Free AOS Creative Writing Marking!

[elysepopplewell]

Hey!
I took your advice and wrote a story, but I'm really unsure of it. Can someone read over it please?

Regardless, I'll be taking it in to the exam because rn I'd rather a story than a poem as my creative. (Also, our english trial is this Monday )

Thanks

Hey Zainbow! Pointers are in bold font below

Spoiler

The baby slept.

His soft features delicately moving with each breath. His eyelids fluttered, and his hands innocently fisted on his stomach.

From above, I watched.

Gently bubbling in his slumber, the baby slept soundlessly. He lay in the centre of the room, where the drawn curtains stopped any light.

He let out a soft, short cry, like a meowing kitten.

Mindfully I looked over, searching for any sources of discomfort. He quickly fell asleep again. His posture radiated I know what you're saying here,
 but I don't really like the wording. I think there are better ways of wording this part. his innocence; ignorant of the quiet world immediately around him, too invested in his doze to care.

Gently stirring the air from above, I hung from the ceiling rotating, simply fulfilling my duty of ventilation and observation,

She lingered at the door, watching him like me, a smile tugging at her lips. Gracefully she made her way beside him and looked down in admiration. Behind her, a photo of his similarly peaceful face stood on the shelf.

He too enters the room, standing at her side and mimicking the radiation of love.

The baby unconsciously basked in his parents’ awe. There they stood, watching over their baby as I watched over all of them, bestowing
them with gentle zephyrs of air.

She averts her eyes and looks at him, quietly uttering her words.

He shifts on his feet and rests his hands on the baby’s cot. The baby responds with a soft hum.

He mutters a reply and in her confusion to turns to him. I return to admiring the innocent child that slept oblivious to his parents. I busily went on my merry way atop the room, fanning the air gracefully.

He turned towards the door but a firm grasp on his arm hindered him, pulling him back to the baby and the room and her firm questioning.
Sighing a short reply, he provokes her staggered astonishment. Behind her I see the baby continue his nonchalant nap, his arms and legs stretched all comfortably without a care of his surroundings. His small hands, his small lips, his small nose, all resting emotionless in peaceful slumber. I watch as a brief flutter of his nose disrupts the motionlessness of his resting face. I observe this isolated peace as the frustration of her newfound shock transforms the softness of her eyes to disbelief.

He leaves the room and, with a glance towards her peaceful baby, she follows in barely concealed disturbance.

The room returns to its peace, the baby once again consuming it with his soundlessness.

His photo on the shelf offers a past replication this moment.

And, I continued to watch.




The baby slept.

His repetitive breathing evoke a synchronised movement of his features. Laying there lazily, his hands fisted on his stomach, the baby offers no reason for excitement.

In my boredom, I watched from the side of the room.

Except for an occasional drool in his mindless state, the baby slept quietly in the centre, the drawn curtains keeping any light out.

A whine escaped his lips.

Uninterested in him I looked about the room, resting upon the monotonously spinning blade at the ceiling. 

She stopped at the door watching him, barely contributing to the ever-so exciting scene before me. In unnecessary awe she made her way to him, this meaningless moment reminding me of the similar occasion of his sleep framed and placed on me.

And just when I thought no one could possibly wish to join this boring enclose, he enters, joining her side and contributing to this endless and mind-numbing encounter.

And all the baby did was lay there, absorbing his parents awe effortlessly.

In my quiet disgruntlement at this scene, I notice her mumble a question, facing him expecting a reply.

He shifts on his feet and rests his hands on the baby’s cot.

He looks at the baby as she awaits the answer, and he finally mutters a brief reply. Apparently This is the most subjective thing that's been said by the narrator who is otherwise really impartial - so I'm not sure about this. I've been enjoying the omniscience of the narrator so far, but the "apparently"
 makes it a voice that's no longer impartial, which is something I've enjoyed about the narrator. Reading forward, I can see you're moving into more of a different voice from the narrator, but I maintain that "apparently" sounds sassy and a little immature, which I don't think the narrator is.this answer wasn’t good enough as she now turns her full attention to him, demanding a clarification to his response. At sight of this my interest perks. Yes! Something other than a sleeping baby!

