun going off, she slows down and her heart beats a million times per second. ‘Welcome aboard, the train will be leaving in one minute’.
Lucy pulls Carol inside the train. Carol looks outside the window with the last thought of brutality towards the jews, they don’t deserve to be treated this way. From Arran’s word Carol finds that every pillar of her previous life was built upon a foundation of lies and propaganda. Her inner core temperature boils, burning her from every part of her body. With the last breath they finally reach Omi’s house. Carol runs to her mums bedroom and places the deer on the dresser, next to a collection of figurines. She wakes up the next morning and finds Lucy and grandma cheerfully dancing to music in the kitchen. Carol storms off, finding it difficult to adjust to her old lifestyle. During dinner, they are all sitting at the dinning table when Carol impulsively grabs a piece of bread and stuffs it in her mouth. Carol runs back into her room smashing the figurine’s including the deer, suggesting a new future reputing with the past.   

Thank You for checking it, it will be much appreciated

[elysepopplewell]

Thanks elyse:) So how exactly do I fix the structure and make it cohesive? Should I get rid of the letter at the beginning or maybe have the guy read the letter throughout the story?

I think the best way is to turn it all into diary entries or letters - what do you think? I think this will add consistency and structure. Rather than the titles (which confused me a bit) I think a date and location in the entry to each new section could be exactly what you need. Would you be prepared to adjust to letters/diary entries?

[jamonwindeyer]

I put my creative writing in the aos essay forum by accident by jamon said he merged the posts, so do i have to repost it here or not?

Like I said in the forum over there, nope! And Elyse knows about you, you'll have feedback soon

[BPunjabi]

Like I said in the forum over there, nope! And Elyse knows about you, you'll have feedback soon

Jamon, Remember how you said I need 45 posts for the next essay, I finally got it. But I have changed my mind, can you please not mark my creative but my module B which I will upload in like an hour, whenever you get the time.

Thanks

[jamonwindeyer]

Jamon, Remember how you said I need 45 posts for the next essay, I finally got it. But I have changed my mind, can you please not mark my creative but my module B which I will upload in like an hour, whenever you get the time.

Thanks

Sure! I've deleted your Creative from this thread

[lha]

Like I said in the forum over there, nope! And Elyse knows about you, you'll have feedback soon

Oh sorry thank you!