Hesitantly he looks at her and sucks in his lips, his prolonged contemplation driving me mad. Do something! Say something! Don’t make me wait here, you have my attention now.

As if reading my mind, she reaffirms her need for an explanation.

With frustration, he rakes his hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at her, though she continues to persist, her tone getting louder and my excitement now growing. I wonder at what has caused this scene. Did he do something? What did he say? What will she do now?

He aims for the door in attempted escape, but, in last-minute reflex, she grips his arm and pulls him back to her persistent questioning.
With a strained face he lets out a fleeting remark, short but enough to have her let go of him. She stands unmoving, looking at him, new uncertainties now flashing in her eyes. I too wonder how she’ll react to this newfound provocation. Will she get angry? No, that’ll wake hr ?? baby up. Will she let it go? No, I can see it in her eyes she won’t. I look on at the two and the situation that now confronts them, or more so, challenges them.

But alas, the gripping scene ends too quickly as he swiftly exits and she, too, at his heel.

I feel my interest slip away as I am left with the dull room, the indolent baby, the droning fan. Once again I find myself facing a monotonous existence, any exhilaration short-lived My surroundings mock me, reminding me I hold a frame of a similar situation to this.

But in my aimless observation of this inaction, I ponder the excitement of before, wondering if it will ripple this quiet again.

This was an easy enough to follow story - I was never lost and didn't have to read things twice to be certain. But, in terms of discovery I think there could be more brought to the surface. At the moment I'm a bit confused about what is happening in the text, not because of how it's written, but just because I feel like I must have missed something because of how anti-climatic it is. I love the writing style as very simple, it has an air of tranquility about it. But, I think it works best, this writing style, if the plot is really interesting. When you inject plain writing style with a passionate plot, you have great success. But towards the end I'm left wondering what the discovery is. I can see a discovery in the shift in the dynamic between the couple, but I'm actively looking for that. What kind of discovery are you hoping to put forward? I'm happy to chat about this with you and I will happily try and give you advice to adjust the story in time for submission

[Zainbow]

Hey

Thanks for the feedback! I have changed a few things with my story as you suggested, I also clarified the discovery situation and added a few more techniques. Idk if I should post the revised version yet bc I haven't made another 15 posts yet, but I will as soon as I can.

Thanks!

[jamonwindeyer]

Hey

Thanks for the feedback! I have changed a few things with my story as you suggested, I also clarified the discovery situation and added a few more techniques. Idk if I should post the revised version yet bc I haven't made another 15 posts yet, but I will as soon as I can.

Thanks!

Only four to go Zainbow! You'll get that up easy

[Zainbow]

Only four to go Zainbow! You'll get that up easy

Lol I'll make that up now

[teapancakes08]

Weird question, but what's the general consensus on profanity in creative writing pieces?

[elysepopplewell]

Weird question, but what's the general consensus on profanity in creative writing pieces?

My perspective on this is that when I look at the greatest works I've read that have used profanities - it's always got a purpose. Character building? Expression of distress? Humour? But I think the appropriate thing to ask yourself is: Am I doing this purely for shock value? Because if you are, then you're copping out. Skillful writing will also achieve shock value.

As for what the markers think - I'd lean more on the side of prudence than boasting of profanities. I'd avoid C words, be very careful with fuck, and also be aware of the way gendered slurs appear as well. But, I think you can use it if skilfully done - just don't let it be a distasteful cop out!

[Wales]

Weird question, but what's the general consensus on profanity in creative writing pieces?

I've personally been told multiple times to avoid them.

Given that, using profanity does create a atmosphere that you may desire within your creative. If you can replace it with "he swore" or "after muttering a string of profanities he" etc.

[jamonwindeyer]

Weird question, but what's the general consensus on profanity in creative writing pieces?

To throw my hat in, I used profanity in my Creative (at least I did on a few occasions, it was a little different every time) just once, it was at a dramatic point in the story where I wanted to heighten tension, and my teachers responded well to it. At the end of the day, profanity is a technique we identify in others texts. We can use that technique in our own writing

You are far more likely to pulled up on subject matter being inappropriate than the words themselves

[Wales]

To throw my hat in, I used profanity in my Creative (at least I did on a few occasions, it was a little different every time) just once, it was at a dramatic point in the story where I wanted to heighten tension, and my teachers responded well to it. At the end of the day, profanity is a technique we identify in others texts. We can use that technique in our own writing

You are far more likely to pulled up on subject matter being inappropriate than the words themselves

Just going to adjust your hat

Completely agree. If you use it appropriately it should be okay. You should still ask your teacher about it though, they won't mark you down for using profanity as after all, it is a technique =]

[kb123]

Hi! Could somebody please give me feedback on my discovery creative and if it would get 15/15 if I incorporate the stimulus well?

Spoiler

Illuminated with bright light, the arena was alive. The noise from people rushing to find their seats resonated around the stadium, while the aroma of hot chips permeated through the air. The gymnastics championship was only seconds away from commencing.
A gymnast strode onto the competition floor, her blond hair in a neat bun and dressed in a blue leotard that exposed her long, lithe limbs, the material embedded with incandescent crystals, evoking a roar from the audience.
Yet Alina remained silent, her svelte figure melded into the vast sea of spectators.
The gymnast presented herself, lifting her chin up. Alina smirked as someone in the crowd remarked on her professionalism. Presenting nicely does not make you a successful gymnast, Alina knew from experience. No matter how ostentatious a gymnast’s leotard was, they are nothing if the score their routine receives from the judges are mediocre.
And in that department, there were none on her level.
Alina was a one in a million rhythmic gymnast. Having been surrounded with praise by her family and friends as a future Olympian since the age of four, no one knew this fact better than herself. 18 years old and at the peak of her gymnastics career, she held the winner’s podium in her hands.
She had come to Melbourne on a family vacation, but after hearing that the Australian Gymnastics Championships were underway nearby, she had decided to grab a ticket. Alina was curious what the gymnasts in a country like Australia could offer, at least that is what she told herself. In truth, she was not watching out of genuine interest but rather to reassure her own superiority, just as her coach would want her to do.
Alina nonchalantly watched as the gymnast got into starting position, her aquamarine ribbon in a swirl at her side. This place was no Russia – she did not expect anything remotely good from this no-name. She couldn’t comprehend why the audience around her were so absorbed already – the gymnast had not yet shown any skill whatsoever.
And then the gymnast’s accompanying music began to play and her performance started.
The classical music trickled around the stadium slowly, sending the audience shuffling to the edge of their seats, while Alina remained lying against the back of her seat, her arms judgementally crossed in her lap. Then, gradually, the sweet ebb grew larger and larger until it was no longer a trickling stream but a dynamic current of tonality, whirling around the arena and drawing the audience into a stupor. The gymnast’s turquoise ribbon, a river of flowing silk, spiralled through the air while she executed arduous pivots, jumps and balances that required extreme flexibility and strength with apparent ease, the myriad of sewed-on crystals on her leotard franticly reflecting the brilliant light of the arena, emanating luminous sparks of colour like a spinning disco ball. As Alina watched the gymnast’s slender body moving as freely as though her bones were made of rubber, the criticisms she had prepared in her mind melted away.
*               *               *
“You call that rhythmic gymnastics? That was even worse than your other attempts!” Alina’s coach screamed at the top of her lungs. “Do it again!”
“Yes, coach.”
It had been four hours since training started. Under the cold, calculating eyes of her coach, Alina performed her ribbon routine for the umpteenth time - she had to use all her strength to stop her body from collapsing with exhaustion.
Tears brimmed at Alina’s eyes when she dropped the ribbon again. She couldn’t do it anymore. Alina faced her coach, staring at her hands, lacking the courage to look into her incensed eyes.
‘Coach… Let me take a break… I can’t do it any better in this state…’ Alina cried.
Her coach’s eyes only widened further, her pupils beginning to quiver. Alina crawled into small ball, her head between her knees, hiding away from another wave of abuse.
‘DO NOT MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF.’ Her coach declared, her face a dark crimson, looking down on Alina. ‘You are part of the Russian National Team - do you not understand what that means?’
‘But can’t I afford a break like other gymnasts?’ Alina whimpered.
She could feel her coach’s harsh gaze burning into the back of her neck. ‘No, you cannot! That is why nobody can win against Russians like you! Get up and do it again!’
Alina stared at her bloody toes and bruise-spotted legs - she felt like a rock crashed and crumbled to pieces by ruthless ocean waves. Looking back at her ribbon, she noticed that it was tearing apart just like her passion for the sport, the sport she had dedicated her whole life to, thinking her devotion would never end.
*               *               *
Soon, the flowing river of melody resided back to a single stream, the gymnast’s pace slowing down with the music until it vanished into complete silence, the gymnast ending her routine in an impeccable split.
Alina realised what an unexpectedly magnificent performance it had been.
She now knew what she had lost all those years ago when she became a part of the Russian National Team. Before all the demands from her coach had started, Alina had possessed a love for rhythmic gymnastics, ardently watching other gymnast’s performances with pure pleasure. It was as though the collective light of expectations, training and competitions had overwhelmed the timid glow of the sport’s true elegance. Just because a gymnast wasn’t the best in the world, does not mean they weren’t worth watching.
Alina would soon go back to training in Russia, where her coach will scream at her to work harder. But it was worth it, she realised. Though she may not have found a reunion with her coach, Alina’s motivation to train was reignited to a flame equal in radiance to the one that burned during her very first years of gymnastics, as she was once again united with the beauty of her sport.
There was still much more to learn.
As the gymnast bowed to the audience, Alina stood up with the rest of the spectators and joined in with the thunderous applause.

[jamonwindeyer]

Hi! Could somebody please give me feedback on my discovery creative and if it would get 15/15 if I incorporate the stimulus well?

Hey kb123! According to my spreadsheet, you only have enough posts to get either this or your essay marked right now - Any preference as to which we tackle? You'll need 75 posts to get feedback on both

[DalvinT]

Hey guys! I'm just wondering if it is necessary to have a climax in my creative? Cause my teacher says it doesn't, then when I get it marked for an assessment task by another teacher, I got marked down for not having a drive/climax to the plot.

[jamonwindeyer]

Hey guys! I'm just wondering if it is necessary to have a climax in my creative? Cause my teacher says it doesn't, then when I get it marked for an assessment task by another teacher, I got marked down for not having a drive/climax to the plot.

Hey Dalvin! Technically no, but you don't want to write a story that feels unfinished, to the point where the reader is left without any sort of even partial resolution to the issues you've raised. You want some form of conclusion, and that does require some sort of climax (the nature of the climax, very much your choice, it doesn't have to be a full and complete resolution to all loose ends) kind of like, in the Harry Potter series, the story isn't over until the end of the last book/movie, but the viewer/reader still feels satisfied at the end of each chapter/section

[DalvinT]

Hey Dalvin! Technically no, but you don't want to write a story that feels unfinished, to the point where the reader is left without any sort of even partial resolution to the issues you've raised. You want some form of conclusion, and that does require some sort of climax (the nature of the climax, very much your choice, it doesn't have to be a full and complete resolution to all loose ends) kind of like, in the Harry Potter series, the story isn't over until the end of the last book/movie, but the viewer/reader still feels satisfied at the end of each chapter/section

Yeah I get what you mean hahaha! i'll send my creative when i'm done making some edits from the feedback I got from the assessment

[kb123]

Hey kb123! According to my spreadsheet, you only have enough posts to get either this or your essay marked right now - Any preference as to which we tackle? You'll need 75 posts to get feedback on both

Ahh then just the essay